Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Angel Dust was a prideful soul. He took a liking to the body he was given, the powers he was graced with, the abilities he had picked up along the way. Needless to say, he thought rather highly of himself. He was skilled in more than one field, more than one setting. He was just the correct mixture of sexy and dangerous, enough to catch the eye of multiple demons. However, he wasn’t worried. He could kill most of them if he so desired, unwanted physical touch was not something he enjoyed that much. He only sought out those he decided to become physical with, not the other way around.

Hell was the place for him. He made connections, burned bridges, and could have all the fun he wanted without many consequences. Turf wars were fun at times, Exterminations were easy to avoid after the first few years, and drugs were aplenty. 

But now, Angel was not enjoying his time in Hell. He had made the mistake of entering a strip club nearby to where he called home. There, he met an Overlord named Valentino, and nothing had ever been the same since. 

Currently, Angel was lying in a cold bed with a man who paid for his ‘services’ as they were called. He was hogging all the blankets, making Angel shiver in the smallest corner of the bed, with nothing but a thin pair of panties to cover himself. God, he was so cold. His phone lay charging on the nightstand, but he didn’t reach for it, not even as a ping rang out through the air. He knew it was Valentino, but all he decided to check was the time.

6:31 am flashed back at him, and he would have groaned if the man beside him weren’t sleeping. Oh, how he envied him. He finally opened up the message with Valentino, and he cringed at the contents. 

From Val, 6:31 am

‘Angel, when you get back, there’s another client requesting you tonight.’

He typed a simple ‘Alright Daddy,’ before sending it and leaning back against the pillows. A disgusting arm suddenly wrapped around his waist, an open mouth breathing hot snores onto his shoulder. He did nothing. 

But, Angel saw no more reason to stay in this damned room. He slipped out from underneath the man’s heavy arm, finding and dressing himself before he made for the door, phone in hand. He didn’t even look back. He creaked the door open, escaping before the man could even bat an eyelash. Now was the most dreaded part of this affair: going back to Valentino.

The smokey-red skies worked no comfort into Angel’s heart, only his own personal cloud of fear and dread hung over him. People scurried around the uneven streets, shouting insults at one another as sinful pleasures were ripped from grasps. Stolen drugs and alcohol pickeries were common in the morning. He shoved his hands into his pockets roughly, the heels of his boots tapping a rhythm that he relished as a distraction.

Someone catcalled him, he ignored it.

He gazed up at the large clock in the center of the town, large numbers showing the amount of time until the next Extermination. About seventy-three days until souls would be taken ruthlessly. Angel shivered at the thought of dying a second time. But, there was that one lingering thought clouding his mind. If ya died durin' the Extermination, Valentino wouldn’t be able t' hurt ya anymore.

He pushed it away, he didn’t want to die. Not yet.

He finally reached Valentino’s studio, and he pushed the grand doors open. Of course, the only person to greet him was Valentino’s assistant, never the latter himself. Angel was shown to the other man’s quarters, and the doors were slammed shut. A flick of Valentino’s wrist later, the lock clicked. Angel knew what was about to happen, he had been though this time and time again. 

A curl of red smoke caressed his cheek, beckoning him towards Valentino. “Hello, Daddy. Ya said there was anotha client for me?” Angel tried, and the other’s smile only grew wider with lust. 

“Yes, Angel.” He curled his finger around his cigarette, another billow of crimson smoke bringing Angel closer until he was in between Valentino’s knees. Another finger grasped onto his chin, tilting his head upwards. “But before then, let’s have our own fun, shall we? It’s been a while, has it not?”

He forced a different cigarette into Angel’s lips, then pinched his skin, causing him to gasp and inhale the deadly fumes. There he was, yet again, under Valentino’s thumb, thrown onto his covers, naked.

Here we go again…  

Would this cycle of abuse and rape ever cease?

Two and a half weeks until the Extermination, Angel was approached by two women. One with long, beautiful hair and an X as an eye, and the other wearing a crimson tuxedo. The first introduced them both, her name being Vaggie and the latter being named Charlie.

“Wait wait wait, like vagina?!” Angel exclaimed as soon as he heard their names.

A spear raised to his throat, Vaggie’s eyes burning with hatred. “Why are we asking him , Charlie? He’s a cock-swallowing whore who-”

“Now now, no need to be so vulgar,” Charlie hushed. “Everyone deserves a chance at redemption, Vaggie. Even him.”

“Redemption? What the fuck are ya talkin' bout?” Angel raised an eyebrow at Charlie, his top two arms folding as the bottom ones lay doormat against his legs.

“Get in, we’ll explain it all,” Charlie gestured to him to enter the limousine, and after a little bit of contemplation, he sighed.

“What the hell,” he murmured to himself, pulling the door open before stepping inside and taking a seat on the far end, away from the seething woman and the one attempting to calm her. “So, why’d ya decide to kidnap me? Tryna make some sort a’ porno video, cuz this plot sucks dick.”

“Charlie-!”

“Vaggie, it’s okay!” Charlie almost wailed. “Look, Angel Dust, we’re starting a project, a hotel of redemption!” 

She looked excited, but Angel didn’t buy it. “Ain’t no such thing as ‘redemption’, girlie. Whateva parasite is filling yer mind with ideas is more idiotic than someone outside durin' the Extermination.” He waved his hand dismissively as he folded his top two behind his head.

“Please, will you listen to what I have to say?” she pleaded, and Angel sighed, nodding once. “I’ve watched as Exterminations have taken life after life every year, and I can’t do anything! But, then I started to think. What about redemption? If demons redeem themselves, they’ll be able to go up to Heaven and population control wouldn’t end in bloodshed!”

Wow, both eyebrows were raised now. “Nah, that ain’t gonna work. It’s impossible. Besides, ya will have a wonderful time tryna find any demons that want to become better people.” He nearly scoffed, then he did. “Yer little project will end in ruins.” He crushed his fist together, imagining ashes crumbling between his fingers then raining down to the floor of the limousine.

“But, it doesn’t hurt to try, right?” Charlie cut Vaggie off before she could scream at Angel.

“What does this hafta do with me, though?” he asked, and Charlie’s aura brightened.

“We want you to become our first guest at the hotel, paid expenses and all!” she bounced in her seat, eyes sparkling. “So, what do you say?”

Well, this certainly wasn’t what he expected when he was approached by these two, but he shrugged. “Free rent, cool. Sure, I’ll go along with yer lil' experiment.”

“Yay! Thank you, Angel Dust!” she squealed, and would have leapt from her seat to hug him if it weren’t for Vaggie holding her down. “You won’t regret this, I promise!”

“Yeah yeah, sure.” Redemption, but at what cost? What would Valentino say if he knew I was tryna get away from him..? He hid his hooded eyes. I don’t even wanna think bout it.

“So, how about we go and take you on a tour?” Charlie spoke again, and Angel nodded nonchalantly, still lost in thought. “Alright!”

The limousine took a turn, and Angel braced himself with his lower arms, keeping himself from slipping and sliding. Another turn, he didn’t recognize this road. Was this hotel way out of town? Perhaps on the outskirts so no turf wars could destroy the building.

“So, allow me to explain what redemption entails,” Charlie held up one finger. “You cannot do anything sinful. That includes anything relating to the seven deadly sins, or any guilty pleasures that result in bad addiction.”

“Ah, so no more fuckin' 'round? Aww, damn,” he clicked his tongue, slightly smirking at the reaction from Vaggie.

“Would you fucking take this seriously?!” she barked, and Angel held up his hands in surrender.

“Please, continue.”

“After you’ve shown that you’re redeemed, we’ll find a way to take you to Heaven!” she finished, throwing her hands up into the air. “Oh, look! We’re here!” She shoved her face to the glass, pointing at the hotel just ahead on the road.

Angel took a peek as well, and oh dear God this place looked terrible. Oh no, it was even worse on the inside-

It was so rundown, horrendously decorated, with sickening balloons and streamers to ‘lighten the mood.’ Angel nearly hacked up his entire stomach. Sure, his outfit was colorful, but this was just… nauseating. However, Charlie looked beyond proud of this all while she explained the layout, speaking as she pointed to each different thing she was describing.

“And finally, here’s your room!” She swung a door open, revealing a simple room with all of the necessities: a bed, a vanity and mirror duo, then a large wardrobe.

“Huh, I guess it works,” he muttered, pushing the door open a little more and he peered inside. “I guess I’ll move myself in sometime soon.”

“Wonderful! We look forward to having you here!”

Then, Angel left.

The days towards the Extermination were ticking down, and before he knew it, Angel was huddled in his hotel room, holding Fat Nuggets close under the blankets. He was calmly attempting to doze off, his pillow dipping and curving to match his head shape. His hair shuffled across his face, Fat Nuggets adjusting in his arms.

The screams were distant, yet still present. Angel’s spine jumped a particularly loud screech, only to realize it was from downstairs. He froze in place, eyes wide with sudden fear. 

“VAGGIE, WHY!” It was Charlie’s high pitch whine that was accompanied by another ear-raping screech.

He would have thanked God if he wasn’t in Hell.

He just rolled over, shoving the side of his face into the pillow. Fat Nuggets squealed quietly, and Angel cooed at the little pig, petting his arm soothingly. “Shh, go back to sleep,” he whispered, then closed his own eyes and decided to take his own advice. Eventually, the screams ceased and Angel had calm, tranquil dreams for the rest of the night.

Or, so he thought.

The dream he was having turned from a blissful experience into a terrible reliving of a memory. And of fucking course, Valentino is at the head of everything.  

“Ya can’t keep me here any longer! I’m fuckin’ leavin’!” Angel shouted, stamping his foot in Valentino’s direction. 

“And go where? You have no home to return to! You belong to me!” He snatched Angel by the wrist, and the latter jerked himself away, gripping his wrist like a burn.

“I’ve found a place,” he snapped, eyes narrowing. “A place away from the likes of ya.” A slap found its way across Angel’s face, and in his stupor, Valentino had yanked him by the arm, throwing him headfirst against the wall. He yelped in pain, cracking his eyes open as he glared around in confusion. “What the fuck?!”

“I refuse to let you leave, Angel. You’re forbidden,” he snarled, snatching Angel by the hair and forcing his head up to gaze into harsh, cold eyes hidden behind rosed sunglasses. 

He began to force a cigarette in between Angel’s lips, but the latter finally did the right thing and slapped it away. “Yer not gettin’ my body again! Ya don’t own me anymore!”

Valentino’s usual sinister grin was replaced with something even more evil, a frown yet there was so much more behind it. “You’re never leaving, Angel Dust. I built you from nothing! You’re what you are because of me, all because of me!”

Angel’s eyes began to shake, his arms trembling as they stood him up on unsteady legs. He stared Valentino down, fists clenching and unclenching. “Ya made me hate myself,” he hissed, eyebrows furrowing in fury. “I’m more than an object, I’m more than yer sex toy!” He tore his eyes away from the other, small tears slightly forming. “Ya can’t share me anymore, I’m not somethin’ for show and tell! I’m takin’ initiative and I’m leavin’!”

He stormed for the doors, ignoring the red smoke that began to filter around him, trying desperately to curl around his neck, to choke him, to take him back into Valentino’s suffocating arms. The doors slammed shut, and the last noises Angel heard were Valentino’s enraged screams, his furniture being thrown across the room. He was pretty sure a window just shattered.

But Angel continued forward, leaving his fear behind at the studio. Well, most of it, at least.

“ANGEL!” He ignored the screeches. He would… redeem… himself, if it was even possible.

But, Angel’s mind had other ideas. Valentino didn’t disappear, he pressed onward into Angel’s consciousness, tainting his mind with terror and pain. He thrashed around before he finally awoke, choking on his own saliva. He coughed over the edge of his bed, spatting his disgust over the floor. He clutched his throat, scratching and yanking at the fur that covered his skin. No one came to see if he was alright, so he assumed the hotel was deserted. God, he just wanted to forget.  

Treacherous fingers trailed up and down his body, making him shiver time after time. Fat Nuggets had woken up as well, nuzzling his nose against Angel’s fluff boobs as his way of comfort. But, in blindsight, Angel shoved him away and stood frantically, his eyes watering as he gazed around the room, whimpering. Fat Nuggets hopped off the edge of the bed, his eyes blinking slowly up at him. 

“Oh, Nugs, I can’t get rid of him.” A single tear escaped his eye, and it was soon followed by dozens of others. “I want to but I can’t!”

The small demon pig placed his hoof atop Angel’s socked foot as if to say “It’s okay, I’m here.”

Angel kneeled down, taking the demon pig into his arms. “I know, I know, I’ll always have you, Nugs.” He oinked, generously poking away Angel’s tears with his nose, and the latter chuckled. “Thank you.”

After a moment of silence, Angel decided it was time to spruce himself up. A walk outside might do him good. 

Chapter Text

Angel found himself standing before a vending machine, pressing the lowest button for a dose of angel dust. The sack plopped down in front of him, and he began to grin towards it as he plucked it from the machine, until a hand yoinked the small bag from his claws. “Hey!” he shouted after the thief, only to see them bolting down the street.

“Up yours, drag show!” he yelled back cheerfully, but Angel just sat back and watched as a rather large rock cascaded from the sky, flattening the thief. His screech was brought to an abrupt halt, and Angel gasped.

“Oh my gosh!” he raced for the corpse, keeling over to pick up the ripped bag. “My drugs! Goddammit!” He cursed, narrowing his gaze at the crushed demon. He scoffed at the unfortunate soul.

Angel heard the loud boom of a bomb, and his face began to lighten up. He knew those bombs from anywhere . A large airship loomed over the city, lazer guns shooting down at the streets while a familiar head of hair tossed bombs up at it to bring it down. “Cherri!” He broke into a mischievous smirk. 

Since Charlie and Vaggie aren’t around… what’s wrong with a little skirmish? He mused to himself, then agreed with himself. He took a few steps forward, and a rather large stray debris flew towards his head, the street cracking and splitting under the lazer’s attacks. He noticed Cherri on the other side of the street, throwing a hefty bomb towards the airship, watching as it crashed through the window and filled the entire cockpit with bright red smoke.

He quickly dashed to the rock right beside her, hiding behind it as he grinned up at her. “Hey, nice to see ya, Angie!” she returned the smirk, pulling the trigger of a bazooka. Crimson smoke trailed along with the bomb as it flew through the blotched red and black sky. 

“Nice t' see ya too, Toots! Oh my gawd, this is the best action I’ve seen in weeks! O’ course I hadta pitch in! I was losin’ my motherfuckin’ mind!” He grabbed a loose bomb from the ground, holding it in between eager digits.

“Where’ve ya been anyway? Thought ya went n’ got yourself killed or some shit,” she pulled the pin to a different bomb, throwing it into the street before her.

Angel lit the one in his own hands, passing it to Cherri with a groan. “Oh, I only wish. I’ve been stayin’ at this cheap hotel on the otha side o’ town. Some broads are lettin’ me stay rent-free if I play nice,” he hissed as Cherri plopped down beside him, covering her ears as he did the same. Once the bomb went off, they brought themselves to their feet. Angel’s assault rifle came hand in hand with two extra arms from his waist. “I haven’t been able t’ fight, prank, and no ‘problematic language’, her words, not mine.” His rifle released round after round, the small egg minions blasting into goop left and right. “I’ve been clean fo’ two weeks!”

“Ho-ly shit, are you sure?!” Cherri expelled her disbelief through sending another bomb off nearby.

“Well, mostly clean,” he picked some egg goop off his face, looking at it skeptically before tossing it to the ground and shaking his head vigorously, cleaning off the rest. “Just ‘bout as clean as you can get while doin’ a shitload of Bolivian marchin’ powder!” Strong chains suddenly clasped around all of Angel’s arms, swinging him away from Cherri only to crash him into the street. “Oh, harder Daddy~” 

His fooling smirk never wavered, until Pentious' eyes widened. “Is that you, my son?!” After that single word, Angel froze, frowned, and his eyebrow raised in confusion.

Cherri used a flying kick to send Pentious off of Angel, the chains quickly coming undone as he stood on unwavering feet. Pentious growled, low in his throat. “You whores have no class whatsoever! In war, the side to be remembered is the side that has the most style !” he adjusted his tie matter-of-factly, a prideful expression plastered to his face.

“Or the side that ain’t dead,” Cherri offered, making quick work of the egg beside her, its head snapping apart from its body with a satisfactory crack.

Angel balanced himself properly, his eyes raising to gaze at Pentious. “Speakin’ a style, is that hat of yours like, alive or some?”

Pentious suddenly paled slightly offended, crossing his arms and huffing. “Well, that’s none of your goddamn business, now is it?!”

Angel gasped, his eyes wide with the retort he could spout. “Ha, would that make the hat the top and you the bottom?”

Pentious began to splutter, his eyes narrowing and widened in a flurry of emotions, but before he could fully react, one of his egg minions fired a gun towards Angel, several whip-like bands finding and grasping his wrists. Finally! Pentious had the upper hand! “Not so cocky now, are we?”

Angel sighed, clearly unamused. “Ya know, ya really gotta watch what you say, cause I’ve been makin’ these sex jokes the entire TIME!” His voice raised abruptly as the hands yanked at his wrists, a threatening drill appearing before Pentious as his choice of murder weapon. His third pair of arms slink from his waist again, his assault rifle firing a few rounds at Pentious, the sticky hands releasing him. “Ya just aren’t understandin’, and that’s just a bit sad!”

“So,” Cherri slunk up beside Angel, a fresh bomb in her hand. “Think you’ll be in trouble after this?”

“Eh, I dunno,” he shrugged. “What’s a lil’ brawl gonna cause?”

“Glad ya haven’t changed,” she nudged his arm playfully. “Ya know you’re my favorite guy to party with!”

“Ya know it, suga tits,” he grinned, preparing his rifle. 

She pulled the pin to the bomb in her hand, side glancing Angel. “Ya ready to finish this?”

Angel cocked his rifle, grinning. “I was born ready.” 

With two voices declaring a battle cry in unison, they charged for Pentious.

The window squeaked as Angel pressed the button to open and close it, a grin covering his face as he was completely mesmerized with the shifting glass. The rustling of a jacket being removed could be heard from across the limousine, as well as the seething rage from Vaggie. He spared her a look finally, and her face scrunched up evilly. He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“What? What? What were you DOING?!” Her hands shot to her head, ripping out two rather large chunks of hair.

“Aww, come on! I had to help Cherri out! I owed her, so shouldn’t that be a ‘redeeming quality’?” he used air quotes, then went back to the window, wanting to ignore the raging woman.

“ Not with turf wars that only end in complete genocide!” she clenched her fists in anger, her eyes almost sparkling with the flames of hatred.

He shrugged sloppily. “Eh, ya win some, ya lose a few hundred,” he burst into small giggles, only to result in a knife flying past his head, sticking into the wall right beside his eyes. “Oh come on! I need to upkeep my credibility! If people think I’m tryna go clean, think about what that’ll do to my reputation!” He adjusted his fluff boobs, flicking his floof to and fro.

“Reputation? Your reputation?! What about the hotel?! Your stunt made us look like a fucking joke!” She angrily gestured to the sulking Charlie, glaring between her and Angel in a fierce description of the consequences.

“Meh, jokes are ‘sposed to be funny. I made you look uhh,” he thought a moment, then snapped his fingers, pointing them to the air as the words came to him. “Sad, and pathetic! Like an orphan, with no arms. Or legs. With progeria!” He groaned effortlessly, slinking over onto his stomach and curling around the seat. “Great, now I’m sad just thinkin’ ‘bout it.” His head shifted up, his gaze panning over the interior of the limousine. “Does dis thing 'ave any liquor?”

“Why can’t you fucking take this seriously?!” Vaggie almost ripped herself from her seat, her fist just aching to dig her spear through Angel’s skull.

He sighed, nearly huffing agreement. “Fine, I’ll try.” He paused for a moment, still searching the place. “But honestly! Is there no liquor in here?”

Vaggie slammed back down into her seat, crossing her arms with a twitching lip, her anger filling up the entire limousine. The aura became dark, almost fiery. “I’ll kill him.”

“Too late! Wait, would dat make me double dead? Where would I go, huh? To double Hell?” He laughed at his own joke, pointing a finger towards Vaggie. “You’re stuck with me, bitch.”

She gritted her teeth, her hair falling over the X on her face. “Come mierda malparido!”

He groaned, rolling back onto his stomach to play with the window button once more. “So what if a few jack-offs got hurt? Most of ‘em are just ugly freaks anyways!” He smirked out the window, relishing his beautiful reflection, staring into his own eyes. “Ya got a bunch a’ Harlequin-lookin’ bitches down here.”

Vaggie finally broke into a smile, although it was smug and slightly triumphant. “Says you.”

“Hey now!” He gestured to his body, his lower set of arms trailing down his curves gracefully. “I gots a body that everyone wants ta touch, even got creepy fan mail ta prove it,” he puffed out his chest, yoinking a greasy letter from his cleavage. The letter contained an… interesting scene to say the least. There was a, naked mind you, middle aged man, a tattoo that ironically read “No Angel Dust”. He was licking a body pillow of Angel, the caption relating to feet. Angel shivered, but only on the inside, as he allowed the letter to flutter to the ground. And this is why I hate my feet.

While Vaggie growled, Charlie took this time to speak up, her ruined jacket covering her lap. “That was really uncool, Angel.”

“Uncool?! No one will come to the hotel after that fucking trainwreck, all thanks to your selfish bullshit!” Charlie calmly hushed her, but Vaggie just didn’t listen.

“Does this mean I don’ have a free room anymore?” he asked, and Vaggie’s hands motioned What do you think?! “Aww, shucks,” he snapped his fingers disappointedly, rolling his head back onto the headrest.

“Hey, let’s just calm down,” Charlie worried her lip between her teeth, her tone shaky. “We don’t know that it’s ruined, it’ll be okay!”

The limousine reached the hotel finally, and once the grand doors opened, Angel cringed at the ruined establishment. The colorful balloons were still there, the streamers haphazardly strewn above the check-in desk. Some were torn down, some balloons were wilting, the furniture cluttered and disorganized. 

Angel made for the fridge, bending over to pull the handle open. He extracted a dripping box of popsicles, the cardboard dented and soggy. He stuck a popsicle in his mouth, careful to avoid biting it, then stepped away from the fridge. “Ya know, ya should get some real food for all these wayward souls ya have here,” he tried to joke, but when Charlie only sighed and curled in on herself, he took an inch towards her. His eyebrows furrowed, realizing that this was no time for jokes. Even though he wished to, he was never good with comforting people. He’d only make things worse. So, he decided to leave it be. She’d be okay, right?

He made for the other side of the room, sitting up on a chair away from the two of them. Charlie left the room, stepping outside. The door closed behind her, and Angel exhaled to himself, the popsicle now halfway done. She came back inside after only a few minutes, but Angel paid no mind. He was too wrapped up in his own.

What would have happened if I hadn’t helped Cherri out? Would we actually be able to like… check and see if this redemption thing works? He almost scoffed to himself. Of course redemption isn’t possible. We’re demons, there’s a reason why-

“Uhh, Vaggie?” Charlie called from the front door.

“What?” she yelled back, clearly exasperated and exhausted.

“The uhh, Radio Demon is at the door,” she answered, her face pulling into a worried smile.

“What?!”

“Who?” Vaggie and Angel spoke in unison, and the latter perked up.

“What should I do?” Charlie paced around for a few moments as Vaggie responded, but Angel didn’t pay much attention any longer. 

He glanced at the door, his eyes focusing on the silhouette of the one outside. Are those… ears? He squinted at the silhouette, which shifted to examine at a hand appearing from beneath the window. A staff was clutched in the opposite hand, then the figure actually came into view as Charlie opened the door once more.

“May I speak now?” His voice was vintage sounding, like a 1930s anchorman over the radio. 

Maybe that’s why he’s called the Radio Demon? He stuck the popsicle back into his mouth, gently sucking on it. Even as he tried to avert his eyes, he couldn’t. The Radio Demon’s hair was a beautiful crimson, the bottom half being a soft black, as well as part of his ears. His tuxedo fit him nicely, the tail splitting in two in the back, curling around his legs perfectly, the edges only slightly rugged. Beneath one eye was a monocle, and underneath the monocle was a large smile, almost sinister yet also almost welcoming at the same time. What the hell? How have I not heard of him before?

“Alastor, dear, pleasure to meet you!” He shook Charlie’s hand ecstatically, pulling her back to let himself through the doors. “Excuse my intrusion, but I saw your fiasco on the news picture show, and I just couldn’t help myself! Quite the performance you gave, why, I haven’t been so entertained since the stock market crash in 1929!” He burst into festive laughter, wiping at one eye with a gloved nail. “Sooo many orphans…”

As Vaggie began to berate Alastor, Angel poked his head in to get a closer look. God, now that he was seeing this demon close up, Angel almost felt intimidated. Especially when his smile turned fully evil, radio static filling up the room menacingly. Alastor’s head turned to the side, like an owl but sideways not around. “If I wanted to hurt anyone, I would have done so already.” Angel shivered, but he wasn’t entirely sure it was just from fear. “No no, I wish for you to understand!” His head snapped back upright, his normal persona replacing his demonic form. “I’m here because I want to help!”

“Uhh, say what now?” Charlie tensed up, taking a small step away from Alastor.

“Help! My my, is this thing on?” he joked, tapping his microphone to complete the punchline.

“I hear ya loud n’ clear!” His microphone-staff-thing replied.

“You want to help with..?” Charlie pressed on, folding her hands together.

Alastor disappeared, shifting behind both Charlie and Vaggie as he grasped their shoulders. “This hotel! I wish to help you run it!”

Angel only cocked his head to the side, watching as Charlie asked more questions, and he only paid attention to the more important matters. 

“-rehabilitate a demon?” Her question was cut off in Angel’s mind, yet Alastor’s response was loud and clear.

“No, of course not! It’s all wacky nonsense! Oh, the non-existent humanity! But, I do in fact wish to watch as demons try and try to climb up the ladder of redemption only to fall into the endless pit of inevitable failure. ” His smile turned clearly smug, his lips curling around his sharp teeth, gleaning in the dim light of the hotel foyer. 

“Uhh, right,” Charlie forced a weary smile as she removed Alastor’s hand from her shoulder.

“Yes, indeedy!” He wrapped his arm around her waist, dragging her away to continue his conversation. “I see big things ahead of you, and who better to help you than I?”

Angel found Vaggie with his eyes, and she began to (almost) stomp over to him. “So what’s the deal wit' Smiles ova there?” he gestured to Alastor who was still speaking animatedly to Charlie.

“Wait, you seriously don’t know who the Radio Demon is?” she was clearly skeptical, almost astonished. “You’ve been here longer than I have!”

He shrugged, taking the final lick of the popsicle before he tossed the stick to the nearest thing that looked like a trash can. “Neva cared fo’ politics much.”

“Ugh, fine. Let me explain it to you,” she began, her fingers spreading out before her, only adding to the dramatic effect. “Decades ago…” Angel nodded along, holding onto every word. He truly wanted to know more about this fellow, this Radio Demon. “He’s an unpredictable force of danger, the kind we can’t allow into this place because he’ll just end up destroying everything that we’re trying so desperately to work for! Not only that, but if we keep him here, we’re going to end up erased!”

Angel, of course, couldn’t let Vaggie know that he was actually interested in this so he decided to raise an eyebrow. “Ya done?” He laughed rather dryly. “He looks like a strawberry pimp.”

“Well, I don’t trust him!” she folded her arms, sinking back into the couch now.

“Do ya trust any man, really? Any men? Men?” he offered, and each word he spoke made her cringe even more. Now, it was time to tune everything out and keep gazing at Alastor. The Radio Demon wasn’t paying any attention to Angel, instead examining a portrait of the Magne family. But once he turned, Angel’s head did as well. 

Charlie made for Alastor once more after her lecture from Vaggie, muttering something about shit and demons. After a few words, Alastor stretched his hand towards her, a blindingly bright green light swirling around the two of them. “So, it’s a deal then?”

She pursed her lips together, slightly pushing Alastor’s outstretched hand away. “Ah, nope! No deals! A-as princess of Hell and heir to the throne, I order you to help out with this hotel, for as long as you so desire,” she added the last part nervously, wringing her hands together.

“Hmm,” Alastor scratched his chin in through, then shrugged. “Fair enough! Where is this hotel’s staff?” His microphone staff disappeared into thin air, his arms folding behind his back. Vaggie stood, tapping her foot impatiently as she glared into Alastor’s soul through his eyes, his monocle adjusted as he looked upon her. “Oh no no no, you’ll need much more than… that.” He twiddled his fingers towards her, and her shoulders tensed, clearly offended. Angel would have laughed, but he didn’t want Alastor’s attention on him at this current moment in time. However… Alastor walked the few steps over to Angel, his monocle sparkling even in the faded light. “And what can you do, my effeminate fellow?”

Without hesitation, Angel spat the first thing that came to his mind. “I can suck ya dick.”

Alastor’s eyes died for a moment there, microphone static sounding from behind him as he processed, then his response was quipped almost as fast as Angel’s initial retort. “Ha! No. ”

He shrugged, scoffing. “Your loss.”

Ignoring those last words, Alastor sighed, looking around. “Well, this just simply won’t do!”

Angel stood idly nearby, watching Alastor at work. A new fireplace replaced the worn down logpit they had previously, a soot-covered creature popped out from. “This little darlin’ is named Niffty!” Alastor introduced, and a one-eyed skirt-wearing demon shook away the soot.

She blinked a few times, her smile faltering as she began to speak. “Why are you all women? Aren’t there any men here? Ah, sorry, that must’ve been rude!” She stole a glance at the room around them, immediately screeching. “Wow, this place is filthy! No no no! This can’t do!” She hurried around the room, spouting off “Nope!” every few seconds, picking things up, setting things down, moving the furniture and killing bugs.

“Read em n’ weep boys!” A gruff voice shouted from behind them, a slam of a table right afterwards. “What the hee-oooteeel?”

“Ah, Husker, my dear friend! Good evening!” Alastor chirped as though he hadn’t just stolen this man away from whatever card game he was previously playing at wherever in Hell he was taken from.

“Alastor, what. The. Fuck. ”

Angel would have laughed out loud here as well, but he was truly too enthralled with Alastor’s interesting tranquility and utterly calm nature as he dealt with a ruffian such as this ‘Husker’ persona. However, there was humor within his words. “Are ya shittin’ me right now?!”

“Hmm,” Alastor thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I don’t think so!”

“So, you’d think it would be some big fuckin’ riot to pull me outta nowhere? What, ya think I’m some sorta fuckin’ clown?!” he demanded as Alastor dusted himself off from being shoved by the winged demon.

Alastor grinned towards him as if to laugh, but instead scrunched his eyes up. “Maybe.”

“I ain’t doin’ a fuckin’ charity job ,” there was poison in his words, a clean scowl on his face.

The Radio Demon teleported behind Husker, his cheeky grin never once flying off his face. “I thought that since you have such a charming smile, and such a welcoming aura, you’d be perfect for manning the front desk!” He forced a smile onto Husker’s face, which immediately dropped once Alastor’s fingers pulled away. He made for the alcohol stand, which he had magiked out of nowhere, and Angel noticed that the soles of his shoes had… Are those deer prints? “I can make this more welcoming for you, if you so desire.” A bottle of booze appeared behind Alastor’s waving hand, his tone smooth beneath the radio static.

He glared at the booze bottle for a moment, his glower only increasing. “What, ya think ya can buy me with a wink and some cheap booze?” He stomped over to the counter, snatching the booze and taking a large swig. “Well, ya can!”

“Hey, no! No alcohol! This is a place that discourages si-” Vaggie began her after, but Angel tackled her against the floor, shoving his hand over her mouth to muffle her disagreement.

“Shut up! Shut! Up!” He lowered his volume to a harsh, threatening whisper. “We’re keeping this.” All of his pointer fingers gestured to the bar, his eyes narrowing at her. He sauntered to the barstool, making a sultry face towards Husker. “Hey~”

“Go fuck yerself,” he muttered around the rim of the bottle, glowering holes through Angel’s flirty appearance.

“Only if ya watch me,” he went to grasp Husker’s face, but a growl sent him away.

“Oh my gosh! Welcome to the Happy Hotel! You are going to love it here!” Charlie enthusiastically went in for a handshake, but Husker’s next words drove her away as well.

“I lost the ability to love a long time ago,” he downed another gulp of booze, shattering the starry glaze over Charlie’s irises for a split second.

“So, whaddaya think?” Alastor leaned over beside Charlie, slightly tilting his head.

Charlie pressed her hands to her face, her smile brighter than anything Angel had seen. God, it was almost sickening how happy she could be. “This is amazing!”

Vaggie, with her arms crossed and a roll in her eyes, stood beside Charlie. “It’s… fine.”

“Oh, this is going to be very entertaining!” Alastor shoved Vaggie to the ground as he turned all attention back to Charlie, his mouth opening as he began to sing. 

His performance was rather… strange. He was dancing with Charlie, his background vocals and instrumentals being his own shadows. His magic dolled everyone up in old-fashioned clothing, dresses and skirts that very much resembled attire dating back to the 1920s and 30s. A fedora was placed atop Angel’s head, but he simply stood there, confused and skeptical of this dance routine. That was, until, the doors to the hotel burst open, knocking Niffty to the side dramatically.

Angel poked his head outside, following Alastor as the latter stepped out into the hotel’s courtyard. There, Pentious' airship hovered a sizable distance above the ground. “Haha, look at who is harboring the striped freak! So we meet again, Alastor!”

Alastor, being the cheeky demon he was, raised his eyebrows as he replied. “Do I know you?”

Pentious' ego clearly deflated, his expression shifting from prideful to disappointed as well as offended. “You have no reason not to know me!” The hood of his hat flared up in his fury. “But at least I have the element of-” He yanked a lever down by his side, his ray gun preparing to fire upon the group. “SURPRISE!” 

Alastor, however, never wavered even as Charlie cowered behind Vaggie, Angel himself taking a few worried steps back. He snapped his fingers, an inky black abyss opening up beneath Pentious' ship, tentacles sprouting from the darkness as they began to overtake the entire ship, crushing egg minions and smashing windows left and right. He clenched his fist, his aura shading demonic as his smile faded from playful to serious and focused, his teeth somehow looking sharper. The tentacles encased the entire airship, dragging and slamming the entire hunk of machinery into the ground. All the while, the Radio Demon stood victorious.

Then, the normal Alastor returned all of a sudden, and his floppy ears perked back up. “Well, I’m simply starved! Shall we go prepare some jambalaya? My mother showed me a wonderful recipe!” He started back for the hotel, with the others slowly trailing behind him like lost puppies. “It was so wonderful, in fact, that it nearly killed her! I guess you could say it was a kick straight from Hell! Ahaha!”

Angel’s eyes were wide, his shoulders slumped forward with surprise and only a small smidge of anxiety. He’s so powerful, he mused, his feet willing to follow the Radio Demon back inside. God, somethin’s gotta be wrong with me. He pinched his own arm, snapping himself out of his trance. 

Alastor was already in the kitchen before the rest of them could even set foot into the hotel, humming an old melody under his staticky breath. His ears flopped back and forth as he stepped around the kitchen, magicking ingredients into the palms of his hands. They simply dropped from the sky, landing neatly before him. The knife he used was clean, sparkling, sharp, and his wrists flicked back and forth as he chopped whatever needed to be sliced. Angel could watch this forever, he was so deeply enthralled. He simply observed now, his eyes following each and every move that Alastor made.

“It is quite rude to stare, my effeminate fellow,” Alastor’s static voice broke Angel’s trance, and he began to splutter, yet quickly silenced himself.

“Well, not my fault when you're so talented with those hands,” he grinned, leaning his chin on one hand. “Makes me fantasize ‘bout what those fingers could do in a more… pleasurable manner.”

“You sure are rather shameless, my dear fellow,” Alastor shook his head slowly, his grin remaining as he finished chopping up the ingredients. 

“Eh,” he hummed, tracing his fingernail along the countertop. “What can I say.”

“Less suggestive material,” he chuckled, the knife clinking smoothly against the surface of the counter. 

Angel huffed, faking offense. “Aww, yer no fun, Smiles.”

“Please refrain from the nicknames, my effeminate fellow,” he offered, and Angel raised his hands in faux surrender.

“To each our own, I guess.” He would not be ceasing the nicknames.

The jambalaya was actually rather delicious, Angel clearly didn’t expect the Radio Demon to be able to cook so well. But now, it was night time. And what occurred during night time was the worst thing that could happen in his day: nightmares. Angel despised going to sleep, as a result, he always tried to avoid slumber as much as possible. However, the turf war from earlier today mixed with that meal wore him out, comforting him and lulling him to his bed. He knew he needed to sleep this off, but… Valentino was waiting for him, he would be there as soon as he closed his eyes.

Fat Nuggets nuzzled his head against Angel’s ankle, his big eyes blinking slowly at him in remorse, he understood. He kneeled down to softly pet Fat Nuggets’s head, taking him up into his arms safely. “At least you won’t leave me, Nugs.” He sighed to himself, Fat Nuggets oinked quietly, cuddling against Angel’s fluff boobs. 

