Chapter Text
Over the next few days, a steady stream of sinners trickled into the hotel. Unfortunately for Charlie, this was a double-edged sword; she got excited with every fresh face that walked through the door, but so far they all turned out to be either reporters or people just looking to get a glimpse of the infamous Hazbin Hotel crew. Not a one signed the guestbook or showed legitimate interest in redemption. Still, nothing could dissuade the Princess’s ultimate hope; her hotel was back in action and someone coming through the doors was bound to stay.
Speaking of visitors, Charlie was extra bouncy today as she flew down the stairs to primp up the lobby. She’d gotten a personal call from Emily last night, congratulating her on the reopening and asking if she’d be able to stop by to visit. Charlie was thrilled, especially once assured it would just be the younger seraphim popping in—while Charlie and Lucifer wanted to have a serious talk with Sera, her presence meant that Adam would make an appearance and, frankly, neither Morningstar wanted to deal with the cocky bastard again so soon.
(Apparently Emily and Sera were only on surface-level speaking terms, the little Angel confided in Charlie. It was up to Lucifer to be the liaison between Hell and the tetchier seraphim, and so far Sera hadn’t wanted to entertain a conversation with him. As much as he hated the idea of Adam roaming his domain, at least he could keep watch over the fucker… So Lucifer would wait for Sera’s callback.)
Meanwhile, the more amiable Emily was slated for a visit this afternoon. Charlie had corralled the staff and her two current guests to give the hotel another sweeping once-over. The level of effort they put in was questionable, but Charlie was content they’d all showed up and would (hopefully) stay as long as they should.
“I don’t know how she can get more excited without vibratin’ through the goddamn roof, but it’s kinda impressive,” Husk murmured to Angel across the bar, eying Charlie while he cleaned out a glass to prep some fruity, sugary drink. He tilted his head in consideration, a grimace washing over it. “And kinda terrifyin’—you think she’s gonna ask us to sing kumbaya with this angel chick?”
Husk, for his part, had been trying to keep a low profile these past few days. After creating an extensive list of demands with Angel for his potential employ at the porn studio, Husk called Vox to set up a meeting. That fact in itself seemed to appease the flat-screen, and he’d agreed to stop by the casino in a week’s time to hash out the details. Until then, Husk and Angel kept up business as usual—which included their stint as the Hazbin Hotel’s bartender and prolific eye candy.
“God, I fuckin’ hope not; there’s no chance of us escapin’ a second time,” Angel gave a snort, his gaze ping-ponging around the lobby as it followed Hell’s Princess on her bouncing journey. She really did look like she was about to explode; Angel had the curious thought that Charlie would be hell to manage on cocaine. “I am curious to meet an angel who ain’t tryin’ to kill us, though."
“I’m an angel who isn’t trying to kill you—most of the time,” Vaggie approached the bar, and gave both Husk and Angel a nod in greeting. “What about Lucifer?”
The actor tossed her a flat look, clearly unconvinced. “You’re fallen, Vagina, and you’re always scowlin', so you don’t count. Lucifer...” Angel considered for a moment before breaking into a slow grin. “I mean, he is somethin’ to behold, if you know what I mean, but I don’t think he counts, neither. He’s the Devil.”
Vaggie rolled her eyes. “Don’t get your hopes up too high; Emily will definitely try and hug you.”
“Christ, don’t tell me she’s just like—”
“Yup.” The exorcist’s face grew smug. “So, you two should prepare yourselves. Charlie wants you on your best behavior—that means no innuendos, no getting drunk off your asses, and no slipping off in the middle of the day to do god knows what.”
A gasp tumbling from his lips, Angel’s eyes went comically wide. A hand flew up to his chest and he looked to Vaggie, offended.
“Are you implyin’ that we—two respectable gentleman—would abandoned our duties for a little afternoon delight?” He looked to Husk. “I think she’s questionin' our honor!”
Vaggie scoffed a laugh. “Can it, Angel. You don’t have any honor to question and you know it! You’re a porn star and he’s a demonic Overlord.” With that, she caught Charlie’s gaze and took a step towards her. “Best behavior, guys!”
After a jog across the lobby, she took ahold of one of Charlie’s hands and flashed a bright smile. “I don’t think I’ve seen you this excited since the first day we opened the hotel. Maybe this is a good sign, that Heaven’s sending someone other than an Exorcist down. Right? It could mean that—”
“EEEEEEK!!!!” A high-pitched squeal rang out from outside; even without sensitive ears, Angel winced. It sounded just like what he assumed a fucking banshee would, if they were real.
“Holy shit—” He braced himself, scooting back an inch further on his bar stool. “Husky, she wasn’t jokin’…”
When the doors swung open, the smile Emily wore shone so brightly, it was actually casting a glow. At first glance, once his eyes adjusted to the holy light shimmering off her, Angel noticed she was adorable, with freckled cheeks, and bangs, and a face that looked like it’d never witnessed anything untoward at all. It was weird, how... Well, how angelic she really looked compared to Adam, or Lute, or any of the other ones he’d encountered. Emily didn’t look like an Exorcist at all; there was no mask, no sneer, and no weapons. Just a pretty, smiling girl who looked like she was about to cry tears of joy.
“I’m sorry I’m early, but I just couldn’t wait!” Emily didn’t hesitate; she threw her arms around Charlie and gave her a squeeze that probably would’ve accidentally injured a lesser demon (but, gratefully, the Princess was more than apt to accept her eager embrace). When Emily finally pulled away, she grasped both of Charlie’s hands in hers and tried to stifle another squeak. “Oh my stars! Charlie! The new hotel looks amazing—it’s breathtaking! I can’t wait to see how many sinners you all are able to redeem here!”
“Emily!” Charlie squealed when the seraphim revealed herself, their grins matching in intensity. She threw her arms around Emily in turn, finding the constrictive embrace more comforting than painful. Perhaps it was ironic for a hellborn to feel so soothed by the angelic rays wafting off the girl with an equally sunshine disposition, but Charlie reveled in the affection. When they finally parted, it was only to hold hands as Emily cast her gaze around the atrium. Charlie straightened up, proud to show off everything they’d accomplished.
“Thank you! We wanted to put a little piece of everyone who helped in the framework—but yes, my dad had a heavy hand in the overall design.” She let out a bright laugh, barely able to stop herself from vibrating excitedly. “He’s upstairs right now, but I’m sure he’ll pop down eventually to say hi!”
Vaggie’s gaze was locked on Emily and Charlie’s clasped hands, but she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she let out an awkward laugh. “Lucifer helped with the design. We’re hoping to get some new guests soon.”
“Weeeeeelll, I bet that won’t be so hard when I show you all the real reason for my visit!” Emily’s voice was musical, even though she wasn’t singing, and finally, she flashed her smile to the other demons in the hotel—most of whom were concentrated near the bar. Immediately, her eyes went wide and her smile, if it was possible, pulled even tighter.
“You!” Dropping Charlie’s hands (much to Vaggie’s silent relief), the seraphim floated across the room and gave Angel the same treatment, grabbing all four of his hands in her own two and looking straight into his mismatched eyes. “You’re Angel Dust!”
“—Excuse me?” This time, the look of offense on Angel’s face was genuine; he shot Husk a look that read "is she fuckin’ serious right now?" before allowing his gaze to warily dart back to her. Angel tried to remove his hands, but there was no use, so he gave a huff instead. “Look, lady, I dunno what you’ve heard up top, but I charge a lot extra for women these days, even if they’re—”
The color drained from Emily’s face and, before he could finish, she was already furiously shaking her head.
“Oh! No, no! Ahah—” A soft laugh bubbled from her chest. “No, I’m sorry. I’m not interested in your...” Emily trailed off; unsure of the most polite way to phrase it, she decided to press on. “Oh, it’ll all make sense shortly! I can’t keep the secret any longer or I’m going to be sick!”
