Chapter Text
Lovers in a Past Life
by Calvin Harris and Rag’n’Bone Man
Patience
Feels like I've been waiting for a lifetime
For lightning to strike me
Daydreams
Feels like I've been sending out the signals
Hoping that you'll find me
I don't need the details, you don't need to tell me
It's like I already know where you'll be
You and me
We were lovers in a past life
Slow dancin' in the midnight glow
I wanna hold you for a lifetime
For all we know
And these are familiar places
And maybe we're not just strangers
You and me
We were lovers in a past life
For all we know
Distance
Only ever makes the heart go stronger
Late at night, I wonder
What you thinkin' of me in someone else's arms? (Oh)
Does that feel like it's meant to be?
You and me
We were lovers in a past life
Slow dancin' in the midnight glow
I wanna hold you for a lifetime
For all we know
And these are familiar places
And maybe we're not just strangers
You and me
We were lovers in a past life
For all we know
Hell was an eternal punishment. Every aspect of it was designed to torment its inhabitants. Sinners. Hellborn. The royal family. No one was exempt from its torture.
But on very rare occasions, Hell offered solace.
When Vox first arrived in Hell, it was a shock for sure, but it wasn’t wholly unwelcome. For one, his body matched with what he always knew to be true. Well, baring the television head but the rest finally matched!
He was a man!
Not once did anyone question it unlike while he was still living. No more hiding. No more pitching his voice intentionally lower. No more fearing being found out.
He could finally be him.
He shed his old life quickly, immediately embracing who he was always meant to be. Vincent. It was a name he had taken on while alive that he always feared using, even as he found himself living full time as a man, his name known far and wide. What if someone realized the truth? Realized that the name he was given by his parents was nowhere near close to the one he bore now? What if people realized that what was underneath his clothes didn’t match the name? He’d suffered through the tragedy of people finding out the truth once before and the repercussions were something he still felt today. But here in Hell, he finally embraced the name without fear.
Other Sinners unfortunately didn’t share his same enthusiasmfor his name. Vincent, they sneered. What a weak and pathetic name suited for life. This was Hell, they said. He should take on a more intimidating name if he wanted to be taken seriously. For those first couple years he stubbornly refused. He was Vincent. ALWAYS had been and no one was going to tell him who he was or should be. He had gotten enough of that in life.
But eventually he conceded and took on a new name. Vox. Vox populi. He had always envisioned himself as the voice of the people. It was fitting. Influential. Powerful. And it gave him a small connection to one of the only good things from his life.
There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t still mourn his lost love. His shining grin. His unrelenting charm. His beautiful voice. He was taken tragically far too soon by a careless hunter. A hero, the papers had labeled the despicable man who took his love. Ridded the world of the terror of the Smiling Killer. Vox never saw it that way, however. All he saw it as was the day he tragically lost the only one who ever got close to knowing him body and soul.
And wasn’t that just part of the tragedy.
In the end, Vox had never been able to fully reveal himself to his dead husband. Back then he was still young and unsure of himself. He felt wrong in his own skin, always had, but he couldn’t fully explain why. It wasn’t until years after his loves death that he fully understood who he was.
Would his love have understood? Would he not have cared? Would he have accepted Vox for who he was?
These were questions he never got answers to. Never even knew to ask while his love was still alive. And despite all his pain at losing his love, there was a small part that betrayed himself and was grateful that he never had to face the apprehension of asking them. He didn’t think he would have ever been able to handle it if the answer to all of those questions was a “no.”
This fear was what held him back from trying to seek out his lost love in those first years in Hell. He hated himself for his cowardice. There was a possibility he could be reunited and yet he wasn’t taking it? He wasn’t doing everything possible to find his love? How pathetic.
For he knew without a shadow of a doubt his love was down here in Hell as well. There was no chance that the infamous Smiling Killer would have ever been sent to Heaven. For the first time in decades, he had a chance to see his love again! He had an actual hope and possibility! And yet…he didn’t take it.
Even without his television head, he knew his love wouldn’t have recognized him. And it’s not just his new body. He had changed so much from that naïve young woman who hung on his loves every word. He wasn’t bashful or unsure of himself. His name wasn’t even anywhere close to the same! Would his love still love him back if he could see him now?
He wasn’t confident enough that he would and so he did not look.