He finally laid down, resting his weary head against the pillows. God, I wish someone would help me, someone who’d actually care. Too bad that I’m too much of a slut to be cared for, all I am is just an object for people to use and fuck. No one will ever care. He curled around Fat Nuggets, praying and hoping that he would not be visited by Valentino tonight. No one can save such a hopeless trainwreck like me.

The idea of being left alone was wishful thinking, simply an out of reach hope. Of course, Valentino was there, he always was ever since Angel called it quits. He tossed and turned in bed, almost flattening Fat Nuggets every so often, but the pig scuttled away to avoid his demise, then slid in between Angel’s arms once again. His eyelids twitched as he awoke, yet they did not allow him to lift them up. He was stuck in this loop of being awake yet frozen in place, the whispers and remnants of Valentino all across the room.

His breathing quickened, his fists clenching and unclenching against the sheets. He could just feel a tear escape his eye, but he could not blink it away. He was completely incapable of helping himself, utterly defenseless. His current state heightened his sense of being touched, but every single whimper of the wind felt like Valentino, Valentino, it was all Valentino.

Someone’s hand landed on his shoulder, and he almost silently yelped, then it retracted. His blanket was then adjusted, a soft tune now playing in his ears, his shivering ceased. The only hint he was given was a soft aura, so perhaps it was Charlie? It didn’t seem to matter, because Angel was soon asleep once more.

Chapter Text

Angel slumped out of bed the next morning, an oversized shirt concealing his curves, knee-high stockings and fuzzy slippers hiding his feet. With Fat Nuggets cuddled to his chest, Angel started from his room, yawning. He didn’t care about his appearance so early in the morning, so whoever he passed he paid no mind to. His eyes were half-lidded, yet they did not forget the terror of last night. He did, however, wonder who had entered his room. If only he had been able to open his eyes. 

He passed by Alastor as he entered the kitchen, and the latter’s usual grin was still plastered to his face. “Good morning, my effeminate fellow. How are you on this fine dawning of a new day?”

Angel raised an eyebrow, a near scowl across his face as he brought a mug down from the cupboard, which Fat Nuggets sniffed at for a moment, before it was filled about halfway with coffee. The rest of the mug was occupied with creamer and a few cubes of sugar, all the while Angel never broke eye contact with the Radio Demon. “Peachy.” He relished a deep sip of coffee while Alastor huffed an amused breath.

“Rough sleep, I presume?”

“Meh,” he shrugged, and Fat Nuggets whined softly. “What’s it to ya?”

Alastor’s shoulders rolled along with his head, his ever-smiling mouth speaking nonchalant words. “Simple question, my effeminate fellow. Wouldn’t want to be awoken by someone screaming bloody murder, now would we?”

Wait, how does he- “Nah, ‘course not,” Angel responded with instead, another small intake of coffee pouring down his throat. He reached for the fridge, extracting a small morsel for Fat Nuggets, who happily gobbled down the entire thing within a few seconds. Alastor’s shoes clicked along the smooth flooring as he left Angel’s vicinity. He released a tiny breath, holding his pig closer to his boobs, and the small head of his companion flopped along his fluff. I mean, he is the Radio Demon, he could probably just sense… I don’t know. He shook his head to himself, taking his coffee to the dining area.

Vaggie was already there, dress complete with her spear, her eyes fixed on Alastor, who was happily munching on an egg breakfast which Angel didn’t know how he made without being in the kitchen within the last five minutes, with a stern glare. Charlie wasn’t to be seen, most likely still sleeping. Niffty was sitting by the fireplace while Husker was chugging booze already. However, as soon as there was a ring at the front desk, Charlie was poking her head out from the stairs, a sparkle in her eye. 

“Who’s there?!” She slid down the banister, still clad in her sleep attire. She slapped the exhaustion from her face quite literally, and she scrambled to the great hall of the hotel. “Is it someone who wants to be redeemed?!”

Angel stood back in surrender as Charlie barreled past him, leaping behind the front desk to greet the unfortunate soul beyond the wooden counter. Vaggie took her place behind Charlie, cautiously holding her spear in defense. “Hello!” Charlie screeched, making Angel flinch back. “Welcome to the Hap-” 

“Hazbin.”

“-Hotel! How may we serve you?” After casting a sideways glance at Alastor, Charlie turned back to the unfamiliar demon.

“I uhm, saw your advertisement on the news, and even though everyone made fun of it, I wanted to see if this was legit! I uhm, I want to be redeemed,” he fiddled with his fingers rather bashfully, as though he wasn’t a sinner down in Hell.

“PERFECT-! I mean, you came to the right place! Just please check in here, and we’ll get your room key right away!” She produced a large book, heaving it to the countertop and flicking the cover open to the first empty page. She flipped it around, handing the demon a pen so he would be able to sign the proper lines. 

Angel peeked his head into the room, accidentally making eye contact with the guest, but the latter immediately looked away, focusing on inscribing his name in the book. Once he replaced the pen to the counter, Charlie slid a key across the surface. 

“Room number five, second floor! It’s a delight to have you here!” Charlie waved enthusiastically as the demon trudged for the stairs, the room key clutched in his palm.

The strange thing, however, was that Angel didn’t notice him carrying any sort of suitcase.

It was close to whatever could be deemed as midday in Hell, with Angel leaning against the rails of the highest balcony, his tufts of fur billowing in the harsh yet calming winds. Fat Nuggets was asleep in his room, so Angel was alone. He didn’t mind it, however. It was nice to get some personal time in the whipping winds of Hell. He carried a small pack of cigarettes, yet he never extracted one. 

He sighed as he thought about the weight in his pocket, the effect of these drugs forced upon him still heavy, gravitating down on his shoulders. He pulled the box from his pocket, examining the label for a moment before dipping his head to the railing, pressing his forehead against the cool metal. He released his grip on the box of monsters, allowing them to tumble down the stories of the hotel, cascading, breaking, unravelling, before finally splatting to the ground with a distant thump.

There was no relief, there was no remorse, Angel simply just stared them down. He only wished for it to be that easy to let go. He exhaled harshly, clenching his fingers in on each other, a few imprints of crescent moons now dotting his palm underneath his fur. He turned on his heel, ready to leave and lay down before dinner. Yet just before he made the move to head inside, the door creaked open rather harshly. He yelped slightly, turning to see the other guest at the hotel. “A-ah, sorry, I’ll get goin’,” he muttered, clenching his fists as he started for the door, attempting to go around the guest when a clawed hand latched onto his wrist, immediately drawing a few pricks of blood. “Hey, let go.” He tried to jerk his hand away, but a stern glare scared him frozen.

“Valentino’s lookin’ for ya, Angel Dust,” his voice was raspy, nothing bashful or redeeming about it now. “He sent me to retrieve ya, so why not make this easy on bot’ a’ us?”

Angel froze, his eyes flooding wide with fear. “No, let me go!” He struggled even more, preparing himself to scream for help, his mind fuzzing as no clear thought could make it past the barrier of terror. “HE-!”

A hand shoved itself over his mouth, jamming harsh fingers down his throat to stifle his cry. “I said,” he hissed, curling bloodied claws around Angel’s shaking wrist. “Make this easy for both a’ us. Plus, no one’s up here ‘sides us. Your whinin’ is pointless. I expect ya to come alon’ right now, m’kay?”

With tears clear in his eyes, Angel couldn’t help but manage a tiny whimper, which only resulted in claws raking against the inside of his throat, cutting up his tongue like a slab of meat. He wailed, his tears falling from tired eyes. He’d been through this time and time again, and just when he thought he was safe… just when he thought he was away from Valentino.

He was ordered to stay silent as the demon led him to the room down the hall, where he was certain no one would hear his pleas. Not that he would be able to gain much volume at all. The blood from his tongue gurgled in his throat, tainting his teeth red and staining his throat with the vile taste of iron. He knew exactly where this was going, he had been down this road too many to count. He would always be hurt, partially immobilized, drugged, then raped until he couldn’t even plead for it to stop. God, he wished he never knew this feeling of hopelessness. He despised it more than anything.

Finally, the raking claws down his throat left him, dotted with Angel’s blood. Yet, it didn’t end there, of course it didn’t. Angel was shoved to the hard ground, left to cough and squirm as the other demon began his plan. He kicked Angel’s stomach, watching as he doubled over, spatting blood across the hardwood and carpet. Red claws snatched the soft fluff of his head, jerking his head up so their eyes met. There was no remorse in those glowing eyes, only enraged slits filled with evil. Angel recognized them all too well. 

He wanted to sob, he wanted to scream, he wanted help. Not only wanted, but needed. But, alas, he could only lay there and take it, the occasional tear and yelp escaping his ruined features. Blood trailed from his lips down to the floor, catching in between the floorboards, seeping down through the cracks. Drip drip drop, down it went.

Charlie vigorously rang the calling bell loud enough for the entire pentagram of Hell to be alerted and awoken. “WE’RE HAVING A GROUP THERAPY SESSION!” She declared along with her bell rings, knocking some files against the counter. “Where is everyone?” she turned her head to Vaggie, who was focused on sharpening her spear.

“They’re demons, Charlie, what did you expect? I’ll go get them,” she pushed herself off from the side of the counter, stabilizing herself. She started for the stairs, but by the time she was already by the foot, Alastor happily trotted down with his usual smile across his features. Vaggie huffed, placing one foot in front of the other up the steps. She made for Angel’s room, almost pounding on the door. “Angel, come downstairs!” she demanded, but there was no response besides a worried squeak by the bottom of the door. She raised an eyebrow, turning the knob to see a pacing pig, whines escaping his snout. “Angel..?” She took a step inside, only to notice that Angel wasn’t anywhere in sight. Facing the door with a large number five, she knocked a few times. “Hello?” she called, only to receive the same silence. 

“Vaggie? What’s the matter?” Charlie yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

“Neither Angel or the other demon are in their rooms,” she responded, taking a step back in confusion. “But, no one left, we know that no one left.”

“You seem to be in a little predicament,” Alastor mused, adjusting his monocle. “Missing guests?”

“What did you do to them?!” Vaggie slammed her spear on the floor, beginning her descent down the stairs before Alastor’s loud chuckle froze her in place.

“I gain nothing from killing two guests, matter of fact, I-” He broke off suddenly, and his head immediately tilted upwards. Something dripped down his face, and his smile faltered. “Blood,” he whispered before he sank into the shadows passing along the floor.

“Blood?” Vaggie echoed in confusion, then sudden realization spread throughout her mind. “Oh no, no no no, fuck!”

“What? Vaggie, what’s happening?! Is Angel hurting the guest?!” Charlie exclaimed, her feet nearly tripping her as she scrambled for the other woman.

“I don’t know, but we have to get moving and stop whatever’s happening upstairs!” She willed herself to run, with Charlie several paces behind her. She just hoped she’d make it in time.

When Alastor finally reached the origin of the blood, he was initially shell shocked before it settled into calm fury. He stared at the scene before him, as well as the pure terror on the two faces, yet for different reasons. The first reason was the fear of his abuser, the other was fear of having been caught. “Well, gentlemen, what is this little exchange? We are to have a group therapy session, ” he hissed in between gritted teeth, forced to remain smiling. The radio static grew louder and louder, even the blood along the floor trembled. “It would be a real dear shame to miss it, hmm? Aren’t you here to be redeemed? ”

“W-wait, hol’ on, hol’ on! It ain’t what it-!” the demon began to splutter, shoving himself up and away from the bleeding, crying Angel. “He-”

“I do not believe I asked for your excuses, my dear fellow.” With a brief flash of inky black, a scream was cut short. Alastor’s boot crushed the demon’s skull, his eyes sharp. “There are two types of people that I hate most in this world. Liars, and those who take advantage of others. You are both of them.”

Angel curled in on himself, shivering as he finally began to expel sounds. He coughed, more blood painting the floor. “S-s-sor-ry…” Was all he could manage before he passed out, a bleeding mess strewn across the hardwood surface.

Alastor snapped his fingers, a pair of clothes appearing to cover Angel’s body. He sighed to himself, only slightly frowning now. He truly despised the ones with ulterior motives behind an innocent facade. Perhaps he could be a hypocrite, but that didn’t matter now. What mattered now was getting Angel’s blood all cleaned up, it was a delectable scent. Alastor held a blanket from the bed in his hands, scooping Angel up into his arms, covering his body with the blanket. He overstepped the dead demon, the heel of his boot kicking the decapitated head into the wall. 

He was about halfway down a flight of stairs when Vaggie stuck her spear in his face, spouting off threatening Spanish as her eyes demanded what happened to Angel. He sighed, lowering her spear from his face as he supported Angel’s limp body. “Your little guest was being rather disrespectful towards him, so I took care of it.” He brushed past her now, ignoring Charlie on the way down.

“D-did you k-kill him..?” Charlie reached a trembling hand towards Angel, then took it back. “Nevermind, if he hu-hurt Angel, then…” She hesitated, confliction in her gaze.

“To answer simply, his head has been properly detached from his neck,” he spat, and his metronome pace disappeared down multiple floors of stairs.

Charlie shivered, but her feet moved to find Vaggie. Her face paled at the gruesome sight, the dead demon’s features contorted with a final scream for help, but the sound was ruthlessly ripped from his throat. A single horn stuck into the wall, claws attached to limp hands. “So… this is the punishment to sinners who cross Alastor’s bad side,” she whispered, holding onto Vaggie’s arm as small tears filled her eyes.

“He tricked us, Charlie, I think this is better than ending up like Angel,” she responded, planting a light kiss on Charlie’s dead-cold forehead. “This is what we’re going to have to deal with, sinners will be difficult to redeem, but they will be. This will work, I promise you.”

“I believe you, Vaggie.”

Angel could hardly speak properly, any word he attempted to speak turned into a strangled mess. So, instead of trying anymore, he simply refused to communicate. There was a group meeting to discuss the situation, but Angel didn’t attend. He remained in his room, cuddling Fat Nuggets as he cried as quietly as possible, for fear of Valentino hearing his voice. He knew it wasn’t likely to be found just from this, but nowadays, he had no idea what would happen or not.

As Angel forced himself up to take a shower, Fat Nuggets trotted along beside him to provide as much support as his tiny piggy body could allow. He stepped into the bathroom, shutting Fat Nuggets outside the door, who whined but laid to rest outside. Angel turned to face himself in the mirror, yet his first reaction was to retch. He looked and felt like shit, a terrible, ugly piece of useless-

He shook his head frantically, throwing unnecessary thoughts from his exhausted brain. He touched the bruise residing on his cheekbone, reaching up to his temple and around his eye. When he creaked his mouth open, he could see the claw marks down his throat, dragging along his tongue. He almost shattered the mirror then and there, nearly taking the largest shard of glass to just erase himself from this place.

He took a step away from the mirror, it wasn’t time to die again. He didn’t even know where he would go. If he was being honest, he was scared to die again. He forced himself to tear his glare from the mirror, the glass only slicing him up by now. He flipped the switch for the water, the temperature shifting from cold to boiling rather quickly. Angel shed his clothes, stepping toe-first into the scalding water. He adjusted the nozzle until the temperature was satisfactory. There was a small puddle by his feet, a few stray hairs swirling down the drain.

His fluff atop his head drooped, plastering against his forehead and over his eyes, yet he swooped it to the side to avoid impairing his vision. He took up a rather large handful of shampoo, lathering it roughly through his fur, washing out all the grime, the feel of filthy fingers draining just like the water. Blood stains washed out with enough force and shampoo, the crusty, dried clusters fading to smooth fur. His boobs collected water in between follicles of fluff, and he hugged himself, sinking to sit against the shower floor. He fed his fingers through the tufts on his legs and feet, and finally, the last bit of dried red disappeared. He quickly rinsed himself, only swirling some conditioner through the fur on his head, fixing it up before rinsing that out as well. 

He stepped from the shower after the water was shut off, wrapping a towel under his armpits. He plugged in a hairdryer, making quick work of his sopping fur like he had done thousands of times before. He finished towelling himself, pulling on his clothes as soon as he was satisfied with the tamed fluff. He forced a grin over his lips until it felt real, then exited the bathroom. “A-ah… Nu-ugs,” he rasped, nearly choking on his own saliva. “Sor-ry, I wo-ried ya,” he scratched behind Fat Nuggets’ ears, taking him into his unsturdy arms. “I-I’m… okay, no-ow.”

The pig responded with an adorable blink, a quiet oink of understanding. God, Angel was so glad to have Fat Nuggets by his side. Alastor, he’s so strange. Angel sat on his bed, softly stroking his companion as he thought to himself. He says he doesn’t care about anyone here, so why did he bother to help me? He sighed to himself, conflict battling in his mind. I don’t even remember much from that night. I hope I’m not on his shit-list for disturbing and burdening him. That wouldn’t be desirable. 

He tried to ignore the slight grumble in his stomach, since food burned on the way down, but it proved more difficult than he thought. He slumped from his room, keeping his head low as he moved sluggishly through the halls. Fat Nuggets watched as he left, sitting obediently inside the room as he patiently awaited Angel’s return. He could just sense the concerned eyes on him, no one but Cherri had seen him so defenseless and down. It was almost embarrassing and pathetic, but he had no cares at the moment.

He slipped the fridge open, seeing leftovers from the past few nights taking up space in the shelves. He extracted whatever tickled his fancy, which turned out to be a batch of teriyaki chicken and white rice. He stuck it in the microwave, only setting the time for forty-five seconds before yanking the door back open, taking the bowl from the hot encasement. He didn’t sit down at the table, instead bringing his food back to his room, not even acknowledging the stares on his back. 

He exhaled a steamy breath of teriyaki, the chunks of food feeling like knives stabbing along his throat as he chewed. He pushed his bedroom door open, closing it once he was safe behind the wooden divider. But, even then he didn’t feel remotely safe at all. He thought that demon was there to be redeemed, but he, along with everyone else, was deceived. He believed he was safe from Valentino, but he was still trying to take Angel back into the endless cycle of abuse. 

Angel felt as though he couldn’t trust anyone anymore, as though everyone was out to get him, to hurt him, to rape him, to use him as what he was only deemed to be. A slut, a whore, a toy, only to be used, thrown away, and treated like a worthless piece of garbage. He reached a fingertip to his neck, making a trail from his Adam’s apple down to his boobs, gently toying with the fluff visible from the collar of his shirt. He yanked his shirt up to conceal the lumps of pure fluff on his chest, then shoved another bite of painful teriyaki into his mouth. He’d just have to grin and bear it, like everything else in this miserable afterlife.

Chapter Text

He had found himself in Hell in the late 1950s, having fallen ill and dying of yellow fever at the age of forty-three. He wasn’t entirely sure of why he fell down, but looking back at his life through a picture show was enough to make him realize. He wasn’t truly evil, but he certainly wasn’t the best person either. He had stolen, fought, and found himself acting selfish for no reason. But, something was new here. He arrived with most of his assets with him, along with more peculiar additions. 

Among these additions was pinpoint accuracy, which paired very well with guns and throwing darts, therefore equivalating to combat skills and power. The second world war had brought many souls to Hell, and he faintly recognized a few political powers on the street. However, they did not seem to be doing well nowadays. 

He himself was now thriving, staying out of trouble for as long as possible. He did not fear the Exterminators, even though it was the worst source of danger in this place. He was not concerned for his well-being, certainly not concerned for death again. Using the wisdom taught by his father, he survived on these blood-ridden streets. 

Along the way, he heard about the one called the Radio Demon. Of course he had, who didn’t know him? Yet, no other name for the Radio Demon was shown to him, most demons being scared to say the Overlord’s true name. So, he left it be. If fate brought them together, it brought them together. If not, then oh well. It might be better that way if this Radio Demon was as powerful as the others speak of.

He earned a title of his own, the Knife Demon, and he easily rose the ranks with his debating skills and aim. Fights were always won, money was ‘generously stolen,’ as his father used to put it. Even if he could not become as strong as an Overlord, he found and held a wealthy name for himself. The Knife Demon, he didn’t particularly care for the title, but if he was known, then so be it.

It had been a few months, with Angel’s throat healing steadily. He still refrained from speaking much, and some foods still caused a little strain on the scars, but he ignored it as best he could. He had been attempting to upkeep his happy, flirtatious persona inside of the hotel and in the public eye whenever he did find himself outside, but it never lasted. As soon as he was hidden away, his smile faded into nothingness, not like it even truly existed in the first place. He knew he needed to get over it, it wasn’t like he was going to be hurt by that same demon, but it was just the memory, the threat of being brought back to Valentino. That was what he was most terrified of.

Over these few months, more and more demons have approached the hotel, however, never to be redeemed. They only sought to examine the Radio Demon while he was calm and tranquil. They would enter, have a few drinks, have loud, unimportant conversations with Alastor who gladly humored them, then leave drunk. Charlie would shut herself away with Vaggie whenever that occurred, embarrassed to see her passion project of redemption being treated like just another demon congregation area. 

Finally, Angel got the strength to join the festivities downstairs, but only because he was thirsty and craving both food and liquor. He put on his best smile, casual attire both comfortable and visually pleasing to any of those who wished to steal a peek. Of course, he had to upkeep his sexy persona in front of other demons. Swallowing the bile in the back of his throat, Angel greeted them with a smile and a small wave. “Hope you’re not borin’ the group with your tales, Smiles,” he teased partially, flashing a grin towards Alastor. 

“Why of course not, my effeminate fellow. They quite enjoy the stories I speak of,” he retorted, radio static flaring. “You, on the other hand, have been rather quiet and boresome these past times.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he plopped into a bar stool next to a handsy-looking demon. He motioned a hand towards a very agitated Husker, and he slammed a bottle of tequila in front of a grinning Angel. Before, alcohol made his throat feel as though it were being stabbed by needles, but now he just prayed it wouldn’t any longer. He poured himself a shot, downing it as Alastor continued speaking about what he deemed them to be “the good old days.”

Thank god, I don’t know what I’d do without alcohol. He slipped another shot between his lips, the demon beside him now giving side-glances and twitching hand movements. No, he wouldn’t be dealing out his body like cheap candy tonight. He sent a sideways glare, and the other’s features shaded disappointed, and the hands remained on the table. At least someone knows what no means. He eyed the claws on the counter, then poured himself another shot to drown out the memories. 

Meanwhile, Alastor was more than happy making cheap conversation with these ruffians, but if he was being completely honest with himself, he had an agenda of his own.

“Ah, way back when,” he began, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “I remember having taken up an orphan left on the streets. Ah, what a child he was.” He hummed as he took a sip of sparkling water, being that he did not wish to become drunken fools unlike the other demons. “I believe his name was Benjamin.” 

He made direct eye contact with the demon approaching Angel, and his teeth flashed danger, reflecting in the soft lights. The demon slowly backed off. “I taught him the basic fundamentals of life, yes indeedy. Sent him off to build a life of his own once he was sixteen! And what a man he became!” There was a small wave of agreement, a few words asking what Benjamin became. “Ah, he became a rather successful banker.” His eyes turned evil for a moment. “Milking the country of their money even during the Great Depression.”

Now, that gained a roar of applause and some clinks of beer glasses against one another. Alastor settled back in his seat, smiling faintly. His shadow snuck around him, ever so casually slapping a prying hand away from Angel. The reaching claws cringed back, then disappeared. Alastor’s shadow returned, victorious.

After some more simple conversation, Alastor began to show signs of exhaustion. “Well, gentlemen, I believe it shall be about time to retire,” he stood from his barstool, bowing curtly to the other demons at the counter. “I thank you for the pleasant time this evening.”

They all finished chugging their beers, bidding some form of goodbye as they filed out of the bar area, slinking to the exit of the hotel. Alastor waved politely, then turned back around to Angel, his smile softer and much more welcoming than with the demons. “I take it you are healing well?”

Angel sighed, shrugging as he placed his shot glass back onto the smooth countertop. “Yeah, guess so.” He furrowed his nose, his eyes slightly narrowing. “Still hurts sometimes.” He opened his mouth to speak again, then closed it and thought for a moment. “I just realized, I neva thanked ya, or apologized for burdenin’ ya.”

“Neither are necessary, my dear fellow,” he passed behind Angel, heading for the stairs. “This may be Hell, but that does not mean we take advantage of others.” Then, he simply left Angel to wallow in his shock and confusion, a small chuckle bubbling in his throat only to be killed by an intake of breath. 

He entered the room he was assigned, still poorly decorated. Alastor never decided to furnish it himself, seeing as though he found no point in those pleasantries if he would just remove them eventually. So, small items magicked to his palms were enough. He placed a small case on his bedside table, only large enough for his monocle. His mind began to wander as he shifted clothes, his usual suit hung up neatly by his shadow. Comfortable pants and a long sleeve shirt covered his scar-ridden body now, and he took his place on the side of his bed, leaning his hand in his hands. Now that he had mentioned the boy he adopted while he was alive, he couldn’t stop thinking about him.

He died before Benjamin did, so he was not aware of what happened to the latter after 1933. Perhaps he continued on being a money-sucking banker, perhaps he started a family and raised devilish children like how Alastor taught him, or perhaps he found a rather serene path in life, making a good living out of himself. 

He could faintly recall one specific lesson he taught the young boy, and he tore into that memory as deeply as he could, almost seeming desperate to fully indulge.

It was a winter evening, around five o’clock. It was one of those odd snowfalls, infrequent yet altering at rate of speed and density of the snowflakes. Alastor gazed out of the window, the day’s newspaper foiled in his lap, crinkling at the edges. There was a tapping near the door, shoes slapping against the tattered rug to rid themselves of gathering snow. Alastor turned with his signature smile to greet the boy he had taken up, who was hugging a bulging bag to his chest.

“Ah, greetings Benjamin. You acquired what I requested, yes?” he called, standing from his chair and taking a few steps towards the boy.

“Almost everything,” he responded, placing the bag on the counter to spread out the contents. “I couldn’t find any knife sharpeners, m’sorry.”

“No no, don’t apologize, nor fret my dear boy,” Alastor adjusted his glasses, taking a look at the contents. “You have gotten everything important, and that is all that matters, is it not? Now, help me prepare dinner once you are warmed up and refreshed.”

Benjamin agreed, removing his coat and moving to sit by the fire. Alastor pulled open a drawer, removing a glistening knife from the battered wood. He grasped at the chicken in the encasement on the counter, lifting it onto a cutting board and raised his knife, evenly slicing the chicken into strips. He hummed to himself, and soon, heard some shuffling from the living room up to the stove. There was a match struck, as well as a pan clattering onto the grate. When Alastor turned to the stove, Benjamin was there, smiling softly as he lit the flame. 

“Jambalaya, Pa?” he asked, stepping aside to allow Alastor to place the chicken strips on the warming pan. He released an amused huff through his nose as Alastor nodded. “You’ve made it so many times, I would like you to teach me this time.”

“I planned on it, my boy. Come along now, I will show you my mother’s recipe.” He rinsed his hands in the sink, drying them off with a towel before turning the radio on as white noise. He grasped onto a sheet of paper from the large recipe book in the upper cupboard, presenting it to the teenage boy. “I would like you to chop the vegetables and garlic, Benjamin.”

“Ah, Pa, that’s easy!” He took up the knife, looking towards Alastor for a moment. “Diced?”

“If you please, my boy,” Alastor ruffled his hair then turned back to the chicken, watching as it browned, occasionally taking a wooden spoon to turn them over and cook them evenly. After a few minutes of quiet chopping and the sizzling of chicken in the pan, Alastor heard a small grunt and the clatter of the knife on the table. He faced Benjamin, who was gently cradling his finger. “Ah, a slip up?” He leaned over Benjamin’s shoulder, taking in the damage. He knelt to the cupboard under the sink, extracting some bandages and ointment. “Here,” he stood, holding out his hand towards the boy.

“No, Pa, don’t worry, I got it,” he moved from adding pressure to the cut, and more blood dripped onto the floor. 

Alastor sighed, taking up the boy’s hand and wiping off the dribble with a napkin. He spread a small glob of ointment across the cut, quickly yet efficiently wrapping the digit. “Be careful, alright?”

“I will, I’m sorry, Pa,” he frowned up at Alastor, but the latter softened and took the teenager into his arms. 

“I am not upset, simply worried,” he said comfortingly, and Benjamin relaxed into his arms. “Now, let us finish up dinner then we can indulge in some apple pie, hmm?”

“Sounds great, Pa!”

Alastor could still remember that boy’s smile vividly, both sides of it. The evil smile Alastor had installed in the boy, and the soft, genuine one he arrived with all those years ago. Alastor couldn’t decide, or rather put his finger on, this particular feeling inside of him. It was like he was missing something, or rather, someone.  

He had to admit, however, he did indeed feel great love for the one he claimed as his son. For all of the things he taught him, all the times they cooked together, for all of the rough nightmares of the younger, they all meant something, didn’t they?

Alastor was not one for feelings, especially feelings of love and affection towards another. Yet, there were, what he labeled them, as exceptions. He seemed to think that Benjamin was one of those exceptions. 

Ah, it’s true. He smiled almost sadly to himself as he conjured up a photo of the boy. He was grinning, dark eyes sparkling behind the vintage photograph quality. His hair tone wasn’t decipherable, but Alastor remembered clearly what the boy’s palette was. Deep ocean blue eyes, light brown locks, a few shades of chocolate spread throughout. 

Yet another memory decided to unsheathe itself before Alastor, his mind rerunning scenes of his life like a picture show, and all he did was sit on the edge of his bed and watch.

It was now closer to summer, the edges of winter now fading and giving way to the bright sunlight and singing birds. Alastor was humming to himself in the kitchen, preparing lunch as the radio cackled in the background. He inhaled the fresh air from the ajar window, a bird on an outside branch sang its sweet melody, soft whistles wafting into the house. Alastor relished the sounds.

Then, it abruptly, and the bird’s wings fluttered away. The cause of this disturbance stomped into the kitchen, throwing groceries onto the counter like a worthless sack of trash. Alastor raised an eyebrow towards Benjamin, confused and only slightly concerned. “What troubles you, my boy?”

“Pa, what makes someone weak?” Benjamin neglected the question, sniffling as he shoved himself into a stool by the counter. He wiped his nose with his hand, residue of blood trailing on his knuckles.

Ah, Alastor understood now. “Their resolve, Benjamin. If a person has no resolve, they are weak.”

“What about physical strength, Pa?” he asked, his shifting hands showing his anxiety.

“Physical strength comes after resolve. It all revolves around your determination and soul, my boy. But, if you give up before anything even begins, then you will be deemed as weak. Physical prowess means nothing if your heart is not strong,” he dropped his hand to pat Benjamin’s head, raising the latter’s line of vision to his eyes. “Tell me, what comes out of this?”

“I got in a fight, Pa. I didn’t beat him, and I thought that it made me weak.” He sniffled again, and Alastor took a napkin to his nose, gingerly collecting the faucet of blood. 

“My boy, you are the strongest person I know. Your resolve, your determination, you have so much. You wish to preserve yourself, and I am proud of you for sticking up for yourself.” He released the napkin, then bent down to the sink cupboard for some bandages. 

“Pa, it wasn’t me standing up for myself, it was me standing up for you,” he murmured, almost bashfully, yet Alastor caught the words. “John, he was insulting you, Pa. It made me feel so angry, so terribly angry.”

Alastor hummed for a swift moment, leaning over the counter to dress the bruises and scrapes on the younger’s face, hands, and elbows. “You do need not fret about my pride, Benjamin. But, if it shall make you feel better, as well as more confident, I can teach you self defense.”

Benjamin’s face lit up, a smile overtaking his past grimace. “You will?!”

“Indeed, my boy. You are well on your way to becoming your own man, I wish to send you out on your own fully prepared to win any fight that may cross your path.” He replaced the leftover bandages below the sink, then handed a plate of the complete lunch to the teenager. “Eat up, and once you’re ready, I’ll teach you how to win each and every fight you get into.”

“Thank you, Pa! I’ll make you proud, I promise!”

Alastor chuckled, but chose to keep these next words to himself. I’m already proud of you. He took up his own meal and began to eat with the excited boy.

Even when Benjamin discovered that Alastor was a serial killer, he didn’t leave. For some odd reason, the boy had such trust in Alastor that he was safe. And he was, Alastor had a terrible soft spot for the one he called his son. Four years after the stock market crash in 1929, Alastor died, leaving Benjamin with everything he was taught and gifted. The latter was about eighteen, and despite having left the care of Alastor about two years prior, still maintained contact up until 1933. 

Then, everything was severed, all ties, all care, all of the fatherly support died right then. All Alastor knew from then on was that Benjamin became successful, since he had spoken with others that lived during that time and in that place. Benjamin Scarasse was well known in Hell, it was truly a shame Alastor hadn’t been searching for his son earlier. He didn’t think he’d even be in Hell, he was a remarkable boy who would only fight to defend his honor. He saw no reason for Benjamin to be in Hell.

Perhaps there was some sort or reason why he helped Angel that day. He knew he indeed hated those who caused unnecessary harm to others, being that Benjamin would occasionally come home with a new bruise or another. Alastor understood that there was something greater than that, of course not just for entertainment unlike so many of his other time-occupations.

He, however, could not place his finger on the true reason. So, instead of attempting to pry open his welded mind, Alastor killed the light and rested his head against the pillow, closing his eyes and calmly dozing off to a peaceful slumber.

Chapter Text

With nothing to be done at the hotel, no guests to entertain, no duties to attend to, Alastor dedicated his early morning to a somewhat refreshing walk underneath the reddened skies. There came a rumbling, a nearby turf war was taking place. Alastor sighed to himself, yet his smile never faded. 

A nearby building collapsed, and a demon shot from the roof to clash with their opponent. A chunk of bricks crumbled off the side, crushing a bystander with one final agonizing screech. Alastor chuckled, adjusting his monocle as he passed by the flattened body. As he continued down the ruined sidewalk, a few other demons cowered in their homes at the mere sight of him. A few whispers crawled around, all relating to whether or not Alastor would join in the turf war just around the corner. He gracefully ignored them.

He hummed to himself, another scream silenced by loose debris.

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with!” one of the turf war opponents shouted at the other, a knife twirling in between his fingers as the less-than-refreshing wind billowed around him. “Give up this territory or I’ll make sure no one recognizes your corpse again!”

“Ha! Threats don’t mean shit, boy! This territory is my ground, not for grabs!” the other laughed heartily, as though he had already won. “I’ll enjoy ripping your head from your shoulders!”

Another laugh joined the chorus, Alastor’s own. “Such pitiful creatures,” he scoffed to himself as he continued onward. 

With one distracted by Alastor’s sly outburst, the other flicked their wrist. Next thing he knew, the smug demon was a spluttering mess, a knife jammed into his Adam’s apple, blood spurting and dripping from the wound. The other hopped over to him, extracting his knife with a narrow of his eyes. “Radio Demon,” he called, and Alastor turned around at the call. “I did not realize you were in this part of town.”

“Oh well, charity business certainly does cause much travel,” he shrugged, choosing to humor the other in a fit of conversation. “Perhaps you’ve heard of the demon princess’s passion project?”

“The rehabilitation hotel? Yeah, I’ve heard of it. That was a terrible fiasco, I almost feel bad for that girl,” he shook his head with a small sigh. “You’re working alongside her?”

“For pure entertainment, my dear fellow. I personally do not believe in rehabilitation, no one could possibly achieve it,” he gestured his arms around to the hellish atmosphere, and nearby a demon screeched as it was struck by a car. In that general direction, Alastor took notice of a walking Angel, gazing down at his hands, both holding onto a sheet of paper. He exhaled a soft breath, then returned his attention to the other demon he was conversing with.

“It’s not like any demons would want to be sent to Heaven,” the Knife Demon carried on the conversation once he realized Alastor was once again paying attention to him. “Down here, there’s chaos and shit, up there, there’s too many rules. It’s easier down here, if you’re powerful enough.”

“I’d have to agree. I have no desire to leave this place,” he hummed, and his mind wandered to the liar from a few months back. “Demons are just far too lost.”

“It’s almost funny, if I may be so bold. You’re the Radio Demon, and you’re acting almost sympathetic,” he commented, and Alastor responded with a small shrug, a chuckle escaping his lips.

“And you, Knife Demon, are humoring me,” he folded his hands behind his back neatly, a sudden question poking at his tongue. “If you will, answer me something?”

“I will,” he said, taking a side glance at Alastor through the matted bangs on the side of his face.

“What time period did you live through?” he tilted his head to listen to the Knife Demon’s response. “Because, for some reason, you remind me of someone I used to know.”

“Ah, I was born in 1915, was about fourteen when the Great Depression began, died in 1958,” he answered, his eyes shifting from spot to spot almost anxiously. 

“Interesting,” Alastor mused, thinking about just how convenient that information was. “Perhaps, you and I knew one another, Knife Demon. I was alive around that time period as well. I, however, perished in 1933.”

“Impossible,” he breathed, his steps ceasing to look Alastor right in the eyes. He hesitated for a moment, his lips fumbling to find the correct words. “Pa..?”

“Benjamin,” his shoulders finally relaxed, his smile changing into something tranquil, unbothered, relieved. “You’re down here too, I see.”

“You’ve been practically right in my face this whole time,” he sounded as though he were in awe, his eyes taking in the form of the father he hadn’t seen in years.