She’d been waiting for this trip since the moment Pentious manifested in Heaven. With a final squeeze, Emily released Angel and moved back to join Charlie. She sucked in a deep breath, trembling with excitement, and clasped her hands together in front of her chest. “I am so honored to be here today to see my dear friends, and to meet all of you. I also came to apologize in person. I... I know that there are no words that can help return the souls you’ve lost, but maybe there’s a way we can change things for the ones that are still here.”
Vaggie, beside Charlie, was standing at high alert. She didn’t know Emily was bringing a surprise or that Heaven had been planning a way to make amends, but... She wasn’t sure how to feel about it yet. Angel, still reeling from the odd, tingly feeling Emily’s touch left behind in all his hands, eyed the seraphim suspiciously from his safe spot at the bar.
“So, everyone, the real reason I came here today is to deliver good news,” Emily announced.
“Good news?” Charlie’s focus snapped back, watching with wide-eyed fascination. Alright... this was a bit unexpected. She’d never taken Emily for a showman, and Charlie wondered what in the world she had in store.
With a snap of dainty fingers, the lights in the hotel went dim. Emily flashed one more smile Charlie’s way—this wouldn’t have been possible without you—and, with flourish of her arms, a swirl of glittering, divine magic started to swell in the center of the room. It looked like a sparkly tornado and it grew until it was about Emily’s own height.
Suddenly, the seraphim stopped moving and the gold magic dissipated into harmless glitter in the air, leaving behind a familiar—if changed—serpentine silhouette. At the very same moment, Emily squealed: “Sir Pentious was redeemed into Heaven—!”
And Pentious shouted: “WHERE THE BLOODY FUCK ARE MY EGGS?!”
The pair looked at each other, and Emily gave a fond sigh. “Pen, just because you can swear down here, doesn’t mean that you should. You’re a winner now!”
Pentious’ tongue flicked out and he brushed off her advice. Instead, he glanced around the room. “—I don’t see my egg bois or Miss Cherri Bomb! Didn’t you tell them I was coming?!”
Vaggie’s mouth was, very suddenly, parched. She tried to swallow, but almost choked on it.
“Th-they’re upstairs,” she answered numbly, for once actually shell-shocked by something. Her fingers grasped clumsily for Charlie’s. “Is this real?”
...
A collective stunned silence filled the room as an all too familiar shape materialized in the whirling vortex of angelic power. Emily squealed; the sinner—winner?!—shouted, and Charlie screamed.
“PENTIOUS?!” The Princess was on him in a second, completely missing Vaggie’s attempt to snag her grounding touch. Charlie threw her arms around the snake who, while still a tad slimy, felt inexplicably warm. Burying her face into the shoulder of his pristine white coat, Charlie felt a wave of confused, ecstatic tears breach the dam behind her eyes. “Oh my god—oh my god...”
At a rare loss for words, Charlie clung tighter to her formerly fallen friend. Of course, the muteness didn’t last long before she launched into a torrent of blubbering rambles.
“Pentious, I-I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you; w-we thought you were gone! We had a m-memorial service and built you a sh-shrine, and we a-all missed you so much! But—holy shit! Ooh, sorry, Emily—” An apologetic smile was shot the seraphim’s way. Charlie stepped back, just far enough to grasp Pentious by the arms and give him a once-over with shimmering doe eyes. “Pentious, you got redeemed! I’m so proud of you!”
“Holy fuckin’ shit,” Husk breathed, a paw pressed over his mouth in sheer disbelief. “No fuckin’ way this bull actually works...”
Suddenly, as though a switch flipped, Charlie sucked in a huge gasp. Fingers tightening around Pentious’s shoulders, her face quickly paled, then flushed anew as the full ramifications of his presence washed over her.
“You... you got redeemed.” The statement slipped from Charlie’s lips, sounding foreign on her tongue. After all the guesswork, the hoping, the praying... Her gaze slid to Emily, a fresh torrent of tears welling up that she furiously scrubbed off with a sleeve (her other hand still clung to the snake, as if terrified to let him go again). “This is real... right? He has a place in Heaven now?”
A bit more desperate—
“Please tell me this is real, Emily.”
Around the room, all the demons shared a similar look of pure, unadulterated shock—Charlie included. Emily was still beaming, but the corners of her eyes were pricking with happy tears. Oh! She could feel the joy rolling off of Charlie in rippling waves and Emily felt her own chest swell. She couldn’t imagine how fulfilling it must be for Charlie, after all this time, to learn that she hadn’t been working hard for no reason—her off-the-wall idea succeeded. Maybe it hadn’t before, but someone saw Charlie and their battle against Adam had made a real, tangible difference. With this news, the Hazbin Hotel should be full of sinners in no time, all eager for a chance at forgiveness!
It couldn’t be that hard either, could it? While Emily was sure each sinner would be different, Pentious had only been enrolled in Charlie’s rehabilitation program for less than half a year; surely sinners would be showing up at Saint Peter’s gate in no time!
Pentious, before he could even think about slithering away, was wrapped in Charlie’s arms. The snake squirmed for a moment, but relented (in Heaven, he’d grown a bit more used to stifling hugs).
“Why are you sorry, Charlie?” Pentious rose a brow. “I was proud to sacrifice myself for my...” He looked to the room, then to Emily, uncertain. When the seraphim offered a nod of encouragement and a sweet smile, the former-sinner swallowed thickly and finished with, “...For my friends.”
“Pen! That was so honest!” Emily had to ball her hands into the skirt of her dress to keep herself from squealing again. “I promise, Charlie—this is real. Sera wanted me to give you the news in person; we would’ve told you sooner, but there were a few kinks to work out concerning the logistics of bringing a winner into Hell.” Her smile took on an apologetic air. “The paperwork took a few weeks to process.”
Vaggie, still wide-eyed with shock, approached Pentious with a wary step. “And... Pentious, you... you’re okay?”
The serpent gave a scoff. “Well, I suppose you could say that. I’m bored; Heaven is awful! There’s no murder, no screaming, no noise, and the sole person I’ve encountered willing to do any sort of scheming at all only wants to talk about him—” He jutted a thumb towards Angel Dust, “—eighty percent of the time.”
With a hiss, the snake rolled his eyes. “Charlie, you must fix this posthaste! I wish to return to Hell immediately, where my minions and weaponry reside.”
Angel was floored. He’d been staring at Pentious with eight wide eyes, taking in his new outfit, and colors, the odd, holy air about him. Two manicured hands were digging crescents into his own thighs; another two were holding tightly onto the rim of his barstool. Out of nowhere (or, it felt that way because he hadn’t actually been listening to the conversation), Sir Pentious pointed his direction, looking annoyed, and the spider had to take a moment to realize that he’d been mentioned. “Wait... What the fuck did ya just say?”
Emily couldn’t keep herself from squealing then. Once again she was back at his side, but Angel saw her coming and kept his hands occupied. His face was paler and, for once, free of any trace of his usual snark; distrustfully, he slid out of his stool and took a couple of steps back away from her, four hands held up in pre-emptive self-defense. “Hold on—quit lookin’ at me like that! Why’s everyone in Heaven talkin’ about me? Don’t you have your own pornos?!”
Pentious gave another hiss, his expression flat. “They do not. Not a single one. Not even missionary.”
Angel gasped, horrified, and took an even larger step back. “I dunno what Charlie’s told ya, but I ain’t here to be redeemed—I just look pretty at the bar!”
“I know,” Emily giggled and, even as he stepped away from her, she smiled at him. She was sizing him up and Angel couldn’t help but to wonder if a high-ranking seraphim like her could see all the bullshit he’d done, see all the myriad of reasons why he belonged down there.
Did it work like that? Could she, like... sense his sins? God, he fucking hoped not. Some were bad—and that was saying something, coming from him. Emily’s lilac gaze searched him up and down, but she wasn’t leering at him the way most fans would. Instead, she was just... taking him in, which Angel found he hated much more.
“Golly,” the little angel finally spoke up, meeting his skeptical gaze, and smiled. “The resemblance is even starker in person. Pen, I see how you got them confused.”