And yet, as always, Hell’s punishment presented itself.
The first time he heard his voice, it was over the radio because of course it would be. It was rather fitting seeing as that was how he first heard his voice while living. Chipper and Angelic. Just like the first time, it made his heart stop. Only this time the glee and adoration were mixed with trepidation.
There he was. There was no denying it was him. There was no more remaining blissfully ignorant of his identity or whereabouts. The Radio Demon, he was called. An Overlord, feared by all. Because of course he would rise to such a status.How couldn’t he? He was fearsome even in life.
The fear of reaching out was still there but the desire to be reunited was suddenly overwhelming. He could no longer deny his desires. He needed to see him, if only once more.
Orchestrating their meeting was easy enough. The Radio Demon was well known and as such, his frequent haunts were as well. One such haunt was a speakeasy styled club that filled Vox with endless amounts of nostalgia. It made his heart ache. It looked so much like the speakeasy they had first met at, and Vox instantly knew that it would be the perfect place for their second first meeting.
It would be something small. A brief introduction. A shared bar top. Maybe even a single drink bought for the illustrious Radio Demon. And that would be it. Or at least that’s what he told himself.
What a fool he was. Did he really think he could be satisfied with that single interaction? He’d never been in life, so why would his death be any different?
In his defense, he didn’t seem to be the only one fascinated. He supposed it wasn’t every day the Radio Demon encountered another Sinner who showed him no fear. Perhaps new Sinners, but they didn’t know any better. Those that had been in Hell for any significant amount of time knew to fear the Radio Demon. And yet…just as in life, Vox couldn’t find himself to be afraid even as he knew he should.
“You’re a rather curious fellow.” He looked at Vox with fascination, his eyes shining with something that Vox couldn’t decipher.
Vox could feel his screen brighten in what approximated to a blush for him. “Oh? How so?”
“You don’t fear me even as you know who I am,” Alastor drawled, giving him a wide and fascinated smile. Having that smile turned on him once more made his heart swoon. “You’re either very stupid or very brave.”
Vox gave an amused hum. “Maybe a bit of both.”
That earned him a laugh that warmed Vox’s insides. “Oh, I like you. What did you say your name was again?” Vox hesitated. “What’s wrong? Still deciding on a name for yourself?”
He looked down at his drink that was clasped between his hands. He fiddled with the rim of the glass nervously. For the first time in decades, his old name was on the tip of his tongue. It tasted sour and felt wrong, and yet…he couldn’t help but fight the instinct to give it.
But doing so would reveal too much that he knew he wasn’t ready to give. And so, he stamped down on the urge to utter that long forgotten name and instead said, “My names Vincent. But I’ve taken to using the name Vox.”
“Vox, you say!” Alastor leaned in close, clearly pleased with the name and suddenly the name held so much more appeal. “Now that’s a name befitting a Sinner! Much more than the likes of ‘Vincent.’”
He couldn’t help the pang at the disregard for what he felt to be his true name, making his fears suddenly that much more valid. Alastor found Vincent lacking just as he knew he would. He was suddenly grateful that he decided to bury his long forgotten dead name even further down instead of uttering it aloud.
He plastered on a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “Thanks. I thought so too.”
After that, Vox seemed to run into Alastor constantly. Some of that was his own doing, unable to stop himself from seeking the man out, but some of it wasn’t. Was the Radio Demon following him? Organizing situations in which they would run into each other? Just like he was?
It seemed like that was the case. And Vox’s cold-dead heart warmed at the thought. He cared, Vox told himself. Alastor cared for him even as Vincent!
Or at least so he thought. When it came to Alastor, he always had failed to think rationally. But he didn’t think this was a situation that warranted rational thought. Matters of the heart rarely did.
Their relationship felt like old times, albeit lacking in the more physical aspects that came with marriage. But they weren’t married. At least, not anymore. ‘Till death do us part’, the pastor had said. And death had parted for both of them. But that didn’t mean that they couldn’t rekindle their old relationship. The way their relationship was going, it seemed it was headed that direction anyways. Why not take the next step?
He really was the biggest fool.
The day that Alastor refused his offer of a partnership was perhaps even harder than the day he had first lost him. At least then he had been able to comfort himself with the knowledge that Alastor had loved him back. Or so he had thought. Was it perhaps all a lie? Did he ever even once care for him? Or was the only thing he had ever seen in Vox was entertainment?