“And you, I had no idea you’d be down here. You were such a kind and gentle boy,” he gazed down at his son, the pride welling inside him of seeing his boy all grown up. Dead, but grown up and independent.

“Being in a money-dealing position during the Great Depression does give people power, Pa, and I took advantage of that to make myself a living, just like how you taught me,” he smiled, and it was the most genuine, light-hearted thing Alastor had seen in… he couldn’t even remember.

So, this was what it was like to be a proud father, even in death. Alastor couldn’t help but release a breath in amusement, shaking his head. “You’ve exceeded my expectations yet again, my boy.”

“It’s almost sad, Pa, you didn’t get to see it,” he sighed, shrugging.

“Oh, do not worry. As long as you tell me all about it, I will have not missed it,” he suggested, and Benjamin’s ears perked up. “Come along, we can congregate in the hotel for sinners.” He took Benjamin by the shoulders, beginning to guide him down the streets.

“Alri-”

“Did you seriously think I’d go down that easily?!” a voice demanded from the rooftop, a knife jamming itself in the sidewalk right by Alastor’s feet. “You’re pathetic, boy!”

Benjamin’s next exhale was exasperated, annoyed, aggravated. “These ruffians, they just don’t die,” he turned around, his eyes looking dead inside as he glared at the now-standing demon. 

“Shall I leave this in your hands, Benjamin? It is your desired territory, after all,” Alastor offered, and he received a nod in response. He stepped aside as Benjamin leapt back up to the roof. But, something caught his eye, as well as his ears. They flicked to the source of the sudden noise, and even Benjamin faltered for a split second. 

“Let go a’ me, ya sick freak!”

Alastor’s eyes were drawn to the struggling figure of Angel, whose arms were all all chained to his sides, whatever weapon he attempted to use was now stolen by the attacker. His glare squinted as he watched as the barrel of the gun was pointed right at Angel’s temple, the demon’s finger twitching at the trigger. “I know ya, Knife Demon, ya still go’ yer humanity! I doubt ya’d let dis whore get killed just ‘cause ya couldn’t finish a fight!”

“I’m gonna kill ya!” Angel’s feet kicked helplessly in the air, and Alastor could easily tell that he was panicking, he could just sense the desperate aura seeping off of him. The true question was this, would Benjamin care enough to save Angel? Of course he would, he would save anyone who was about to die in front of him. He wasn’t heartless, he didn’t lack humanity, so of course he would. “Let me the fuck go!” He almost landed a clean kick, only to have a knee slammed into his gut. He yelped, and his legs ceased to swing.

Alastor’s fists tensed, and he remembered that same look on Angel’s face, that very same look from those few months ago. He was scared, he was hurting, he wanted it to stop. Alastor received and processed all of these signals, and yet he simply observed to see what Benjamin would do. He would only intervene if things got too bloody, he didn’t need to see Angel bleeding again. It simply smelled divine… 

Now, Benjamin was just about done scaling the wall, and the demon jammed the barrel into Angel’s cheek, his finger even closer to pulling the trigger and shooting a hole through Angel’s skull. Benjamin propelled a knife towards the demon’s wrist, but he easily jerked Angel’s body in front of him. After a scream of surprise and unfortunate pain, Alastor’s ears began to ring. Replay after replay like a broken record, the ringing didn’t stop. For once in the longest time ever, Alastor frowned. His smile fell off his face, no gleaming teeth greeting the world this time.

His shadow circled around him, curious eyes wondering what was happening in this exchange. Then, all of a sudden, the scent of blood wafted into Alastor’s nose, a knife clattering to the ground. More blood, two different bleeding demons, one disgusting and the other delectable. Alastor could easily depict who was who, even if his eyes decided to glass over and blur his vision. He needed to stop this scent, or else he was going to go insane. 

A tendril of darkness shot from underneath Alastor’s boots, wrapping tightly around Angel’s waist, sneaking beneath the chains and effortlessly snapping them. It retracted, Angel in grasp, supporting his weight so he didn’t plummet to the street. With no distractions, no restrictions, Benjamin was easily able to pummel the demon with attacks, ranging from punches to kicks to knives drawn up and down, all with strict precision. The overwhelming stench of tainted blood filled Alastor’s nostrils, covering up Angel’s injuries exponentially.

The tendril gently placed Angel on his feet, and he latched onto Alastor’s arm so he didn’t fall right over. The latter cringed, physical touch being something he did not particularly enjoy, but he remained doormat for Angel’s silent sake. He was whimpering, a hand from his lower pair of arms clutching the wound. Alastor snapped out of his trance, and finally spared a glance at the oozing injury. “Ah, it would be best if you got that tended to,” he mused, then looked up to Benjamin, who had just finished up with the demon. 

He hopped down carefully, holding Angel’s guns in his bloodied hands. “Perhaps you would like these back,” he passed them to Angel, who gratefully accepted them and began to turn on his feet, releasing Alastor’s arm to balance himself.

He winced as he took a step, and Benjamin rushed to keep him upright before he fell and further injured himself. Alastor trotted alongside them, silently. The only sound to be heard from him was distant radio static, and only God knew what that could possibly mean. When the time came, Benjamin left Angel in Alastor’s care, outside the doors of the hotel. “I’ll be back soon, Pa. Territory doesn’t defend itself,” were his last words to his father before he dashed off. Alastor watched him leave with a simple wave. 

He pushed the door to the hotel open, and the very first face that greeted them was Charlie, with her overbearing expression covering her features. “I heard there was a turf- Angel!” she gasped, immediately taking Angel from Alastor’s side and yoinking him to the couch. He whined in protest, keeping his hands secure on his wound. “You were hurt? How?!”

He shook his head, the pain too much for him to speak. “The assaulting demon decided it was a good idea to take him hostage,” Alastor explained, plucking one of Angel’s fur follicles from his suit. “Unfortunately, that is the result.” His senses were no longer going crazy, all that he felt was empty hunger. He intended to crush that feeling with some midmorning jambalaya. He did not care for the time at the moment.

“If you were there, why didn’t you save him before he got hurt, Alastor?!” Charlie yelled from the living room, and Vaggie entered the vicinity to discover what the ruckus was all about.

He sighed, wondering how in hell he would be able to explain this in the ‘least-evil’ way possible. He pursed his lips, then decided against it. “There is no need to explain myself, and at least he is here as of now.”

Charlie muttered something that sounded pissed off under her breath, then continued tending to Angel. “N-nah, I’m ok-okay, Charlie, no need ta worry.” 

Alastor imagined Angel smiling, yet his face was filled with pain. He somehow hated this imagery, and the knife he held was slammed onto the counter. His boot heels clicked as he entered the living room once more, then he knelt by Angel’s side and waved his hand across the bandaged wound, sealing up the breach in flesh within a few seconds. Then, he stood and left without a single uttered word. The kitchen called his name, the uncooked jambalaya wishing to be made, to be eaten. Not even close to prepared and it already craved death-

Alastor’s hands made quick work of the ingredients as they had done time and time before. He can’t even remember the last time he cooked when he was stressed, but for some reason, he was anxious. He needed to find the cause of this anxiety.

And destroy it.

Angel couldn’t understand Alastor, not in the slightest. One moment he wanted almost nothing to do with him, and the next he saved him. Not only once, but twice. What were his motives? What did he hope to achieve? Did he have something ulterior going on behind his back, saving Angel again and again to hopefully gain his trust then backstab him like everyone else did? He wanted to know why, but was directly asking him the smartest choice? Doubtful, he was the Radio Demon after all, if Angel pissed him off he’d most likely be ripped apart just like the ones who had hurt him. But, he at least had to thank him once again, Angel wasn’t going to let that favor go unnoticed. 

He laid in bed, with Fat Nuggets asleep beside him. His legs bumped up against one another, his fur tangling and knotting together. He sighed and stretched one right hand up to the ceiling, almost as though he were grasping for whatever was so far out of reach. Was it freedom? Redemption? A purpose in this place? A savior? Maybe something he hadn’t seen in a long time, someone who truly loved him.

He thought back to his sister, how she had been the only one who treated him like a decent human being. Her soft, comforting voice still rang in his ears from all the times she had been there for him, especially when it came to their father and their business.

“Don’t you worry, Tony! I’m always gonna be here with you!” Then she’d hug him and tell him everything would be alright. 

When he spilled the beans about his sexuality, only to her of course, she gasped and hugged him tight, silently screeching about how they’d be able to gossip about boys together and understand every word in their own personal universe. She never told a single soul, not even Arackniss. Heaven forbid she told their father or their mother. 

“Molly,” he whispered pitifully, outstretching his fingers as though to grasp her. Yeah, that was the thing that was so far out of reach, his beloved sister. He had no idea where she was now, but he knew for a fact she’d never be in Hell. She was just too good for this place, Angel would have guessed she was in Heaven while the rest of his awful family roamed the streets down here. They deserved it, all of them. “Molly,” he repeated, tears pricking his eyes, his voice cracking as his sister’s distant laughs filled his ears.

He released a huffed breath, rolling over onto his side and squishing the side of his face into the pillow. His fur was still tainted with dried blood, the wound only healed, but not fully cleaned. He gazed down at it, but ignored it. He didn’t have the strength to get up, all he wanted was to be in his sister’s arms, to have her say that everything would be fine. Because when she said that, Angel believed it. He believed every single word she said, may they be comforting lies or harsh truths. 

Angel had one distinct memory from when they were kids, perhaps around the age of nine or ten. Henroin had just finished up a board meeting with his associates, and it hadn’t gone the way he wanted. His mother and Arackniss tried to calm him down before he set the entire house on fire, but Angel was terrified. He hadn’t seen his father get this angry before, so he hid in his bedroom, hands shoved over his ears. He tried to block out the yells and crashes from nearby, and when the bedroom door creaked open, his head shot up and he prepared to run. But instead of a seething Henroin, Molly slid the door shut gently and padded over to him. She knelt beside him, taking him into her arms and whispering soft words into his ears.

He had never felt such comfort before, and he simply leaned into his sister’s arms. She said everything would be okay, that no one would be hurt, and they would all be safe from Henroin’s wrath. Part of that was true, both Molly and Angel were safely locked away, but Arackniss had a black eye that stood proudly against his pale skin during dinnertime. Their mother had a few cuts and bruises as well, but nothing too major. Oh, but that was just the beginning.

But, whenever Angel needed a break, he went to Molly. 

That was, however, until everything became all too much for him to handle, and he committed suicide. He could still remember that terrible pain, that burning in his chest, in his throat, his body feeling as though he were weighed down with boulders, limbs too distant to even twitch. His head went fuzzy, his vision blurred, and each excruciating breath was like a tidal wave crashing over him, until the ocean dragged him under and suffocated him. Then, it all ceased, he had died.

He didn’t remember what his last words were, or even his last hopes. Maybe he wanted Molly to hug him one last time before he left, but it was so far out of reach.

Not that it mattered anymore, the damage was done, and he had to die with this loss of his beloved sister. He would never see her again, unless there was some sort of miracle bringing them together.

Until then, he’d have to make due with these people who would only pretend to care for him, then eventually scrap him. The intervals of love and care were very short and sweet, but they were something, weren’t they?

No, I’d rather never be cared about again, he decided, then closed his eyes. Not being cared about is better than being thrown away.

If he fell asleep, Angel couldn’t tell. But when he emerged from the darkness, there was a bowl of steaming jambalaya, and a fork neatly placed on his bedside table. His ears barely picked up the sound of his door closing, but he couldn’t tell who had dropped off the food. Fat Nuggets trotted over and sniffed at it, then snatched up a hunk of shrimp and chewed on it. He gave a nod of satisfaction, and gently pushed the bowl towards Angel.

He laughed quietly, grasping the bowl to take a bite. He munched thoughtfully and silently gave thanks to whoever brought the meal for him. Maybe he would indulge in this false care a little while longer, because it was all he had in this terrible place. It wasn’t all that bad, and he might as well enjoy it while it lasted.

I still miss you though, Molly.

For a split second, he swore he could hear her voice reply from the sky above. “I miss you too, Anthony.”

Somewhere in the darkness, red smoke curled around a malicious grin, gleaming teeth plotting demise after demise. He paced around his office, heels tapping against smooth marble as his crimson robe trailed along behind him. There were two others in the room, yet they were both reclining on the couch near the corner.

“Val, you’ve been pacing like mad for the past ten minutes. What could you possibly be planning now?” one asked, his voice cackling from the inside of a television screen, yet it was somehow still smooth.

“Yeah, Vee! Chillax for a bit, why don’t cha?” a giggly female joined in, but Valentino shook his head.

“You don’t understand,” he replied simply. “Relaxation won’t bring back my prized possession, but I have a feeling that I can easily find him with the right information.” His crimson smoke wrapped around the television’s head in a heart shape, caressing his cheek and lifting his chin seductively. “So just let me do my business, alright Voxxy?”

Vox sighed, then shrugged and looked Valentino in the eyes. “If this gets out of hand, then you’ll stop.”

“Of course, we can’t lose everything we’ve worked so hard to get, I won’t let this scuffle tear anything down. Have faith in me,” he  turned back around, the plan formulating oh-so clearly in his twisted mind. “All of the pieces will come together one way or another.”

Chapter Text

Charlie was exhausted by more than one thing, but they all revolved around the same general topic: the hotel. She was tired of seeing Angel’s blood, she was tired of her passion project being treated like a joke, and she was so fucking tired of her own parents ignoring her pleas for advice and guidance. Voicemail after voicemail, Lilith never answered her goddamn phone, and it was driving Charlie to the brink of barging back home and demanding why.

Why why why, why was she being deserted like this?!

“Why?” she whimpered to herself, another voicemail delivered yet she doubted it would ever be listened to. She tossed her phone to her pillow, the screensaver dimming to black. It sank into the plush, no notifications popping up, save one about the next news report, which she very much ignored.

The bedroom door was gently knocked on, and before Charlie could even muster a response, it was pushed open. “Charlie?” It was Vaggie, her voice soft and concerned. The blonde couldn’t even respond, she simply burst into tears. Vaggie was by her side within a millisecond, holding her close and whispering comforting words in her ear. “Hey, shh shh, habla con mi, por favor,” she whispered, her Spanish oddly soothing. 

Charlie understood some of what Vaggie was saying when she spoke Spanish, but it didn’t matter if she knew or not. What mattered the most was that she was there, with her, holding her, telling her God knows what. “She di-didn’t answer,” Charlie’s eyes found her phone, then she tore them away. She screwed them shut, leaning fully onto Vaggie’s chest. “I just… I just want to know what to do.”

“I know, I know,” she brushed her hands through Charlie’s hair. “It’s hard, I know. But, you’re so much more resourceful and intelligent than you believe, Charlie. You’ll make everything work out, and I’ll be here by your side the entire time.”

“I don’t want Angel to get hurt anymore,” she squeaked, and Vaggie tensed.

“I know. Even though I don’t like him that much, I don’t want him to get hurt anymore either,” she admitted, and Charlie’s misty eyes looked deep into hers, sparkling in two different ways, one showing that she was touched to her heart. “He deserves a good afterlife, not any of this shit.”

Charlie sniffled, but managed a nod in agreement. “Even if this- this redemption thing doesn’t work,” she spat out the word like newfound poison. “You’ll still stay by me?”

“Is that even a question? Claro que si,” she stated firmly, nodding her head in affirmation. “I’m never leaving.”

“Thank you, Vaggie,” she muttered, closing her eyes softly. She yawned, relaxed, and was asleep in the matter of seconds.

Even if we’re torn apart, I’ll always come back to you, she told herself as she kissed Charlie’s forehead. Always.

Angel stared at himself in the mirror, gazing down at the would-be wound on his side. He had washed his fur out by now, not a single droplet of blood tainted his snow-white hair follicles now. It still baffled him, however. How just the simple wave of a hand could heal an injury like that. Well, it was the Radio Demon.

No, that was Angel’s reasoning for everything when it came to Alastor. He needed to find something else to describe him as. He wasn’t necessarily kind or caring, but he had his own form of showing his… what would it be called? Concern? Compassion? No, neither of those. They just didn’t suit Alastor’s persona. He was demonic, terrifying, powerful, but cheerful and upbeat whenever he wasn’t serious. His features always showed his emotion, even when he was always smiling.

It was hard to decode at first, but for a while, Angel had spent a bit of time trying to decipher the Radio Demon’s emotions and expressions. When his eyes scrunched up and his smile tightened, it mostly meant he was annoyed. When his laugh was loud and bellowing, he was having a good time, he was entertained as he put it. There were plenty of others, and Angel acted accordingly to each one.

But, the day of the turf war, Angel noticed Alastor frowning. This threw a monkey wrench in his mental image of Alastor. He despised frowning, and he had never let his smile fall off his face before. At least, nowhere when Angel could see, but he did see that time. He distinctly remembered, it was after he had gotten stabbed instead of that other demon. Angel had locked eyes with Alastor for a split second, and in that minute timeframe, the latter frowned and his eyes were shot open in shock. 

He sighed, releasing his shirt to cover up the undamaged flesh. “I wanna know why.” He popped a pill into his mouth, swallowing it down with a gulp of water. A moment of quiet passed, then he took a hand to his forehead, suddenly a bit dizzy. He slunk to the floor, leaning back onto the wall. Fat Nuggets crawled into his lap and made himself comfortable while Angel sank against the wall. “I don’t understan’ ‘im, Nugs. I really don’t.” He only oinked in response, and Angel chuckled. “If only I understood ya too.”

“I understand ya, Tony. If ya need to vent, just do,” a voice from above cooed in his ear, ghost arms hugging him from the side. Nonexistent bodyweight laid on his shoulder, hair tickling his cheek.

“Molly,” he breathed, but he wasn’t surprised this time. “You’re here.”

“Hehe, of course! I can’t leave my brother when he’s upset!” Her voice was pure music to Angel’s ears, which were so tired of hearing only static in between stations. “Now, talk to me, Tony!”

“God, where do I begin, Molly?” he exhaled a breath, and tried so desperately to lean into her, but he only nearly fell over. “Is it so wrong to wanna be… well, wanted?”

“No, o’ course not.”

“Well, I wanna be wanted, not jus’ used.” His chest tightened with the words, but it felt like a wave of relief to actually speak his thoughts. “I’ve just been used n’ abused eva since I came here, and, Molly, I wanna be loved.” He thought back to Alastor, but shook his head. “I wanna be protected, for once in my… whateva the fuck dis place can be considered as.”

“I can understand that, Anthony. You n’ I both know, life wasn’t easy,” her phantom fingers curled through his hair, but the hairs didn’t shift under her touch.

“Molly, I don’t wanna hurt anymore,” he curled up, shoving his face in between his knees. Two arms lay limp by his sides, the others holding his knees close. “He’s still tryna hurt me, he won’t leave me alone.”

“Who, Tony?”

“Valentino, an overlord I ran into years ago. He’s been abusing me fa so long, and even though I’ve escaped, I haven’t. He’s still… looking for me, tryna find me again. He sent someone to get me back, and he hurt me, and- it still hurts,” he wiped at the trail of tears running from his eyes. 

“Oh, Tony,” she pulled him as close as she could, and he wanted to cry into her shoulder like he used to. “I wish I could protect ya.”

“I wish ya were here too, I miss ya, so fuckin’ much.” Another tear trekked down his face, and he reached to dispose of it, but another hand caressed his face.

Suddenly, the weight on his shoulder was gone, and instead of Molly being gone, she was standing in front of him. Her eyes were full of care and concern, but a small smile on her face. Two sentences blended into one, and Angel could hardly make sense of either of them. “Come- are- y-get-u- ok-thing to eat.”

He blinked, and the light he saw was blinding. “Molly?” he tried, but his sister’s voice didn’t answer him. “Where’d ya go?” He looked around, calm turned to frantic. “Molly?!”

“Angel..?”

“No, no no no, not Angel, Tony!” he shouted, and a sudden shot of pain through his head made him whine, clutching his head and sinking to the ground. “Where’d ya go?!”

“Angel!”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Angel!”

The voice was beside him, but God, it wasn’t Molly. It was Niffty, followed by someone else. “What the fuck is wrong with him?”

Finally, a third. “Step away, he’s hallucinating!”

But where was Alastor? Maybe he was busy, but Angel wanted Alastor, he would protect him… right?

He screwed his eyes shut, and curled into an even tighter ball. He wanted his sister back, he wanted her back! This pain wasn’t Molly, it was awful! Please, bring Molly back to me! was the last coherent thought in his brain before he just… collapsed.

He forgot all about the open bottle of pills on his bedside table. What were they even for, anyway? He forgot that too.

Charlie picked up the bottle with care, then dropped it with a squeak. Niffty snatched it off the group, and she too froze in surprise. Now it was Husker’s turn, and he just stared at the bottle with squinted eyes. “Why the fuck does he have phencyclidine?” Another concealed object caught his eye, and he shifted his gaze onto it. “And… birth control?”

Now some may be wondering where Alastor was while that was currently going on, and the answer is simple. He was where he did not wish to be: bantering with an overlord. It had been an unnatural run-across, but the high and mighty Vox just had to turn it into such a huge deal.

“I see you’re still as outdated as ever,” was his first remark, and being that Alastor despised modern technology, felt the sudden obligation to retort.

“And you’re still a gaudy priss-boy,” he huffed, his claws curling menacingly around his staff.

“I heard you were volunteering at that princess’s hotel for sinners. Tell me, what does it bring you knowing you can never be redeemed?”

“Joy and entertainment. And what about you? Still stuck inside a one-sided relationship with that offensive erotic dancer. Speaking of which, I need to have a chat with,” he lowered his tone with the last phrase, but Vox still caught it.

“And why is that?”

“He’s been interrupting my entertainment and disturbing the princess’s project,” he stated simply, pushing past Vox onto the street. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“No no, you cannot just leave, Radio Demon,” a flash of electricity zapped by Alastor’s feet, making him turn to glare at Vox with the fury of a thousand hells. Every soul nearby could feel the fury radiating off of him, gravitating down to crush every bone. Even Vox himself flinched back. The sensation left as quick as it arrived, and Alastor’s boots clacked on the sidewalk. “I see, you must have a weak spot, don’t you, Radio Demon?”

Now it was Alastor’s turn to stop and cringe away. “Impossible.” He continued.

“You wouldn’t ever approach Val unless he was a threat, and so far, we’ve never bothered you personally. It makes me think,” he raised his voice to cross the entire street, letting every demon nearby to hear. “You have a weakness. And I think I know exactly what it is.” He paused for a moment. “Or rather, who it is.”

The terrible feeling returned, and this time, red fog began emanating from Alastor’s shoulders, curling around his ears and contaminating anything within a mile radius. Some demons choked on the thickening poison, others shoved their hands over their mouths and noses and rushed inside, but no place was safe for the weak. It swirled with the wind, taken away, but more replaced what was lost. One could faintly hear the angry buzzing of a radio on an inaudible station.

Vox narrowed his eyes, but he was smirking in triumph. “So, I’m right.”

“No, my dear fellow. You could not be more incorrect.”

He was about to keep trudging onward, but the oncoming screech of tires on a vaguely familiar limousine cut him off. Charlie’s head poked out of the window, and she shouted something through the thick fog. “A-tor! -lp! An-l!” His ears perked up, then flicked towards Vox for a second. The limousine came to a screaming halt before him, with Charlie throwing the door open. “Something’s wrong with Angel, he won’t stop asking for you!” 

His teeth gnashed together, and without a word, his shadow whisked him away. The limousine sped off after him, or at least the general direction of where he was heading.

Vox felt victorious. He had learned two pieces of vital information during that fateful encounter. Number one, he unveiled his rival’s weakness. Number two, he discovered where Angel Dust was hiding out. Both were helpful to him, one was helpful to Valentino.

Oh, what fun this is going to be. He hummed to himself, and walked through the slowly evaporating fog. Val will be most pleased.

By the time he reached his residence, technically Valentino’s, the fog was long gone. He pushed the doors open, ignoring the receptionist who frantically tried to explain that Valentino was in a meeting, and rode the elevator up to the correct floor. Velvet was there to greet him with a leap and a picture for her social media, and he inwardly rolled his eyes at her. However, he found himself patting her head affectionately.

“Val’s here?” he asked, and she responded with a shrug.

“He’s been in n’ out, seems real stressed,” she wheeled back between her toes and heels, hands behind her back. “Why? Whatcha got for ‘im? He might not even see ya.”

“I have pleasing information, that is what I hold.” His eyebrows pushed together, and he turned the doorknob to Valentino’s office. He was alone, despite what the receptionist stated, and Vox stepped inside. “Val,” he called, and nearly received a face full of deadly high heel.

“What the fuck do you want, Vox?” he sneered, his rose-tinted glasses discarded onto the desk, cracked on one side. His fists were curled, fingernails drawing blood from his palm. The entire place was close to trashed, papers littered the floor, pens were strewn, and droplets of ink dotted whatever surfaces it landed on. 

Vox, after recovering from the shock of nearly getting impaled, exhaled a breath. “I had a very convenient run in with the Radio Demon only ten minutes ago.”

“Fuck you,” he snapped, turning his glare from Vox back to his desk, smoke from a killed cigarette still running right. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about your little run in. Fuck. Off.”

“Well, Val, you see, I’ve acquired information worthy for you to hear,” he took a step closer, and a knife found itself threatening his nose. “Let me finish before you stab me.”

“You have thirty seconds.” The knife remained in place.

“I found out the Radio Demon’s weakness-”

“I said I don’t-”

“His weakness is what you’re looking for.”

Now that made the knife drop back down to the desk. Valentino was listening. “Angel Dust…” he breathed, his eyes wide.

Vox leaned down and gently caressed Valentino’s cheek, a smile across his face. “Exactly. And we haven’t found out where he is, but this one fateful encounter told me everything.”

“Tell me.” A command.

“The princess’s passion project, that hotel? Angel Dust resides there, and he’s unstable. The princess came speeding down the street and one mention of Angel’s name made the Radio Demon retreat like a dog was chasing him,” he grinned, and Valentino appeared fully invested in this information. “We can easily take him back, if you so desire.”

“Yes.” The red smoke calmed Valentino’s nerves instead of aggravating him, and he leaned back in his chair. “I’ll plan for soon, then.”

“And you’ll finally smile again,” Vox stood, then turned to leave when a sudden hand grasped onto his wrist.

“Thank you, Voxxy.” A kiss was pressed to his screen where his cheek would be. 

“Only doing my best for you, Val,” he responded, and planted his lips on Valentino’s fingers for a brief moment, then pulled away and retreated to the other room. When the door secured itself shut, he slid down against the wall, something akin to tears pricking his eyes. But how was that even possible? He was a robot, his face was literally a television screen, and yet, there he was, ignoring Velvet’s questions relating to his well-being. He wasn’t okay, not at all. 

The one he loved was more obsessed and in ‘love’ with a runaway stripper rather than his own partner. Vox asked himself what was worth it in that moment. He found out that he couldn’t decide. He continued to silently cry, asking himself why. Velvet simply hugged him, her phone forgotten on the plush couch. Even when it pinged relentlessly, she stayed by Vox’s side.

He began to muse as his shaking fingers wiped at the leaking droplets. This sort of thing had been occurring over these many years, Vox knew. But what he didn’t understand was this, why did Valentino abuse everyone he was close with? He yelled, he screamed, he hit, he threw things, he ignored, he neglected, all depending on the day and what mood he was in. Vox had to protect Velvet from strikes all too often, even resulting in a few malfunctions in his system from the injuries. They were always easily fixed, but it didn’t mean it didn’t… hurt?

Was Vox hurting? 

God, he hadn’t felt anything like emotional pain in so many years. He couldn’t even tell which emotions he kept after death, especially because of this current atmosphere. Maybe he was hurting inside. But, who was at fault? Himself? Valentino? This damned place? Angel Dust? No, it wasn’t Angel. He wasn’t the cause of this. He was a victim as well. That meant…

It’s Val. And Vox just broke down.

An electric shock shot through the sky, ringing through the air like a gun. All lights within sight were shattered, even stretching out into the street. People yelped, cars swerved, cars crashed, and Vox cried. 

Valentino didn’t even come out of the office. 

Vox didn’t think he cared all that much, only ever thinking about Angel, Angel, only Angel. He tried to think about any point in time where Valentino had actually been appreciative and loving, but it was almost like trying to find a needle in a haystack. The overlord couldn’t find a single memory in his database, not even in the past thirty or whatever years since they came into each other’s lives. The one single time Valentino was happy with Vox, the one scarce moment, was so long ago that the memory was corroded, practically impossible to decode now. The one frame that remained wasn’t enough, it would never be enough, but it was worth something. And God, that something meant so much. 

Valentino was smiling at Vox, cheeks red with laughter and eyes squinted up in joy. He had no idea what he said or did to make Valentino show this emotion, and there was no possible way to remember. He could only wish and faintly dream for times like that to come back around. 

He didn’t know if he stopped crying, but Velvet’s fingers never left his shoulder. Her comforting aura refused to move away, and he didn't want her to leave. He couldn't even tell what he needed or what he wanted, but this small act, these unspoken words of understanding and comfort were enough for the moment. 

“I’m sorry, Velvet, I’m sorry,” he whispered pitifully. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t worry, Voxxy. We’ll figure this out,” she promised, running her fingers up and down his arm. “Just tell me what I need to do, I wanna help ya.”

He shook his head slowly, no time wasted with his attempt at a response. “Just…” His voice cracked, and static hissed behind his tone. He clenched his eyes shut, his hands shaking even more than before. His screen went to popcorn, the static becoming louder and louder with each passing second. “Don’t leave.”

“If ya say so, Voxxy.”

He would have thanked her if he could manage words, but he couldn’t, so he didn’t. He wondered if it was his fault for not trying his hardest. He thought yes, but he knew it wasn’t him. Was he just another one of Valentino’s victims?

“What the fuck are you crying for?”

Chapter Text

Angel was thrashing about, his skin boiling to the touch, his limbs shooting out in random directions at random times. There was no rhyme or rhythm, just pure agony. Husk had taken the bottle of phencyclidine and tucked it away underneath the bar, inside a cabinet that only he held the key to. The other pills, however, were still untouched, at least, until Charlie hid them away in her pocket just in case Angel went looking for them.

She was so utterly confused, frustrated, but mostly, she was terrified for Angel. He was whimpering and crying, desperately calling out for someone to save him, along with two names: Molly and some form of Alastor. She tightened her grip on the birth control, then released it and draped a wet rag over Angel’s forehead. He immediately shook it off as he wailed.

Alastor hadn’t come into the room yet, he had been spending these past five minutes pacing back and forth in the hallway. With a few trains of thought screaming in his brain at the very same time, he was radiating dark matter from all over. This dark matter wasn’t dangerous, unlike when he was speaking with Vox, but it still impaired vision incredibly.

One particular click of his heel snapped him out of his thoughts, and his smile tightened before falling completely. He stood, staring at the same splotch on the wall. However, it wasn’t the same for him. What he saw was blood dripping down the walls, and with Angel’s distressed calls coming from the room just behind him, it didn’t help one single bit. Alastor’s nose twitched, but thankfully he couldn’t smell the blood. He exhaled and tore his eyes away from the spot, then took himself into the room. One look at the others made them nod and exit the premises, closing the door behind them. They weren’t helping, so they just left.

Alastor’s eyebrows furrowed at the sight of Angel, and something weighed down in his chest. He ignored it, and hesitantly took Angel’s hand. “Calm yourself,” he spoke, and his fingers tightened around Angel’s palm. “Angel.”

“A-Al,” he coughed, his eyelids twitching but not lifting. His mouth opened to breathe in whatever air he could, but instead, he wheezed and hacked up a lung into his elbow. “Smiles…”

“What is it you require, Angel?” His voice was so much softer than he intended, but he never altered his pitch. A radio buzzed behind his head.

Angel was quiet for a moment, well not exactly quiet, but his lips neglected to form legible words. “H-help.”

“Help? What do you need help with?” He leaned closer as Angel began to murmur, and his blood ran cold with the words he grasped.

“Val’s… going to kill m-me.”

Flashes and memories from the confrontation with Vox flooded into Alastor’s mind. “You would never approach Val unless he was a threat, and so far, we’ve never bothered you personally.” His eyes shot wider than before, sudden realization slapping him dead across the face. “You have a weakness. And I think I know exactly what it is.”

“Or rather, who it is.”

Alastor was an idiot. A complete and total moron. He never noticed, he never realized, he just sold Angel out to the one person who wasn’t supposed to know. The one, single person who could hurt him, who traumatized him. Alastor gave him away, all because of some stupid entertainment. He had taken this game too far, and the anxiety built up in his chest exploded, bursting into a million pieces to spread through his entire body. He couldn’t tell what was happening, but he just froze.

“Al, Al, Al, please…” Angel pleaded, his eyes finally cracked open a hair. They were filled to the brim with tears, and Alastor figured out that he hated the sight. “He-help.”

He knew what he had to do, but if he did indeed do this, it would prove everything that Vox couldn’t know. He was the Radio Demon for fuck’s sake, he wasn’t supposed to have weaknesses, let alone feelings for another demon! But, the only words he ever thought to say were thrown away like trash on the side of the street. Instead, he spouted off three words, one promise. “I’ll protect you.”

He wondered if he would come to regret this decision. 

Valentino raised an eyebrow at the sight of Vox slumped against the wall, with a defensive Velvet beside him. “Answer the goddamn question, what’s got the great and powerful Vox all choked up? Only a short while ago, you were pleased to finally have a foothold on your rival.” He loomed menacingly over the other two, his eyes narrowed into thin, glowing red slits.

Hands flew to wipe his tears away, and Velvet stood up on shaking feet. “So-sorry, Voxxy just uhm… stubbed ‘is toe real bad!”

“Is he a child? Stand up, you’re an overlord for fuck’s sake. Something as simple as a stubbed toe should make you break down like a snot nosed brat.” He shoved Velvet to the side, then crouched down and glared right into Vox’s soul. “Why are you crying, you pathetic robotic worm?”

Vox’s shoulders shuddered, and he shook his head. “N-no reason, just a malfunction in my system.” Now that just sounded a lot more believable than ‘he stubbed his toe.’ He tried desperately not to shake and twitch anymore than he already was, and he eventually steadied himself enough to look Valentino in the eye. “Nothing more.”

The taller demon huffed out of his nose, seemingly dissatisfied with the answer. He retracted himself, rising to his full posture. He tilted his head down for a brief moment, then scoffed. “I cannot believe you, Voxxy. I seriously thought these malfunctions were far behind us. You’re supposed to be perfect, unflawed, sparkling new.” He sighed, cleaning his rose-tinted glasses with the sleeve of his crimson robe before placing them atop his nose. He radiated disgust. 

“Acc-accidents happen,” his voice faded in and out. Clearly whatever emotions he was experiencing was indeed screwing up his systems. “I… b-be ri… s rain, I p… se.”

Well, that hadn’t happened for more years than Vox could care to remember. The last time his voice was drowned out in static was when he first met Valentino, but that time it was out of embarrassment; he had made a complete fool of himself.

This wasn’t the time to reminisce, goddammit!

Velvet tried to wedge herself between Valentino and Vox, but the tallest demon drew his hand back. It swung quickly, and a heartbreaking crack took the place of a smack. Vox’s screen was yet again ruined, shards of broken glass falling onto the legs of his pants, sticking into his knees and generously poking his skin. Velvet’s breath was hitched, but she was safe on the other side of Vox.

“Imbecile,” Valentino hissed, taking Vox by the bowtie and using unnatural brute strength to throw him aside. “How many times are you going to save that insolent, waste of space bitch?!”

“As many times as it takes!” Vox’s throat burst, and whatever fear he held seemed to vanish. “Hit after hit, strike after strike, I’ll take them all! Because she!” He gestured to Velvet for a brief moment, then directed his attention back to Valentino. “She doesn’t chase after a runaway dancer and neglect the ones she loves!” His fingers found themselves wrapped around the golden chain that bound Valentino’s robe together, and he yanked him down, face to face. “She’s not you, that’s why.”

Vox was easily forced off his balance, toppling to the ground despite his attempts to stand tall. He grunted as he collided with the floor, but before he could regain his senses, a foot smacked into his chest, securing his back to the floor. “Bastard, you’re only here because you refuse to leave. You think I’d want you here?! A worthless groveller who thinks a ragged doll is worth more than me?! No, no of course not. You’re only convenient, a powerhouse who can’t leave my side no matter what he does! Want to know why?”

When he didn’t answer, Valentino continued. “Because your resolve is weak! You caught these pitiful feelings, and turn a blind eye to all things I do! You’re so easy to manipulate, just like Angel Dust!” He paused to catch his breath, then shoved his foot down harder on Vox’s chest, making him gasp and wriggle to escape. “And now I know exactly what you’re going to do. You’re going to go and blow off some steam, and then you’ll be back. That’s what you always do, because you’re dependent.”

“Th-that’s not true!” Velvet tried, but a swift glare made her lips zip like a winter jacket.

He finally took his foot off of Vox, and retreated a few steps back. “Now go, go and come back like that spineless vermin you are.”