“I told you so!” Pentious, Charlie’s hand still clutching tightly to his own, looked a tad smug. “Oh, the things I know about you now, Angel Dust!”
Angel blinked.
Then he blinked again.
His vision blurred with tears and, on the third blink, they fell. Angel didn’t even think before he was on her, two hands on Emily’s shoulders and two clutching tightly to her upper arms; his expression was searching, his brows drawn close together like he was trying to figure out if this was all one big prank, but Emily’s smile was unwavering. She reached a hand between them and wiped a tear from his cheek; when he flinched away from her touch, a tinge of sadness flickered through her eyes.
Pity.
Angel scowled, but it wasn’t very intimidating with mascara running down his face.
“It’s okay,” Emily promised, her eyes boring into his largest two. “She’s okay.” Her voice was gentle, but it reminded Angel of the way you’d talk to a wild animal you were afraid might bite you—all babying and shit. “I think we should talk, Anthony.”
Angel’s breath hitched at the name and, as if he hadn’t already been certain who they were referring to, or how Emily knew him, that solidified it. Like he’d been burned, he snatched his hands away and wrapped them around himself. Suddenly, Angel felt hyper-aware of everyone watching him, shocked to see such a raw display of emotion (that wasn’t overtly sexual or faked for a camera or on a battlefield), and the weight of it felt like too much. He felt like he was standing naked in front of all of them and—
Actually, no. Standing naked in front of the whole room of them would feel way less vulnerable and uncomfortable than this.
Feeling not unlike a deer in headlights, the spider wordlessly turned on his heels and made a beeline for the dining room; the large double doors slammed closed with a thud behind him. Emily smiled sadly as she watched him leave, but without missing a beat, she was back at the Princess’ side. “Let’s give him a minute to process. Then, when you and Pentious have caught up a little, I think you should join us.”
Vaggie was still looking to the dining room doors, her brows woven tightly together. “What’s going on?”
The seraphim looked to Pentious, then Vaggie, and explained, “Pen might have stumbled upon a good enough reason for Angel Dust to try your redemption program.” A small giggle tumbled from her lips as she added, “Even if we don’t have any swearing or pornography in Heaven.”
Pentious took this as an excuse to extricate himself from Charlie’s hold. “No matter! We will catch up later! I must tend to my egg bois at once!”
What—
“—the fuck?” Husk blinked at the closed dining room doors, still feeling the rattle of their slam in his teeth. Whatever the hell was going on, it’d clearly affected Angel deeply—or, technically, Anthony in this case.
It shouldn’t be surprising the top dogs in Heaven knew the true names of winners and sinners alike, but something about the way Emily said that one—about the way she looked at Anthony with such compassionate understanding—pulled at the edge of Husk’s nerves. She knew him... yet they most definitely never met in person. The Overlord guessed two major reasons for this: either Emily had done extensive research on the sinners of the Hazbin Hotel before her trip (in which case, why wasn’t Husk even spared a passing glance?); or someone from Heaven itself filled her in on Angel’s true identity.
And then, of course, there was that offhand comment about the “resemblance;” one so great that Pentious apparently confused a winner for the porn star. Husk blinked again, brows furrowed. Had they just so happened to come across someone in the vastness of Heaven who knew Anthony personally? Maybe even someone related? Family?
—Shit. That was a road Husk did not want to go down right now. Not with Charlie and Emily and their combined, sickening squeals and likely similar ideals on sharing feelings.
Sans that last bit, Charlie was having similar thoughts about Angel—no, Anthony. The name suited him, she thought; she could understand why he’d want to change it for his career path, but it was a shame he never switched it out among friends.
And speaking of friends, Charlie was looking forward to quizzing Sir Pentious about his journey to Heaven. She turned to the snake, just in time for him to finally wriggle free of her hold and slither upstairs with the promise to catch up later. Surprised, Charlie reached out a moment too late. “Wait; Pen—”
“Hey, watch where you’re—what the FUCK?” No sooner had Pentious disappeared from view did another set of footsteps come bounding over to take his place. Wide-eyed, fur puffed, Leo skidded to a halt at the top of the stairs and pointed in the direction he just emerged from. “Uh—did anyone else see that?!”
“Welcome to the party,” Husk called with a lazy wave, leaning his other elbow on the bar. “Guess what? Charlie’s plan actually fuckin’ works.”
“I appreciate the enthusiasm as always, Husk,” the Princess murmured with a rather affectionate roll of her eyes. She sincerely hoped Emily could forgive all the cursing... Charlie turned the full force of her smile on the younger cat and gestured for him to come down. “Leo, this is Emily! Come say hi!”
Leo’s gaze darted between the girls so bright he had to resist the urge to squint, then slid to Husk for a second opinion. “...Do I have to?”
“You wanna piss off an angel?” the Overlord countered, to which Charlie let out a little huff.
“Emily is a kind soul; she’s not here to harm anyone.”
Still, Leo seemed to hesitate, his tail flicking from side to side in clear agitation. He realized that Angel Dust was notably missing from the bar, which was cause for concern in itself. Unless he’d stepped out for a smoke—unlikely, given the company and lack of Charlie trying to coax him back in—it was rare these days for him to leave Husk’s side while at the hotel (a fact which Leo would not think about because... ugh).
As for his father... He didn’t seem distressed so much as contemplative. Honestly, the Overlord looked kind of pathetic, sinking further onto the counter as he gunned down shot after shot whenever Charlie and Emily weren’t looking. Leo’s lip curled in a sneer; clearly, the old fuck wasn’t in a state to deal with the situation. Disappointing, but unsurprising.
Charlie resisted the urge to praise Leo as he slowly descended the stairs. Redirecting her attention, she balled up her fists and asked: “Have you seen Cherri, Dad, or Alastor, by the way?”
“I think they’re all in their rooms,” Leo replied with an uncertain shrug. When he reached the lobby floor, he stopped well out of hugging range—the psycho angel was staring at him not unlike a rabid dog just itching for an excuse to sink its teeth into the next unsuspecting victim, which in this situation equated to catching Leo in an embrace. Hands thrust in his pockets, wings tucked close to his shoulders, the cat peered at her warily. “Uh... hi.”
“We’ll give Angel five,” Charlie whispered, leaning into Emily’s side. After checking her phone and starting a mental timer, Charlie clapped her hands. “So, Emily—we’re still missing a few folks, but I can start the introductions! You of course know Vaggie, but here we’ve got Leo—” She gestured to the younger cat, who narrowed his eyes, then whirled to the bar. “—and Husk!”
The Overlord thought he should get a medal for how valiantly he resisted throwing up a bird. Instead he let out a heavy sigh, slumping further against the bar top. Already, it was a lot quieter and excruciatingly boring without a running commentary to snicker at under his breath.
(It was actually kind of scary how used to Angel’s presence he’d gotten; the hotel bar didn’t feel complete without the spider perched on a stool or the edge of the counter.)
Leo, hesitant for fair reasons, approached her and Emily beamed at him—though, the sight of him broke her heart. It was one thing to know that all sorts of souls could be trapped in Hell, but another thing to witness them altogether. While Emily had been around for a long time and met all sorts, it was difficult to meet one so young, so full of promise, stuck down here to suffer for reasons that were likely out of his control.
(Emily often thought the whole system was unfair: how could a human lifetime, even a long one, be enough time to judge a person’s character by? The best part about humanity, after all, was the way they learned new things every day, and were always growing and changing. The system was flawed, assuming that a short few years on Earth could be enough to truly weigh the worth of a soul. When Emily encountered people who died young, the unjustness of it all was only made more evident.)
Leo was smart to stand just out of the angel’s reach—because, if he hadn’t, she would’ve pulled him into the most soothing hug she could until he believed that everything would be alright in the end. For now, though, Emily settled for reaching out and offering the skittish cat a hand to shake.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Leo! Charlie’s said lots of good things; I’m sure you’re on your way to joining Pen in no time flat! You were incredibly brave in the battle against the Exorcists.” Tilting her head to the side to sneak a peek behind Leo, Emily squeaked. “Oh! And I love your wings!”