“Come now, Vox,” Alastor had laughed. “I knew you could be pathetic at times, but I didn’t realize you were so weak.”
Vox had laughed nervously. “What?” And then his face fell.
“Oh fuck.” He laughed harder. “You need me to join your team? And here I thought you might actually be approaching my level, but asking for assistance? A partnership?” Vox grabbed his own arm, making himself smaller as his antennas drooped. “I am quite disappointed in you.”
Vox sat. “I…I just thought, you know, since we were friends…” He looked at his lap and clenched his fists. Friends…was that all they would ever be?
“Friends?!” There were radio dials in his eyes, a sight that was never welcome. He then got in Vox’s face, sneering. “There are no friends in Hell, Vincent. I thought that was something you understood. How embarrassing.”
Apparently, they never were even friends.
The fight that broke out afterwards, including every single one after that, was explosive. All the pain and heartache and sorrow of Vox’s life and death were funneled into their fights. Tearing and snapping and biting. They went all out.
Even though their years together in life weren’t many, they were the happiest Vox had had. And now they were all tainted with the knowledge that Alastor never really cared.
Why would he have ever thought differently? He had foolishly fallen for the older charming man with the pretty words and pretty smile. He’d been warned away from him, others telling him only heartache lay with the dark-skinned free spirit with violent tendencies. Heartache was inevitable, but Vox never imagined that it would take this particular bitter flavor.
The pain was insurmountable, paling in comparison to only one other pain from his life. That pain was ever present. And now so was this one.
No one quite understood his sorrow. They believed him petty and childish in his rage at being rejected over a relationship that lasted only a couple of years in his eternity in Hell. But they didn’t know. They didn’t know that the relationship and pain lasted far longer than that. Alastor didn’t even know. And he never would.
And then…Alastor vanished.
Seven years. Seven long years of seeing neither hide nor tail of the man. Where was he? What happened to him? Had he perished in one of the exterminations? It made Vox’s heart clench.
He searched all of Hell but found nothing. Not even a whisper.
He was glad. He was happy. This is exactly what he wanted, Alastor gone and out of his sight forever….right? Despite himself, he couldn’t help but feel like how he had the first time Alastor disappeared from his life.
Then he returned. And he was equal parts enraged and relieved.
Where had he gone? Why had he left? What was he doing in all that time?
In the end it didn’t matter. Alastor was back and he was staying at that damned hotel run by the Princess. Redemption? Really? He knew Alastor didn’t believe in it so it meant his presence there could only be nefarious. The last thing he or anyone in Hell wanted was for Alastor to gain some sort of deal from one of the most powerful beings in all of Hell. He needed to do something.
His first spy attempt was admittedly rather lack luster. He was an idiot to think the overgrown snake would be even the least bit reliable. However, his second attempt was a stroke of genius. It was rather simple hypnotizing Angel Dust to do his biding and unwittingly spy on his friends. It seemed that the spider was useful for something after all.
When the impromptu early extermination finally occurred, Vox sat with rapt attention from the safety of his tower. His heart stopped, even as he cheered when the First Man slashed at Alastor, cutting a deep gash into his chest. And his heart soared, even as he cried in anger when Alastor slipped away at the last minute. He tried to put aside his complicated feelings on the matter and focus on a new goal.
Heaven.
Angel’s could be killed and the Princess and her friends had just delivered a heavy blow to Heaven. Adam had been killed, proving that not just low-ranking Angel’s could be done in. This…this was incredible! Fantastic! The exact thing that Vox wanted to hear!
He could go to Heaven. He could infiltrate it and take over. He could gain the trust and support of Hell’s masses and storm the pearly gates and get in!
He could finally be reunited with the one person he had loved more than Alastor.
But as he always knew, he was a fool.
He let his own pride get in the way. His own heartache and sorrow. He was blinded by his desire for revenge against HIM. Against Alastor. Any sort of lingering feelings of love and affection disappeared. He wanted him GONE! And he didn’t care who got caught in the crosshairs…even himself. He would take all of Hell down with him if it meant Alastor was done.
Here he was now, laying in the rubble at the foot of his tower. Abandoned by his partners, just like he had been abandoned by Alastor.