Vox coughed as he brought himself to a sitting position, and Velvet tried to inch towards him, but she was yanked to her feet by a rough hand. “And you, ragdoll, are going to stay here and have a nice chat with me, yes? Good. ”

By now, Velvet was dragged out of the door, all the while she was wailing and trying to free herself. Vox had never felt so alone, so weak, so powerless in his entire afterlife. He curled up against the wall again, and every single electronic nearby exploded in tune with his scream of grief.

“Da-damn you…” his hoarse voice mustered before he shut off, his dead battery finally catching up to his system. Or perhaps he just blacked out. He could never tell the difference anymore.

Angel must have fallen asleep, because the next time he saw light, he didn’t. His room was dark save for a faint red glow at his bedside that rocked back and forth. He groaned, about to reach a hand to his face only to see it had already been taken ahold of. He blinked a few times, then looked up to stare into the closed eyes of the Radio Demon. He nearly screamed, but bit his tongue instead. He retracted his hand from Alastor, and apparently yes, the latter was still asleep. Dead asleep, in fact, with a few tiny snores exhaling from his nose. 

What the hell happened to me? He tried to remember, but the last thing he could actually recall was taking a pill. A pill from a white container. Suddenly, everything seemed to fall into place, and Angel died inside time after time when each puzzle piece fit together. He curled in on himself, and just before he began to cry, his head jerked up. “Where is it?” he muttered, then shuffled out of bed to fumble with the object on his nightstand. “Where is it?!” 

Knickknacks clattered to the carpet, sounds muffled by the softer-than-wood surface. Panic rose as bile in the back of his throat at the lack of his orange pill container, and he nearly choked on it a couple times before he came to a conclusion. His birth control wasn’t in his room. He paced back and forth, debating whether he should go search for it or not. 

“But who would have taken it..? N-no, that isn’t possible, he doesn’t even know where I am! Besides, he would have taken me, not my…” he trailed off, then sank down to the floor and hugged his knees close. “Charlie, must’ve been Charlie. Yeah, yeah, that’s reasonable. I should go ask her for it, I should.”

He sighed, then leaned back onto the floor and stared at the ceiling, uneven and uninteresting. The small chandelier swayed with the slight movement of the hotel, and it was somehow so mesmerizing. That was, until Angel heard more footsteps in the room, approaching him. He sat up and greeted Alastor with a forced smile, but it wasn’t reciprocated. 

“Are you… aware of what occurred earlier today?” Alastor tried, folding his legs neatly beneath him as he sat down.

Angel opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and hesitated. “I took the wrong pill, Smiles. I took the wr-wrong one.”

“With the correct pill being the,” he paused, more questions filling up his waking mind. “Birth control?”

Angel bit back a sob, conflict in his gaze. He didn’t know how to explain it, especially to Alastor, but, if he asked, then he knew he needed the truth. “Yeah.”

“May I ask why you need that particular medicine?” He tilted his head in polite curiosity, and Angel’s fists clenched.

“It’s just, Smiles, I-” He broke off, shoving his face into his hands, his shoulders shaking as oncoming tears overtook him. “I dunno ho-how t’ explain it.”

Alastor pursed his lips together and his gaze softened. “Then, take your time. I will not force you until you are ready.”

Surprised, Angel’s head shot up and he locked eyes with the Radio Demon. “Thank ya, Smiles.” He would have requested a hug, but he knew Alastor didn’t appreciate physical contact, so he simply embraced himself, wrapped his arms to his legs and drawing them close. He thought about how he would word it, since being upfront wasn’t exactly easy to comprehend, and Angel didn’t think he was that brave anyway. The only person he ever told this to was Cherri, and even then it was difficult. 

“I’m,” he stopped, then thought long and hard about his next words. “Smiles, have ya eva heard a’ intersex people?”

“I have indeed heard the term, yes,” he confirmed, and the burden felt slightly lighter on Angel’s shoulders. “Do not fret about having to explain it to me, if that is your current concern.”

He nodded, then prepared himself. “I need that birth control ‘cause, well… I’m intersex, have been eva since I was alive, and just, no one knew.”

“I see, and you are able to carry a child?” he questioned, and Angel’s cheek flushed with embarrassment. “Do not be flustered, my effeminate fellow. You are still you, no matter what you tell me or not.”

“I am able t’, yeah.”

“I understand,” he reached for one of Angel’s hands, then grasped onto it comfortingly. “Like I said when you weren’t in your right mind, I’ll protect you.” That felt strange to say, he hadn’t made a promise of intimacy such as this in years.

“Ya will?” His lip trembled, but he did feel safe, right here, right now, with Alastor beside him.

“Yes.”

But just as Angel perceived the conversation to be over, Alastor cleared his throat. “Who is this Molly you’ve been asking for?”

Now that caught him off-guard, and he furrowed his brows. “She’s my sister, the only one who listened to me.”

“Oh,” Alastor hummed, and his shadow seemed to frown. “I take it you have not seen her in a long time?”

“Ya would be right.” He gave a bitter chuckle, his shoulders heaving up before falling back down hopelessly. “Now all I gots is dis place, but even here, it doesn’t seem like home.”

“That is understandable,” Alastor willed himself to keep his morale high, attempting to make the atmosphere lighter on Angel’s burdened back. “If you would like, I can figure out some way to-” He broke off, why was he doing this? Why was he comforting this demon, who only brought misfortune to the hotel? 

Because, Alastor figured, he needs it. “Recreate the image of your sister for you.” 

But no, this was a show of weakness. This was a show of Alastor’s weakness! He wasn’t supposed to have any goddamn weaknesses, so how come he was offering to keep this one, single, insignificant demon safe and comforted? Why?! He wanted to know!

“Ya would do that for me, Smiles?” 

That broke Alastor out of his self-induced trance of questioning practically everything before him, and he managed a nod. “If it will calm you down, I will create it anytime you desire.”

He could tell Angel leaned forward as if expecting an embrace, but he mentally shied away, and the latter retracted. “I would like that,” he whispered.

“Then I will get to work on something that will make this possible.”

He still wondered, but no matter how much he pondered this idea, he could never figure out the solution. Why was he so kind towards Angel Dust? Why did he offer up these items, protect him, make promises to him? Even his shadow, which was more often than not twice as aggressive than Alastor himself, decided that Angel would be able to remain this close. No one had ever been within five feet of him, not unless he was the one invading other’s personal space. But Angel, this one specific demon, was allowed close.

Alastor didn’t fully understand why, but his heart seemed to say “He’s alright.” Without a reason, he decided to listen to his heart for once in a long time.

Silence fell over the room comfortably, so when Angel yawned, Alastor only shifted, allowing him to climb back into bed. The Radio Demon stayed in the chair he brought up for himself, and his shadow took the watch for the rest of the night.

When Charlie bravely announced that there was a new resident within the Hotel, Angel immediately doubted her true intentions. He kept his distance, and made sure he was never in a situation where he could easily be plucked like a blueberry from a patch. Alastor, of course, took note of his behavior and acted accordingly, keeping his own watchful eye on the resident.

However, she seemed so genuine about it, like she had been sent down here by accident and just wanted a chance to become better. She, having said her name was Victoria, was a sweet woman, perhaps in her early twenties or very late teens. There was, however, something just so pleasing about her presence. It made her seem so much more approachable, but Angel never trusted that feeling once. It reminded him of Valentino’s iron grip.

Victoria was currently chatting happily with Niffty, her hands flying animatedly as she spoke about who knew what. 

Husker tended to the bar, swiftly and discreetly checking on the safe with the phencyclidine, and yes, it was still safe and secure within the cabinet. 

Charlie wasn’t downstairs, but she had given Angel his birth control back, which he took soon after he received it. He, of course, was resting on the couch with a shadow looming above him, yet it blended in with the cast of the candle; Alastor was watching over him. He felt safer knowing he would be protected by none other than the Radio Demon, so he relaxed.

Alastor’s real body was in the kitchen, humming quietly as he prepared chicken tenders, per request of Victoria, to which Niffty chimed in as well. He didn’t quite understand these childish antics, giggling as they whispered “chicken tendies” to each other on the barstools. Husker looked about ready to roast a chicken alive and present it to them, screaming about whether or not they thought it was good enough. 

Angel laughed on the inside regarding this, that was, until, a familiar scent of smoke wafting from Victoria’s direction. The shadow didn’t notice his internal distress, for it was precariously hidden from his face, but Angel was panicking. He wanted to know what it meant, why she smelled that particular way, why it just so happened to appear now. 

Now, why now? He was finally recovering, why did Valentino always have to ruin everything?!

He sighed to himself, choosing to ignore his problems, he simply couldn’t deal with them right now. He needed a fucking nap, that was what he needed. So, with that goal in mind, he stood and took the stairs one at a time to his bedroom, with Alastor’s shadow watching him leave. Once he was safely inside his room, the shadow laxed, but kept an eye on anyone who could possibly harm Angel. 

The door remained untouched, and Alastor nodded in approval. I’ll protect him, it’s all my fault that he’s been compromised. Me and my pride will be the death of more than just myself if it remains. I’ll have to deal with it as well.

Angel gazed between his bed and Fat Nuggets, then patted his pillow and the pig scuttled to join him. “Let’s take a nap, Nugs, come on,” he encouraged, and Fat Nuggets oinked in agreement. “Our problems will still haunt us, but at least we’ll face them with a hot cup of coffee when we wake up.”

He oinked again, then closed his eyes and nuzzled close to Angel, snoring right as his head hit the pillow.

All of the pieces are set. So for now, we wait.

Chapter Text

Vox’s eyes creaked open, only to feel the pain inside of his heart, or whatever the fuck was keeping him in this miserable existance. A battery, a heart, a mechanical thing, he couldn’t even think of words to describe the beating in his chest. He sat up, examining his surroundings only to see that he was in the exact same spot as before, Valentino hadn’t moved him an inch. But, Vox remembered-

“Velvet!” he yelped as he stood frantically, only to be brought face to face with an already-enraged demon.

“Shut up, sit down.” Vox obeyed. “She’s not here,” Valentino continued as he whipped towards the vanity nearby, fixing his sunglasses and robe collar. “If you’re lucky, however, you’ll see her again tonight.”

“Wh-”

“Did I say you could speak, you broken hunk of machinery?” he snapped, and Vox shook his head like a scolded child. “Wonderful, you’re finally understanding.” He exhaled a lengthy breath of red smoke, and Vox coughed, waving the wisps from his face. “To answer the question I know you would have finished, she is simply out and about, running an errand I suppose it could be called.”

He opened his mouth, yet before he could close it, a ringed finger sliced against his cheek, cracking the screen. He scooted back an inch, but for some odd reason, he found himself being embraced by four slithering arms. They wrapped around him like tentacles, yet they remained untightened. Vox felt as though he were standing on a chair, a rope dangling above his head. “You won’t disappoint me again, will you, Voxxy? Because it wouldn’t be the same if you were to leave me. It’d get lonely.”

His throat clenched, the noose slipping itself over his head. He couldn’t manage any other motion than a shake no. “Perfect.” The arms tightened in place, the noose’s knot fixed itself behind his head. “I’d certainly hate for you to be out on the streets, all alone, defenseless. I’m the only one that can protect you, Voxxy, the only one.”

Someone approached the chair he was situated on. “The… only one,” he whispered, and Valentino nodded in approval.

“The only one, yes.”

The chair was ruthlessly kicked from underneath him, and Vox couldn’t even scream as the noose wrung his neck dry like a damp dishrag. He hung limp like a fish out of water, and then he flew up, up up up, into the hands of a puppet master. His string pulled taught, strangling him even more than before. Valentino laughed as he added him to the collection of puppets on his desk. It was an evil sound, cackling and vicious. Vox couldn’t help but submit, his very soul stripped from his body. Now, he was a clueless doll, thoughtless, emotionless, empty.

He fell over and over into Valentino’s arms, lulled into a false sense of security, a pathetic excuse for protection. Yet there he was, right back in this toxic demon’s embrace. His resolve was crushed into a million pieces when he heard Valentino’s heart beating for someone else.

The morning, technically just the end of Angel’s nap, came a lot sooner than he hoped. He slunk out of bed, his head adjusting to the atmosphere of being awake and aware, then ceased spinning. Angel patted Fat Nuggets on the nose before slipping out of the room, giving the pig a short while longer to slumber.

He didn’t know what time it was, but frankly, he didn’t care. He wanted coffee. He hobbled down the steps, the conversation between Niffty and Victoria long over, the chicken tenders consumed and the plates left to be cleaned sometime or other. It was silent down here, and Angel relished the lack of action. It was tranquil, something he hadn’t witnessed in a decent while.

The coffee machine beeped as he pressed the start button, the container having already been filled with water and the grounds loaded into the grinder. As it filtered the water through the beans, or the beans through the water, however the fuck coffee is made, Angel selected a mug from the cupboard overhead. Well, technically not overhead for him, but it would certainly be a reach for poor Niffty.

The machine screamed at him as soon as the coffee was ready, and he took the milk and sugar from their respective spots in the kitchen. Once his drink was all prepared to his liking, Angel tilted his head back in a deep sip. It tingled his throat a little more than he liked, his scars reacting to the near-scalding liquid. But did Angel care? Of fucking course not. As though to spite these scars, he poured another drink through his lips, generously saying “Fuck you.”

His ears perked up as he heard the creak of the stairs, and small footsteps padded into the kitchen. It was Victoria, and she had a terribly apologetic glaze over her eyes. “Hello,” she whispered, her voice on the brink of shattering.

“Uhh, hi?” he tried, cocking his head to the side in confusion. “Is somethin’ wrong, toots?”

“I’m sorry, Angel, but he’d kill him if I don’t do this.” She inhaled deeply, and before Angel could even react, she yanked an object out of her pocket, then positioned it before her face and slammed a button down.

“Wa-wait, what are ya talkin’ ‘bout? Who’d kill-” Angel’s worst fears came true before he could even finish his sentence. There came a crashing from the main hall, the chandelier’s suspension snapping. Glass shattered, Angel froze, and Victoria shed a tear. “No…” His coffee cup cascaded to his feet, his toes paying the price for his butterfingers. But, the pain of hot coffee was merely a slap to the wrist compared to the flash flood of terror jolting up his spine at the next words he heard.

They were bellowed across the entire hotel, the windows shaking beneath the booms. Victoria’s mask slithered off her face, and Angel’s heart died inside. “ANGEL CAKES, COME ON OUT!”

“No,” he squeaked, shrinking back into the kitchen. “No, no no no!” He tried to duck into any sort of available hiding place, but someone snatched him by the hair and held him up like a scolded kitten. “Please, let me go!” he wailed, shoving uselessly at the wrist gripping his hair. “A-Al-!”

A slap to Angel’s cheek and a harsh yank of his hair followed that attempt of a plea. “If you so as attempt to mutter his name again, I’ll rip that tongue of yours out !” 

Angel’s legs kicked, the ground far beneath him, but it was futile, all futile. “He-help.” A whimper, desperate and pained. He was to tired, he just wanted to go back to sleep, to wake up with Fat Nuggets, to exist without being relentlessly hunted by this stupid overlord! With a sudden rush of determination, he clenched his jaw and prepared to fight this demon for once, no matter how terrified he was. “I said le-let go a’ me!” Yet even before his third set of arms could begin to emerge, his head was already slammed against the nearest surface, and his mind went blank.

Velvet trailed helplessly behind Valentino as he collected his prize and left without a second thought. But at least- Velvet’s eyes filled with tears. Vox will be alright… 

Right..? 

She wasn’t sure, yet she was never sure of anything when it came to this overpowering lord. She gazed up at the back of his head, yet all she could focus on was Angel’s limp body thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. His fingers curled and uncurled, lips trembling. Even comatose, he knew what would happen to him. Velvet’s barrier broke, and she silently decided that she would walk home. 

She broke off from Valentino’s path of trajectory, which was aimed at his limousine, and sprouted her own direction towards the street. She didn’t care how many blisters her feet obtained, she just couldn’t go home. 

Home, is that even what I should call it? No, it’s not home. I lost my home a long time ago, that horrendous place is only my residence. One I must vacate as soon as possible.

Valentino didn’t even spare her a glance as she walked away, heels clicking against stone. His crimson robe was pulled into the limousine, then it sped away. It was too late to save Angel now, even Velvet knew that. She asked herself why she went along with this, and in response, an image of the sobbing Vox filled her mind. It was at Vox’s expense or Angel’s, and frankly, Velvet believed she had made the wrong choice.

The other demon, however, was giggling gleefully as he kept a firm grip on Angel. He didn’t think he could wait to reclaim what was his, to tear Angel’s resolve apart bit by bit, to shatter his soul again and again, to remind him time and time again who he belonged to. God, he was getting excited just musing over it. However, he much preferred his prey to be writhing in agony instead of boringly unconscious. So, he would wait. 

With his victim unwillingly asleep in his lap, Valentino felt accomplished. He would never lose his prized possession again, no matter what it cost to keep it. He was fully prepared to sacrifice any life and liberties of those below him. And he intended to do that exact thing. Cost meant nothing when it came to his favorite toys.

When Angel came to, the first thing he noticed was the present lack of the Radio Demon beside him, or at least the presence of said demon. He was alone, or so he thought. Red smoke wormed its way into his nose, filling up his senses with this sweet sensation before it turned poison and choked him from the inside out. It burned, it burned so bad! 

“Oh Angel Cakes,” Valentino cooed, lifting Angel’s chin with his thumb and forefinger. “I know, it must hurt. But, it’s what happens when you try to escape me.”

Angel tried with fruitless outcomes to push away from Valentino, to run away, run away! He needed to get away from here!

He screamed, he thrashed, he begged, he pleaded, and he cried. But no matter what he tried, the dreaded cycle began once more. A strike to his face, the smoke forced down his throat, the terrible fingers trailing across his body. He couldn’t stand it. He didn’t want to hurt anymore, he just wanted to be protected, but whatever protection he found was always ripped from his grasp, torn just out of reach. 

To think… to think! “To think that the one and only Radio Demon would protect you, you really have gotten so blindingly desperate, haven’t you?” Valentino stroked Angel’s hair, running his fingers like rivers down his body. No place left untouched, no scar left unopened. “Tell me, what did you hope to accomplish by hiding behind his shadow?”

Angel’s lips parted but only a whimper escaped. Clearly, that was not a satisfactory answer for this awful soul. “ANSWER ME.” This voice in his ear, it deafened him. His thoughts and rationality were out the window by now, and all he could do was cry. “Fine, I’ll get the answer out of you regardless of how much you keep silent.”

No, please. His eyes slid closed, a bright light overtaking him, but it was anything but comforting. I just want to be… protected. Why won’t anyone protect me?

Protection, protection, protection.

Angel’s eyes widened for more than one reason. He realized something vital, something terrible and irreversible.

It was far too late now, and the best couldn’t even be hoped for. All he could do by now was cry, and accept his fate. Damn his forgetful morning self.

Alastor wasn’t there when the darkness came to kidnap Angel, but his shadows certainly knew what had occured. It was going crazy, panicking and forcing Alastor from his radio tower down to the streets, then the hotel. At least, what he thought was the hotel. The entire front was destroyed, the gates having been crashed through like a children’s playset.

Charlie was sobbing by the counter, her face cowering behind her shaking arms. Niffty was picking up the pieces and trying to rebuild the walls. Husk was helping her, his wings shielding her from falling debris. Vaggie wasn’t anywhere to be seen, Alastor guessed she was out searching for the lost Angel. 

The one day, the one day Alastor took to his radio tower instead of protecting him, he was gone. If he had just- no. It was too late now. Now, he would have to make up for his mistakes. First step was finding out exactly where Angel was, then rescuing him. But, he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. This was Valentino he was talking about, now that he had Angel back within grasp he would never let him go. This was the one flaw in this scenario, and Alastor had a feeling he would need more help than just the ones at this hotel. 

However, there was yet another flaw. He could not let this get out to the public. If they learned he had a weakness, let alone his weakness was also being hunted by an overlord, it would cause an uproar. Alastor could already envision it; crowds of demons flooding to Valentino in hopes of either joining him or taking Angel for themselves, using the poor demon against him. It was an awful sight, and he decided that he did not want to see it come to pass. 

I must keep this discreet. He sighed to himself, his shadow whimpering in the wind. I should seek out Benjamin. He would be the most reliable asset for assisting me.

Besides, it would be just like the old times, and who wouldn’t want a good slap of nostalgia?

There was nothing for him in this broken hotel, nothing useful anyways. But, Charlie could always be of use… No, she was far too busy sobbing her heart out inside. He directed his attention away from that, and his shadow whisked him away, to the complete other side of the city. He would start his search from there, for both Angel and Benjamin. He hoped he found one or the other before it was too late. 

Too late might have been an understatement.

Charlie waited at the bar until someone, anyone, came home. Niffty and Husk had long vacated the main hall, so it was only Charlie left alone with her thoughts. The thoughts she despised.

You were just one floor above, you should have helped.

“I know!” she sobbed into her palms, the pitter patter of rain from her tired eyes splattering onto the bar counter. “If only I had been there! Then Angel would still be here!”

If only, if only, if only!

You can’t even hold onto your patron, Charlotte. How do you expect demons to want to be redeemed if their host is unreliable? They won’t trust you, they won’t believe you, because it’s all fake. This idea, redemption, it’s fool’s play.

“Shut up,” she whimpered, shoving her hands over her ears in a desperate attempt to cut off the whispering demons. “Please, you don’t need to remind me.”

At least you understand, it hissed those final words, then disappeared. But, the silence was even worse. She could hear every rush of the wind, the screaming of tires and the whimpers of the buildings. It was almost nightmarish, the way her heightened ears caught each word, and they all circled around in her mind, making her go insane slowly but surely. There was no one to anchor her in the present, and she was swept up by both the past and the future. Images of what she had seen done to Angel, as well as what could happen, or worse, what is happening to him right at that moment.

There was blood, so much blood. All she saw was red, and it was filling up her waking mind, tanting it crimson. The back of her throat tasted like iron, and it only got worse when she attempted to wash it down with a chug of water. Her breathing began to quicken, her chest heaving large breaths that only got her wheezing. She coughed, spatting out the feeling like foul poison, but it lingered like a burn. God, she hated being alone.

But just before she decided to retreat upstairs, the front door creaked open quietly, softly, gently, as though it would be broken with too much force. Which was true, even after Niffty fixed it. She could hardly bother to gaze in that direction, but curiosity overtook her and she shifted her head. She was greeted with red X for an eye, and the long sigh of an unfruitful search.

“Either I’m not looking hard enough, Valentino’s relocated, or he’s hiding himself,” Vaggie exhaled, planting herself on the barstool next to Charlie. “Or all of the fucking above.”

“It’ll…” she tried, but then clamped her mouth shut. “I don’t know anymore.”

She took Charlie’s face into her hands, kissing her forehead reassuringly, but something was different about her touch. Her hands were shaking, but with what emotion, Charlie couldn’t tell. “I won’t stop searching until I find him, but until then, let’s get you to bed.”

“That might be a good idea,” she yawned, picking at the dried tears across her cheeks. Crying really exhausted her, and she could only hope she wouldn’t stay this tired for too long.

We’ll find Angel, no matter what.

Right?

Velvet had arrived at ‘home’ a long time ago, but she couldn’t face anyone. Not Vox, certainly not Valentino, if he was even there, but not even Summer or Dia. They tried to speak with her, see if she was alright, but it was all in vain. Velvet shut them out, along with herself in her room. 

Then came nightfall, but there were no screams or pleads coming from any of Valentino’s quarters. She assumed they hadn’t gone back here, instead hiding away where they’d never be found. She finally opened her door with the glaze of apathy obvious in her half-lidded eyes. By then, Summer and Dia were fast asleep, their door closed with a polite sign asking to not be disturbed. Velvet didn’t, instead going on the hunt for Vox. She just hoped he was still intact, still… alive.

She pushed the door to the loft open, but there was no demon in there besides herself. So, she checked Valentino’s office next, nothing besides a trashed desk. She guessed he hadn’t cleaned up from the last tantrum. There was only one place left, Vox’s room, technically both him and Valentino shared it but the latter never slept beside him. He was always up and moving around, picking things up, setting things down, plotting murder, plotting revenge, spouting off all of the terrible things he was planning on doing to Angel once he was back ‘where he belonged’.

When he did sleep, he was in his office, slunk into that uncomfortable chair like it was the fluffiest cloud in the entirety of hell. Vox tried to bring him into bed once, but that stunt cost him at least a thousand dollars in repair. Sure, it meant nothing money wise, but it traumatized the poor demon for the rest of his days. He never tried to bring Valentino to bed ever again.

The worst thing was, as far as Velvet understood, was that Vox was still enthralled with this awful excuse for a man. He never opened his eyes, no matter how many times he was struck, or abused, or yelled at, or screamed at, he just never stopped. He gazed after Valentino like he was the last shining light in this horrible afterlife. She could only hope that now, he saw what a terrible person he was. Maybe, she could convince him. After the last incident, where Vox had actually cried for the first time in god knows how long, Velvet felt something change within him. It didn’t seem good, and as she pushed the door to Vox’s room open, she knew it definitely wasn’t a good change.

“Voxxy?” she called quietly, for fear of Valentino spontaneously materializing beside her in order to hurt the demon before her. When the abuser didn’t show, she took a step forward. “Voxxy, it’s me.” Her voice cracked, as well as something under her foot. She studied it, and sure enough, it was glass, sharded and jagged sticking into the sole of her shoe. 

“Ve-elvet,” he stammered, scurrying from his place in the corner to embrace her, shoulders shaking uncontrollably. She could hardly understand his words through all this static and buffering, his screen black and white popcorn and his lips trembling like hunted prey. “H-he… got… at he… ants…. got Ange…” 

“I know, Voxxy, I know,” she whispered, trying her best to find something comforting to say, but nothing came to her mind. “It’s all my fault.”

“No,” he stated firmly, his hands tightening his grip around her. “No, it… min…” 

The screech of an unusable channel filled up the room, and Velvet cringed back, but then ignored the sound. This wasn’t about her, this was about Vox. If her ears began to bleed, so be it. She returned to hugging him, cradling him as best she could despite being sizably smaller than him. “No, it’s not, Voxxy. It’s either mine, or Valentino’s, never yours.” It was unnatural to say his full name instead of his nickname, but he didn’t deserve endearing titles from anyone. 

“Vel… et…” he muttered, the fresh tears causing a static shock through his entire system. “I’m s… orry…”

“There’s no reason to be sorry, Voxxy, now I know you need rest. Come on, I won’t leave you,” she offered, and once she felt his nod, she helped him to his feet and guided him to the bed. It was large enough for at least five people, the covers warm enough to beat back the harsh winters, if there even were any in Hell. But, Velvet felt a pang of loneliness just looking at it. And to think, Vox had to sleep alone in this ocean of blankets, curled up with nothing but himself and his own thoughts. Her rush of fury against Valentino quickly subsided as Vox grabbed onto her wrist, his eyes shaky and unfocused but the message was clear. She lifted the covers for both herself and him, then climbed under. The side of Vox’s face found the comfort of her heartbeat, and with another fallen shard of glass, he was asleep. Velvet could only hope to follow before the day’s horrors caught up with her.

Chapter Text

Angel, was that even his name? There were so many other terms for him engraved in his skull now, and from the pain shooting throughout his entire body, he would have thought it was literal. His head felt like it was being crushed by a boulder, each of his limbs weighed down by the pressure of the oceans combined. 

Pathetic, vermin, ungrateful little rat. 

Yeah, those were the top three names he had been called for the past… how long had it been?

There wasn’t a single flicker of hope in this place, this dungeon of torture, with these chains binding him to his fate. His wrists were raw from being constantly aggravated by the jagged metals, yet that certainly wasn’t the only thing that was ragged to the bone. It seemed that everything was worn out, inside, and out. There were claw marks raking up and down his stomach and chest, blood oozing from old cuts that had been reopened, as well as new ones just beginning to form with the drag of another talon.

Angel --Vermin?-- couldn’t even scream anymore. He was on the brink of unconsciousness, but something wasn’t allowing him to slip under. Did that mean, he wasn’t on the edge of exhaustion, but on the edge of death again?

But, he didn’t want to die again. It was painful enough the first time, and besides, wherever he would be sent to, Alastor wouldn’t be there!

Wait… who was Alastor again? 

The one and only name inside his head was Valentino, but even that was fuzzy. He clearly wasn’t worried about remembering titles and names, only focusing on the searing pain now scorching down his stomach. His swollen eyes snapped wide, and his mouth parted as though to shriek, but nothing emerged. The image before him was far too distorted to be deciphered, but he understood the gist of the scenario. A red hot poker, sliding through his flesh, burning it with unsettling ease. But what chilled him to his soul was the laugh of pure entertainment and enjoyment from the abuser. It boomed through his ears, in one and out the other, but it rang over and over. It was the equivalent of a victorious warcry on the battlefield, as the bodies of the enemies lay in scrambled bits.

But, were these enemies the real villains? 

More wordless thoughts were covered up by the smell of burning skin, the overwhelming stench taking hold of Angel’s senses. Then, the sweet sensation of smoke filling up his blocked nostrils, the tendrils worming their way up to his brain, turning it into even mushier than it already was. It felt almost heavenly for a minute, one blissful minute of fading pain, but then it was ripped from his reach. The crimson smoke was overtaken by the hissing of a satisfied demon, the sound reaching through his ears and wrapping itself around his brain. 

“So, are you going to tell me why you thought the Radio Demon would protect you? Hm?”

“H-h…” Angel began, his scratchy throat forcing words to tumble out. “He… said he would.” It came out softer and weaker than he desired, but it didn’t have the outcome he expected.

“ Vermin, ” Valentino, (was that who this was?) wrung his hands around Angel’s neck, clenching his windpipe until he struggled and gasped, begging for the relief of a breath. “How did you convince him to do that ?”

“D-did-n’t, h-he just…” He tried so hard, but the darkness came for him first. It wasn’t comforting, unlike death, but it was certainly some form of escape. At least, for now. He knew the pain would come back for him eventually, but maybe he’d be able to recollect his thoughts inside of this darkness. Who knows, maybe he’d remember his name.

With a fresh pair of eyes and a clear mind, Vox had a faint idea of what to do, but the risks and outcomes were unpredictable, as well as horrendously dangerous. But, this entire ordeal was his fault, so he should take the consequences, right? 

No, oh God no, he couldn’t handle any more consequences when it came to Valentino. He was just so fucking exhausted of this endless loop, wondering if this day would end them all, all because of one word he said to Valentino, one phrase, one motion, that just sent him over the edge. The towering demon already caused enough damage, and Vox wouldn’t be surprised if his second death was caused by the inflictor. Yet, he couldn’t leave Velvet. She, who stuck by him and tried to protect him even when it could cost her blood. 

He would never let a single drop of her blood be spilled by the hands of that monster. He had to get both himself and her out of this place, but if he did, where would they go? How would they survive? The Extermination wasn’t exactly close, but near enough to be worried of not finding a proper shelter before the killing spree began. He wouldn’t risk it, not with her life on the line as well. So… 

What would he do? Or better yet, what could he do? He was useless without Valentino, and that had been proven time and time again. 

But, what if he did something small? Small enough that wouldn’t alert Valentino, but significant enough to find a way to eventually save both himself and Velvet? What could possibly be done-

Vox snapped his fingers as he abruptly sat up in bed, an idea sparking behind his broken screen. It wasn’t favorable, nor did he enjoy the thought of this, but it was for the best. Besides, he could easily find Valentino’s location, he wasn’t a master of technology for nothing.

Velvet was still sound asleep beside him, her arms wrapped tightly around a pillow. He adjusted the covers over her as he stood, shifting off the mattress and padding over to the door. He would let her sleep for a while longer, but this needed to be done right now. 

He wondered if this would go wrong, so horribly wrong, but what could be worse than being beaten half to death by a raging demon? A couple threats wouldn’t hurt, so he pressed onward. He took his phone from his pocket, and cracked it may be, it still worked. He clicked on a tracking app, and with a beep, a red dot appeared on the opposite side of Pentagram City, flashing generously on the location. Vox knew exactly where it was, so he shut his phone off and replaced it into his pocket. He kept the app running, however, because he knew he would need it soon.

The sky was dreary as always, bloodied clouds hanging above the city like a plague. He sighed to himself, and air almost nauseating now, after the amount of time he’d been forced to remain inside. He ignored the powerful stench of gasoline combined with cigarette smoke and whiskey, and pushed on through the streets. He knew the way to this place, mostly because of watching other demons frolic there to have a meet and greet with the passive Radio Demon. Some by the handful, others by the crowd, hordes of demons just wanting to see and observe. 

But, Vox was not one of them, and by the looks of it, no one else was either. There were three outside of the hotel, one of which he recognized, but the other two escaped him. He didn’t care, however, but the nerves were striking him from all around. It showed on his screen, the static giving away his idly standing a few paces away. 

Their conversation was halted, and glaring red eyes found him, but then squinted and a smile tightened into a frown. Vox guessed his reaction was caused by the broken screen, which he made a mental note to fix later. He took a few steps forward, then pulled his phone from his pocket once more, and tossed it to the Radio Demon. “Don’t ask for my reasons, but trust me. Angel Dust is in that location.”

A white-haired girl took the phone from Alastor, studying it intently. Vox could easily tell she wanted to ask why he provided this, but someone else beat her to words. It was the other one Vox didn’t really recognize, but then his voice made it click in his head. 

“If you’re wrong, or lying to us, don’t expect to be seeing much more of this place.” It was a threat, but it definitely wasn’t unexpected, or unheard of. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Knife Demon.” Then, he simply left. Conflict and conversation would bring him nowhere, but he did his small part, and he silently prayed they would figure the rest out. He needed closure, he needed to feel like he was doing the right thing. And most of all, he needed to begin preparing in order to leave Valentino. God, he hoped it was possible to escape even when he was already six feet under.

Alastor’s teeth gritted together as he watched Vox stumble to the sidewalk, then disappear into the distance. He just wondered what could have happened to him, he was one of the most powerful overlords in this area, and he was so horribly injured. He didn’t think he would care as much about him, but part of him felt pity. He assumed it was the same part of himself that felt feelings towards Angel. Speaking of which-

He snatched the phone out of Vaggie’s hands, straining to understand the glares of the screen. He had never seen such a contraption so close, and all he wanted to do was smash it with his microphone, ridding the world of one more electronic. But, the information was useful, as far as he could tell. 

“Benjamin, come along with me to examine this place,” he said flatly, his microphone cackling with anticipation for a fight.

“Hold on, you can’t just go there! Angel- he’s- this is our fight too!” Vaggie stamped her foot, glaring up at him. “You’re going to need more backup than him,” she gestured to Benjamin, who was too busy sharpening one of his knives to listen to her banter.

“Oh please, what could you do? I’ve already gotten this handled, and Benjamin is plenty backup.” He waved her off as the shadows began to grasp at his feet, and he held his arm out for his son. “We’ll be back before nightfall, with Angel .” Then, they were gone.

Vaggie held the phone in her hand, but then it melted away, plopping into an unsettling puddle by her feet. She hadn’t ever felt more defeated and helpless than now, not even being allowed to assist with something she could have, should have prevented. Now, Charlie was suffering because of these mistakes, and there were no signs of her recovering anytime soon unless Angel made it back home. But that was a tousle nowadays, especially if she’s expecting him back unscathed. It was impossible, improbable, an unreachable dream. Hope never fared well down here, and the truth was hitting Charlie harder than a ton of bricks ever could.

Well, the least Vaggie could do was be with Charlie whilst they waited. She folded her hands together, looking up to the sky as she whispered an unheard prayer, then headed back inside. It was an awful day, and it had hardly even begun. 

Meanwhile, Alastor and Benjamin were both in such a hurry to locate the whereabouts of the missing Angel. So much so that they nearly skipped right over the given coordinates from Vox. Alastor stopped them in their tracks, the shadows allowing them to emerge from the outside walls of the building establishment. 

It was a seemingly rundown structure, yet Alastor sensed something coming from beneath them. Not only sensed, but smelled. It was horrific, the normal aroma of Angel’s blood was tainted with untold pain and suffering, with the occasional hint of smoked flesh as well.

It filled Alastor with undeniable rage, just as how it did each and every time he saw the other demon injured. But this time, it felt so much different, to the point where Alastor’s feelings conflicted and battled each other. However, he set the internal war aside, and turned to face Benjamin. “I’ll scour the shadows, you take the building from the top floor.”

He nodded, a scowl across his face. “And if we find him, with Valentino, what will we do?”

“Attack, both of us will sense the tension and will come for backup. Just stay alert and pay attention. If you engage, I’ll be right behind you. But the primary goal is to save Angel, eliminating Valentino is the second.” His hand landed on Benjamin’s shoulder reassuringly, but anyone could tell just how pissed off he was. Beneath the calm was a raging storm, and frankly, Alastor demanded bloodshed. The aura was thick with rage, just dripping with murderous intent. Benjamin would have found himself shivering if he didn’t know who Alastor’s target was, but he was on the same page. He may have been in Hell, but even he had some humanity left in him.