It would surprise the Hazbins to learn that Heaven kept notoriously awful records of Hell and its denizens. Apart from the information she’d gathered from Charlie, all she had to go off of was: the footage she and Sera watched of Angel’s afterlife; the battle itself; and the stories she heard from Pentious. To the rulers of Heaven, the citizens of Hell were a nonissue; they didn’t even register as blips on their radar. So, they saw no purpose (up until very recently) to keep any record of the souls sentenced there. After all, Hell was meant to be an eternal damnation, so there was no reason for the divine councils to know anything at all about those they’d never encounter.
Once the first feline gave her a reticent handshake, Emily looked to the hotel’s bartender and clasped her hands together. “Oh! Oh, I remember you—you’re the father-son duo! And…”
Her expression turned grave; approaching the bar—and pointedly ignoring the rancid scent of strong spirits wafting from it—the seraphim extended a hand for Husk to shake.
“That was... incredibly selfless, what you did.” Her voice was soft, and Emily broke into a smile equally as tender. “You didn’t have to stand up to Adam, but you risked your own life for someone that you care about and—” She sucked in a small breath, fighting back more tears of joy. “—I was touched, seeing something so pure in the midst of such chaos.”
She’d seen more of Husk, too, when she and Sera played through Anthony’s recent memories—and, from what she’d seen, he was a man with his own vices, his own sins, but... he’d been good to Anthony, and Charlie spoke highly of him. Clearly, though he went to great lengths to act otherwise, the Overlord cared for the people in his life very dearly.
When Emily approached, Husk managed to push himself into a (mostly) upright position. He studied the angel, all shimmering eyes and sweet-freckled smiles, and wondered how the fuck Pentious was putting up with it. He hoped Emily wasn’t a representation of Heaven’s majority population, because combined with what the snake said earlier, that sounded like true Hell. At least down here they could drink and gamble and have fun to their hearts’ content...
“Don’t mention it—Charlie already does enough,” Husk muttered when Emily gave him that unbearably soft look and called him selfless. Encompassing her hand in a paw, he gave it a single firm, quick shake. His expression pinched into one of disgust and he resisted the urge to gag. These fuckers really needed to stop putting him on a pedestal, or he was gonna lose it. “Oh no, that ain’t pure; you can’t be sayin’ that sh—er, that kinda stuff around here. Makes people wanna hurl.”
That only made Emily chuckle. “Well, just know that noble acts, the sacrifices we make for the people we love—those aren’t things that go unnoticed.” She turned to look at everyone in the room. “Especially not anymore! Redemption is possible, and Heaven is waiting for all of you with open arms.”
Vaggie was blown away. She was torn between feeling overjoyed because this was everything they’d worked so hard for and also... oddly disappointed.
It wasn’t that Vaggie didn’t want to see sinners redeemed. Of course she did! It was just that... As much as she hated to admit, these few had become her friends. And just because they could be redeemed didn’t mean that fallen angels could; further, even if that were true, Vaggie’s new life would always be in Hell with Charlie, no matter what. She didn’t want anyone to suffer, but... It was also hard to rectify the possibility of losing the people she’d become the closest to during her time here.
—Almost as hard as it was to imagine Angel in a halo and not a slutty costume to go along with it.
“Who...” She sucked in a small breath. “You said good acts won’t go unnoticed, but who’s watching? Who decided to let Pentious into Heaven? Was it Sera?”
At this, Emily went uncharacteristically rigid, back straight and her gaze cast shamefully to the side.
“...I can’t say,” she answered. “But it isn’t Sera, nor myself. We were surprised when he came to us.”
Vaggie narrowed her eyes, skeptical, and after a moment’s thought, she hazarded, “...Do you know who it is?”
A beat. Emily’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times but, before she could formulate a decent answer, another sinner appeared at the top of the stairs. Cherri Bomb was dressed in pajamas, twin cherries dotting her shorts and tank-top, and a fluffy pink robe hanging loosely off her shoulders. Her hair was a mess and, in one hand, she was holding a mug of coffee (with a splash of jack). When she caught sight of Emily, the cyclops winced at the light and held up a hand to shield her vision away from it.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ on a bloody cracker! Was the angel coming today?” she groaned. “I’m not prepared for this hug-fest bullshit yet.”
Emily beamed up at her. “You must be Cherri Bomb, the firecracker!” She threw up her hands and made some explosion sounds, puffing out her cheeks as she did so. The seraphim gave a snicker. “Pentious hasn’t stopped talking about you since he got to Heaven!”
Cherri had just slumped onto a barstool when Emily’s attention turned on her and, at the angel’s words, she almost fell clean off her seat. “Wait—when who got where?”
“Oh! You just missed him, but don’t worry,” Emily grinned. “I’m sure Pentious is already looking for you. After the battle, he manifested as a winner in Heaven—we’ve come down for a visit, and to share the good news.”
Cherri, her eye wide and face pale, looked to Husk. When the Overlord didn’t immediately jump to say this was all bogus, Cherri abandoned her coffee in a heartbeat, dropped her robe in a heap on the floor, and darted back up the stairs.
“Pentious, you bloody stupid motherfucker!” she shouted, sprinting down the hallway and disappearing out of sight.
“...I suppose we’ll see them again later,” Emily looked a tad concerned. “Ooh, I hope Pen doesn’t commit any awful sins while we’re down here...”
Perhaps she shouldn’t have let him go off on his own so quickly.
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Charlie reassured with a wave, hoping that Emily’s definition of “awful sins” wasn’t too broad... She spared a glance around the room, seeing Leo duck down behind the couch to continue his ruse of disinterest. A soft smile crossed Charlie’s face; if Emily thought he was well on his way to redemption, then she believed it tenfold. With no sign yet of Alastor or Lucifer—and with Pentious and Cherri presumably distracted for a little while—Charlie thought it best that they address their unexpected concern. She looked to the dining room, then to Husk at his station. “I think Emily and I should check on Angel... If you see Dad or Alastor, let them know where we are, okay?”
“Mm-hmm.” Husk gave her a half-hearted salute, no longer caring if Emily saw him tip back a beer.
Charlie pursed her lips but kept her commentary to herself, grasping Emily’s arm and leading her away from the inebriated cat. When they reached the dining room, Charlie knocked three times and tried the handle. Finding it unlocked, she pushed the door inwards and called out gently: “Angel? It’s just Charlie and Emily... Can we talk?”
***
Angel wasn’t sure how to describe the way he was feeling. A lot of very mind-blowing, afterlife-altering information had been thrown his way very quickly and, even if redemption was the topic of the day, he felt too sober to handle any of it.
Of all the billions of souls that had to be in Heaven, what were the chances that Pentious would run into his sister? God... What was she like now? If both Emily and Pentious insisted they still looked alike, was she a spider, too? Did she like Heaven? Did she have friends?
Pfft! That was a stupid question; Molly made friends everywhere she went, no matter how little she tried. Clearly, she’d even managed to befriend Sir Pentious in only the short time he’d been up there. She was probably surrounded by angels who loved her all the time, eating fucking rainbow ice cream and dancing or whatever the fuck they did in Heaven with no drugs, or swearing, or porn.
No sooner had the doors shut behind him, then had Angel grabbed the nearest trash can and started heaving into it. He felt dizzy, and sick, and—
What the fuck was going on?
Oh, god; Angel hated the way guilt twisted in his belly, the way if made his heart race and his brain scream at him. It was one thing to know that Molly was in Heaven (because where the fuck else would she be?), but it was another to know that she was in Heaven, talking to Sir Pentious about him.
Aw, shit. There were so many fucking awful things he could’ve told her—hell, his profession alone wasn’t something he’d ever planned for Molly to know about! Who cared if his Pops and brother knew he was a gay whore? Their opinions didn’t matter an ounce. But... Molly’s did and Angel couldn’t stomach the thought of disappointing her—of the worried, panicked look she must’ve gave when Pentious told her the awful truth of what he’d turned into.