He let out a bitter laugh, coming out warbled and full of static. He coughed as he choked on his own blood. His body was gone. The body he had cherished so much upon his arrival in Hell. Gone.
His vision went in and out as his screen flickered and glitched, half his vision obscured by splintered glass. Even then, he was still able to see the scowling form of the Princess come to stop by his side. She looked worse for wear but she still stood.
“Go-zz on,” he croaked, his face glitching. “D-zzz-do itzzzz.” The Princess’s frown deepened. “Do IT.”
“No,” she said.
“Coward,” he spit. “Your en-zz-emy lays broken at zzzz your feet. Finish him zzz-off.”
She shook her head. “I’m not like you.”
He laughed then groaned. His head felt like it was on fire. “Aren’t you? You’re the daughter of-zzz pride. It’szzz your greatest-zz weaknezzzzz. It blinds you. Makes you eager to-zz always be in control and prove that your zzz-right. But are you?” He took a deep rattling breath. Charlie’s brows twitched. “You sided with the Angel’szzzz against your own people-zzz.”
“I didn’t side with anybody,” she growled. “I fought to try and stop the fight alongside Emily. Put a stop to this madness that YOU started!”
“I didn’t s-zzz-tart anything, Princess,” he sneered. “I only fanned the flame. You reall-zz-y don’t think your own-zzzzzz people didn’t want to fight? That they didn’t w-zz-want revenge?”
The Princess scoffed. “Don’t try and act like that’s what this was about. This wasn’t about revenge. This was about your desire for power!”
“P-zz-power??” He coughed and then laughed. It rattled, stinging and causing blood to splatter and dribble out of his mouth. But he paid it no mind and continued to laugh. “Y-you th-zzzz-think this was about power-zzz? That I give a szzzzhit about ruling over a bunch of self-righteous feather-brained fuckszzz?” He snarled. “Fuck. Heaven!”
The Princess looked at him in disbelief. “Then what was the point of all this? If not for revenge and not for power, then what? What could you have possibly been hoping to accomplish?”
His gaze flew upwards, and he stared up at the red sky of Hell, Heaven shining bright and white up above, so very far out of his reach. There it was, always mocking him. Showing him what he had lost.
“You wouldn’t get it,” he whispered. “You Hellborn-zzzz. You could ne-zzz-ver possibly understand the pain of being a zzzzSinner. Everyone you have zzz-ever known is here. ZZZZ. In Hell. You don’t know what it’s-zzz like to know you will never s-zzz-ee the person you love most again. Th-zzz-at you will forever be separated from them in another realm.”
She looked up, at Heaven, before returning her gaze to him. Her expression softened in understanding. “You have someone in Heaven, don’t you?” Vox didn’t respond. She shook her head and said imploringly, “But why? Why would you incite a war in order to get to Heaven? If you had just listened to me, I would have been able to show you far sooner that redemption was possible! I would have been able to show you Sir Pentious and given you proof!”
Vox gave a bitter smile. “Redemption,” he sneered. “Even if it’s posszzzzible, do you really think someone l-zzz-like me could be capable of redemption?”
“Yes.”
Vox turned his gaze to the Princess. She was serious. Actually serious. He knew she was naïve, but this was ridiculous.
“Princess, I’m a murderer,” he said. “I was a zzzz cult leader. I have coerced, ch-zz-cheated, and lied to get to where I am now-zzz. I have never once-zz cared for the lives I’ve destroyed to get ahead. You really think someone like that c-zz-could be capable of redemption?”
The Princess sighed, turning to look out at the surrounding area. There were hurt Sinners and Overlords, milling about. There were crumbled buildings as far as the eye could see, stretching out to the far reaches of Pentagram City. All of it, every last bit of it, was his fault.
“Whoever it is that you lost that is in Heaven,” she began. “You love them?”
He coughed. “What szzzort of question is that?”
“An honest one. You love them?”
Vox swallowed down bile and blood. “Yes,” he gasped out.
She gave a single nod as if she knew the answer. “What’s more pure then love?” She turned back and looked down at Vox, giving him a sad smile. “Maybe you didn’t go about the right way of showing that love or trying to be reunited but it’s still love. It’s clear that you would do anything for them, whoever they are. Isn’t that what most everyone wants? Someone to love them so much that they’d move Heaven and Hell for them? They must be really lucky to have someone like you love them.”