He leaped up to the roof of the building, taking the stairs down to the highest floor. The feeling of dread and agony was faint up there, so Benjamin moved onto the floor below. He still searched each room before moving on, but not as thorough as normal. By the time he was on his fourth floor down, he sensed a rush of tension, a wail of desperation, the attempts to escape. He readied his fist, then slammed it into the floor beneath him, again and again, until he came face to face with a sobbing demon.

“Angel Dust,” he breathed in complete astonishment, but it wasn’t the good kind, not one single bit. He yanked a knife from his belt, and Angel jerked away, scrambling to his feet. “No no, I’m here to help you,” he raised his hands non-threateningly, and Angel seemed to understand for the time being.

“You’re…” he coughed violently into his elbow, which was cut and bleeding, his snow-white fur stained an awful crimson, crimson that was creeping up behind him. It wrapped around his throat, and tried to reclaim him, but Benjamin snatched him first. He wailed in pain, and Benjamin made the mental note to be ever so careful. 

“I’m with Alastor, we’re going to get you outta here,” he kept his knife in his palm, holding Angel with the other arm. “But, once we’re out in the open, you need to run, if you can, and hide. I’ll have to help Alastor.” He took a glare at the crimson smoke, which was curling even closer now, no clear motive to retreat. 

Evidence of scuffle was nearing, debris and shouts of both pain and triumph being heard over the cracking of the building walls. Benjamin deflected a falling brick, protecting Angel’s head with the slash of his arm. “Come on, we need to get outside.”

“N-no… A-Al-”

“He’ll be alright for a few minutes, please trust me,” he shifted to look Angel in the eyes, which were both bruised and awfully bloodshot.

“Tr-trust,” he finally nodded, allowing Benjamin to escort him a safe distance from the collapsing walls. He latched onto his wrist, gazing up at Benjamin with such fear and gratitude that the latter almost killed the nearest demon for even being too close. “Th-thanks…”

“No need,” he shook his head, extracting his knife and taking a step away from Angel. “Hide, Alastor will come back for you once we’ve dealt with the issue.”

He raced back into the building without waiting for a response. If Angel moved to obscure himself, he didn’t know. But, what he did know was that Alastor’s tentacles were on a rampage inside the building, and it was causing nothing but destruction. Yet, Benjamin didn’t care all that much.

“You’ve been interrupting the princess’s passion project, as well as Angel Dust’s afterlife, for far too long now!” Alastor’s voice roared over the sound of his writhing tendrils of darkness.

“You’ve never even cared for Angel before! Hell, you didn’t even know he existed! Why must you interfere with my business?!” Valentino’s smoke was fending them off, but just barely. In terms of power, he could hold his own in a fight with a normal demon, but his true strength was in business and manipulation.

Meaning, he didn’t stand a goddamn chance against the raging Radio Demon.

Alastor didn’t retort, his shadows did the speaking for him. Whispers and murderous murmurs filled up the atmosphere, and Benjamin sat back to watch the ten-foot tall demon be torn apart limb from limb agonizingly slow. It was scary how much he was looking forward to seeing him bleed.

“It doesn’t matter, the joke’s on you anyway,” Valentino hissed, his hand slipping into his pocket, and after a moment, a deafening screech radiated from the source. “You may be able to best me in a fight, but you won’t stand a chance against your rival, Radio Demon.”

The one in question burst out into maniacal laughter that came in waves of insanity. The shadows gurgled along with him, and even Benjamin cracked a few chuckles. “Oh, you poor soul,” Alastor mused, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Poor soul!” Alastor’s microphone repeated with a cackle.

“Who do you think provided us with your location?” His eyes glassed over, and after a sudden rush of panic from Valentino, the latter disappeared with a cloud of suffocating crimson fumes. “My my my, he sure is an interesting fellow.” He released a few soft chuckles, his shoulders shaking with each one, until he was back to full-blown bellows of laughter. His hand reached to cover half of his face, and blood began dripping from his palm, slowly sliding down his cheek. “Benjamin, where did you drop our effeminate fellow? I must return him to the hotel at once.”

“He’s right outside,” he pointed to the wall, his hands on his hips. “Do you think he’ll be coming back?”

“Oh, without a doubt,” he smiled, his feet pacing towards the crashed hole in the wall. “But, we’ll never allow this scenario to occur again.” He paused for a moment. “I appreciate you tagging along, my boy. It is certainly welcoming to know I have backup by my side.”

“Anytime you need me, Pa, just let me know,” he answered, then his father was outside. “I’d better get going, however. I take it you can handle things from here?”

“Of course, Benjamin.” That moment after, Alastor was holding an unconscious Angel in his arms, an uncountable amount of injuries showing through partings in his fur. Not to mention the blood stains, oh-so many blood splotches. “I bid you farewell and good luck in your territorial genocide.”

“And I give you the best of luck with Angel and the hotel.” He patted Alastor on the shoulder, then leaped to the roof of the nearest building and his footsteps disappeared into the distance.

He almost scoffed at the words, as well as another thought that popped into his head that, undoubtedly, Angel was asking himself as well. Why was Alastor always helping him, saving him? He needed to do some serious digging within himself to figure out the answer, but now wasn’t the time for that. Now, it was time to find his way back to the hotel without compromising Angel’s injuries.

Valentino was alive, but certainly not unscathed. He had barely escaped the threads of evil radiating off Alastor, and had nearly lost a few limbs in the process. His robe was scuffled and rugged, ruined. He peeled it off his skin to reveal several gashes and bleeding cuts, which had painfully stuck to the fabric. He scoffed at himself, then some of Alastor’s words returned to him like a reoccurring slap to the face.

“Oh, Voxxy,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “You’ve made the worst mistake of your damned afterlife.”

His office was still trashed from his last ‘tantrum,’ and the studio was dead silent. There were no knocks on the door, asking about the sudden noise, or where he had been for the fast few days, nothing. Not that he expected much, but the vengeful section of himself overtook everything, and now every little detail seemed like a storm about to tear this office apart again and again.

The silence was frankly unsettling, and Valentino felt something was amiss. “Where are they?” he questioned himself under his breath, his teeth clinking together furiously. He burst out of the office, but the quiet only followed him as he stormed around, throwing doors open and peeking his head inside each dark room.

Velvet was missing from her room, the windows still open and hot breezes taking the curtains for a joyride. Her shoes were still there, however, but her slippers were missing. She only wore those around the residence, so she could never have left. She despised getting them filthy with the muck of the outside streets. 

The only other places were Summer and Dia’s room, or Vox’s. Valentino easily ruled out the former, seeing as though both women were already up and getting coffee, while their bedroom door was left open for some form of fresh air from the hallway. If she was hiding, it would be a poor excuse for an escape.

So, Valentino paced for Vox’s room, his eyes narrowed into thin slits, his crimson glare brighter yet sharper than ever. His boots clacked menacingly as all workers nearby bustled themselves busy as to not be forced into his range of fury as well. The door gave way to a forceful shove, and red eyes glared all around the dark room. A pointed nail flicked the light on, and what greeted him was a sight he wasn’t prepared to see.

Vox was by the closet, with a frantically packing Velvet beside him. They stopped mid-move and faced the door with equally horrified expressions. Valentino also froze in his tracks, one foot inside the room, the other rose to take a step.

“So.” Was the first word spoken between the three. “You’ve interrupted my plans, Voxxy?”

Chapter Text

Angel laid awake that night, the healing from Alastor took care of all his surface injuries, but as for his mental health? There was nothing to be done. But, if he could just… just forget, only for one night. 

He struggled to his feet, opening the very bottom drawer to reveal what he knew as a false bottom. He poked his nails underneath the facade and lifted up the cut of wood. It’s removal revealed multiple boxes of cigarettes, some empty, some used, some entirely full. He yanked out whichever ones came to his hands first and took the lighter to the tip of it. It glowed a brilliant red for just a moment, then faded into pitiful gray as the flame began to settle.

The smoke filled up his nostrils as it began to rise, and the taste felt bittersweet in the back of his throat. He retreated to his bed, laying down with the cigarette still between his lips. It wasn’t practical, nor safe for his poor eyes, but did he even give a damn anymore? What could possibly be worse than being beaten and raped senseless for days on end? Surely he could manage a little ash on his cheek.

His mind began to go foggy, his memories fading behind the less-than-comforting smoke. But, if it made him forget, then he didn’t give a damn about the comfort either. He still had plenty to last for a while until he recovered, but the buzz always ended the next morning, with only a hangover to remind him of what he forgot.

It had been a while since the cigarette was lit, and the light began to wane. He picked up another from the same box, while others littered his mattress. They didn’t blend in with the blankets, so it was easy for his tipsy mind to find them and extract a stick. 

It became somewhat of a routine, stick after stick, more and more fuzzy with each and every inhale. The smoke hung thick in the room, until the ventilation system kicked in and it was sucked out of the vents. It cleared rather quickly, but all Angel saw was a blurred red mess, blobs of nothingness shifting beyond his reach. Noises became mushed together, all sounds just like birds chirping in the distance. How did he even remember the sound of morning birds outside his window? The only thing he heard down in Hell were the screams of crows as they flew from roofs to pick at carcasses left over by Exterminations.

Speaking of which, when was the next one?

The faint creak of a door made Angel’s eyes shift towards it, yet they were half-closed and his vision was too disoriented to decipher who exactly was there. He honestly didn’t care, but all he wanted to do was finish this cigarette and sleep.

“What are you doing?” a voice asked him, now closer to his ears and slightly understandable. 

“Mnm,” he thought as best he could for a moment. “Gettin’ high?” he tried, the cigarette flicked back and forth between his lips as he spoke, or slurred, he couldn’t really comprehend himself at the moment.

“How do you feel?”

He wrinkled his nose. Why was this person asking him questions? “Tired.”

“But does anything hurt?”

“Mweh,” he shrugged as he sat up, his eyes unfocused and clearly wandering in a different world other than reality. “Dizzy n’ sore, but not alotta pain.”

“That is pleasing.”

“Mnmeh, you soun’ like ‘Lasta’,” he muttered, a slight giggle escaping his lips. “Heh heh, but ‘Lasta’ don’t care ‘bout me, does ‘e?”

“Why would you think that?”

He furrowed his brows now, taking the cigarette from his lips and killing it on the bedside table before he faced the blurred figure, who was now sitting on the bed with him. At least, he thought so. “Entertaimnent,” he shook his head. “That ain’t right. Enter- Inter- Entermaintent. Yeah, tha’s righ’, entermaintent.”

“Entertainment. But what do you mean?”

“‘E only cares bout ‘is entermaintent-”

“Again, it’s entertainment.”

“But not me. ‘Lasta’ is powerful, ‘e has to reason t’ care bout me. I think,” he hiccupped. “I think ‘e jus’ don’t want his en-ter-tain-ment to be in-ter-rup-ted.” He burst into laughter at his own words, the way he spelled them out in order to pronounce them correctly. “En-ter-tain-ment. En-ter-main-tent, it sound like enter main tent!”

“Angel, please focus.”

“Ain’no angel ‘ere,” he leaned forward accusingly, pointing a figure towards the face and glaring. “Dis is Hell.”

“But isn’t that your name, Angel Dust?”

“Mweh, no,” he sighed, then coughed a few times to rid himself of that taste in the back of his throat. It seemed to tickle his scars. “Anthony.”

“That is your given name?”

“Mh-hm, but what bout ya? I can’t tell who ya are,” he squinted at them, then reeled back with dissatisfaction. “Ya ain’t gettin’ any cleara’.”

“I would prefer to keep it that way.”

“Fine fine, keep yer secrets,” he waved his hand dismissively, then laid back down with a huff. “I’ve almost forgotten what it was like, to be limp, to be numb, to forget. ”

“Isn’t that a good thing if you’re looking for redemption?”

“Mweh,” he shrugged once more. “Not if da pain’s too much t’ bear.” The ceiling swirled before him, jerking closer yet farther away at the same time. It was so far out of reach. Angel felt himself grow irritated at the unbreachable distance.

“You’re hurting?”

“Whaddaya expect?!” he burst, slamming his fists on the mattress, his eyes filling with uncontrollable tears. They rolled down his cheeks at unimaginable speeds, spilling onto the blankets, soaking them. “It hurts s’ much!”

A kind hand grasped his cheek, fingers slowly dabbing at the trails of tears down his fur. They continued to cup his face, and just remained there. “Sleep, Angel. I will protect you.”

For some reason, those words were familiar. But, Angel did as he was told, and closed his eyes. His palm found the one on his face, and he held it close. Just before he fell under the alluring breath of sleep, he knew exactly who was with him. And if he was being honest, he didn’t mind being comforted by the Radio Demon.

Alastor remained in Angel’s room, but decided to clean up a little while the latter slept. With his hand still caressing Angel’s cheek, his shadow scurried around, picking up the used cigarettes and throwing them away, as well as getting rid of the empty cardboard boxes for the sticks. The unused ones, however, were replaced in the bottom drawer, underneath the false bottom. Alastor knew Angel had his reasons, and decided not to rid him of these hidden pain-concealers.

Once everything was done and cleaned, Alastor felt his own eyes close with the rush of events from the day. But, there was still much to think about. He refused to allow himself slumber until he had come to a satisfactory answer in his mind. 

Under-the-influence Angel was so much more honest than normal Angel, and that was saying something. Therefore, Alastor learned a few things in this sort-of planned encounter and questioning. He needed answers, and would have asked these same things whether or not Angel had smoked these cigarettes. Well, he had gotten what he wished for, now to piece them together word by word.

How could he think that Alastor didn’t care? Sure, he showed apathy to certain things, but he had never neglected to help Angel when he was bleeding that delicious-smelling blood-

But this wasn’t about that!

He shook himself out of that constant trance, and sighed to himself. His eyelids slid half-closed, and he glowered at his shadow, which was creeping up by Angel’s side. However, the shadow just watched, simply observing, as though entranced by the way he was snoring rather loudly, yet looked so delicate and fragile. His cheeks were slightly pink, his lips parted to breathe, and his eyes closed softly. It was oddly beautiful, and the urge to protect him slashed through Alastor’s stone-cold heart.

He wanted to enclose Angel in his blanket of darkness, keeping him safe from the crimson smoke that wished to strangle him back into abuse. He would keep Angel away from harm at all costs, defending him with every single fiber of his being. They would be in their own perfect world, where Angel would laugh and smile every day.

It was a domestic scene, one that Alastor suddenly desperately craved. His hands reached for the distant future, and his fingers grasped the threads, but they were too slippery. It disappeared into the wall, the shadows overtaking it with inky blackness. Alastor cursed under his breath, and his smile fell. Radio static overtook the silence, and Alastor felt enraged listening to it.

He could hear the overwhelming whispers in his heart, whimpering about how they desired for things to be different, that maybe, just maybe , they might have made through this if they knew each other when they were alive. But, alas, their timelines weren’t so accepting of these types of couples.

Wait a minute, ‘these types of couples’?

Did Alastor wish to become romantically involved with the patron of this experiment?!

No, no no no, that’s impossible! He clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into harsh fists in his lap. He stared down at him, his lips pulling taught to reveal a very much forced smile, his teeth faintly gleaming in the fading candlelight. He is just another- just another demon! He has no significance in this afterlife!

“Except for the fact you keep protecting him,” his inner voice pointed out, rather matter-of-factly, and Alastor did not appreciate the tone. 

It is an obligation! Fo-for my entermain- entertainment! He desperately tried to make himself believe that this was all for the credibility of the hotel, for his entertainment, not because he cared about Angel Dust!

“He’s rubbing off on you.”

He was just about to retort, but then he caught wind of Angel smiling in his sleep, and the voice in his head only grew in strength. 

“Listen to me, you know I’m right, oh-so powerful Radio Demon.” 

The voice was right, and that was what terrified and angered Alastor the most. He knew it was a part of himself, yet he just didn’t want to believe it. He had a weakness, him! The Radio Demon, who toppled overlords in a single night! He was so much stronger than this, and he knew it! But, everyone had a weakness, unfortunately, and Alastor couldn’t have felt more saudade to find his own.

He wondered if this was a mistake, an error in the code of the universe, but as a hand suddenly grasped for his own, he knew it wasn’t an accident. He resented the universe for blessing him with this gorgeous curse.

Velvet shoved herself against the closet door, her whimpers heard all throughout the entire room. One hand was drawn to her mouth, the other still on the closet door. “Va-al…”

“Tell me,” Valentino hissed, stalking closer to the terrified duo. “What is this ordeal, Voxxy, Velvet?” He studied them up and down, noting each tremor in their legs and quiver in their fingertips. He thrived on their fear, and he felt himself grow taller just at this. Vox hesitated, his lips pressed into a firm line. “SPEAK.”

Conflict filled Vox’s face, which was just about to be cracked by a ringed knuckle, when he finally decided something. Enough, is enough. “This ‘ordeal’, Valentino, is us taking initiative.” His mouth fell open at the forced words, but he continued, his balance improving with each step he took towards the fuming demon. “We’ve put up with your abuse for far too long now!”

“Oh please, I protect you, Voxxy-”

“No, you don’t!” he shouted defensively, and his head jerked towards Velvet. “Finish packing, then leave, Velvet. I’ll be right behind you.”

“B-but!”

“Just do it!” He saw Velvet’s eyes spill a few tears, then she buried herself in the closet again and proceeded to shove things inside the bags she had grabbed. Vox took a single step back, glaring up at Valentino with fury in his glare. “We’re not going to stay here anymore, so either you let us leave and keep it that way, or I’ll- I’ll-!”

“You’ll what, Voxxy?” he cooed, his voice obtaining strength as he faced-off the shorter demon. “Kill me? Hope to buy some time for that ragged doll so she can escape and die on the streets?! You’re hopeless without me, utterly defenseless!”

“No! I’m stronger than you are, than what you tell me I am!” Jolts of lightning began zapping around Vox’s head, and the chandelier overhead shattered, the glass clinking to the floor piece by piece. The light blue power snapped towards Valentino, forcing him back step by step until he was halfway out of the door frame.

“Vox, everything’s ready,” Velvet reported, but he didn’t take his eyes off of Valentino. 

“Good, now get out onto the streets. Wait for me, and stay safe,” he instructed, and she nodded, the bags clutched in her trembling arms.

“What about you?”

“I’m buying you time, now go!” She whimpered his name one last time before taking off towards the window, yet Valentino’s crimson smoke of death didn’t even have time to react to her departure. “We’re done, Valentino!” The lightning struck the taller demon, singing his skin, leaving a harsh black splotch stretching from his wrist to his elbow and back again; a warning shot.

Valentino hissed at the attack, and his eyes narrowed into enraged slits, but he was hiding his fear. “Voxxy, you’re dragging both yourself and Velvet to your deaths! I’m the only one who can protect you! The. Only. One!”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he gestured roughly to the dull crack on his cheek, and he could just see Valentino pale. “I should have left a long time ago, before you captured me in your facade of protection. When in reality, you were hurting me more than anyone ever had!”

Now, he was speechless. The lighting mark contrasted against his skin tone, and it didn’t fade. Neither did the pale blemish across Valentino’s face. His eyes were wide, his mouth open to protest, and his hand outstretched, reaching to pull Vox back in. His smoke curled in on itself before disappearing, and he pulled his hand back to grasp his wrist in shame. “I never wanted to hurt you, Voxxy… but, I was just so angry, and, I didn’t know how to release my emotions. So, I took it out on you on sheer impulse.”

Vox’s eyes softened for a split second, the guilt transferring from the taller to him. “I-I,” he couldn’t even finish, and he ducked his head, the lighting fading. When he looked back up at Valentino, he couldn’t hold back the few tears. They trailed down his face, seeping into the few cracks in his screen, sizzling but causing no damage.

“Please, give me,” Valentino tried taking a step forward, then stopped. “A second chance?” His eyes were pleading and oh-so guilty. He knew what he had done, and he didn’t know how to fix it, but he would work hard. But, it wasn’t just himself that he needed to say that to. “I promise, I’ll make sure I never ever hurt you or Velvet again. Just, one more chance?”

The look on Vox’s face screamed his consideration, but then a flash of the normal glare of malice in Valentino’s eyes made him stop. The sorrow in his heart was gone, the weight of the choice lifting from his shoulders. He knew exactly what to do. Meanwhile, Valentino was reaching to pull him into an embrace, taking his silence as a yes. However, Vox pulled away before those awful fingers could even graze his skin. “No,” he breathed, and this word sent Valetino nearly staggering back.

“No?”

“No, you’re not getting another chance,” he elaborated, and the lighting returned. “You got your chances, and I should have left years ago. In fact, I should have never saved you.”

That harsh tone in Vox’s voice struck Valentino like another bolt of lightning. He huffed, then glanced between Vox and the window which Velvet had escaped from. He felt as though he had been stabbed an uncountable amount of times, over and over. He shoved this feeling away, only for it to slab him across the face and demand he respond to Vox. As much as he desired to ask him to stay once more, he relented in his words. “Fine. I’ll do as you wish. Now leave.”

Without another moment of hesitation, Vox fled out the window, then down to the streets where Velvet was anxiously awaiting him. Valentino didn’t even look to see which direction they were running towards. There was something screaming from inside him, and the agonizing pain in his chest doubled as the scene replayed time and time again in his head. Vox had left, Vox was leaving, and Valentino hurt .

He didn’t understand why his heart hurt so much! Was the pain from the lightning attack? No, it wasn’t even that strong of a shock! So what was the cause?!

“Vo-ox,” he rasped, suddenly on his knees, gasping for breath and forgotten forgiveness. “V-Vox, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

He found a shred of his humanity shining through, even though he thought he had exterminated this long ago. But, there it was, speaking softly in his ear.

“You’re feeling regret, Valentino. You loved him, even if you never came to terms with it. You loved him, so this is why you’re feeling this way. You loved him, and he loved you. But now, you’ll never get a chance with him again because of your actions. You see? Even in the afterlife, there are consequences to your violence. Just like when you were alive, nothing has changed.”  

“I know, I know!” he roared, shoving his hands over his ears. “I don’t need to hear it, goddammit!”

“But you do need to hear it, or else you won’t know what to fix. You’re going to be here for the rest of your afterlife, and maybe, just maybe, someone else will fall into your life where you learn to love them. And then, you’ll be able to love them properly.”

He wanted to scream about how that was impossible, but the tears came for him first. He hadn’t experienced heartbreak in years, and it was no better from how it was the first time. In fact, it might have been worse. But, no begging, pleading, or crying would bring the one he hurt back, despite his hidden love for him.

The door clicked shut, and two pairs of footsteps faded into the hallway. But, that didn’t block out his roar of anguish. 

He kept himself locked in that room for the remainder of the day.

Chapter Text

Charlie sat at the dining table, only the sounds of Niffty’s scuttling feet across the flooring to keep her ears occupied. She sighed as she studied the near-empty guest record book. No other souls had arrived since the incident with Victoria, or Velvet, or whoever she actually was. Charlie’s passion project was failing, and yet again, her hope was dwindling down to nothingness.

Niffty humming a song under her breath, the bristles of the broom scratching against the floors, heels tapping inconsistently, annoyingly, all of the sounds were culminating in Charlie’s head, slowly turning her insane. A burst of hellfire burst from her ears, her hair shooting up and defying gravity for a split second before settling back on her unsteady shoulders. Niffty sensed this and ceased her movements, then muttered how she was going to go clean a different room. Charlie slammed her forehead on the table as soon as Niffty was gone.

She knew she could , rather easily, keep everyone inside of this hotel safe, but she had never had any point to use her powers before. She couldn’t control them! She was terrified she might accidentally kill one of them instead of saving them. Alastor, on the other hand, was much more suited for protection. He had time to practice, and he had so much raw power already. Charlie couldn’t even hope to help anyone without any proper training.

And with her parents ignoring her every call even when she desperately needed it! 

Another burst of rage spilled in the form of a flash of demonic energy, which broke a nearby vase and cracked a few windows. Charlie tucked her head underneath her arms, praying that someone would come to her aid, but there was no one. All she could hear was the sound of breaking glass, and a shattering heart.

This power of hers, she knew it easily rivalled Alastor with the proper training in order to harness it, but in her entire life, her parents never once tried to coach her. It was always her and her alone, testing small tricks only to end up grounded for “BREAKING ANOTHER GODDAMN WINDOW!” or so her parents always screamed at her. 

She tried sneaking out to practice, but the castle guards suspected her of sneaking out to see Seviathan, and brought her back home, to which she was reprimanded without having a single chance to defend herself. That earned her an extra guard on the ground level underneath her window, and the threat of sky patrol. It seemed her parents did not want her out and about whatsoever. 

They turned her idea of redemption away like week-old garbage left out to stew in Hell’s awful heat. They scoffed at her for thinking so childishly, so naively. Until finally, Charlie said she had enough. She left home, discarding everything her parents wanted for her, just so she could pursue an Atlantis-like dream. She had been so happy to finally be free from their relentless rules, regulations and expectations!

Only to be ridiculed for being such a laughable child, even making a complete fool of herself on live television. She could never get Katie Killjoy’s poisoned words out of her head. They were always on constant repeat, reminding her of her failures of something that shouldn’t be possible. Sometimes, she replayed that news broadcast just to remind herself of what she had to prove, only to fail and drown in the lack of support, as well as the violent harassment.

Was she really only supposed to be a failure? Was she even going to make a dent in this horrible place?

Yes, of course she would! It just needed time and more dedication! She sat up, a newfound determination to prove everyone wrong burning in her heart. She would find someone to redeem, and goddammit she was going to do her best.

Angel awoke the next morning, or whatever time it was, he couldn’t tell in his dizzy state. Speaking of which, why was he so dizzy? He had a killer headache and foggy vision, as well as hardly any memories from the night before. Whatever evidence of what he did was gone, all cleaned up by an unknown force. Maybe Niffty? He shrugged to himself, deciding that it didn’t matter.

Fat Nuggets was laying by the door, snoring quietly with his nose pressed against the wall. Angel raised an eyebrow at him, slightly confused as to why he wasn’t in his bed. The floor wasn’t particularly comfortable, Angel knew. And now, for some reason, his bed wasn’t comfortable. He felt a wrenching in his stomach, crawling up to expel through his lips. He shoved his hand over his mouth, leaping from his spot in bed and rushing to the bathroom. He threw up whatever was in his stomach into the sink, and when he tilted his head to look into the mirror, his eyes widened.

They were bloodshot to the pupil, and there were heavy dark bags underneath. They fell back into a half-lidded position, and he simply looked awful, and sick. Why would he look sick? What did he even do last night?

He suddenly ran back to his nightstand, yanking open the bottom drawer and extracting the false bottom. He saw that two boxes of cigarettes were missing from his stash, but they were right next to the bedside table in the trash can. He fell back, barely holding himself up with shaky arms.

“How many did I smoke?!” he burst, covering his mouth again as tears spilled from his exhausted eyes.

“Oh, you’ve awakened.” 

Angel screamed in response, whipping around and nearly slamming his head against the corner of the table. “What the hell, Smiles?! How long have you been there?!” He scooted away from Alastor, only to run into the wall behind him.

“I just arrived, but I was also here when you opened those cigarette boxes,” he gestured to the trash can with his head, and Angel both stiffened and relaxed, if that was even possible.

He wrinkled his nose up at Alastor, then looked down to his feet as he noticed a small bit of movement. Both eyebrows rose as he saw Fat Nuggets nuzzling up against Alastor’s ankles, oinking up at him affectionately . 

Nugs never oinks at people he doesn’t feel comfortable with, but why..? He didn’t have time to mull over the question, because he suddenly felt disgustingly sick again. He held his breath and tucked his head in between his knees, ignoring whatever words of concern Alastor was voicing. Eventually, the feeling subsided, and Angel looked back up. “Did I do anything stupid when I was high?”

“Besides mispronouncing a few words, no,” Alastor answered, and he was smiling. “You’re certainly interesting when you’re under the influence. And I mean that in the best way possible, my effeminate fellow.”

For some reason, Angel didn’t feel offended by the comment. Maybe it was the last part that threw him off the track of offense, but even then, it would normally cause him to snap back. He didn’t necessarily like being complimented when it came to his behavior under the effects of drugs, especially after an incident like… that one.

“Oh, lemme guess, I was ‘entertaining,’” Angel laughed a little at that, his chest feeling lighter at the easy conversation.

“In fact, you called it ‘entermaintent,’” Alastor chuckled, his usual smile comforting Angel for some reason. It wasn’t sharp or evil, but it was the same as it had always been. Angel wondered what changed his perception of Alastor to make him seem approachable. He was the Radio Demon, for fuck’s sake, he was supposed to be intimdating and ruthless! 

Angel sighed at himself, shaking his head. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you, ‘Lasta’.”

“Angel, you always say that and I always disagree,” his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “You are not a burden.” He slowly reached for Angel, letting him know that he wasn’t a threat, and grasped onto his hand. His touch was so gentle, almost delicate as he handled Angel’s broken pieces. “I would sacrifice anything again and again if it meant saving you.”

“Wh-what? Hah, you gotta be jokin’,” Angel slowly diverted Alastor’s hand from his own, and the latter retracted respectfully. “I don’t think ya understan’, Smiles, no one sacrifices anythin’ for me.” His nose scrunched up at the thought, and Fat Nuggets clambered into his lap. He scratched his little piggy ears, and shifted his gaze back up to Alastor. “No one ever will.”

“What makes you say that?” he tilted his head in confusion, his smile slightly fading with genuine concern.

“Because, Smiles! No one would sacrifice anythin’ for nothin’, and with me bein’ nothin’, I think that explains itself pretty well.” His fingers stopped scratching Fat Nuggets, and he sighed. “I’ve neva’ wanted anyone t’, anyway.”

“Well,” Alastor persisted despite the few warnings to stop. “There has to be a first for everything, doesn’t there? And, I would gladly protect you.”

“But-” he broke off, his arms tightening around themselves. “Why?”

“I believe I’ve told you that I despise others being taken advantage of, and I may be a murderer, but I still have common sense. That very first incident I witnessed, I strongly disagreed with that other demon, so I killed him,” he answered, shrugging as though it were as simple as that. But, there was, of course, so much more to the story behind the words he was speaking. “I would like to be the one who will protect you, Angel.”

“Stop lyin’,” Angel scoffed, turning slightly away from the Radio Demon. “Is this jus’ anotha’ one a’ your sick games, Smiles?”

“Lying is a waste of time, and I promise you, Angel.” His eyes somehow managed to shine with truth and genuine honesty. “I will never hurt you.”

“You can’t promise that,” Angel whispered pathetically as he curled in on himself. “Everyone that has made that promise to me has broken it, and I can’t take anymore of that.”

“Like I’ve said, there’s a first for everything, Angel. Will you trust me?” He extended his hand out once more, a soft look on his face that was apparently only reserved for Angel. 

Hesitation and contemplation filled Angel’s gaze, but then his resolve broke, and he nodded, taking Alastor’s hand. “I’ll trust you, Smiles.”

“I’m glad, Angel.”

Angel was glad too, very glad.

It was strange to have this feeling of security within the Radio Demon’s vicinity, because of obvious reasons, and Angel wouldn’t have believed him if it weren’t for the last few times where Alastor had come to his rescue. He honestly didn’t want to believe it, that it was far too good to be true. But, of course, he just had to fall into this belief. Stumbling, tripping, falling right back into the bumpy path of recovery and possible redemption, but now, someone was there to help him up. He was always capable of just leaving Angel with an empty hand and scraped knees as he struggled to stand, but what was needed now was trust. He finally gave it to Alastor, and hoped for the best.

Hope. It was something Angel hadn’t seen in a while. It was nice.

Alasor himself felt as though things were easier, somehow smoother in a way. With a clear goal besides ‘helping out with this doomed project,’ his heart felt lighter. He thought back to why Angel reminded him of Benjamin, and he finally had an answer for that question.

He wanted to protect both Benjamin and Angel, and he would do that by taking them under his wing and keeping them close, away from harm. However, this was also drastically different from Benjamin. The feelings were almost unrecognizable from any memorable moment in his life. There had been no other person, living or dead, that made him feel that way.

Maybe, the anxiety he had been feeling ever since he arrived here was caused by the one before him. 

His eyes scanned Angel head to toe, widening and narrowing in flurries of unreadable emotions. Their hands were still clasped together, with Alastor’s current job being to help Angel stand on steady legs, but for some reason, he didn’t want this moment to end. He wanted the warm feeling of Angel’s palm against his to stay, where he knew he would protect him, keep him safe always.

His shadow even seemed to remain in place, absorbing Angel’s presence like energy. 

Wait, how come I feel stronger? He cocked his head to the side, and the cool metal of his monocle chain clashed against his suddenly flaming skin. He released Angel’s hand before he squeezed the life out of it, then examined it, shifting his gaze between the confused glaze over Angel’s eyes and his own somewhat sweaty palm.

The one question on both of their minds was evident in their expressions, screamed for the entire world to hear, but the whole world seemed to just be inside of that room. What. The. Fuck.

Curiosity struck Alastor, and they locked gazes. His shadow swirled around behind him, gathering up whatever substance was making it even more powerful than before. It was clearly not material, more of emotions scattered into pieces across the room, good ones and bad ones. The shards soaked into the wallpaper, sheathed eyes watching from inside walls. But, shadows and darkness replaced them. Specifically, Alastor’s.

Whatever was there, Angel did not see it as a threat. His shoulders were loose, far from any sort of tense. Alastor reached one hand onto those shoulders, noticing how soft the fur was underneath his hand. He kept his grip ghostly, so Angel would be able to step away without any incapacitation.

Experiments to gain an understanding, were they practical?

What the hell, nothing was practical down here.

Alastor needed to try something, because something in his heart was whispering words into his ear, telling his brain to GET MOVING! 

He listened to it, and Angel didn’t retract.

Valentino glowered down at his desk, papers and files scattered around the expanse of the surface. Everything about the Radio Demon, every single detail, but no weakness! There was absolutely no flaw in his attacks, and his defense was pristine. He had years to perfect and hone his abilities, so he was practically unstoppable unless there was just another, overpowering force. But, Valentino was not that overpowering force, and the only others he thought would be able to stand up against him were the Royal Demon families, specifically Lucifer. 

However, it had been made very clear that Lucifer had no intentions on fighting Alastor, they had a mutual understanding to stray away from each other’s business. Then, of course, there was Vox, but that plan also went down the drain. So, this overlord was completely out of ideas. His mind was so intent on bringing Angel back to at least have something to help him release his anger, but he kept running around the one detail that Alastor was helping him. He sneered at the reminder.

He didn’t understand why, because the Radio Demon never cared for anyone besides himself. Why was Angel that one, single, lucky demon to have gotten his attention and protection. How convenient. Was it just a set up, foul trickery placed by Angel? No, if he was able to manipulate others, Valentino wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place. In fact, he wouldn’t have even started chasing Angel in the first place, because he would have let him go!

There was no mystic force in between Angel and Alastor, it was impossible. Then perhaps, it was Princess Charlie’s request? Valentino now knew that Charlie was housing Angel, so maybe she had figured out that he wasn’t safe in this place, so she gave him a bodyguard. But, it would still have the question of why would Alastor take the job?  

This was a mystery incapable of being solved, and Valentino couldn’t necessarily walk up and ask, “Hey, why does the Radio Demon protect you?” or else he’d be killed within an instant. He already came close to death too many times in this place, there was no need to plan a suicide ‘mission’.

He could, of course, just drop by in the dead of night and hope for the absolute best, or maybe he could send someone else before him, and if they come back alive, he would go for himself. He would not give up, not when more questions needed to be answered, and an Angel needed to be retrieved.

Chapter Text

Alastor’s fingers curled around Angel’s shoulder, his nails only slightly digging into his skin. His eyes slid half closed as he drew Angel closer, inch by inch, until he could feel hot breaths fan against his cheek. He froze at that moment, and his eyes flickered up towards Angel’s gaze. “Is this alright?” he whispered, gently tilting Angel’s head downwards.

“I-I think so,” Angel responded, furrowing his brows. “But, Smiles, why?”

“I’m not sure,” he shook his head, and took away another inch of space. “I’ve never- this is- it’s new.” Without another beat of hesitation, Alastor pressed his lips against Angel’s. They were soft, slightly warm, but they also quivered under his touch. He retracted then, but then he saw Angel shaking his head. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, Smiles, I’m fine.” He hiccuped, covering his mouth with one hand. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Both hands now slid up to conceal his face. His forehead found the top of Alastor’s head, and his tears trickled down Alastor’s cheeks. “Could you do it again?”

He answered by grabbing Angel’s chin then kissing him again, just as gentle as the first. He held the breaking demon in his arms, hopefully conveying the feeling of safety and security to him. He wanted Angel to understand that he was going to be safe and protected, and that Alastor would try his damned best to keep him happy.

This emotion exploding inside of Alastor’s chest, it felt so comforting, yet it stabbed him all over. It was overwhelming, but somehow in a good way. He could sense every single movement within the room, as though he were both on edge and relaxed. Everything was upturned and wrong, yet orderly and right. Opposites were living together in harmony, and paradoxes were fitting inside one another. Suddenly, the world just disappeared around them, and as he peered up into Angel’s eyes, that was all he could see. They were seas of emotions, yet distantly happy.