Jesus Christ.
Clearly, Emily saw this as a way to convince him to give Charlie and her rehab program an honest try, but it was actually having the opposite effect: how could Angel ever face her? How could he look Molly in the eye and tell her he sold his soul to the first hot, rich guy who paid him any attention? Or that everyone in Hell had seen him riding dick? Or that a countless number of hellions even paid for him, day in and day out, and he let them?
Anthony had been gay, sure, but he hadn’t been a whore—not when Molly was alive. When she was still around, he’d been... He’d been his best. Still a druggie, if a more casual one, and still a mobster, but he wasn’t the absolute mess he’d become after she died. And once Anthony died, well... Then, he’d become someone she wouldn’t even recognize. He wasn’t charming, or funny, or a doting brother anymore; he was just... just fucking Angel Dust.
Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he groaned and shoved the trash bin aside. He was about to head for the kitchen to try and clean himself up a little, but caught the telltale sound of footsteps approaching the door just in the nick of time. Instead, the spider leapt across the dining table and scrambled for a window. When Emily and Charlie finally barged in, Angel Dust was halfway out and poised to jump, one leg already hanging over the edge.
Eyes going wide, the seraphim let out a panicked shriek—immediately assuming the worst, given their location—and, without really thinking, a glittering hand manifested and plucked him right into the air by the collar of his striped blazer.
“Wh—What the fuck?!” Angel flailed against the magic. “Why’re you panicking?! We’re on the first fuckin’ floor! Lemme’ go, you holy bi—Oof!”
Unceremoniously, the huffy actor was deposited into a dining chair and Emily flashed a sheepish smile.
“Oh! You’re right. Heh.” She pushed a lock of hair back behind her ear. “Sorry, but it’s really best you stay—just for a moment! Please. Look!” Angel was still eyeing her suspiciously, his legs now pulled up close to his chest as he pretzeled himself in his seat. With a wave of her hand and a swirl of divine sorcery, a large basket appeared on the table before him. “I even brought presents! You can’t let me return to Heaven and tell Molly I didn’t even get a chance to give you all the sweets she made, can you?”
Angel hated how wide all his eyes grew, how easily swayed he was by the notion of letting his sister down. The basket was practically heaping with pastries—all Italian, all things he’d always loved—and resting atop the cellophane wrapping was a pink envelope. His own name—his real name—was written in a script uncannily similar to his own, just a bit softer on the curves; the sight of it made him choke on a breath.
“—S-she did all this?” Reluctantly, his eyes shifted back up to Emily. “...Quit lookin’ at me like that. I ain’t a wounded fuckin’ puppy!”
The seraphim cleared her throat and, trying to keep her expression as level as possible, gave a nod. “She said your mother helped. Isn’t that something? And here—”
Another poof and suddenly a pile of polaroids were sitting on the table in front of him. Angel eyed them skeptically but, unable to resist his own curiosity, he unfolded his legs and grabbed them in a flurry. When he flipped the first one over, he was greeted with three smiles: Sir Pentious’, Emily’s, and...
In the middle, with two arms wrapped around each of them, was Molly. She looked different, of course—not blonde, not human, but she was still her. God, they really did look alike, too, even now; even with him trapped down here and her way up there.
—And she did look happy, all pink, and fluff, and a freckled grin he could never really forget, no matter how long it’d been since he’d seen it, and... and she was a spider; the prettiest one he’d ever seen in all his time in Hell.
Angel turned the photo back over and shoved the stack away, moving to cross his arms over his chest. His mascara was running again, hot, fat tears streaming down his cheeks, but he was making a point to ignore them. He wasn’t sure what to say, and felt uniquely uncomfortable under the dual, searching stares of Charlie and her heavenly counterpart; Angel squirmed, eyes darting to the basket every few seconds—almost like he was tempted, but holding back for some reason. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of them fucking looking at him, he heaved a sharp sigh and tossed a glance their way. “...What? I—I can’t think with you two watching me like a goddamn fuckin’ zoo animal.”
Charlie was entirely nonplussed by Angel’s attempt to hightail it out the window. In terms of his tries to escape her team-building activities, this was actually pretty tame. As Emily tried to soothe the flighty spider, Charlie took in all the information she could. Maybe she should’ve briefed with Emily beforehand, for she felt like she was playing some rapid-fire catchup to make sense of everything. Hindsight was 20/20 though, so Charlie pursed her lips and watched as a basket full of the most delectable-looking sweets appeared on the table in a cloud of glittering gold. Atop the pastry pile was an envelope, pink and—if Charlie wasn’t mistaken—smelling vaguely of rose petals. Engraved on the front in flowing script was Anthony, and Charlie swore she could feel the love pouring off it.
When the polaroids appeared, Charlie itched to grab them and see what fantastic adventures Angel’s sister was having in Heaven. The Princess resisted though, knowing this was his moment; it was of the utmost importance they give Anthony the chance to make the first move. Clearly, the separation from his sister was eating at him, leaving Charlie to wonder just how close they were in life.
The stack of pictures were lifted and the first flipped over. A trio of grinning winners were revealed, the familiar faces of Pentious and Emily flanking either side. In-between, was—
—Oh.
The spider staring back at Charlie was startlingly familiar. Her gaze lifted to Angel’s stunned face, then dropped to the polaroid again. They had to be very close in age, if not twins—no other explanation would suffice for how two siblings could have such similar features. Charlie felt her heart ache; no wonder Angel was tight-lipped about his sister, besides the obvious best practice of keeping one’s human life as far-removed as possible. To think she’d gotten the chance at eternal joy while he’d been sentenced to damnation...
With an aggressive sniffle, Angel turned over the pictures and sunk further in on himself. Emily made another move to comfort him, but Charlie reached out and grasped her shoulder, stilling the well-meaning seraphim with a shake of her head. Grabbing a napkin from one of the pre-set table placements, Charlie cleared her throat and held it out to Angel with a soft smile. He considered for a moment, embarrassed by the literal handout, but took it nonetheless. Pulling a compact mirror from his purse, he set to work on the odious task of trying to make himself look presentable again (because, even on his worst days, he was still pretty).
“...Your sister’s beautiful,” she remarked, so, so gently. Angel looked like he was about to either run or try to claw her eyes out—hard to tell with sinners—so the Princess chose her words carefully. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re feeling right now, Angel, and I know asking you to talk probably isn’t going to help... so I won’t. If leaving you alone is truly what you want, we will. But...”
Charlie’s gaze darted to the near-overflowing basket, her grin widening. “You two can tell me whether my guess is way off the mark, but based on all this, I’d like to assume Molly really loves you. And I get the feeling, if she’s anything like I imagine, she’d continue to love you no matter what.”
She looked to Emily, silently begging for validation. Under all the barbed wire-attitude and slutty costumes, Ang—Anthony was a good person; Charlie felt that in the deepest depths of her soul. She’d felt the same way about Sir Pentious, and look where he ended up? Contrary to what Angel assumed, now wasn’t the moment to push her redemption ideals onto him—Charlie knew that’d have the opposite effect. But she wasn’t going to miss the chance to make someone feel loved, regardless of what it took to get the point across.
Emily, at Charlie’s behest, decided to take a step back and took a seat at the table across from the sinner; after all, she didn’t share the Princess’ vast knowledge of Hell and its citizens, nor did she presume to know everything there was to know about Anthony despite all the many things she’d seen. Charlie was the redemption expert, so the youngest seraphim was more than happy to let her take the lead; maybe she knew how to get past Anthony’s thorny exterior.
Softly, clearly trying not to spook him back out the window, Charlie told him something he’d already known since the moment he was able to understand the concept: that his sister was beautiful, both outside and in. Angel huffed a quiet, derisive laugh, kept his gaze stubbornly focused on his own splotchy reflection, and continued dabbing at the runny makeup with an expert touch. Charlie kept going—Angel expected her to—but her next words actually did manage get him to look up from the mirror, watery eyes narrowed.