Tears stung Vox’s eyes, springing to corporality and seeping into the cracks of his screen. Sparks flew, zapping his insides. The pain was immense but not as much as the pain that clenched at his long-broken heart.
“Lucky?” he said with a shaking voice. “It’s b-because of zzzzzzme that they died. They aren’t lucky.”
The Princess’s brows furrowed in sympathy. “Did you kill them?”
“No, I-I’d never hurt them,” he gasped as more tears fell. “But-zzz it’s still b-zzz-because of me that they died. Because of who I am. They wouldn’t have died-zzzz if I wasn’t me.”
“Did you mean for them to die?”
“No. No, never.”
The Princess moved, coming to kneel beside Vox. She laid a gentle hand on the side of his head. “It’s not your fault.” Vox gasped. “It’s not your fault they died,” she whispered.
Vox’s breath hitched and he shook his head minutely, grinding the back of his casing into rocks. “Y-you don’t know any-zzz-thing.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said again.
“S-stop it,” he whimpered.
“Even though it’s not your fault, you still feel guilt though,” she said in sympathy. “Someone who wasn’t capable of redemption wouldn’t be able to feel guilt.”
Vox’s breathing was quickening, sending spikes of pain throughout his head. He snarled. “Guilt? You think because I f-zzz-feel guilt I can be redeemed?” He mustered up as much vitriol as he could and growled at the Princess. “I got my daughter killed. I can NEVER be redeemed!”
He wept. He wept and wailed, and it hurt so much but he couldn’t stop. All the while, the Princess kneeled by his side and stared at him with sadness.
His energy waned rapidly after that. Whatever was keeping him awake and talking left him, allowing all the pain and fatigue to wash over him. He didn’t care anymore. If he died for good, then so be it. He welcomed it even. The eternal darkness of a second death sounded more beautiful than anything.
Well almost anything. Nothing could compare to his sweet little Grace.
His eyes slowly closed as he felt darkness closing in. There, just behind the Princess, was the silhouette of Alastor. His ever-present smile glowed down at him, ever mocking him.
“I-I bet you’re h-zzzzz-appy now,” he forced out through his tears. “You’ve won.” Alastor’s brows furrowed but his smile still remained. “You g-g-gzzzzet the last laugh. You always got the last laugh.”
The Princess frowned in confusion before looking over her shoulder at Alastor. He ignored her, his eyes stuck only on Vox. How Vox would have given anything to have those eyes always glued on him. Why did it have to come now?
He coughed and choked on his tears, his face going in-and-out. “I should have l-l-listened to zzzzzzthem,” he whispered. “Turned away. Nothing but p-painzzz lay that way. But I didn’t listen.” His vision was fuzzy; it was hard to focus on anything. The Princess and Alastor’s figures were just blurs now.
“But that damned smile,” he said to himself. “A-zzzz-always that damned smile. I fuzzzcking HATE IT! ZZZZ!” He gasped but it felt impossible to take any air in. “It was for your prey. Always y-y-zzzz-your prey.”
Shapes moved. A bright red blob entered his field of vision. With his waning energy a mad thought entered his head. He wanted to see his face when he realized the truth. He wanted Alastor to know everything. HE wanted the last laugh.
He forced his vision to focus, Alastor coming into view. There was a deep line between his brows. It looked almost painful. With his last energy, he forced himself to smile. “You told me I-I waszzzzn’t your prey. Do you remember? Do you re-zz-member, my love?” Alastor’s ears fell back onto his head. “We were floating down the bayou and zzz-you pro-promised me. Promised I wouldn’t be zzzz your prey. You promised me,” he whispered, tears streaming down his screen and sending sparks flying. “I should have known you wouldn’t keep your promise.”
Finally, the darkness overtook his vision, leaving him with the last pleasing image of Alastor’s broken face. Eyes wide in disbelief, smile twisted up and straining. He was in pain.
The last thing he heard was Alastor’s voice calling his name. Not just one of them, but all of them. Vox. Vincent. Mary. It sounded like it hurt Alastor to say the name. Good. He wanted it to hurt him to say it just as much as it hurt him to hear it.
Finally, he was the one that got the last laugh.
Then nothing.