A hand cupped Alastor’s cheek, another finding the back of his head. They remained there, still, and unmoving, besides faint fingertips threading through his crimson hair.

“No one’s ever been so gentle with me,” Angel admitted, a small smile finally creeping onto his face. “It’s nice.”

Alastor released a quiet breath, his head burying in the crook of Angel’s neck. “You shouldn’t have to say that.”

“Well, ya can’t really change da past,” he shrugged, holding Alastor’s head close. “But, thank you, Smiles. For everything.”

He could only nod as he felt himself fully relax. He didn’t want this moment to end, these seconds of pure bliss and tranquility. The buzzing in his chest had died down, and now it was only a low hum of appreciation. The blood on his veins stopped boiling from anxiety, and all that was left was the impression of Angel in his mind, permanently carved into his brain.

Yes, this was how it was supposed to be.

“Angel, I would like to be bonded with you, in this intimate fashion,” Alastor offered, replacing a small bit of space in between their nearing faces. “I’m not entirely sure how this would all work, but it’s what I’m being told is the right thing to do.”

“The right thing t’ do?” Angel’s eyes faded from pleased into distressed, and Alastor immediately drew himself away. “No, no, don’t go,” he whispered then, one hand shooting out to grab Alastor’s upper arm. “It’s just, god, Smiles, I dunno how t’ even go about wit’ dis.”

Alastor carefully laced their fingers together, taking a moment to gaze into Angel’s conflicted expression. “Well, we’d be going at it together, yes?” When the taller demon hesitated once again, Alastor continued. “I know you’ve been hurt and betrayed for years, Angel. It can’t be easy, whatever battle is going on inside your head right now. If you need time, then that is all I will give you, as much as you need.”

“Smiles, I don’t even know what I want, or what I even need. It’s just.” His eyebrows knitted together, unsure of the words he needed to say.

“Angel, take your time. I do not require anything from you,” Alastor took a step away from Angel, completely retracting his hands. “May you answer positive or negative, I am still here for you.”

Angel wrapped his arms around himself, shifting his gaze down to their feet, which were slowly separating. “Alri-”

“We have a-” The door swung open, with Charlie’s body half-inside, half-frozen, leaning inside. “Uhh, bad time?” 

“No, don’t worry,” Angel waved his hands towards her. “What’s happenin’?”

“Uhm, the news,” she finished, her eyes filled with worry. “You need to see the news.”

“What about it?” Alastor asked, his shadow sneaking towards the door, slipping underneath Charlie’s feet. He slid from his current spot onto the end of his shadow, turning to look back at the princess. “Has something occurred?”

She bit her lip as Angel exited the room as well, then simply beckoned them downstairs. There, Vaggie was intently watching the television, her eyes wide and seemingly confused. She pointed to the screen without a word, and Alastor wrinkled his nose as he read the headlines. 

“THE THREE V’S SEPARATED?! VALENTINO IS ENRAGED!”

As for the action on the screen, the dreadful anchor woman was narrating the ongoing turf war. She was gesturing to the live feed, and with the largest smirk possible on her face, explained Valentino’s darkest secrets. Alastor found himself sinking onto the couch, a few feet away from Vaggie. Angel, meanwhile, was trembling, his knuckles shading white as he read the descriptions popping up on screen and listened to the woman’s voice.

“As for the juicy details, here’s a picture of Vox right before a building was destroyed in order to retrieve porn actor Angel Dust, who had been kidnaped by none other than Valentino himself!” The image that flashed onto the screen went right beside the live feed of Valentino beating up a random demon on the street, with reddening clouds hanging over them. Vox’s eyes were half-lidded, and there was a crack in the corner of his screen. The light in that corner was faded, just like the electric demon himself.

“He was seen approaching both the Radio Demon and Knife Demon, who were the culprits behind Valentino’s nasty injuries just a few hours later!” She laughed, a wicked, awful sound, and with jazz hands proudly proclaimed, “Ratings!”

Angel’s hands shot over his mouth at the sight and story. The same thought seemed to be on everyone’s mind, and it was the most shocking truth any of them had ever considered. The three V’s had been together for so long, like they were the perfect trio. They were idols for some, rivals for others, just the perfect balance of power and greed.

Vox was just like Angel?

It was impossible, impossible!

Or maybe, they just didn’t want to believe it, because it meant that Valentino had more victims than previously noted. It meant that Angel wasn’t the only one to feel that pain, and it was the worst thing ever. To relate, to know what that pain is, Angel never wished it on anyone else. But, it was too late to prevent it now, and so, the famous, unstoppable, perfect three V’s were broken apart.

“They don’t know where we are, right, Vox?” Velvet asked quietly, her hands folded tightly in her lap. 

“No, of course not,” he shook his head. “We’re too far away for them to have tracked us this quickly. We’ll be alright.”

“But, Val, he’s-” 

“Velvet,” he latched onto her hand, his eyes stern yet comforting. “Please, focus on me. Th-that doesn’t matter anymore.”  His gaze faltered as his screen flashed to static for a brief moment. A memory. His breath hitched, and he released her palm. “As long as we don’t stay in one place for too long, or get noticed by any problematic people, we’ll be okay.”

“But, the news, Vox. Everyone knows how vulnerable we all are.” The emotion on her face was unreadable, and Vox’s heart cracked. “We’re in Hell, everyone’s going to try and take advantage of us, and you know it! They’ll- they’ll offer us a place to stay then betray us, just like he did!”

He couldn’t even argue with that statement. He completely agreed with her, and with the abundance of trust issues, everyone was an enemy. There was one place they could go, but it was predictable and impractical. Besides, the one demon that Vox would be killed on sight by was there. Not to mention the one Valentino’s searching for, if he even still was. Well, he was a stubborn man, of course he’d still be looking for a way. 

Vox pushed that thought out of his mind. At the moment, they were safe. They’d save other details for when they were both mentally stable.

The place they had taken refuge in was a rather fancy motel, or at least as fancy as you can get whilst in the slums of Pentagram City. It was far from the action of turf wars, including the one Valentino was fighting tooth and nail in. He turned the television to a different station, tired of seeing that man’s dreadful face. 

But, it was comfortable. He hoped they didn’t have to move anytime soon. There, no one would suspect them. He had bribed the clerk to not give away any information, and since the guy was just a teenager, he agreed with a bored sigh. Vox prayed it wasn’t just an empty promise.

Velvet fell quiet, as well as relaxed. Her head fell on Vox’s shoulder, and her soft snores filled the room. He remained dormant for her sake. He could only wish that afterlife would be this calm from then on.

He should have knocked on wood.

The news broadcast was just about over, with the anchorwoman signing off happily. She seemed far too cheerful about Valentino’s rage. Yet again, no one was surprised. As long as she had a juicy story, she was pleased, even completely joyful. 

Angel’s legs failed him, and he fell back onto the couch, a hand pressed to his forehead. His eyes were wide with shock, and words were caught in his throat. There were so many things he wanted to scream, and his fists craved something to punch. However, a wave of nausea struck him first. He shoved his hand to his mouth and remained still and unmoving on the couch.

He could see Vaggie’s hand reaching for him out of the corner of his eye, then it faltered and fell. He forced his legs to work, and with unstable knees, he dispersed from the living room. His pace increased speed up the stairs, and he only stumbled a few times. Bile rose in the back of his throat, but he swallowed it down. 

His bedroom door slammed shut behind him, and he collapsed against it. Fat Nuggets was awoken by the ruckus, and he trotted over to nuzzle Angel’s palm. He was swept into a firm hug, and down his back trailed thick streams of tears. He oinked, his hooved hooking onto Angel’s fur as an attempt to hug him back and say “It’s alright.”

Footsteps sounded and stopped right outside the door, and just as Angel was about to shout that he wanted to be alone, they continued. He bit his lip, then screwed his eyes shut and leaned his head against the wood.

“You doin’ alright, Tony?” That got his eyes to shoot open. There, right beside him, was the undeniable form of his sister. Her expression was soft and caring, and her hands were reaching to dry his tears. “I know, it must be hard, knowing he was hurt too.”

“Molly, did- did Smiles bring you here?” he whispered, and Fat Nuggets slid off his lap to sniff at Molly’s palm. He nodded in satisfaction, and sat in between the siblings.

She shrugged, her fingers gently petting Fat Nuggets’ head. “As long as I’m here, why does it matter?”

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, then scooted into her embrace. “It’s just, I never expected it. I know that I hardly knew Vox, since I had only seen ‘im at random parties Val dragged me to, but he wasn’t like him. He was decent to others, as far as I saw.”

She hummed in understanding, holding Angel’s head right underneath her own. “At least he’s safe now, yes?”

“But, that’s just the thing, Molly, I don’t know. The news said he had gotten away, but now the entirety of Hell knows about it, and with the way things are nowadays, he’s still in danger.” He couldn’t hear her heartbeat.

“He just needs someone to protect him, then?”

“Yeah, but I have no idea who would do that.” He couldn’t even feel her lungs rising and falling with each breath. It made him feel so alone, yet comforted at the same time. At least she wasn’t experiencing this same terror, she was somewhere better. Yet, he wanted her back, so badly.

Controversial thoughts filled his mind, his heart longing for so many people as well as none at the exact same time. All he wanted was to be loved, but by who? By a lost sister? By a demon who promised to protect him? Or perhaps he longed to feel the love of his mother, or the praise from his father, things he had always lacked.

“Molly, what do I do?” His voice cracked at that moment, and a new wave of tears struck him. “I’m stuck in a paradox and I’m scared…”

“Do what you think is right, and if it takes time to think, then take that time,” she said reassuringly. “If there’s someone who will help you, then go to them.”

His mind immediately flashed to Alastor, and his brows furrowed together. “Thank you, Molly. Thank you so much.”

“Do you want me to stay here?”

“Please do, until I fall asleep.”

And for a split second, his mind tricked him into hearing Alastor’s voice responding. “I’ll be there even then.”

Angel was fast asleep by the time Alastor responded to the tapping of footsteps near the front of the hotel. His shadow was the first to check the newcomer out, and was immediately reeling back with a hiss. It returned to Alastor, shaking its head. He frowned. His gut already had a terrible feeling of dread, and his shadow was on edge.

His heels clacked against the stairs, and his eyes locked with the stranger. “How may we help you?” He tried his best to hold back his spite.

“I was hopin’ to find the owner of this place?” His hands were tucked behind himself, but his posture was strong. “I want to learn a bit more about this redemption thing.”

“Interesting, I will fetch her for you. Why don’t you have a little look around, see if this place makes you feel comfortable and at ease,” he offered, his feet leading him back up towards the rooms. His fist raised to knock at Charlie’s door, and once he saw her curious face, he gestured towards the downstairs. “We have a redemption seeker.”

Her ears perked up, and she nodded without a single word. He could tell she didn’t want her hopes too high. When Alastor resumed his observations over the interaction between Charlie and the new demon, his shoulders relaxed. Somehow, the uneasy aura was gone, or at least, faded. 

There was no facade, clearly. He genuinely seemed interested in what she was explaining, and with her nervous chuckle, Alastor exited the scene. He would keep an eye on him, no questions asked.

With his shadow still on high alert, Alastor allowed himself to relax. If anything happened during the night, he would know. The shred of himself he created into the illusion of Molly wasn’t only for comfort, but for protection, some form of security camera so to say. 

Alastor rested on the armchair near the darkest corner of his room, his head collapsed against the cushion right behind. Dim red light filtered in through his window, casting a small glow across his face. He dragged a hand down his face, feeling and tracing the frown lines. He couldn’t even remember a time where he smiled without a care.

Joining this hotel had purely been for entertainment. Before then, he had no idea who Angel Dust was, and didn’t care. He had wanted to join this little project along with his path of domination and destruction of his rivals. Partnering with the princess of Hell, yes, that would have made him more powerful, more known than he already was. ‘Radio Demon’ would strike fear into anyone who heard it, even Overlords who craved power.

But, the wrench in his plans was someone so unexpected, Alastor couldn’t believe it. To gain feelings for such an unlikely person, he still could never wrap his head around it. 

He tapped his fingernails against the armrest, then forced himself up. He unclasped his coat, letting it fall to reveal his form fitting button-down shirt. It was crimson, just like everything else he wore. But, beneath that fabric lay the secrets that Alastor kept.

With the button-down tossed to the side, Alastor faced the standing mirror against the wall. His nose upturned at the vast expanse of scars and unhealed injuries. The most recent one was something he wouldn’t ever speak about, since it was pure embarrassment. 

During that one fight with Valentino, there was an accident. Alastor’s tendrils went on a rampage, nearly killing an unsuspecting Benjamin. He had to take that hit without a single soul knowing. Luckily, the blood blended in with his coat and shirt.

He poked at the fresh scar, zoning out for a brief moment. It had mostly scarred over by then, but the few scabs that remained Alastor picked at. New dots of blood oozed from his skin, and he simply swiped at them with his knuckles.

He mumbled something inaudible to himself, but not even he understood it. He fumbled around for a moment, finding a cozy pajama shirt draped along the foot of his bed. He pulled it over his shoulders, silently hoping the small bits of blood didn’t show through. He pressed it against the scab, and when the sticky liquid didn’t seep and show, he nodded with satisfaction. 

His bed had never felt more welcoming, normally it wanted to suffocate him. Whatever was watching over him that night pitied him. He couldn’t even be pissed off as he drifted off into an unconscious state.

His shadow rested at the foot of his bed, wide awake and ready to defend. 

If someone crept around, it would know, and it would kill.

Chapter Text

Turning in circle after circle, Anthony was lost. The halls of his father’s mansion had never looked so tall. It was almost as though he were a toddler again, with small hands only able to pick up toys and thin books. There was no one beside him. No mother, no father, no sister, no comfort.

But, just ahead of him, sat a figure with a mop of matted black hair. Tiny toddler feet scurried towards the figure, and uncontrolled fingers latched onto the back of their shirt. A pale face donned a frown, and Anthony slowly retracted his hands. It was Arackniss, with a black eye and a bruised cheek.

Angel suddenly knew exactly when this was.

Arackniss picked up his younger brother, and slowly brought him into a hug. Quaking hands caressed soft hair, and Anthony’s eyes closed with a hum of appreciation. He opened his mouth, spouting off the first words he thought of. “Love you, bruh-dur!”

“I know, I know,” he whispered back, his arms tightening their grip on Anthony’s small body. “I love you too, Tony.”

“Why is bruh-dur sad, dough?” Anthony’s th’s still managed to elude him, despite his constant practice in the dead of night.

“Nothing you need to worry about right now, okay? You just enjoy being such a young child.” He pulled away from the hug, gazing into Anothony’s wide eyes. He cupped his cheek, and kissed his forehead softly. “Run along now, go find Molly.”

“Okay!” He giggled as he released Arackniss’ finger, then two short legs started running as best as they could without toppling over. 

Molly was in a room just a few hallways down, playing with a few dolls underneath the grand piano. She raised her head, and her smile only grew as Anthony entered the room. “Tony!” She beckoned him closer, and nuzzled her head against his shoulder as soon as he was laying beside her. “Play wit’ me!”

He picked up a doll, and their little game commenced, with gibberish only they could understand, and a question only Anthony wanted the answer to.

Why was bruh-dur so sad?

The vision changed suddenly, tossing Anthony into a loop of confusion. His mind was still stuck in toddler-mode, back when he didn’t have a care in the world. But, as soon as he saw himself sprawled across the floor, he snapped back into reality.

There were a few people next to his corpse. Three to be exact, the fourth couldn’t be bothered once he saw the scene. 

Molly was mortified, and she fell to her knees with a sob, shoving her hands over her face in despair. Her makeup was running down her cheeks within seconds.

Arackniss knelt down beside her, one arm comforting her shoulders, and the other picking up the empty container of phencyclidine. He shook his head in disbelief, and shielded his eyes from the scene.

Now, their mother just stood in the doorway. Her arms were crossed, and her nose was upturned. She was disappointed.

Henroin didn’t have a goddamn care in the world. At least their family ‘wouldn’t be tainted by his faggot blood.’ He had scolded him about it on so many occasions, Anthony had started to believe the lies.

“Being a homo is a sin.”

“You are a disgrace.”

“You’re better off dead.”

“Pathetic excuse for a son.”

Henroin and their mother might not have cared, but deep down, Arackniss did. He missed the times where Anthony was just a child, and he would run around the hallways pretending to be whatever he wanted. Arackniss would watch and reminisce, even though he never had any siblings to play with at that same age. His childhood was still somewhat innocent, as far as he remembered.

But, his baby brother was gone now, done in by his own hands. 

Arackniss grasped onto those hands and squeezed them. The only sound anchoring him was Molly’s cries, and the fading footsteps of their disapproving parents.

Life wasn’t supposed to go this way.

Arackniss knew that his baby brother should have had a long, happy life, away from this mafia shit. He was always a kind child, with a warm heart and tender soul. Henroin took advantage of that as soon as he was old enough to understand the basics of business. Lessons upon lessons drilled into their brains, beatings and trainings, all of them adding to the stress and anxiety of life.

Anthony didn’t deserve that.

But, it was far too late. Arackniss watched Anthony’s body be buried six feet under, in a pristine wooden casket. A single flower was tossed into the grave, and it landed on the side of the casket. It was crushed by the dirt soon after.

Molly cried, her handkerchief completely soaked by the time the service was over. Henroin left as soon as he was given the go ahead. Arackniss had stayed by his sister for as long as he could bear, then he too dispersed. The smooth surface of Anthony’s headstone was soon splashed with rain, literal and metaphorical. 

Too much pain, and they weren’t even allowed to speak of it.

But, just when Angel thought it was over, a different scene appeared in his dreams. Well, it wasn’t exactly an image or picture show unlike the others, but it was just a sound, like a recording.

There were barking dogs, a sudden gunshot, then silence. After a moment, there came the soft sniffles of a boy.

“Goodbye, Pa.”

An overwhelming force of grief and rage made Angel squirm underneath the pressure, and the atmosphere seemed to heat up. His eyes cracked open, bleary with tears and foggy with exhaustion. He stripped the blanket off of himself, and sat up to rub his eyes. Fat Nuggets nuzzled his nose against Angel’s hip, still asleep and dreaming something sweet.

The image of Molly was gone now, with only the trace of a red heart on the wall to signify her presence. Angel wondered if that was Alastor’s original intent, or if the hallucination had a mind of its own. Either way, he smiled and placed his hand in the center of the heart. “Stay with me, Molly.”

A thought crossed his mind, and he began to dwell on it. He leaned back against his headboard, one hand aimlessly stroking Fat Nuggets’ head. The memory of Alastor’s kind face flashed through Angel’s head, and even still, the sense of affection and security remained.

“Alastor has done so much,” Angel muttered to no one in particular, and scrunched his nose up. “So much for me.” He touched a finger to his lip, remembering the gesture from the Radio Demon just the day before.

He trusted Alastor, but was he ready for a relationship? Angel wasn’t accustomed to real love and appreciation, as well as healing. He didn’t know what to do, and he was so awkward when it came to sappy bonding moments. Long term was terrifying, and the impending sense of dread always came to haunt Angel at night.

What if he couldn’t please his partner?

What if he didn’t satisfy them?

What if they get mad at him, what would he do then?

What if upon what if, without any answers provided.

Well, wasn’t the afterlife supposed to be filled with taking risks? It’s not like they could really die in any other ways besides the Exterminations. But, on the other hand, there was a bountiful amount of pain.

Angel didn’t want to hurt anymore. He just wanted to be embraced by warm, loving arms that wouldn’t ever let him go or let him down. Was Alastor truly that one person who would make sure Angel was happy?

Too many questions.

A sudden knock on the door lead Angel to tilt his head towards it. “Come in,” he croaked, then coughed to clear his throat. “Who is it?”

“Good morning, my effeminate fellow!” Alastor chimed, carrying a small tray in one hand, the other turning the doorknob. “I thought you may be hungry, so I made some breakfast for you.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Smiles,” Angel chuckled, shaking his head as he reached one foot off of his bed. That one small motion, this gesture of kindness, Angel thought he fell in love. Well, he didn’t think, he knew he did. “Thank you.” He reached for the tray, only to have Alastor tsk and shake his head. 

“Back in bed, hooligan,” he ordered, snapping his fingers and pointing to the pillows. Angel raised an eyebrow, but slowly complied. With another snap, a lap table appeared right in front of Angel, and Alastor swiftly placed the plate of breakfast atop the surface. 

A comforting smell wafted into Angel’s nose just then, a combination of many different items. 

Fluffy pancakes stacked three high, all a lovely golden brown texture. On the side, there was a small pitcher halfway full of sticky maple syrup. Then, there was the melting butter that slid off the circular delights, and beside that, a bowl of mixed fruits, all looking juicy and ripe. Of course, there was a pile of eggs, scrambled to perfection, as well as a few links of sizzling sausage. Angel inhaled deeply, relishing the scents and sight of this remarkable dish. “Real fuckin’ hell, Smiles.”

“You’re very welcome, Angel.” Finally, a real smile. Authentic, sparkling, true.

He picked up his fork, eager to dig in, then he stopped, and faced Alastor once more. “I’m still scared, Alastor.”

“That’s perfectly-”

“But, I’m willing to try and be with you,” he finished, now grasping onto Alastor’s palm. “I don’t know what’ll happen, but I think it’ll be nice to stand by someone I trust.”

Alastor looked taken aback for the split of a second, then his face settled into calm acceptance. “I will not fail you, Angel.”

“Tony,” he interrupted on sheer impulse. “You can call me Anthony.”

“I will not fail you, Anthony. ”

He slipped out from underneath the tray and allowed Alastor to embrace him, and with dry eyes, he accepted the love emantinating from the Radio Demon’s body. It was so warm and comfortable, Angel almost fell right back asleep. Gentle hands threaded through the fur atop his head, and another held him by the waist. But, the fingers tightened all of a sudden. 

“Ang- Anthony,” he corrected himself, but there was a hint of concern in his voice. “I am hearing something peculiar, from within your stomach.”

“Huh? Waddaya mean?” he pulled back, raising an eyebrow. Alastor pressed his palm to the dip of Angel’s stomach, his eyebrows knitted together in concentration. 

All of a sudden, his eyes were blown wide in shock. “It’s a second heartbeat, like a tiny aura.” His palm retracted from Angel’s skin, and their gazes met. “I think you might be pregnant, Anthony.”

His cheeks paled at the thought, and a flash of pain crossed his features. “You gotta be jokin’.”

“I am afraid not.” He sighed, remorse evident in his breath. “It would explain why you have been sickly and more sleepy than usual.”

When Angel didn’t respond, the tension grew within the room. Silence gathered in clumps of agonizing quiet, and neither of them knew what words would be the correct ones. 

Finally, with uncertainty whispering throughout the walls, Angel opened his mouth. “G-get rid of it.”

“I’m afraid my power won’t be able to do that,” he shook his head, his mouth pulling into a frown.

His breath hitched in the back of his throat, congesting his windpipe and causing him to choke. He shoved a hand over his mouth to stifle a cry, and the tears in his eyes began to pour. “Please, get rid of it!”

“We’ll find a way, I promise.” 

Clarke’s back was pressed against the wall of his room, his ear halfheartedly listening to the conversation right next to him. He could only hear a few words every so often, such as ‘scared,’ ‘trust,’ and ‘not fail.’ He assumed the Radio Demon was making a promise of protection. He sighed, shrugging to himself. There was nothing to be done.

He tried to ignore the phone ringing in his palm, but eventually, he pulled away from the wall and sat on the edge of his bed. He answered the call and mentally prepared for the screeching fit he was about to hear.

“It’s impossible.”

“ What?! ” There came the sound of breaking glass, but Clarke couldn’t decide whether it was a vase or the window. Perhaps both, one thrown at the other. He internally chuckled at the baby rage, but quickly cleared his throat before he got threatened with its removal.

“For the last time, it’s impossible!” he hissed into the phone, covering up his desire to burst into triumphant laughter. “There’s no way, it’s a suicide mission!”

A huff of pure annoyance sounded from the other line, then a deep inhale in preparation for the words he was about to scream. But, after a wave of self preservation and realization struck him, Valentino dropped his tone. “Fine. It’s all over then.” Clicking heels could be heard, and the pacing demon tensed. “Return at once, it’s impractical for you to remain in that hideous place.”

Clarke thought for a moment, his nose wrinkling. He knew what would happen if he retreated, and he certainly did not wish to be relieved of his head today. “I’m withdrawing from the mission, but I’m not returning to you.”

“What?” he sneered, and the clicking immediately ceased. “As one of my sub-”

“I quit.” He hit the end call button and tossed the device onto his bed. It buzzed with calls and messages, until he decided he was tired of it and blocked the number. 

To be quite honest, he didn’t sign up for this mission to figure out a way to reach Angel Dust. His hidden motive was to learn of this redemption, all to escape this place. He didn’t belong here, it was all a misunderstanding. But, no one would listen to his pleas and reasoning, so here he was. 

He missed his lost family. His wife’s smile, his daughter’s laughter, his son’s constant need to play outside with him. He desperately wanted it back, so much so that he was willing to risk this afterlife just to catch a glimpse of them again.

He could still remember the blood on his hands as he raised them towards the police, his eyes wide with shock. They pointed guns at him, shouting for him to put his hands behind his head. His family was in the kitchen, their blood on his hands, yet it wasn’t his fault. And, what the police thought to be a bystander was also dead, in the living room. 

His blood also stained Clarke’s hands.

He was taken to court, given the death penalty, and sent to the one place he knew his family wasn’t. It seemed as though the ones at Hell’s gates were too apathetic to care for his explanation. 

Clarke clutched his phone in his hands, thinking and rethinking over redemption. The princess’ insane idea was the only potential pathway back to his family, and he was willing to walk down it. Even if it led him to a dead end, at least he tried, and he would try his best.

“Maria, Jess, Mark, wait for me,” he clasped his palms together, praying up to the skies. “I’ll make this all right, I promise.”

Little did Clarke know, the princess running this establishment was right outside the door, and she was filled with determination.

Sitting in a throne built over fallen enemies, Benjamin felt horrible. His hands were folded together, and his elbows were resting on his knees. His eyes were focused on the television, watching a rerun of this afternoon’s news. He studied each and every movement Valentino threw in his fits of violence, but occasionally, his gaze would drift to the side, where there was a photo of a damaged Vox.

The crack on his screen filled Benjamin with dread, and rocks quickly piled up in his stomach. He couldn’t help but feel regret with each breath he took, and he kept wondering if he should have done something the first time he saw Vox with a crack in his screen.

At first, he suspected it was because of a turf war, but even way back then, Vox’s color was drained. Then, the issue with Angel Dust and Valentino, when Vox leaked the other’s location. He should have done something then, but instead, he spouted off the exact opposite of what he needed to hear.

Given, Vox had escaped, but how long will that last? Demons all over Hell would be racing to take him away, especially with how vulnerable he was. Benjamin didn’t know how long it would take before Vox’s face appeared on the news again, but with drastically different headlines.

He could just imagine it, that horrendous woman giggling with glee as she was handed the latest, juiciest scoop regarding one of the most powerful demons in Hell. She would take it and bolt, miles and miles away, trailing the storyline right along with her. More and more souls would search for Vox, and they would rip him apart limb from limb until they were satisfied. Like a pack of rabid animals on the hunt, they wouldn’t rest.

His eyes clenched shut as he attempted to keep his obnoxious mind silent, but it proved futile. Finally, he had enough. He slammed his feet to the ground, snatched up his belt of knives, and stormed from the room, nearly smashing the television to pieces before he left.

He didn’t know where Vox was, but goddammit, he was going to find him, and he would do so before anyone else could. With a hardened expression and hands at the ready to draw a knife to anyone’s throat, he crossed the streets of the city, searching for any sort of clue.

Benjamin knew he wouldn’t find him on this day, but if he could just mark off this stretch of territory, it would be a start. He would need to cover as much ground as possible before it was too late.

The reddened skies and unwelcoming clouds greeted Benjamin as he looked up towards a nearby countdown clock. There were only about sixty days left until the next Extermination, but Benjamin didn’t care, except for the fact that he made a goal to find Vox long before then as well. It wouldn’t be safe, not in the slightest.

Benjamin could still remember his first Extermination, but it was distant and foggy. The screams and pain, however, echoed in his mind, thanks to the little demons running around within his head. They took pride in his silent suffering, squealing about how it was their job well-done.

Every man was for himself, and even the seemingly strongest ones on the street cowered before the Exterminators. But, afterwards, it was as though it never happened. They all went back to being apathetic for the suffering of others, and even thrived on their agony and loss. Benjamin would have been traumatized by the sight of dead bodies if he hadn’t seen them before. Alastor had taken him ‘hunting’ a few times way back when, until it became too dangerous during deer season.

It isn’t a time to reminisce, goddammit! He scolded himself and continued on through the streets, glaring at anything or anyone that seemed rather inconspicuous. There were plenty of demons slinking around in the darkness of alleyways, but they stayed a fair distance away from Benjamin himself. 

Whispers traveled, most of them relating to the news from that afternoon. He kept an ear out for any sort of clues, and so far, there was nothing useful. Until, he heard a bored teenager mention something about a cracked screen, and suddenly, Benjamin knew exactly where Vox was.

Don’t worry, he told himself, but it wasn’t intended for his own mind. I’ll find you, and I’ll save you.

Chapter Text

There had been no bangs on the door ever since they arrived, so Vox was thankful for that. However, he couldn’t help but fear the impending sense of doom creeping up on him. With his fingers working through Velvet’s soft locks, he was dazed in a daydream, but it was anything but peaceful. 

There were demons left and right, yelling and screaming for him to come outside, and when a few got inside, they began to drag him out to the slaughter. He couldn’t do anything with his frozen limbs and stalled powers, not to mention that sneaky feeling of weakness that reached for him.

But, if he closed his eyes and cleared his mind enough, he could see a field of tranquil flowers waiting for him. They drifted in the gentle summer breeze, with enough heat to be comfortable but not overwhelming. The sunlight danced over the petals caressed with morning dew. He hadn’t seen anything so calm in years.

Velvet shifted for a brief moment, then retracted with a hand rubbing her eye. “You doin’ alright, Voxxy?” She yawned as she studied Vox’s expression, but couldn’t find any significant details. He was completely blank, as though a war was waging inside of his head, and neither side were winning.

“If worst comes to worst,” he said with no emotions whatsoever. “You will run and I will stay to protect you.” He made direct eye contact with her, but it was like he wasn’t even there. A ghost of grief flashed before his eyes, then settled back on nothingness. “No questions. No buts.”

She suddenly knew that there was no changing his mind, and despair washed over her face like a tsunami. “You just have to promise that you’ll be alright,” she whispered, her hands clenched onto the shoulder of his jacket. She caught him nodding towards her, but he was just so distant she couldn’t tell if it was an actual response.

But, his eyes snapped back to reality at the sound of a knock on the door, and Velvet froze in place. “Stay here,” he ordered, standing and making for the front door. He peeked through the peephole, and his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. He slowly cracked the door open, only letting a sliver of the outside world in. “What are you doing here?” he growled, his voice low and defensive. The chain connected between the door and the wall was the only thing keeping the demon outside from coming inside, but it was rather pathetic.

“I don’t wish to hurt you,” he responded as his hands reached to remove the knife belt around his waist. He dropped it to the ground and raised his arms in surrender. “Send me away if you wish, but all I wish is to help you.”

“And why would we trust you?” Vox spoke as he unlocked the chain, as though his body was unconsciously trusting him. God, he hated himself sometimes. He knelt down to pick up the belt, and tossed it to the floor, just a few feet away from Benjamin, but behind the door. He didn’t make any moves to come inside, and his hands remained by his sides, uneventful.

Velvet’s head popped up in the hallway, and Benjamin couldn’t help but feel a stab of guilt for the duo. They had been through so much, too much. Her eyes spoke of untold stories, all filled with pain and misery, and Benjamin could tell she didn’t have the willpower to even force a smile.

“No matter what,” Benjamin felt compelled to say. “Your location will die with me, when it comes down to it.”

“When..?” Vox repeated distantly, his arm widening the door so Benjamin could step inside. “There will be no when. You won’t die.”

“If, then,” he altered, but didn’t move towards the door. Instead, he watched as Vox’s screen cut to static for a split second, then settled back on his normal face. “If it comes down to it.”

“Still.” He looked up into Benjamin’s eyes, boring into them like he was staring into his soul. “You will not die.” 

Finally, walls broke down, and Benjamin stepped inside the motel room. He had a plan, he had coordinated it with himself as he made his way towards this building. All he had to do was keep them safe and hidden, and besides the idea of undercover transportation, his plan was foolproof.

Well, all he had to do was hope Alastor didn’t need his radio tower for a while.

A very long while.

Benjamin had left Vox’s residence a short while ago, but he had not returned home. Instead, he took his time finding his way back to his own place. The air was not fresh, instead filled to the brim with drugs and the stench of cheap alcohol and whiskey. He always cringed at the small, no matter how much he got used to it. Well, there was no changing what’s set in stone. He instead took to thinking about how his plan would play out.

He needed to earn Vox’s trust, before anything else. If he couldn’t do that, then it was all over. But, how could he fix what had been broken so horrendously?

Benjamin didn’t have all of the details, but just from that devoid and distraught look in his fading eyes, he knew Vox was far beyond the stage of ‘fake it until you make it’. He knew he needed proper help, but Benjamin wasn’t used to handling mental health issues. He could comfort a crying individual, but not an emotionally shattered one. This was completely beyond his reach, so far that he felt his arm straining for just one more inch. 

But, he couldn’t sit idly by. Vox was hurting and trying his damned best to keep Velvet safe in their own world. However, their world would be invaded whether they had defenses or not. There would be no more peace, no more solitude within themselves. Unless they had someone. Benjamin found himself acting selfishly selfless when it came to the protection of the duo, as though he thought he had a right to help them. It wasn’t an obligation but it felt as though it were. Vox could easily push him away but Benjamin didn’t want him to. 

It was just like Alastor’s relationship with Angel, and it was honestly terrifying for Benjamin.

He had learned much from his adoptive father, including the care and kindness of love. If you love someone, you are as gentle as a summer’s breeze with them. You treated them like they were the world, all because of love. But, when worst came to worst, you would lay down your life for them, because they were worth that, and so much more. 

They were like your missing half, your last piece, your sanity. And if they were gone, then you would just never be complete again.

If he had to be quite frank, Benjamin found himself in the same position as his father. There was someone to protect, whether or not they asked for assistance. 

Silence screamed louder than any plea ever did. It was agonizing and awful, yet so powerful at the same moment. 

Someone could grin and bear it, but behind closed doors, one couldn’t recognize them. Benjamin had seen so many faces drained of color and far too many filled with untold misery. 

When he was younger, he took after Alastor’s bad side. After seeing him kill so many people and dispose of their bodies, all while teaching the fundamentals of vital organs and where to slice your blade, Benjamin became rather obsessed with the idea of inflicting pain. Given, Alastor lectured him on not allowing his insanity to show on the outside, but it didn’t stop Benjamin’s curious mind from wandering in class.

Some students had their sleeves rolled up in the warmer months, so Benjamin would find himself staring at their veins and wondering how long it would take for them to bleed out. But, after seeing blood spilled by his own hands, the obsession ceased abruptly. 

Blood was warm and sticky, and it tasted like awful iron. It spread like wildfire, and stained everything it touched, especially a child’s mind. 

The night after that ‘incident,’ Alastor tried a different approach: love and care. Rather hypocritical, Benjamin would always think, but now he understood what Alastor meant all those times. All of the lessons drilled into his mind, the years he spent on his own working to keep himself stable, they all made sense. 

His knowledge of the human body was not just for bloody murder, no no. It was for self defense, as well as protection. The gifts he was given when he entered Hell, his knives, his impeccable vision and scary accuracy, were all given to him for this one purpose. 

It was a bit of a sloppy wrap, with Benjamin’s mind barely scraping these details together by the skin of his teeth. It was definitely not all tied up with a pretty bow. To anyone else in the world, his reasons were nonsensical, but Alastor had a reason for everything he taught. To prepare him for the future, to guide him in life, to keep him alive, it was all for those. 

Speaking of which, Benjamin did need to speak with his father. It would be rather rude to move into his radio tower without consent. He sighed to himself, ignoring the repeating words in his head. 

You can’t protect him, you can’t at all! You will never be able to help him, you know it as well as I! You’re better off sitting on your throne of corpses, it’s what you worked hard for! It was far too cheery to be Benjamin’s own conscience. 

He wasn’t exactly sure how the residents at the hotel were taking the news, but he knew it wouldn’t be a good scene. Remembering the incident from a short while back, Benjamin shivered. The violent lust and enraged desire in Valentino’s eyes were too immense to be easily forgotten. He decided against reliving those moments, and instead remembered the location of the hotel. 

The incessant tapping of his boots was slowly making him go insane, since it was all he could hear over the loud bickering and shouting drunkards. He kept his gaze apathetic, but his lips were pressed firmly together. He strode with purpose, and those who knew his name subtly moved out of his way. He wasn’t necessarily in the mood for a fight, but it might just relieve some stress.

Later, he told himself. The plan comes first.