“Charlie, she loved me a hundred years ago,” he stated, his tone matter-of-fact. “She loves that person, someone who died a whole-ass lifetime away. I would make her cry.”
Emily caught Charlie’s gaze for the briefest of moments, then flashed both demons with a million-watt smile.
“That’s not true in the least!” she began. “Pentious has told her all sorts of things about you, about your life down here—”
Angel went rigid, the compact slamming shut with a harsh click. He didn’t look at her, instead pooling his focus on the basket itself, completely over-the-top gaudy and ridiculous. So fucking Italian. Of course, it’d be annoying as hell to carry to the car when they finally escaped the hotel.
(Pfft; like Husk wouldn’t offer, anyway.)
“Anthony, the only thing she cared about was whether or not you were happy. She asked Pen about your friends, about your dancing. She asked about your personality and if you were still funny like she remembered. I—” Emily sucked in a breath, her expression growing somber once more. “I can’t even try to comprehend how difficult it must be to survive the Extermination year after year the way you have. I’m sure no one, Molly especially, would judge you for anything you’ve done to keep yourself afloat down here. It’s... Unfortunately, Hell is designed to bring out the worst in everyone. She would never hold that against you.”
It was odd, but the more time she spent in his presence, the more Emily realized how wrong this whole situation was. It really was unusual for twins to be separated for eternity—and, if he didn’t have such sharp fangs, Anthony, all fluffy fur of pink and white, would blend right in with any winner at first glance; his bright colors certainly stood out amongst the sea of red and black that flooded the Pride Ring. Oh, this was just the sort of thing she used to discuss with Sera! How Emily longed for the days where she could trust her sister’s counsel; she’d have so many thoughts about this, each uniquely illuminating, that much was for certain.
Angel gave a hiccup, two hands clutching tightly to the compact, and the other two giving his own knees the same treatment. Uncertain, he eyed the pair of them and took a long moment to mull over their words. “...Pentious told her I take cock for cash? And she asked about my friends?”
Emily winced at the crass language, but she managed to give a nod nonetheless. “He—Well, he didn’t say it like that, but he told her about your work, yes. Just like Charlie says, she still loves you; you’re still her brother. She’s been looking for you for decades, praying that you were okay.”
Much to his own surprise, a quiet laugh fell from Angel’s lips at that thought. Of course Molly, of all people, would waste all that time searching Heaven for him; she was the only one who’d think he’d make the cut.
“I—I never bothered lookin’ for her here,” he admitted with a shrug. “Just knew she’d be up there, so there was no point.”
Heaving another sigh, Angel jammed the compact into his purse and, with shaky fingers, reached for the polaroids again. Steeling his resolve, he looked through them one-by-one, laying them gently down on the table before moving onto the next. Pentious and Emily were in quite a few, but there were other friends, too. There were a couple of selfies of Molly in what looked to be a very pink apartment, one that looked not unlike his own room (minus all the drug paraphernalia and sex toys).
The last was a photo of Molly beside another spider, one who appeared a bit shy to have her photo taken; she was a deeper shade of rose and a creamy white and, though she was older than he remembered her and in a whole new form, Anthony recognized her immediately. He stared at it for a long moment. Then, for reasons he couldn’t quite identify, he passed it to Charlie.
“That’s my Ma.” A slight grin tugged at his lips. “Ain’t she somethin’, too?”
Emily was, once again, trying not to squeal; she was so happy he hadn’t just cut and run! “I’m sure she’s lovely; you both take after her.”
“That’s a good fuckin’ thing, too,” Angel quipped. “Because our Pops is an ugly piece of shit.”
“Ahah...” The seraphim nodded. “Er… I see.”
Like Emily, Charlie was over the moon Anthony decided to stay. Despite how much their “pep talk” visibly irked him, she could tell deep down that the reassurances about his sister were something he’d needed to hear for a long time. How horrible it must be to not only know your twin was in the last place you could ever reach and think you’d never get to see her again? This is exactly why Charlie’s redemption plan was so important. Pentious might claim Heaven too boring for his tastes, but he made it in.
And apparently, with the right paperwork and a chaperone, winners could even visit Hell! It was far from a perfect system, but St. Peter’s gate had been thrown off its hinges to reveal endless possibilities of a brighter future for all lost souls, Hell- or Heaven-bound.
But—Anthony. Anthony, who held so much pain and regret in his ironclad heart. Emily told him of all the things his sister asked about him, assuring she did in fact still love him unconditionally regardless of his eccentric job. Charlie had only seen him so relieved once before—but even the news that Husk would survive his grave injuries put a slightly different type of sparkle in those mismatched eyes. Now, Charlie could confirm two souls Anthony undoubtedly cared for—and when he finally rifled through the photos to reach the last one, the list kept growing.
“Oh…,” Charlie breathed, a wide smile eclipsing her features as she took the picture. Molly’s resemblance truly was uncanny; examining the face of the stouter, motherly spider proved exactly where she and Anthony got their looks from. Charlie gaze lifted, watching him carefully over the edge of the picture. “She’s wonderful; such a kind face. I hope I’m able to meet them both someday—alongside you, of course.”
Alright, she had to plug in one little vouch for the program. She knew the drugged-up porn star and all his baggage would take a lot more work than Pentious, but today’s experience only made Charlie more determined to see his redemption journey through to completion. Now, if she could just figure out how to crack their bartender’s shell of hardened liquor, too…
Collecting the photos and dabbing his eyes one last time, Angel drew in a shaky breath and shook out his hands. “I, uh... I wanna—”
His gaze drifted towards the door. Though he was itching and terrified to read it, Angel couldn’t fathom touching Molly’s letter with Charlie and a seraphim right across from him. Besides, he’d rather have…
Well. Maybe it’d be nice to read it with Husk sitting nearby.
Emily’s smile was renewed in an instant and she shared a knowing look with Hell’s Princess. “Was it only Leo and Husk left in the lobby, Charlie?”
The spider narrowed his eyes.
“I didn’t say—” Angel tutted, cursing himself for being so fucking obvious. He let out a sharp sigh, then spared the girls a sidelong glance. “...Was it?”
Anthony made moves to compose himself, clearly itching for a break from Charlie and Emily’s company. His makeup was still a bit lackluster and shaky, but it served well enough to protect the shiny veneer of Angel Dust. Wringing out his hands and flitting his eyes to the door, Charlie could tell what he wanted before Emily caught her gaze.
“Let me check,” the Princess replied, reverently placing the photo of Molly and her mother down before turning to the door. Cracking it open, she poked her head out and cast a sweeping glance across the lobby.
“If you’re lookin’ for Leo, he ditched a while ago,” Husk remarked, attention pulled the moment he heard the sound of heavy wood sliding across carpet. He shook his head with a derisive snort. “God forbid the kid talks to me alone more than two fuckin’ seconds.”
Charlie pursed her lips, giving the doorframe a firm tap where her fingers curled around it. “Okay, I wish I had time to unpack that now, but I’m definitely filing it away to talk about later.”
Husk grimaced, realizing his error too late. “Don’t.”
“Already done!” Charlie’s pensive look flipped into another smile and she ducked back into the dining room with a knowing glint in her eye. “It’s just Husk, actually. Emily, how about I introduce you to my dad? We can find Vaggie on the way!”
The seraphim needed no further excuse to follow. Charlie flashed Angel a final, encouraging grin before slipping out of the dining room. With Emily at her heels, they ascended steps and made a beeline for Lucifer’s tower, barely able to contain their mutual excitement on how overall well that last encounter went.