Benjamin noticed the rather large clock tower just then, and redirected himself towards the outskirts of the city. He didn’t even notice how long he had been outside, all of the moments were blurring together. Wind rushed past his ears, ruffling his hair. The caress of the breeze stung his cheek like a slap and filled his nostrils with burning fire. 

Someone bumped into him, causing him to stumble backwards a few inches. He opened his mouth to snap, but the words instantly died in his throat. “ You, ” he hissed, eyes narrowing into thin slits. 

“Oh, it’s you,” the much taller demon reciprocated the glare. “You’re the Radio Demon’s acquaintance.”

“What’s a scandal like you doing out in the open, ehh?” He poked at the conversation starter, intent on making the other as enraged as possible. “Looking for something?”

“You son of a bitch,” he breathed, fists tightening until his knuckles shaded white. “You know where Vox is, don't you?”

“Of course not. He should be far off the map by now, especially with someone like you after him.” Antagonizing a bee’s nest wasn’t necessarily the best idea, but Benjamin didn’t hold a care in the world. 

“You are going to tell me where he is, right fucking now.” Valentino growled his fist now finding itself latched onto the front of Benjamin’s shirt. 

“Better luck in your next life,” he answered with a shrug, then extracted a knife from the belt around his waist. He held it right up to Valentino’s neck, pressing the blade just hard enough to draw a small line of blood. “Hands off.”

“He’s at that hotel, isn’t he?” Valentino took a single step back from Benjamin, his hand covering up the cut instead. 

“Like I said. Better luck next life,” he repeated, then shoved past him like he was nothing but a nuisance. Without another word, he leaped atop a building and started to run. He could sense the pent up fury exploding all at once, but he was far too gone to turn back and give a damn.

A shiver ran down his spine at the mere thought of Vox being found, but it also sent a rush of determination through his mind. The sooner everything came into place, the sooner he could rest easy. Sure, it may not have been his business yesterday, but it was now. 

As Benjamin picked and chose which footsteps he would follow, he began to consider something. Thinking back to the true intent of the hotel, he mused over the idea. Redemption was just as silly as a child’s antics, but even children have reasons for their actions. 

Was he really considering this? Besides, he had no idea if it was even possible. Even if it was, what would the risks be? He couldn’t bring himself to believe that Heaven would willingly allow demons within their ranks. There would be repercussions, undoubtedly. 

Until it was further studied and proven, it was off the table. 

Benjamin’s feet took him to one of the many rooftops of this makeshift hotel, then he dropped down to the front door, letting himself in. “Charlie,” he called, taking a few steps inside the foyer. “Is Alastor here?”

“Ah, hello Benjamin,” came the voice of the one he was asking for. “This is a surprise.”

“Pa, I have a favor to ask for,” he said, looking up at his father through the rails of the stairs. 

“What do you require?” Alastor started for the downstairs floor, then halted for a brief moment. “You look shaken. What is the matter?”

Ignoring the question of his well being, Benjamin asked his own. “Will you be needing your radio tower any time soon?”

Alastor looked taken aback, and his nose wrinkled in confusion. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and rethought his word choice. “I assume you have a valid reason, so yes, you may use it how you wish.”

He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and let a small smile of relief wash over his face. “Thanks, Pa. I’m finally using everything you taught me,” he added softly.

"What was that?" He furrowed his eyebrows, his lips tightening against one another.

“Just, nothing, Pa. I’ll make sure not to ruin your tower,” he folded his hands behind his back sheepishly.

“You are different today,” he landed a hand on Benjamin’s shoulder, clearly concerned. “If you need to, we can speak about it.”

“I’m going to protect someone, Pa.” He pulled away from Alastor’s hand, but it was not his intent to be rude. “So I can’t talk about it.”

“Ah.” Finally, he released the tension in his unwavering fist. “I understand.”

“Thank you for everything, Pa. I’ll be seeing you,” he started for the door once again, but Alastor latched onto his wrist. 

“Stay for dinner? I’ll be making jambalaya,” he offered with a warm smile. 

Benjamin couldn't help but drop his walls as a rush of nostalgia hit him. He nodded, figuring that he would ready the tower the next morning. He would need some extra defense, though. 

Shaking those thoughts from his head, he decided to wine down. “I’ll chop the vegetables, Pa.”

Alastor brought Benjamin to the kitchen and showed him the basics of placement, and then, side by side like all those years ago, they prepared dinner.

As Alastor climbed up the stairs to alert the others of sustenance, he was reminded of a certain demon’s complicated emotions and what he was going through. He sighed to himself, hiding behind that overhanging sense of uselessness. He had never felt so helpless before, and he had no idea what he was doing anymore. But, he had to try his best, just like before. 

He lightly knocked on the door, and stopped to listen for a reply, which came after a beat of quiet. 

“Smiles?”

“Yes, it’s me,” he nodded despite the lack of Angel being able to see him. “Dinner is ready, if you would like some.”

“I’ll be down,” he answered, and Alastor heard the creak of the floorboards before the wail of the door hinges. Angel’s eyes were half lidded with untold exhaustion, and he practically tumbled down into Alastor’s open arms. “Are the others downstairs already?”

“Not quite yet, but Benjamin is visiting,” he ran his hand over Angel’s shoulder comfortingly, then caressed his cheek. “I understand if you do not wish to see anyone. Shall I bring a bowl up for you instead?”

Angel hummed for a moment, then closed his eyes with a hint of remorse. “Yes, please.”

“Alright.” He let Angel go and steadied him, then recollected his thoughts and headed towards the next door, alerting the rest of the hotel that dinner was available. Benjamin was already sitting down at the table, a fork atop a napkin and a steamy bowl in front of him. 

“Just like old times, eh, Pa?” he grinned with an uncharacteristically aloof look on his face. It reminded Alastor of when Benjamin was only a young boy, when he would discover a new thing every day. 

“Just like old times,” he agreed. Then, with the others still not quite making their ways into the room, Alastor stood his son up and hugged him tight. “I may have not been the best father, and I may have not been there for as long as I wanted to be, but I am certainly proud to have called you my son.”

Benjamin’s hands found themselves hooking onto Alastor’s back, his face pressed into his father’s shoulder. “You were plenty great, Pa. Better than anyone else that came into my life.”

They pulled away from one another, then separated the embrace with an unspoken understanding. Alastor headed into the kitchen, scooping the jambalaya into a bowl for Angel like he had done countless times before. He even added a few extra pieces of shrimp for Fat Nuggets, who apparently loved the seafood morsel. 

Making his way back up the stairs, he passed by the one temporary resident at the hotel. Clarke bowed his head respectfully, but didn’t make any sort of comment. Alastor just could not understand that man, not in the slightest. 

His shadow stayed by the stairwell, leaning on the rails as it watched the people walk around, talking amongst themselves. All the while, Alastor found himself hugging Angel close again, assuring him that everything would be okay. The taller demon wasn’t crying, but that somehow made it worse. He was so quiet, unlike his usually lively self. 

The pressure was building up behind those glossy eyes, and it looked like his soul was on the brink of shattering. 

Alastor swiped a finger underneath Angel’s black eye, then planted a soft kiss to his temple. “Eat, you need your strength.”

“I know.” He didn’t pick up the fork.

“I won’t leave if you don’t want me to.”

“Go spend time with your son.”

“Do you wish to be alone?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Would you like to see Molly?”

Angel went unresponsive for a minute, then whispered an almost inaudible affirmation.

“I’ll be back after dinner, then.”

“Thank you, Smiles.”

A kiss to the knuckles later, Angel was left alone with the illusion of his sister. “He’s too kind, Molly.”

“You deserve it, Tony. Every single word of comfort, the promise of protection, all of it. You can rest easy, and so can I, knowing that you’re safe now.”

“I miss you, Molly.”

“I know, Tony. I miss you too.”

“WIll this all be worth it in the end?” He pressed a hand to his stomach, searching for the distant heartbeat only to feel nothing. “All the pain, all the suffering?”

“All we can do is hope, Tony,” she placed her hand over his, and connected their foreheads. With her eyes softly closed and a warm smile on her face, she calmed Angel. “You’ll figure out a way to make it all worth it, like you always did when we were kids.”

“I miss those days.”

“I know.”

Silence.

“Stay, Molly.”

“Always.”

Chapter Text

Benjamin stared out of the radio tower window with his chin in his hand. After a few rather short months of proving himself trustworthy, he had brought up the topic of moving both Vox and Velvet into said tower. Of course, they were first skeptical, but agreed. Benjamin mostly suspected they agreed because of the upcoming Extermination, and it would be far more practical than a rundown motel. 

Speaking of the Extermination, the Knife Demon could hear people screaming in fear as they were being ruthlessly hunted. Even this high up, the gleam of Angelic weapons hurt Benjamin’s eyes.

He sighed, turning away from the glass to face the duo sitting on the couch together. Velvet was asleep against the cushions, whilst Vox was wide awake, staring at the opposite wall. Benjamin strode to sit across from him, and their eyes met for a moment, and Vox didn’t break away.

Neither of them said a word, until the silence became rather unbearable.

“Why are you helping us?” he asked, his voice slightly laced with static. He cleared his throat, then leaned back on the couch and crossed his arms. “I know you’ve said why before, but I have a feeling that it isn’t just that.”

Benjamin guessed Vox’s unsaid words. Everyone has an ulterior motive. He thought for a moment, then flinched as he heard the echoes of someone pounding on the door. He studied Vox’s face in the meantime, every curve of emotion on the screen. It was no longer cracked, but he still looked so dull and lifeless. “I’ve never really liked it when people weren’t happy,” he finally admitted as words piled up in his brain. “When I was a kid, I was a people pleaser. I would do anything for a smile or a laugh, especially in my orphanage. We had as many laughs as we could get.

“So,” he furrowed his brows, then two of his fingernails started picking at the thread of his jacket. “When someone was upset, it rubbed off on all of us. Overall, I think it’s a habit that’s been with me my entire life.”

“You’re an orphan?” Vox’s eyes widened for the split of a second, and his body leaned forward from the back of the couch.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I was an accident. And because of that, I try to make sure that no one else thinks that they’re a mistake.”

Vox didn’t answer. Instead, he hummed an inadequate response and fell back against the couch. It went back to silent, save for the whir of static from Vox’s screen. It continued like this for what seemed like eternity, and Benjamin shifted in his chair, then distracted himself by picking at loose threads on his coat. 

“Benjamin, why are you in Hell?”

Well, that question was unexpected. Benjamin blinked in surprise, then tilted his head towards the other male. “What?”

“Why are you in Hell?” he repeated, and stole a quick glance at the sleeping Velvet before refocusing on Benjamin. 

“I’m not sure I quite understand.”

“You’ve been telling me about your life over these past few months, and from what you’ve told me, you’ve done no real sin. You haven’t killed anyone with your own hands, you haven’t caused mass genocide with any disasters, you haven’t gone to prison, I could go on.” He leaned forward again, and rested his chin on his hand, his eyes glinting in the dim lights. “You were, are, kind. So why are you here?”

“I was greedy, I’ve told you-”

“No, trust me. Bending the rules slightly in your favor doesn’t earn you a life sentence in this place. I knew plenty of greedy people, and hardly any of them ended up down here.” He waved his hand dismissively, and his eyes narrowed. “Either you’re not telling me something, which is perfectly fine, or there was a mistake in your coming here.”

That realization hit Benjamin harder than a truck ever could. He zoned out on a particular line in the fabric of the chair, as flurries of emotions passed over his face. It was impossible to clearly tell what he was thinking. Not even he knew what he was thinking, everything was blurring together, all the voices, all the theories, everything.

Well, there’s no way that you’re ever getting out of here! You’ve killed so many people, you’re sitting on a throne made out of bones!

“No, there’s nothing else, but there’s no mistake either,” he mustered, with forced sincerity. “Even if there was a mistake, there’s no going back.”

“I’d have to agree with that,” Vox whispered, and he took to folding his hands together. “There are times I wish I could change things.”

“Yeah.” Benjamin recollected his thoughts, and pushed all of the others aside. 

There was another bang on the side of the tower, and Velvet flinched awake. “What was that?!” She rapidly searched for something, most likely a weapon, but Vox lightly grabbed onto her wrist.

“Nothing, just the Extermination,” he assured her, and Benjamin stood up. He left the room, with one last moment of eye contact between him and Vox. There was too much to think about, and there was no possible way to figure things out with others with him. He needed to be alone, and he needed to be in the dark.

He remembered a few particular times when he was younger. Whenever he was upset, he would never let the other kids see him, because then they would be upset as well. He would always run to the broom closet next to the caretaker’s room, and he would sit in there to cry, or curse and swear, or to just escape.

He did the same thing when he was in Alastor’s care, until he found him crying one night. It wasn’t even for a good reason, and yet Alastor talked him through it. 

Benjamin hasn’t hidden in a dark place since then, he had always talked to Alastor.

But now, there was an overwhelming need for a corner, a closet, just someplace dark. He pushed a door open, revealing a simple bedroom, but with plenty of dark places to hide. Benjamin chose the corner behind the bedside table, and tucked himself neatly away. He hid his face between his knees, and covered his head with his arms.

The voices only grew inside his mind, laughing at his apparent weakness. All he could think about was the idea of being here by mistake. He could have been up in Heaven, laughing and running through open fields of beautiful flowers, with the warm sun and cool breezes in his hair. 

But, what about Alastor? He never would have seen his father again, no matter what he tried. Yet, he had already been down that road, before he even knew what Hell was really like. 

Would he really have wanted to go eternity without seeing his father ever again?

He couldn’t decide what would have been the better outcome. The voices were drowning out his logic and reasoning, and they were overtaking him just like whenever he was at his lowest of lows. He pushed himself further into the corner, if that was even possible. If he was being honest, he would have liked to ghost through the wall by now.

Who would have thought a simple question would cause so much speculation? Benjamin had never looked into his sins that much, since he knew the outcome would always be the same. No amount of contemplating would give him a second chance. At least, not in the living world.

What have you been doing ever since you arrived in Hell?

“Killing,” he muttered to himself. “I’ve been killing and taking, because I knew I could.”

But what else? What good, kind, things have you done?

“Giving people on the streets housing.”

You were getting rid of the greedy ones who only wanted power, and you supported others.

“No. Yes?”

You’ve helped people-

YOU’VE KILLED PEOPLE, YOUR KINDNESS MEANS NOTHING.

“I have killed,” he said, then bit the inside of his lip. “I’m not sure what I am.”

A MONSTER.

Humane.

“I’m getting mixed signals,” he released a painful chuckle, and tugged at the hairs on the back of his head. “I’m not humane.”

In a way, in your own way, you are. Who else would have helped those demons on the streets?

“No one?” he tried, and he knew the kinder voice in his head was nodding.

Yes. No one else would have helped. In fact, they probably would have killed them as well, if they had the chance.

“I still don’t understand. I-I’m a sinner, aren’t I?”

“Sinners repent.” Words from the outside world spoke, and Benjamin’s head shot up. A shock of panic ran through his body and he moved to stand, but Vox sat down instead. His hands found Benjamin’s and held them tight, then no other words were spoken.

Silent understanding was the best kind of understanding.

Immediately following the dispersal of the Exterminators, Benjamin heard loud explosions and multiple demon voices shouting in broken unison. He rubbed his eyes as he sat up, realizing he had fallen asleep in his corner. 

Wait, why was he in bed?

He looked around the room with furrowed eyebrows full of confusion. His coat was laid over the foot of the bed, neatly folded as well. He noticed voices coming from the main room, and he guessed it was the morning news. He slipped out of bed and headed to the closet, then picked out a change of clothes and began to dress himself.

He headed towards the door and turned the knob, and pulled it open. He stepped out into the main room, and saw Vox listening to the news, his legs crossed as he gazed at the radio. He turned his attention towards Benjamin, and greeted him with a soft smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“Uh, yeah,” he responded, returning a smile.

“I was a little worried, you fell asleep and hit your head on the wall,” Vox chuckled, covering his mouth with his fist. “You also snore quite loudly.”

Benjamin’s cheeks heated up with embarrassment, and he pursed his lips together as he reprimanded himself. “Sorry…” he mumbled, taking a seat across from Vox once again. 

“No no, don’t worry. It was cute.”

Somehow, that made things worse. 

Benjamin’s eyes shot wide and he fixed his glare on his knuckles, and even more thoughts flooded his mind. Back and forth, he was panicking. 

CUTE?! THAT BASTARD!

Aww, he’s opening up to us. This is the first time we’ve seen him smile, yes?

DON’T ROMANTICIZE THIS!

Conflict filled Benjamin’s mind, and he forced words from his lips. “Uhm… thank you?”

Vox laughed at his reaction, then stood, took a few short paces to the armchair. Benjamin looked up at him through unfocused irises, and found his smile beautiful. It was a rare type of grin, where his eyes sparkled like jewels paired with pure, teasing, joy. Time seemed to slow in that moment, and just as Vox’s hand reached for Benjamin’s cheek, another set of feet bounded into the room.

“Good morniiiiing!” Velvet cheered, sliding into the vicinity on her slippers. 

Vox pulled away to embrace Velvet as she crashed into his arms, and Benjamin relished the sweet bells of laughter from both of them. He had almost forgotten about the terrors of the Extermination, until he heard the anchorwoman loudly proclaim that, “The Radio Demon has joined in the turf war! But what could be his reasoning?!”

The laughter hitched, and plenty of questions filled the atmosphere. Benjamin, not wanting anything else on his plate, headed over to the radio and turned the volume down to zero. “Let’s not worry about that now. I’ll get started on breakfast, yeah?” he offered, already going into the kitchen.

“Thank you,” Vox said as he passed by, and all Benjamin responded with was a nod. 

I’ll have to figure out what’s happening so that they don’t panic when something unexpected happens, he noted as he scoured the kitchen for whatever ingredients he could find. 

Ah, a simple breakfast. Eggs, toast, and sausage. And well, pancakes for Velvet, because she just seemed like the type to drown those poor delights in syrup. So, Benjamin got to work. He hummed to himself as he worked, and he was so enthralled with his task that he didn’t even notice the crowd of two listening to his tune. Even when he turned in their direction, he didn’t see them. It was rather entertaining for both of them. 

Benjamin only, finally , realized they were there when Velvet sneezed. 

He jumped, his melody snapping off in that instant. His shoulders drew themselves up to his ears, and he glared at the duo. “You scared the shit outta me,” he breathed, leaning on the counter to catch his breath. He flicked the burner of the stove on, and placed a pan atop the flames. He inhaled deeply, then whipped around to glare holes through them even more.

Vox let out something akin to a giggle, and his gaze averted to the side, avoiding Benjamin’s eye contact. 

To any unknowing soul, this would have looked like a rather domestic sight, like a loving family having a calm morning amongst themselves. But, to Benjamin, it meant something drastically different.

He knew Vox now, he really knew him. And Vox was faking it, may it be for Benjamin’s sake, for Velvet’s, or his own, but he was faking. Those same eyes had been so dull just yesterday, and he may have been getting better over these past few months, but that smile wasn’t as true as he hoped it would be. But, if it was a facade Vox wanted, Benjamin would upkeep the image.

For Velvet, for Vox, because they needed to smile the most.

It was a rather uncharacteristically quiet night as Benjamin closed the curtains. There were no distant explosions or growing smoke clouds filling the atmosphere, and he was a bit surprised by that. He inhaled deeply, clearing his mind as he rested his forehead against the wall, one hand clenching against the curtains. It had been a few weeks since the Extermination, and thankfully, no reports of any deaths that Benjamin would care about.

Despite that, his head was overflowing with nonstop thoughts, replays of the day, and plaguing insecurities. He didn’t think he was doing enough for these two, despite how many times Vox says that it’s plenty. He could be doing everything right, or everything wrong, and that drastic difference terrified him.

A hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality, and without hesitation, Benjamin grasped onto it for support. “Do you need anything, Vox?” he asked, his voice soft.

“I should be asking you that.” His fingers tightened their grip on Benjamin’s shoulder, gently digging into his skin. “I really ought to thank you for everything.”

“You don’t have to,” he turned from the window to face him, only to see the sincerity in his expression. Then suddenly, there was somewhat of an electric wave emanating from where their hands were connected. Benjamin couldn’t tell if it was his nerves, or Vox’s power. Either way, he found it strangely therapeutic. 

“Why are you always conflicted?” The waves didn’t stop, since it seemed that Vox caught how they calmed the other male.

So, it is Vox’s power. But that wasn’t the current topic.

“You always have two differing emotions in your eyes, Benjamin. There’s no clear decision in your head,” he poked Benjamin’s forehead, then returned his hand to his side.

“It’s hard for me to decide, sometimes,” he whispered, leaning his head forwards in defeat. “It’s like there’s a war up in there, y’know?”

“Yeah,” he hummed and nodded in understanding. He had gone through the same thing time and time again, where he never knew what to do for himself. Back then, Valentino was the only person to ever make real choices when it came to Vox’s afterlife. He would pick and choose a path that led to misery and manipulation, which only made Vox fall harder and faster into pitch black despair.

Benjamin yawned, and the electric waves ceased their comfort. Vox took a step away from him, folding his hands in front of himself. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words were caught in his throat. Benjamin stayed put as the other’s mouth opened and closed, then he exhaled.

“I want to show you something, that I haven’t even shown Val or Velvet,” he took Benjamin’s hand once again, and started leading him to a more secluded part of the tower. 

Behind the closed door of the bedroom, Vox began to pace. Benjamin simply watched, with a hint of concern on his features. “Are you alright?” he asked, and Vox nodded instantly.

He stopped pacing, then faced Benjamin with a serious frown on his face. “Don’t tell anyone?”

“Of course, but whaaa…” He lost his words as Vox’s features began to shift. 

The rectangle shape of the television was gone, and what remained in its place was rather shocking to say the least. Vox looked human, with fair olive-tinted skin, his cheeks rosy with natural color. His hair fell sloppily over his head, with his bangs reaching into his eyes. The hue was dark, black even, with a single electric blue swipe on the left side of his part. His eyes were glowing red, with the same color of blue in his irises, and his pupils were sharp enough to cut a bitch.

Benjamin was completely speechless as he stared in absolute awe of the sight. “Whoa,” was all he could say.

Vox’s foot dug into the carpet anxiously, and he reached to cover half of his face. “I’ve never wanted to show anyone this, because it’s odd, isn’t it?”

“No, not at all.” Benjamin took a few experimental steps towards him, and grasped onto both of his shoulders. “You’re beautiful. Gorgeous, even.”

A light coat of red found its way onto Vox’s already pink cheeks, and he smiles sloppily. “I really don’t understand how you’re down here, Ben, I really don’t.”

“Well, I’m here,” he muttered. “Now, it would be a different story if you wanted to get rid of me,” he joked, and Vox cracked a chuckle.

“Never,” he looked up, maintaining a strong connection between their interlocked gazes. A flash of an unreadable emotion passed through Vox’s eyes. Benjamin couldn’t tell what the other male wanted or needed, but he kept his hands loose so he could easily pull away. 

But, he didn’t. Instead, Benjamin felt him raise himself onto his tiptoes. He didn’t object, and Vox’s face grew closer, inch by inch. He was about to push for the last centimeter, when there came the unmistakable chime of Heaven’s bells, and a string of explosions to follow. 

Before either of them had time to act, Velvet was banging on the door in terror, screaming bloody murder about the thing in the living room. 

“EXTERMINATOR!”

Chapter Text

Vox hasn’t known what he was doing for a long time now. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore, so every single move he made he overthought. He was always wanting the best for Velvet, but he didn’t think he was the answer. He was haphazardly pulling the strings together, and it was hardly working for just himself. He was ripped into far too many pieces to keep track, and even if he grasped at the shards, he still wouldn’t be complete.

This scenario, this situation of his, he couldn’t quite comprehend it, even after all these months of mulling over the information. All he had been doing since he left Valentino was thinking. Thinking about life, thinking about death, beginnings, endings, and one particular demon: Benjamin.

Vox had been thinking about Benjamin far too much recently.

The Knife Demon was an interesting character to say the least, and he never ceased to baffle Vox. Everything about his childhood and current status was controversial, as though he weren’t even supposed to be in Hell, no matter how much he swore he did.

But, every story Benjamin told had Vox wondering more and more.

Why was he in Hell? What could he have possibly done?

Alas, there were no answers. They always seemed to elude Vox whenever he needed them the most.

But, that was why he took Benjamin by the hand, and began to lead him away from the window. “I want to show you something, that I haven’t even shown Val or Velvet.” He found the bedroom, and closed the door after their entry. 

“Are you alright?” Benjamin asked, clearly concerned, to which Vox nodded, yet began to pace around the room, his teeth gnawing at his fingernails. 

“Don’t tell anyone?” he finally broke the silence, and his feet ceased their anxious movement.

“Of course, but whaaa…” Benjamin’s voice trailed off as Vox closed his eyes. A weight lifted from his shoulders, and for once in a lifetime, a breath of seemingly fresh air hit his nostrils.

If he was being completely honest, Vox had forgotten what he looked like. He didn’t know if he had black, blue, or green eyes. He could barely see his hair out of the corner of his eye, and he swept it to the side of his face.

“Whoa,” Benjamin gawked at him, his eyes wide with newfound awe.

Vox’s foot dug itself into the carpet, and he reached one hand to cover his face. “I’ve never wanted to show anyone this, because it’s odd, isn’t it?” He began to regret his choice, but it was too late now, far too late.

What if Benjamin didn’t like his weird stare, or his odd smile, because he didn’t even remember how he appeared! He sighed into his palm, and with feet braced to run, he prepared for the worst. 

“No, not at all.” There came hesitant footsteps, then two unsure hands landed on Vox’s unsteady shoulders. “You’re beautiful. Gorgeous, even.”

A flare of heat filled Vox’s cheeks, and he held back a stammer. He would have scoffed if it didn’t mean his voice would crack, so he decided against it.  “I really don’t understand how you’re down here, Ben, I really don’t.”

“Well, I’m here,” Benjamin’s fingers tightened their grip on Vox’s shoulders, and the latter wanted to lean into that warm embrace. “Now, it would be a different story if you wanted to get rid of me.”

“Never,” he smiled softly, and locked gazes with the taller demon. He began to raise himself onto his toes, reaching closer and closer. If he was being honest, he couldn’t tell what he was feeling. It was a flurry of saudade emotions, all revolving around the same topic, yet drastically different people.

Valentino, who he had tried to love for so long.

Benjamin, who came into his afterlife with only the intent to help.

He would have liked this moment of peace and adoration to last forever, and he would have liked to feel the comforting sensation of love and care. But, the moment was broken apart, shattered by Heaven’s bells themselves.

The world ceased to spin as Velvet’s voice began to scream.

“EXTERMINATOR!”

It took a moment to process, but before he knew it, Benjamin was gone out the door, and Vox was left, starstruck and dazed.

“Vox, we have to move!” Benjamin barked, snatching him by the wrist. “You need to run!”

“Ben-!” he tried, but the demon in question simply threw him towards the bedroom window. 

“I’ll clear a way for you and Velvet to escape, and I’ll buy you some time!” he yelled, then tossed a single blade towards Vox’s feet. “Pick that up, and get moving!” His eyes flashed a final glaze of desperation, and it made Vox’s heart break. Pieces and shards clattered to the floor, and Benjamin was gone.

All he could think about was the urgency he had felt when Valentino burst in on that day, and the panic he felt when he almost fell back into the loop of abuse. He felt tied up in those strings of despair and pain, just like a puppet.

Was he just a puppet?

“VOX!” A wail, a cry, just like the ones he was used to, from the same voice.

He still remained frozen, his eyes fixating on a smirk painted across the wall. It faded back into the shadows, and with the snap of non-existent fingers, Vox was running. He found the knife on the ground, and held it between twitching fingers. Velvet was already by the window, shoving the glass open and getting ready to jump.

“Jump with me, Vox!” Her hand was extended towards him, her eyes desperate. She couldn’t lose him, not now, not ever.

But, a cry of pain from outside the room made Vox second guess the obvious decision. A splatter of blood on the wallpaper, a roar of determination, and heels slamming against the floor in an uneven pattern all made Vox take steps towards the door- not the window.

“VOX!” Another scream. “LEAVE!”

Without another moment, Vox was out the window, holding Velvet close to his chest as his back faced the ground. He curled around her as best he could, wind whizzing past his ears. He couldn’t hear himself think, and for the briefest of moments, he thought he died.

But, the pain came back around for him.

His lung refused to breathe, and his heart felt as though it had stopped beating in its entirety. There was nothing greeting his eyes, besides the thousands, maybe even millions, of stars filling his vision. Black collided with purple, and sparkling dots of freedom shone back into his eyes.

But, it was short lived.

He was dragged out of that tranquil scenery, and forced to rejoin the living hell that was the Extermination.

He was standing in front of a field of corpses, with blood on each and every single wall. No stone was left unturned, no soul left damaged beyond repair. Then, he was running. In his palm he still clutched the knife, like it was his very last strand of life. A purpose, a reason.

“Where is Benjamin?” he asked, only to be drowned out by the constant screams. They wouldn’t stop, they wouldn’t stop!

His head was splitting itself in two, and the voices were all begging to be released from the torment. His feet ached, he wanted a break from running. He was tired, he was exhausted, he wanted to sleep.  

What was he even running from, again?

Something stopped him dead in his tracks, or maybe it stopped Velvet in hers. Either way, Vox wasn’t running anymore. Just as he was about to ask about Benjamin, he blinked, and looked up.

His heart dropped right to the bloodied street, out for the entire world to see his terror. 

Right there, just a few paces ahead of him, stood the destruction of his soul. Everything he was trying to escape, the past he wanted desperately to erase, all came rushing back to him in a wave of unwarranted panic.

The outside world melted away, and it was just them two, staring right back at each other.

“Vox,” he breathed, with two hands stretching out for him, to caress his face, with strands of smoke to strangle his throat. “I thought I’d-”

“NO!” Velvet barked, yanking Vox back a few steps as she bared her teeth and growled. “Stay the fuck back, Valentino! I’m not afraid to kill you!”

His fingers curled inwards, then his arms dropped limp to the sides of his ripped and ruined robe. “It’s ironic, isn’t it?” He raised his head, revealing the glassy reflection from underneath his rose-tinted glasses. “The thing that brought us together is tearing us apart, Voxxy.”

“I regret it all,” he snapped hastily, before he could be sucked back into the whirlpool and drowned. His head jerked towards a nearby scream, then he took the lead. Without a single word of remorse, or another second wasted, Vox started to walk away.

The world was collapsing all around him as he coughed the toxins from his lungs. Smoke and dust kicked themselves up into his nostrils, so much so that he could hardly see three feet in front of his face. He squinted, was about to speak, when something ran full force through his extended arm, and he yelped as his palm lost contact with Velvet’s. She yelled his name, but it was carried further and further away. He inhaled to scream, yet bumped into something else within the fog of destruction.

“Benjamin?” he tried, only to be faced with a creature of nightmares.

A huge grin overtook the thing’s face as it easily towered over him. A clawed finger pushed itself against his lips, and he heard a loud “shh,” right in his ear. The nail then dug into the skin atop his lip, and a trail of blood began to trickle down his chin.

He tried to jerk away, but another set of hands grabbed his shoulders and forced him to stay put. They lowered to his forearms and latched on tighter than any chain could have. His face was kindly caressed, then, he began to gasp for air as his throat was slowly clenched by a furious fist.

“B-Ben,” he rasped, tears filling his wide eyes. He brushed a glance over to the side, and through the thick fog was a split opening. In that brief moment, he locked eyes with the one he wanted.

He was covered with crimson blood, and holding the side of his waist. His shirt was completely soaked through with the sticky fluid, and it was getting worse with each passing second. His mouth tore open with an enraged outbreak, but Vox couldn’t hear anything. Instead, his head was forced to turn, and his gaze was met with a sinister glare.

He couldn’t break away, nothing could distract him from the evil cackle of laughter that came before the pain.

It was like a bloom of fire spreading all throughout his entire being, that scalded even the darkest corners of his soul. He felt as though he was possessed by inextinguishable flames, and his head became so light he almost mistook this attack as a decapitation.

He was spinning in circle after circle, with no feet on the ground. He was flying, but to where? Why did the pain in his chest disappear right after he closed his eyes?

Where is Benjamin?

His hand longed for the comfort of the other demon, yet the longing soon faded as well. He simply remained there, in suspended animation, like nothing existed in the first place. All memories of pain were washed over with a feeling of love and contentment. It was almost like this was… Heaven?

No, impossible.

There is no Heaven awaiting me.

There is nothing I can do to deserve Heaven.

Nothing at all.

A warm hand stroked his cheek, yet no one was there. He exhaled, and finally, it was all over.

For Vox, it was all over. But for Benjamin, oh the despair was only just beginning.

Heaven’s bells chimed once more, and the creatures began to ascend, taking thousands upon thousands of souls right along with them. Benjamin sank to his knees at the glorious sight, like a parade of death. 

For the first time in eons, the rain was cold.

Was it purposeful? Just an insult to injury? Benjamin could hardly tell the difference between the droplets and his own tears or blood. His gut was twisted into all sorts of odd angles, and every single movement he made made knives shoot up and down his nervous system.

But, he still managed to stumble towards the collapsed body in the middle of the street, with one hand dragging himself forwards inch by inch. 

“Vox,” he managed between huffs. He groaned at the sharp jolt from his ribs, and his fingers curled into fists. He did not have any more strength left.

The heels of unfamiliar boots clacked along the road, leading towards Vox. In a split second, Benjamin neglected the agony screaming for him to lay back down. He yanked a knife from his belt and held it like a crazed madman. “Step. Away. From. Vox!”

The taller demon sighed, scooping the deceased male into his arms. “You’ll die if you strain yourself too much.”

“I don’t care! Let him-!” His words were snapped short as an exclamation overtook him. “Go!”

Valentino crossed over towards Benjamin, and slowly kneeled to the street. He laid Vox down carefully, and with a pathetic sigh stood back up. Red smoke curled around his head, then dissipated. “I wish I could be angry at you, son of Alastor.”

“Wha-”

“But you took care of him after I couldn’t.”

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Benjamin hissed bitterly, and his narrowed into firm slits. “You never took care of him.”

“I know, I know.” His voice faded into a pitiful whine. His feet shifted uncomfortably, and his arms folded and unfolded. He exhaled once more, and turned away from the slowly falling Benjamin. “Make sure he gets a proper burial. Don’t let these street ruffians have their way with him.”

Benjamin stole a glance at Valentino’s shrinking back, then went back to Vox’s closed eyes and pale face. His features weren’t twisted in agony, not in the slightest. He could have been mistaken for simply being asleep, having sweet dreams of tranquil fields and warm sunlight.

But, his cheeks were cold, and it brought Benjamin back to the awful reality.

“Oh God,” he breathed, looking up at the crying sky. “Why?”

His head was light, and his heart was heavy with grief. He closed his eyes in hopes that he would just wake up from this nightmare, that it would all be back to normal in the morning. 

The morning, where everything would be okay, and he would be in the kitchen, making pancakes for the ones he was protecting. It would have been a happy morning, with laughs and smiles, just like he always wanted it to be.

He missed mornings like those.

When Velvet circled back around to the street she had been ripped away from, she heard the world laugh at her. All the awful voices in her head were screaming in joy, giggling and chortling at her failures.

Rain soaked through her nightgown, causing her hair to stick uncomfortably to her shoulders and neck. Her slippers were ruined, now, completely, entirely. But they were the least of her problems.

Under the light of the street lamp, Velvet could see a heap of familiar bodies. Two, to be precise, and that’s when the roars of internal laughter rose into tsunamis. Waves upon waves crashed over her relentlessly, and more just kept rising from the ocean. She couldn’t catch a break, or a breath for that matter, as she edged closer towards the bodies.

The street light flickered as she approached, almost like a signal for the two demons to wake up. Neither of them did.

Her legs went weak and lifeless, there was nothing left for her.

Her hand groped around for a pulse, to which she only found one. She choked back a sob, but it strangled her until it was released into the thinning air. She began to wail as the rain pounded harder and harder onto the streets. Puddles collected into rivers of flowing water, and whilst all other residents had barricaded themselves inside houses or shops, Velvet was left all alone.

The night had never felt so lonely before.

The question that remained was ignored, no matter how hard Velvet wished she knew the answer.

Why has this happened?! Why were we- why was he-!

“I want to know!” She hiccupped, nearly swallowing her sleeve as she bit into it to anchor herself. “What caused this?!”

A beat of silence. “What have we done?!”

No answer. “What did I do..?”

Another laugh rang throughout her mind.

“Benjamin?” Her voice cracked at the name, and she turned to face his slowly rising body. His arm cranked to wipe his forehead, his eyes were half-lidded with drowsiness and sorrow. “What are we gonna do?”

“First,” he began, then bit the inside of his cheek to stop from groaning at the pain. “I’m going to take you someplace safe.”

“Don’t worry about me, please,” she shook her head, and buried her face into her sleeves. “Vox, what about V-Vox?”