…
Charlie just had to plug her redemption program and Angel’s only response was a melodramatic roll of his eyes. He wouldn’t argue with her because he was still too sober and didn’t have the capacity, but he still wasn’t sold. Maybe there were people in Heaven who loved him, who didn’t blame him for all the things they ought to—his mother, in particular, had ample reason to despise him, even without knowing what he’d become—but that didn’t mean he had absolved himself. Besides that, he’d been a junkie so long, stopping was just out of the picture—he’d withdrawn dozens of times before (usually, as a direct result of Val cutting off his supply as a consequence for something dumb) and, although it was technically survivable, he sure as fuck wasn’t planning on repeating it. He didn’t even recognize himself sober, not when it was for more than a few hours, and getting to that point was more torturous than almost any of the fucked-up pornos he’d filmed.
For fuck’s sake, the very first thing Anthony realized when he showed up in Hell wasn’t that he had eight fucking eyes, or a bunch of extra limbs, or that he was somehow lankier than he’d always been—it was that, dead or not, even his soul was trapped by his addiction. You’d think overdosing and going comatose for weeks on end, only to never wake up again, would mean you’d stop craving the bullshit that did you in, but you’d be wrong. Getting a fix was the first goal he set for himself, and it didn’t take much time to realize the easiest tools he had at his disposal to get it. So, if redemption took sobriety, and chastity, and all that shit, there was no chance he’d ever live up to those expectations. After all, while he was in Hell, he’d always need to work (in his entire existence, barring the coma bull, Angel had never been useless and he didn’t intend to start anytime soon) and that required a whole host of unholy activities.
Plus—if someone didn’t even own their own soul, could they even be redeemed? What about Overlords like Husk? And what about Nugs? He was Hellborn, so could he make the trip? What, was Angel supposed to go Upstairs without his fuckin' son?
But... If Pentious was able to visit, maybe Emily could be swayed to bring Molly, too.
(Not that Anthony relished the idea of her stepping foot in a shitty place like Hell, but... Well, the casino was pretty nice, right? And the new hotel wasn’t so bad...
And she was still Molly, it seemed, if she was willing to scheme with Pentious and bend the rules a little).
At the very least, maybe he could write his own letter or something—anything to let her know he was actually okay. In Hell or not, he was... Well, things were better than they’d ever been before, at least. He did have a surprising amount of people in his afterlife, suddenly, who didn’t only want to fuck him.
Before he knew it, Charlie and Emily were sharing one of those fucking looks again and Angel was left alone with his basket and thoughts. After another short while to gather himself, the spider stood, lifted the basket with two hands, and hazarded a glance into the lobby. Sure enough, as he’d been promised it was empty, save for a single bartender who’d absolutely already started drinking without him. Angel felt stupid, but he flashed a hint of a grin.
“It’s just me; they ain’t layin’ in wait to ambush you,” Husk reassured, knowing this to be a very real fear around the Hazbin Hotel. Leaning across the counter, the cat patted the smooth wood in front of Angel’s favorite seat. “Park it and tell this ol’ bartender all your troubles.”
A beat, then Husk eased back with a shrug and went to pour another drink. “If you want, of course. Or I can just get ya shit-faced.”
“If you don’t realize this—” With a free hand, Angel gestured between the two of them, then around at the abandoned lobby. “—is another sorta ambush altogether, you’re drunker than usual, baby.”
His gaze flitted to the staircase one last time just to make sure there weren’t two giggling goody-two-shoes spying in on them like schoolgirls. Once he was certain they were actually alone, he crossed the room in a few long strides, set his gift on the counter, and slumped onto his seat. Folding two arms on the wood, Angel unceremoniously pillowed his cheek atop them. With another hand, he slid the stack of pictures Husk’s way, shooting him another small grin.
“Can it be both?” He snorted. “If I knew all this was gonna come up, I woulda’ gotten high as shit before we came.”
“Oh, it can definitely be both—one extra-strength Long Island, comin’ up,” Husk replied, setting down the bottle in his hand and moving to gather supplies. He had a feeling that if Angel was going to open up at all he’d need a bolster, especially off the heels of being interrogated by the sunshine-and-rainbows duo. Shooting a glance over his shoulder, Husk nodded his chin to Angel's bag. "Hey, if you wanna pop a pill while the Princess ain't lookin', I won't say jack."
Far from the Overlord to discourage someone from their vices, least of all someone he actually liked.
Angel knew he didn’t really need to worry about Husk tattling about his drug use, but it was almost endearing—in a fucked up way—having someone around who wasn’t actively trying to improve him (like the Princess) or mold him into someone else (like Valentino). And, yes, Angel understood that there was something uniquely unhealthy about encouraging one another in their vices, but... As the day was apt to remind him, they were in Hell. And Hell, generally, was a lot less shitty when he was high.
With this rationale, the spider took Husk up on his promise not to squeal and reached for his purse. He rifled through it for a couple of ticks before pulling out an orange bottle. For once, Angel actually glanced at the label to check the dosing and, after he fumbled through the math in his head, he popped off the cap and tossed back a couple tablets. With only the two of them, the lobby was eerily quiet. Sucking in a long breath, Angel sat up, arms crossed on the counter in front of him.
“...I guess, even though the odds are fuckin’ ridiculous, Pentious ran into my—” He tripped over his words, puffed another soft sigh, and waved towards the pictures. “—into my sister after only bein’ in Heaven for a few fuckin’ weeks. Charlie’s never gonna let it go now, and—”
He grimaced. “God, now even Vaggie knows my fuckin’ name. I doubt I’ll ever hear the end of that. She’ll probably use it anytime I call her ‘Vagina’ and that’ll sap all the fun outta one of my favorite jokes ever. She makes the best fuckin’ faces when she’s pissed.”
“...Huh.” Slowly, Husk set the bottles down in a neat row and moved to stand directly across from Angel, eyes still on the sinner for now. “That’s... Wow; what a fuckin’ coincidence.” He let out a snort, leaning an elbow on the bar. “Hey, at least I kept it under wraps—doesn’t that count for somethin’?”
His quip only earned the faintest smile. Angel was clearly distracted, not that Husk could blame him. His gaze flickered back and forth from the pictures to the spider’s face again, free paw inching towards the stack. When Angel gave a small nod, Husk pulled the photos towards him and began to rifle through with one hand, resting his cheek on the other closed fist. Each picture was given a thorough once-over, then deposited in a second stack next to the original. There were some with Emily and Pentious, a couple others with winners Husk hadn’t the faintest clue about, and another with a matronly spider whose color palate looked suspiciously like a deeper offshoot of Angel’s.
And in all the photos, there was one constant: a bright-eyed girl, white-furred with faint pink stripes and the most endearing, lopsided smile.
“...Twins?” Husk asked, holding up one of the selfies in a jarringly pink bedroom. Angel didn’t need to reply for Husk to know he’d guessed right; the look on his face said it all.
(It almost felt like a gut punch, honestly, how alike they still looked—like their souls didn’t know how to be any other way, even when they’d been separated for ages.)
The cat let out a slow breath, gently setting down the last picture before sliding the reversed stack back. Rather than start on his drink, Husk just... stood there a moment, as if unsure what exactly he should be doing.
“She looks just like you,” he remarked, then grimaced because that was fucking stupid. “I’m sure you don’t need me to tell ya that, though. I, uh—Christ.”
Comfort wasn’t exactly the forte of an emotionally-numb, soul-owning Overlord. Pushing off from the counter, Husk grabbed a glass and tossed it in the air, allowing it to flip over once before catching it expertly in his opposite paw. The minor theatrics gave him something for his busy hands and mind to focus on, and he quickly got to work uncapping the row of liquor bottles.
“I’m guessin’ she bakes, too?” Husk asked, nodding to the basket. There were about a dozen more questions on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t want them to be thrown right back at him—which is something Angel could and would probably do if he was in the right (or wrong?) mood. So, unless the spider was willing to go a little deeper on his own, Husk would keep things pretty surface-level. From his experience, people usually just opened up to him without needing a push... and though more cautious about what he said than most, Angel wasn’t an exemption to the tempting combination of booze and a sympathetic ear.
Angel listened to the soft tinkling of glasses as Husk set about making his drink, watching absentmindedly.
God, what a... strange fucking day. Honestly, Angel didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, he couldn’t deny that it was nice knowing that his sister was still thinking about him, that she still seemed to care (even when she shouldn’t), but... On the other hand, Angel almost wished he could go back in time and not show up today at all. Jesus. Guilt was twisting in his gut and the last thing Angel wanted was for Molly to waste another hundred years waiting for him to get his shit together.
Fuck. This felt like one of those “ignorance is bliss” sorta situations and, unfortunately, he didn’t know if he could get high enough to win that ignorance back.
“Hm?” Husk nodded to the basket and Angel, mind growing joyously fuzzier with each second, felt another small grin tug at the corner of his lips. He nodded. “Better than me, even. She, uh...” Angel shrugged. “We used to sneak into the kitchen when our Pops was out so we could fuck around with shit together.” His brows drew close; he shifted in his stool. “I, uh... I didn’t get to do it with her as much as I wish I coulda. I learned most of it helpin’ Ma after...”
Angel trailed off, heaved a heavy sigh. Suddenly, and with all the drama befitting a seasoned porn actor, Angel gave a long groan and flopped his head, face first, into his arms.
“Fuuuuck me; I-I hate all this,” his voice was muffled. He drew in another, lengthy breath.
Molly would tell me I look my worst when I’m “wallowin'.”
—She’d want him to try, at least. Given everything he’d done and failed to do, didn’t he owe her that much? Clearly, though it was probably causing her all sorts of grief, Molly was willing to think of him even if it hurt; even if there were all sorts of questions she must be haunted by because of it.
Just as expected, all Husk had to do was stand around and wait, and he was gifted with a few more pieces to the puzzle that was Anthony’s previous life. Nothing crazy, but one key nugget of information snuck through. As Angel told Husk about how he used to bake with his sister, Husk’s gaze dropped briefly to the top picture. The spider grinning back at him was undoubtedly a match for Angel’s features... though if Husk looked very closely, he swore there was a youthfulness that her counterpart didn’t possess. Of course, there were a dozen other reasons why Angel might look a bit more wizened than his twin, but it was that last line that really struck a chord:
“I learned most of it helpin’ Ma after...”
Husk felt a familiar pit in his stomach open up—one of empathy rather than just sympathy. If he read the cards right, Angel’s sister died before he did. Undoubtedly, the loss of someone prior to their time was a key factor in whatever spiral Angel went through leading up to his own demise. Husk understood all too well the need to fill your life with anything you could to forget the worst parts...
When Angel slumped over, Husk took that as his cue to keep mixing booze upon booze. Throat dry, he swallowed down an uncomfortable lump that lodged heavily in his chest.
...Fuck. He wondered, vaguely, if Pentious had run into his family up there. They wouldn’t be as recognizable as Anthony’s double, but maybe—
Well. It didn’t matter anyway, did it? His wife wouldn’t want to see the absolute fuck-up he’d become, even worse than before she kicked the bucket, and his youngest certainly didn’t remember him. The only one who might give Husk the time of day was his eldest, but he hoped (fuck, he’d be willing to pray for this if it meant it was true) that she was still living out her last few years comfortably on Earth, enjoying life to the fullest for the sake of a family that couldn’t.
Reluctantly, Angel stood, two hands fiddling idly with the hem of his skirt. Mustering up his courage, he reached for the basket and slid it a bit closer.
“Husk,” Pink eyes darted across to him. “If you were me, and... that’s stupid.” He bit back a sigh. “...I’m bein’ a pussy, ain’t I? I should just read the damn fuckin’ letter, but what if it’s—?”
Thin fingers tapped the cellophane; it crinkled under his touch. On the fly, Angel plucked the rose-scented envelope from the gift and walked around to the other side of the bar.
“You read it. Not aloud—” He clarified, shoving the letter into the Overlord’s chest with a bit more force than necessary, his hand lingering to hold it in place (and not at all for any other reason). “If it’s awful, then you can lie and tell me somethin’ pretty instead.”
Husk blinked, wide-eyed and hating that he startled slightly. It’s not like the spider was all that quiet—Christ, he’d even been in the middle of saying something, but it was taking a second for Husk’s brain to catch up with the words. Glancing down, he realized that Angel had in fact pushed the letter that’d been sitting atop the gift basket against his shirt.
“Huh? Oh, you want...?” Husk trailed off, the situation clicking into place. The spider looked at him imploringly, an unsettling vulnerability in his gaze that Husk hadn’t seen since their conversation after he came home from the hospital. Once again, for some fucking reason, Anthony still thought to trust Husk with something so personal.
(It was, admittedly, nice to feel useful again, unwarranted as it was.)
A soft smile pulled at the edges of Husk’s lips. Nodding, he placed a paw over Anthony’s hand and gave it a squeeze, slipping the letter free after releasing it. “‘Course I’ll read it for ya, tesoro.”
With that, there was nothing left to do but follow through. Carefully breaking the envelope’s seal, Husk was treated to another poignant wave of rosewater. It should’ve been unpleasant, being drenched in Heavenly smells, but though it did cause his nose to crinkle the cat found it surprisingly tolerable. The paper inside was a slightly lighter, pastel shade of pink, folded over once. Catching Angel’s gaze a final time, when he received no signs to stop Husk flipped open the letter and began to read the curved, sparkling script.
Anthony,
I don’t even know where to start with this thing. I’ve tried to write it so many times, but nothing seems to work... So I’m just going to put my pen down and keep it on the page until my thoughts stop enough to sign my name.
First of all, I know you’re worried about me and Ma. We’re doing just fine, except of course we miss you all SO much. Don’t tell Emily, but it’s boring as heck without you here. I’ve got some friends, and Ma’s expanded her book club like crazy (I swear she’s hosting sermons at this point). But... no one’s been able to make me laugh like you used to. It’s so sad painful terrible UNFAIR.
There were a few words scribbled out here; true to her word, the girl didn’t lift her pen until she was done writing everything she wanted to say.
(Husk wouldn’t dare mention it, but there were a few dried splotches of what he could only assume were tears dotting the page as well.)
I can’t even tell you how upset I am you got sent down there, Anthony. Not AT you; don’t you dare think I’m mad at YOU. I don’t care about anything you did those angels say “justifies” sending you to Hell. Honestly, I think the whole concept is bull stupid. I know you only did what you had to do. You belong up here with me and Ma; I feel it in my soul.
It hurts to be away from you like this
But at least you made some friends down there, or so Pen tells me! He’s told me a lot of things about you, most of which I think deserves an actual conversation, otherwise this letter will turn into a book. But I want you to know one thing, you stubborn dummy: I love you.
(This part was run over quite a few times to make the ink darker than the rest.)
No matter what. You’re my brother; my other half, from cradle to grave. We said we’d stick it out together forever; I know you remember. I’m sorry I broke our promise first
But Emily says she’s looking into ways I can visit you! For now, the basket and this letter will have to do. Ma and I baked all your favorites; sounds like you got even better in the kitchen after I left. I can’t wait to cook all kinds of goodies with you again!
Okay, I said I wasn’t going to let this thing run forever, so I guess I’ll stop here. Even if you can’t write back, I know you’re reading this and I hope it brings you some light. Oh wait, I heard the sun is RED down there... is that true? Anyway, rambling again. I’m happy my letters can finally get through now. I KNEW we’d find each other someday, and before you know it I’m going to see you in person and give you the biggest hug EVER! Sending all my love (and Ma’s, too).
—Molly ❤
For a while after Husk finished reading, he continued staring at the page. Molly sounded so genuine, and that lump in his chest had only grown bigger with each word he took in. Now it threatened to choke him, and Husk had to clear his throat egregiously before he could speak again.
“Good news—” he began, voice a touch more gravelly than usual. Watching Angel’s face closely, he held out the letter, unsure if the spider was ready to accept it yet. “—I don’t have to lie. Her words are pretty enough on their own.”