“I’m going to bury him, once you’re safe and sound.” He stood on unsteady legs, and draped Vox’s lifeless limbs over his arms. He staggered and nearly tripped a few times, but Velvet rushed to balance him. “I promise,” he whispered, so hushed that Velvet could hardly even hear. She leaned forward to listen. “I’ll take care of her, for you.”

She retracted her ear; the promise was not for her.

Her hand found the elbow of Benjamin’s torn jacket, and she held on with a few fingers. It wasn’t a tight hold, but it was enough for both of them. 

They were both there, and all they had left was each other.

Chapter Text

Angel stood in front of the mirror, staring himself dead in the eyes. He clenched the edge of the counter, and narrowed his gaze. Then, he leaned back and loosened his shoulders. He brought a smile to his face, and tried laughing for a moment. 

It sounded too forced, try again.

He brought his hand to his mouth, covering his chuckle.

Better, but keep trying.

“This should be easy by now,” he sighed, rubbing his temples. He inhaled through his nose, mentally preparing himself. His jaw tightened and released itself, and out came a laugh.

Believable. Now, go downstairs. Act like everything is fine. Because it is, it’s all fine.  

He checked his smile quickly, and massaged his jaw so it didn’t ache too horribly. He reached for the doorknob, then stopped as he heard Fat Nuggets oink. He slowly turned the knob and pulled the door open. He yelped in surprise and staggered backwards, narrowly catching himself on the sink. “Smiles! H-Hi,” he stammered as he steadied himself. “Isn’t Benjamin still downstairs? Shouldn’t you be with your son?”

Alastor tilted his head to the side, his mouth torn into a frown. “Are you alright?” he asked, ignoring Angel’s previous questions.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Alastor’s eyebrows furrowed. “Benjamin left a short while ago, and I came to check up on you.”

“Oh, I was about to go say hi,” he pouted, folding his top two arms. “Thanks for the jambalaya, by the way. Nugs really enjoyed the shrimp that you gave him.” He reeled back on his heels, grinning down at the Radio Demon.

“You’re… welcome, Anthony,” he adjusted his monocle, and grasped onto one of Angel’s hands, then kissed his knuckles. “You seem to be feeling better. I’m glad.”

He shrugged bashfully as he watched Alastor look up at him. He actually adored the height difference, because it made Alastor look so much softer than he actually was. The Radio Demon seemed so loveable when they were stood in front of each other, with his eyes locked with Angel’s and their hands folded together.

“It’s all thanks to you, Smiles. You have no idea how helpful Molly is,” he said sincerely, leaning his head atop Alastor’s. “I don’t think you’ll need to project her, anymore.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He easily figured that Angel would explain his reasonings, so he remained silent in hopes of hearing a sentence of explanation.

One minute goes by, then another, and soon, Angel was pulling away from the embrace. He wiped his eyes with a hefty sigh, and grinned down at the Radio Demon. “I love you, Smiles, and all I’ll ever need is you.”

Still dazed by the firm statements, Alastor took a step backward, yet hung onto Angel’s forearms. He found himself gazing into his eyes, the ones that held untold truths and spoken lies. He couldn’t find it in himself to believe that Angel was any sort of okay. However, his lips moved and he heard himself speak before he could stop himself. “I love you too, and I’ll always be here.”

He wouldn’t regret his words, not in the slightest. But, if he would have been faced with this same situation a year ago, he would have scoffed and told the whole world of this fiasco, laughing at it like a sick joke.

He was different now, he knew that.

Angel chuckled and shook his head, purposefully avoiding Alastor’s eyes. “I know, I know,” he whispered, tilting his head downward to stare at their feet. They were inches apart, so he slid them closer. He liked holding him close. For as long as he could, he will. “Are the others still downstairs?”

“Yes, I believe so,” he said, tossing his head towards the door. 

“Well, I wanna go say hi,” he stepped out of their own world, and towards the door, with Fat Nuggets trailing along behind him.

“We could put on one of those things that Vaggie and Charlie call a movie. Would you like that?” He followed the taller demon, who whipped to face him with sparkles in his eyes.

“Yes,” he breathed out in awe, then giggled and began scurrying for the stairwell. “Oh CHAAAAARLIEEEEEE!”

Alastor chuckled to himself as he watched Angel fly down the stairs, nearly landing on and flattening poor Vaggie. She pulled a spear to his throat, Charlie stopped her, and the conversations began. 

It had been a decent while since Angel had actually conversed with the other residents of this hotel. His door had remained closed for a long time, and it was quite the relief to see it open again. 

Maybe, just maybe , things would get better from here on in. 

Alastor found his way down to the main area, as Angel just began a pillow fight with both Charlie and Vaggie, who had discarded her spear in the name of fun. Currently, the tallest demon was being double teamed, yet easily fended off his attackers with his abundance of arms.

He knocked Vaggie off her feet, and held Charlie at arm’s length. His smile, though, was all Alastor could focus on. It sent butterflies down to his stomach, and made his mind run wild. Angel, God he was simply radiating happiness. He was glowing. He was the center of attention. He was… everything. Alastor almost tripped over his own feet and fell head over heels in adoration.

He steadied himself on the rail of the stairs, and kept his distance from the war. From across the room, he could see Husker’s tiny smile as he overlooked the scene as well, and coming from the kitchen, Niffty’s screeches about how she wants to join in.

Alastor crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. He wanted to drink in every moment where Angel was smiling without a care. These moments were far too rare and needed more than anything. The sheer amount of serotonin dripping from these walls was enough to drown a man, and the laughter was like bells chiming from the skies.

But, this was not the Extermination.

He let his guard down, he let everything go just for one single second.

Alastor, the man with no weakness whatsoever, allowed himself to be weak.

He cast aside his overcoat and boots, then picked up a pillow.

Did he want to lose all of this?

The movie had long since ended, and the pillows still lay askew, but Angel and Alastor already parted the scene. They would clean the mess tomorrow, and remember the wars they had waged the night before. 

They bid their goodnights to the others still downstairs, but quietly, since Charlie had fallen asleep during the movie. Angel sighed, and latched onto Alastor’s hand with a small smile.

“I’m surprised you joined in, Smiles.” He blocked his chuckle with the back of his palm. “Did you have fun?”

“I did indeed, most fun I’ve had in a very long time,” he admitted and stroked Angel’s thumb. “And you?”

Angel nodded, then stretched his arms over his head with a yawn. “It was fun, really.”

After a moment of internal debate, Alastor spoke up again. “Anthony.” He furrowed his eyebrows, and felt a heat blister across his face. God dammit, he hated feeling flustered. “Perhaps you could be interested in a new book I picked up earlier today. I could read it to you.”

“Oh?” He noticed the tint of pink dotting Alastor’s face, and his lips curled into a cheeky grin. “You tryna get me to bed, Smiles?” He leaned on Alastor’s shoulder and pressed his cheek to the top of his head.

“That’s not- I’m not-” He scowled at the taller, and his shadow cackled at him. “You are misinterpreting the situation.” He huffed and crossed his arms, tapping his fingers along his sleeve. “Why must you make such suggestive comments?”

Angel giggled teasingly, and draped himself over Alastor's shoulders, allowing himself to be carried by the latter. “It’s just who I am, Smiles.” He poked his nose with a “Boop,” and another giggle.

He sighed, and shifted to support Angel’s weight. 

“But, the book sounds interesting,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll let you take care of me for the night.” He winked, which led Alastor to groan and cover his face. “Aww, don’t hide!” He pulled his hands away from his face, and kissed him swiftly, chastely. 

The Radio Demon had never felt so embarrassed before. These levels of affection were critical hits on his ego, and he could feel it crumbling down from within. Piece by piece, Angel was taking him apart at the seams. The worst part about it was that he couldn’t even be mad about it!

He took a single step down the hallway leading away from Angel’s room, directing them to his own door. “Would you like a pair of pajamas?” he asked as he gently shut the door and presented the room to the taller demon. 

“Oh, yeah. I’ll go-” Before he could finish his sentence, Alastor snapped his fingers. A comfortable fleece shirt and a pair of shorts replaced Angel’s previous outfit, and Alastor stood triumphant. “Forgot you could do that.”

Alastor chuckled and magiked himself a pair of pajamas as well. He crossed over to the bookshelf, where his fingers searched for a moment before landing on a book and extracting it from the selection. He sat on the left side of the bed, and lifted his head to meet Angel’s gaze, who had moved to stand in front of him. He patted the spot next to him and smiled. “It’s murder mystery.”

“Ooo!” he clapped his hand gleefully, and hopped right next to Alastor, facing him, with a hand rested on his thigh, his face leaning close. He got inches away from pieces their lips together, but he turned his attention to the book at the last moment, leaving Alastor a spluttering mess. “Well, let’s start reading it, yeah?”

Alastor muttered something incomprehensible, and moved to sit against the headboard. Once Angel was situated next to him, holding his arm and resting on his shoulder, he adjusted the blanket over their legs and opened the book. He flipped to the first page, and opened his mouth to read.

“Chapter one…”

No, he didn’t want to.

It was the first time they had been held in each other’s arms as they slept. It was new, but certainly not unwelcomed. If anything, Alastor would say he would like to do this more often.

Despite the two feet of height difference, which Alastor despised, Angel was curled into a little ball and laid on the Radio Demon’s chest. He had been slumbering there for the past two hours or so. 

Follicles of white and tinted pink found their ways onto the bed sheets, but oh well. Hair flopped along Alastor’s neck, gently tickling his skin. He ignored it, and tightened his grip on Angel’s shoulders.

That night had been packed full of forbidden joy, Alastor would say he hadn’t had that much fun since he first discovered his control over tendrils of darkness, but that was a different kind of fun. And now, with his weakness sleeping between his arms, he never felt happier. As long as he fought hard to protect what he loved, he wouldn’t be weak. No one could possibly defeat him, not in a million lifetimes.

Love, it was enough to drive a man crazy yet anchor him in the exact same moment. That was why he adjusted himself underneath the covers, and planted a kiss on Angel’s temple. He stirred, but did not wake.

Alastor finally slid his eyes closed, and willed himself to relax. He didn’t necessarily feel tired, but he wanted to remember how it felt to dream. He ran his hand up and down Angel’s arm to soothe himself as he began to fall under the blanket of sleep. 

It was rather odd, feeling this tranquil whilst noticing every single shadow watching them from beyond the void. All of them, whispering in their own little groups and laughing at his weakness. He floated through the space, forced to listen to these chimes of non-stop laughter.

Would it be strange to say he was used to this?

The inky black encased him, filling his ears with nothing but eerie silence. His breathing quickened, and his hands began to shake. He couldn’t move, not as he was still suspended in this nothingness.

He clenched his eyes shut, and willed himself not to scream in rage.

Something about the sudden aura change made him squirm in his own skin, uncomfortable as he attempted to escape. It ended as he realized it was futile, all futile. He wanted to scream, to curl up and yank his hair out, or rip off his ears so he didn’t have to listen to that god awful buzzing.

It was high pitch and endless, two things that Alastor despised. He continued to writhe in nonexistent pain, his mouth open with a silent plea.

“Fai la ninna, fai la nanna.” The buzzing ceased within that moment, and Alastor felt himself still.

Is this… Italian?

“Con’sto fialio non c’è più pace.”

It is, this is Italian.

His hand reached out for the burst of light that broke through the darkness, scaring it away like tadpoles in disturbed water. “Fai la ninna, fai la nanna.” He latched onto the hand that plunged into the retreating darkness, and held onto it for dear life.

“Pupo bello della mamma,” the voice continued the melody as Alastor was lifted from the hellish dreamscape, and even after he was placed into a calm scenery. 

“Dormi bene, amore mio.” The words were gently whispered into Alastor’s ear before it dispersed, leaving him alone in that tranquil setting with only one question.

Was that Anthony?

He had no choice, it had to be done.

Angel sighed as he finished his melody. “Dormi bene, amore mio,” he muttered, then dragged himself away. His feet made contact with the hardwood floor, and he cringed back as it creaked under his weight. Alastor shifted under the covers, but no eyes opened. He gave an exhale of relief, then pushed himself off the bed and took very slow steps towards the door. 

The door, thankfully, didn’t creak when he opened it. The hinges only whined at him, but he shushed them. He crept out into the hallway with hesitant determination, and debated the thought in his mind.

No, no more debating.

“Alright,” he said under his breath, then descended the stairwell. 

“Tony, don’t do it!” Molly cried, her arms curling themselves like snakes around his waist.

He pushed her off, and jumped away like she had burned him. “You’re not even here,” he snapped, glowering down his nose at her. “Alastor’s asleep, you’re not in Hell. You. Are. Not. Real.”

“But- I’m still your sister!” she shouted, offended. Her breath caught a hitch, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “That should mean something, Tony!”

“Not in this case, Molly. Not in this goddamn case,” he shook his head, and started stomping towards the front door. “Since you’re not here, you can’t stop me.” He ripped it open, and slammed it as he left.

He stormed down towards the street, muttering enraged words to himself in the dead of the night. His fists were clenched just as tight as his jaw, and they were trembling. 

He had walked these city streets countless times before, but not with as much purpose as he strode now. He passed by numerous shops, buildings, businesses, and so many drunk demons wanting to shove their hands down his pants. 

Any one of them that got too close was shot dead in the mouth. The lot of them scrambled away as soon as he extracted his gun, murderous intent in his sideways glare.

Angel was taking no shit from no man, not this night. 

Eventually, he stopped and stared to the alleyway on his left. There were no demons in this particular corner of the city, so he entered the alley, and leaned against the wall. His gun fell to the side, the barrel smacking against the unpaved strip of road. Angel just then realized that he was barefooted. 

He fell to his knees, and shoved a hand over his mouth. He coughed, feeling sicker than ever. His mind was filling itself with poison so thick he couldn’t hear his own thoughts. His movements weren’t his own, except they were. This was what he wanted, it truly was.

He picked up the gun, and with trembling hands that knew exactly what they were doing, he stuck the barrel into his mouth.

What the fuck was he doing?!

He yanked it out, and hacked the metallic taste into his palm.

What the fuck are you doing?

“What am I doing…” Angel whimpered, flicking the safety on before tossing the gun to the side. The trigger looked more evil than ever, and he couldn’t bear to gaze upon it any longer. He curled up, tucking his head between his knees. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeated, and one hand found itself resting atop his stomach. A tiny bump had begun to appear, but he couldn’t feel the heartbeat like Alastor could. “I don’t want a repeat of that, I don’t want a repeat of it,” he said aloud, trying his best to convince himself.

But, the scenario was so much different-

No, it isn’t.

This is exactly the same as last time. Angel had a source of stress, and he couldn’t handle it. It’s as simple as that.

“It’s not simple, though,” he scoffed. 

Really? Giving up is easy.

“That’s easy , not simple !” he slammed his fist into the ground in a fit of fury. 

Give up. His father’s voice.

“No!” 

I said give up! Valentino’s.

“And I said no!”

GIVE UP! …Alastor’s.

Angel went silent. His eyes flickered to the gun for a split second, and without his consent, his hand reached for it. He embraced the cold metal, yet it was anything but comforting. It burned his cheek, his arms, everything. Nerves were exploding from within his heart, his soul. Darkness clawed itself up into his brain, flooding in through his eyes and ears. All he saw was black and all he heard was the toxic silence. 

The noises of traffic and shouting drunks were drowned out by nothing, and somehow that was worse.

Suffocating in the evil, Angel didn’t notice the cold tingle in his throat. 

Drowning in his unreadable emotions, Angel didn’t hear the click of the safety.

Lost in the sea of pain, Angel didn’t hear the trigger until it was too late.

He hated the vile taste of blood.

But it was done. He had lost it all.

Chapter Text

It was too cold in this room, this bed, like something was missing. Alastor’s arm flopped to the side of him, and his eyes jolted open. His hand groped around for a moment, but returned fruitless. He furrowed his eyebrows, until something yanked his wrist, and then he was standing. He blinked slowly, and his eyes were blown wide by the sight of his shadow.

It was startled and disgruntled, as well as absolutely terrified.

“What’s the matter?” he asked under his breath as he rubbed his eyes with a clumsy fist. He stared up at the frantic shadow that pointed hastily towards the door, its mouth wide open in a silent scream. “Is the demon here causing-”

NO! It shrieked, and forcefully teleported Alastor to the bottom of the stairwell. He wobbled at the sudden change in atmosphere, and nearly toppled over if it weren’t for the banister beside him. ANTHONY!

“What’s wrong with Anthony?” he yawned, then blinked a few more times to wake himself up. “He’s probably just getting water, that’s why he’s not in bed.”

Sputtering, the shadow raised its hand and brought it down across Alastor’s face. GONE! He clutched his cheek in pure shock, but there was no time to snap at the rogue being. ANTHONY IS GONE!

“Gone? Gone where?!”

GONE!

Alastor huffed angrily, and glared at his shadow. “Search for him, this instant. Every nook, every cranny, around every single goddamn corner in this city!”

The tendril of darkness shot towards the door, and yet again swept Alastor right along with it. It stretched as far as it could go, spanning wider than ever having been necessary, and covering more ground within a few seconds. Alastor remained on foot, in case the shadow overlooked any sort of alleyway or building.

He raced through the same alleys over and over, turning in circle after circle in a hopeless haze. Streets stacked upon streets until Alastor felt a tug in his heart, and he stopped running for a moment. His shoulders rising and falling in time with his labored breaths, he turned his head to the side, facing one particular alleyway. It was dark, with no occupants whatsoever. At least, not until Alastor squinted, and he could barely make out a figure slumped against the brick wall, motionless. With a familiar feeling of weighing dread pooling in his gut, Alastor cautiously approached the lump on the wall.

“Anthony?” he called quietly, kneeling down and reaching a careful hand out to turn the body around. “Is that-” His mouth froze mid-sentence. The dread exploded inside his stomach, and a silent scream forced its way out of his throat. His hand fell to the ground at the sight of the bloody mess splattered all along the wall and snow-white fur.

A nearby street lamp flickered, then shattered.

“No, this has got to be another nightmare,” Alastor laughed nervously, sweat dripping from his brow down to his neck and staining his shirt. “Anthony is still next to me, I’m just dreaming!” He slammed his fist against the wall, and a few loose bricks cascaded down. “NO!” He smacked them away before they could land on Angel’s unmoving body, and he began to cradle him.

He didn’t care for the blood reaching to dot his clothes, or smear against his skin, or make his mouth taste like disgusting iron. “Let me wake up,” he croaked pathetically for the first time in his life. “Let me wake up, with a sweet lullaby like the one that put me to sleep.”

Alastor’s walls tumbled down, and he had never felt so vulnerable and weak. He didn’t even notice Angel had left- “No! This is just a dream!” he snapped at himself, then the alleyway went silent.

“Right..?”

His free hand landed on an unsettlingly cold metal, and reality slapped him across the face like a fresh wave of agony. He couldn’t muster enough strength to tear his eyes away from the gun with the missing bullet.

But, a thread of magic began pointing towards Angel’s chest, and when Alastor’s hand followed, he felt the tiniest beat of a heart. In a frantic burst of emotion, that thread became a tsunami of power.

The alleyway lit up like the sun, but with a red hue instead of comforting warmth. Alastor began to feel exhausted, but the output only increased. Angel’s slack jaw fixed itself up, his lips sealing themselves closed. The trickle of blood seeping through the corner of his mouth remained, but the jagged hole in the back of his head was soon replaced with neat, undisturbed white fur. His chest rose and fell again, and his heartbeat was growing stronger with every moment. 

His eyes did not open.

Alastor cocked his head to the side in blind grief, his gaze widening and narrowing in multiple flurries of unspeakable emotion.

Why aren’t his eyes opening?

“Anthony,” he tried, shaking his shoulders, gentle at first, then more violently when he didn’t respond. “Anthony!” Alastor was desperate, and his heart was beating wildly in his chest at the present lack of lifting eyelids. “Tony!” His hands froze in their places as the demons inside his head began to cackle. 

“Your eyes,” he whimpered, swiping at the gathering teardrops that wanted to pour down his cheeks. He wouldn’t let them, he was weak enough as is. “Please, open them.” He hiccuped, pressing his trembling palm to his boiling forehead.

Angel remained dormant. No reassuring words, no knowing glances, no calming smiles to settle Alastor’s racing mind. He was simply… there.

Alastor hovered his hand over Angel’s chest, then drifted down to his stomach. Channeling his energy, he did what he thought impossible. 

He extracted the unborn baby from Angel’s womb and an orb of light lifted from his stomach, carrying a petite body inside.

It was a small thing, with barely any identifying features, and premature limbs that felt like jello when Alastor held them. Selfish, he attached a thread of magic to the baby’s umbilical cord, developing the child as well as keeping Angel on life support.

But, a reminder remained in Alastor's head. The cause of this child was the same person who caused this pain and agonizing frustration.

Blindly, he latched onto the thread of power keeping the premature child barely alive. 

He couldn't bring himself to do it.

Just as the night became the dawn, Alastor found himself pacing in his room, with the comatose Angel tucked neatly in bed. The premature child was being nurtured in a glass crib, such as the one he had seen in hospitals many years ago. They both slumbered silently, and Alastor couldn't stand this god-awful room any longer.

He longed for the comfort of an Italian lullaby sung by his desire, for hands to hold his and eyes to look into.

This, this life , it wasn't what he promised Angel. He thought he was powerful enough, strong enough, brave enough, hell, even just being enough for Angel!

Was this God's way of tormenting him? Separating him from his son only to piece them together and tear them apart again? Or slowly unraveling Angel's sanity so he would eventually crumble under the pressure?

Why, God, why?

“No,” he clicked his tongue and tapped his fingers along his arm, then brought them to his lips to bite his nails ragged. “This is my fault, if I just hadn't fallen asleep.” An enormous wave of guilt crashed over Alastor's back, dragging him down beneath the tide to drown him. He fought, arms flailing hopelessly through the cutting water. But, the surface only fell further and further away, as the light from the sun was suffocated by miles of raging current. 

“Oh Anthony,” he whimpered, collapsing by Angel's bedside. He buried his face in the comforter, his body trembling in the symphony of tears singing throughout the room. “Wake up.” Nothing.

“Please, wake up!”

“Alastor?” A tiny voice squeaked from the door left ajar. “What's going on..?”

He exhaled a slightly relieved breath, then sank against the mattress and obscured the view of his weakness. “Charlie,” he said, muffled. “There was an incident, whilst you were asleep.” He beckoned her closer with a single hand, and small footfalls approached him, yet stopped a short distance away. “I wasn't able to- I didn't wake up in time.”

A stifled shriek was covered by Charlie's hands, and she stumbled back from the bed. “Is he-?”

“No, but he isn't waking up,” he lifted his head, unveiling his weakness to the entire world. “Nothing in my power can wake him up. He's just barely holding on.”

“Barely?” she repeated, so faint Alastor had to strain his ears to even hear her whisper. She reached her hands out to grasp Angel's forearm, and Alastor swiftly bit down on his tongue to keep from lashing out. His head was screaming at him. 

DON'T LET ANYONE TOUCH HIM, HE'LL DIE, HE'LL DIE, HE'LL DIE.

“If I knew how, if I had been taught ,” her voice cracked harshly as a firm glare passed through her tears. Her hand curled into a fist so tight her knuckles went white. “I want to save him,” her lips wobbled as she faced Alastor, but she held the shudder back with a shake of her head. “Any possible way I can. If… if you trust me, Alastor. If you can hold onto his life for long enough, I can learn how to use the power I was given.” She averted her gaze down to her palms, which she forced to remain still. “For however long it takes, I'll work harder and learn.” She hesitated for a moment, then released the breath she didn't know she was withholding.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak again, Alastor cut her off. “For Anthony, I can hold on. And for Anthony, I'll trust you.”

Alastor found himself alone come time for the Extermination. Charlie was edging closer with the limited guidance from the Radio Demon himself, but no cigar.

The flowers she tried to grow still withered and died.

He laid on the harsh floor, back full of agitated scars against the cold hardwood. They all felt like they were gushing blood, leaving him to dry up like a squeezed sponge. All of the curtains were pulled closed, the windows sealed shut, yet he felt so exposed. He could sense eyes on him from all around, teasing him just to disappear whenever he landed eyes on the shifting shadows.

He was so exhausted.

Angel's condition wasn't improving in the slightest. He didn't even adjust himself under the blankets, just breathed in and out, a constant loop of ABSOLUTELY NOTHING .

The unborn child, however, was growing like all naturally born children should be. It was moving in the glass crib, mouth having been formed so it could open and close with unsaid words. Not like it could speak, anyway. 

Alastor pressed a clammy hand to his boiling forehead, and groaned quietly. His stomach sank to the floor over and over, taking his heart right along with it.

A scream cut off near the window and the sound of a limp body striking the floor caused Alastor to nearly jump out of his skin, then it began to crawl along his limbs. He shuddered at the unsettling sensation, and scratched his arms bloody. Cuts and scrapes bled out from an untold amount of places, staining the edge of Alastor’s sleeve crimson. He despised that color now. The only memories it brought him were dark, nothing like he originally wanted the color to represent on himself.

Alastor wanted to sleep, no matter what nightmares would strangle him. 

If he thought hard enough, recalled that faint memory like stoking a fire, he could almost hear Angel’s voice in his ears. But, it eluded him when he needed it the most.

How fucking convenient. 

The baby whimpered for a brief moment, then fell right back into whatever fantasyland it emerged from. It had to have been better than this.

Did babies even dream?

Alastor stopped caring to know when his shadow burst through the door, screaming about danger. He shoved himself to his feet despite much he desired to remain by Angel's side. 

Danger was danger, and needed to be obliterated.

CRIMSON, the shadow squawked, slithering along the floor to the front of the hotel and teleporting Alastor to the porch. IT'S ALL CRIMSON.

“Crimson?” Alastor hissed as he frantically scouted the perimeter of the hotel.

THERE, THERE! It whisked Alastor towards an unnamed city street, where a robe of crimson was prowling. His hands were tucked into his pockets, a limp cigarette between his lips, and a scowl across his face. 

A demon attempted an attack on him, only to end up with a noose of smoke around their neck. They were tossed into a wall, then stabbed in the mouth with their own knife. 

Blinded by rage and blame, Alastor brought up his darkness of darkness, only to be wrung empty. 

All my energy is keeping him alive, he realized, and bit the inside of his lip so hard he tasted foul iron. Even so.

That setback didn't stop him from kneeling to the ground, picking up the nearest abandoned knife, and charging right for the kill.

Long fingernails clipped to the nubs tapped on a familiar keyboard. He wasn’t used to typing, seeing as though most of his work was done by film or on paper and his assistants did the rest. His eyes narrowed behind cracked glasses as he finished the password to the large computer system. The monitors all flickered online, and he sat back in the chair, relieved. 

His hand found the mouse and maneuvered it onto the first file in the list. He hovered the mouse over the title, but shook his head. “Next,” he muttered to himself, and continued down the line until he found what he was searching for.

He double tapped on the file, and a facecam popped up, taking a scan of his face. He saw his reflection on the screen, and he hated what he saw. The lens of his glasses were completely cracked down the middle, and his eyes held so many unrecognizable emotions. He had forgotten what it was like to hate the image in the mirror.

“Processing face scan…” the computer whirred, the bar on the screen filling up as it loaded. “Valentino, romantic partner.”

Is that what Vox tagged me as? He wondered to himself, and hugged his knees to his chest. He felt pathetic.

“Access denied.”

“What?”

“Shutting down…”

The screen faded to black, leaving Valentino to stare at the darkened surface. “Excuse me?” he slammed his fist on the desk, nearly shoving the entire monitor to the ground in a fit of rage. “The files!” he screeched, raising a hand to smack down against the screen.

Then, he stopped.

This was exactly what got him into this mess. This was not going to get him out.

Red eyes flashed on the screen, with a terrified expression to match.

“Vox,” he whispered, tucking his hands underneath his thighs. “Let me see the files, please.” He received no response, and the eyes fizzled away, leaving Valentino alone again.

An unbodied voice laughed at him with two more words that just made him lose his mind. "Access denied."

“FUCK YOU!” he screamed, then shoved the connected keyboard right off the desk, earning a clatter of broken electronic. 

Breathing in and out, calming himself but not quite, Valentino stormed from the room. He found his way to the bottom floor of the building, and began walking down the tattered sidewalks. There were bodies all over the city, not yet having been picked up by scavengers of any kind. 

This air was disgusting. It reeked of blood and carcass, along with the heavy atmosphere of triumph and defeat. Valentino's senses picked up all of these signals at once, leading him to become even more agitated than before. 

A demon approached him with a knife, holding it up so they could stab him in any way shape or form. They hardly even made it a few feet towards him before his smoke choked them. Without a moment wasted, he threw them against the nearest wall, relishing the cry of pain as they struggled to get free. He didn't let them escape, instead aiming the knife towards their open mouth and releasing it to inflict its damage.

They couldn't even scream and somehow that was the best part.

However, his victory was cut short when he caught a glimpse of an unwanted familiar face charging towards him. He opened his mouth to shout him away, but his teeth were knocked into one another, a singular golden one shooting from his gums at the strike.

“You son of a BITCH!” Alastor yelled so loudly the buildings on the opposite side of the street trembled in fear.

Valentino clutched the side of his face with a drowned out groan, and his glare found Alastor’s flaming aura. He was stalking towards him yet again, insanity with each step.

“Have you no idea how much you have affected Anthony?!” he questioned furiously, tossing the blade in the direction of his nose. Valentino flinched back at the rising stalagmites on the street, approaching him to rip him apart.

A crowd began to form around the torn battlefield, with ooo’s and ahh’s at the Radio Demon’s raw power. But, Valentino knew, he could tell, from his other skirmishes with this man, he was not at full strength. He stood, brushed himself free of the dust, and drew his hands back with a makeshift attack of poisonous smoke. It flooded the area, impairing everyone’s vision besides Valentino. He maneuvered through the haze, sneaking right up behind the Radio Demon. He yanked a knife from a pocket underneath his robe, and jammed it right into the crevice between Alastor’s neck and shoulder.

A roar of pain shifted the fog, a stream of it swirled into Alastor’s nose and mouth like a tornado touching down to earth. He hacked up a lung into his elbow; the poison was taking effect. Valentino stepped back as Alastor continuously bled out as the blade clattered to the street.

Unfortunately, a helicopter blew away every single hint of smoke left in the area, but even so, it was still too late for the Radio Demon.

“You’re dead,” Valentino hissed, groping his pockets for another weapon, to which he pulled out a revolver and cocked it. “Today was the wrong day to pick a fight, Alastor.” He raised the barrel to point right between Alastor’s eyes. This felt familiar. “If what I think has come to pass.” He exhaled a harsh breath, and spat out through his teeth, “Then you’ll see Angel Dust again very soon.”

“Are you ready?” she asked, taking his hands into hers, a kind look in her eyes.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he responded with a smile full of tears.

“Then, just inhale and exhale, and trust me.”

Chapter Text

Charlie tried her best to smile, but it was filled with hopeless optimism. “I’m not sure if it’ll work,” she said honestly. “But, I’ve been practicing my magic, and if you trust me, we can try this.”

“At this point, I’m willing to do anything, because in the end, I tried.” his mind wandered to the image of his family, all waiting for him at the end of the road. His home was in view, all of the trees and plants in the correct places. The porch had never looked so distant, yet close at the very same time. “Thank you so much, for even bothering after everything that has happened in this place.”

“It’s my…” she trailed off, then sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “It’s my pleasure, and my job, Clarke. Are you ready?” she asked, taking his hands into hers, a kind look in her eyes.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he responded with a smile full of tears.

“Then, just inhale and exhale, and trust me.” She exhaled a sharp breath, then closed her eyes and focused on her magic. With her palms laying flat on Clarke’s shoulders, she transmitted her brightest light into his heart, which brought out the pure goodness in his soul.

A beam of Heaven shone down and knocked Charlie back, only selecting Clarke to be whisked away. His eyes flared open in fear, but it faded to calm acceptance. He knew, he understood, he felt this was the way back home. He outstretched his arms, allowing the light to overtake him.

He rose up to the Heavens, and the light dissipated from the room. 

Starstruck, Charlie collapsed to the floor and stared up at the ceiling. Her mouth opened, closed, then reopened and released a scream of triumph. Thundering footsteps pounded into the room, with shouts of concern and fear. 

“Charlie! What happened?!” Vaggie’s voice sounded from right behind her, loud and demanding. “Where’d Clarke go? Did he run-”

“No!” Charlie yelled with ecstasy, leaping up from her spot on the floor to embrace Vaggie in a suffocating hug. “I’ve done it! He-he’s been redeemed! Vaggie!” She pressed a firm kiss to Vaggie’s lips, and shook her by the shoulders, tears streaming down her cheeks. “He can see his family again!”

“You mean,” she started slowly, dropping her spear in pure shock. “It’s…”

“Possible! It’s possible! And I-!” She choked back a sob and buried her face in Vaggie’s shoulder, utterly unsure of what to do or how to react besides hysterical. “I’ve done it!”

“Maria?” Clarke called into the hallway made entirely of blinding marble. Pillars supporting a grand structure, and a throne awaited him at the end of the way. “Jess?” he tried again, but a boom of a voice cut off his thoughts.

“Clarke,” it said. “Come to the foot of the throne. I’d like to speak with you.”

He did as he was told, and knelt on the steps. “Are you… who I think you are?”

“Who do you think I am, Clarke?” it asked, then manifested as a being of pure heart, a symbol of eternal love and light. “I can be whatever you see me as, because I am seen differently in the eyes of every single person. I may be seen as a Father, a Friend, perhaps even a Mother.”

Clarke thought for a moment, and with fresh tears lining his eyes, he spoke a broken sentence. “You are… my savior. You’ve… allowed me to come back.” He bit the inside of his cheek, but no matter how hard his teeth clenched, he felt no pain. “You are letting me here, yes?”

The being released a soft laugh, and a hand raised Clarke’s chin. “Of course. It was a mistake to send you down, but I was not able to retrieve you after it was all said and done. That girl is truly remarkable, is she not?”

“Yes, she is.” Clarke furrowed his eyebrows, and looked in the being’s eyes, or at least where he thought they would be. But, he didn’t have any defining features whatsoever, so it was nearly impossible. “My family,” he started. “They’re here, too?”

“All here and waiting for you.” His arm swept to the side, casting the clouds away to reveal his driveway leading all the way home. “They’ve never given up on you.”

“Thank you, thank you so much!” He brought himself to frantic feet, and began bolting for the driveway. Tripping over puffs of clouds, then loose rocks, Clarke fumbled to stay balanced. “Maria!” he shouted, waving his hands above his head like a madman. “Maria!”

The woman watering plants looked up and towards the driveway at the call of her name, and the watercan collided with the pavement. Her breath stuttered in her chest, and she began to take slow steps towards him. Her pace quickened from a walk to a jog, then from a jog to a sprint as realization spread throughout her mind. Clarke swept her up into his arms, laughing through the desperate tears crawling off his face. He held her tight as she cried, sputtering nonsensical words into his ear.

She couldn’t even muster a call for their children as they embraced in the middle of the driveway. The watering can leaked onto the plants and oversaturated the soil.

But did either of them care about the goddamn plants anymore?

A front door slammed, and two screams of children soon followed. Clarke released one arm from around his wife, then fell to the ground and wrapped it around both of his children. “Jess,” he breathed, pressing kisses to their foreheads. “Mark.”

“Papa!”

“Daddy!”

Finally. 

The pain of continuous separation had been drawn to a close. As Clarke held his family close, he tied the ends of their ropes together and made a promise.

“I swear,” he mustered through the waves of emotions crashing over him. “I won’t let anything tear us apart anymore.”

“If what I think has come to pass, then you’ll see Angel Dust again very soon,” Valentino hissed through his teeth as he glared down at the injured Alastor. He was shaking, but not for the reason Valentino thought. 

Alastor was… laughing .

“You think I'd let him die?!” Alastor rose to his full demonic posture as his shadow overtook the entire street. He towered over Valentino, so much so that the latter scrambled to get only a few feet away. Yet, Alastor wouldn't let him escape that easily. “You think… you think!”

The revolver will be useless now, Valentino managed to think in between bursts of fear within his mind. He had never seen anything so terrifying, so set on murder , let alone murdering him.  

Alastor's ear-raping laughter caused the nearest building to fall, and crushed all inhabitants inside. He raised a hand to his forehead, arching his back as bellows upon bellows of insane shrieks of laughter flowed out of his lungs. 

Blood spilled from the wreckage of the collapsed building, and it seemed to feed into Alastor's power, making his smile that much more terrifying. The blood stained his teeth, ran down his cheeks, and tainted his coats red, red, it was all red.

“Anthony,” Alastor rasped, yet his mouth didn't even part to release the words. “Anthony will not die.”

Valentino had no arm strength left in his body to keep himself upright off the street. His elbow smacked into a loose rock and a spring of pain erupted up to his skull, but it was nothing compared to the fear echoing throughout his mind, the constant flow of you fucked up.

He had been so cocky, so confident, and this was how it ended. Was he seriously about to be ripped to shreds without even seeing those goddamn files?!

A flash of blinding light stopped Alastor in his tracks, and his head jerked to face the general direction of the hotel, and he slowly shifted back into his normal form. He was so distant, like floating within jello. Nothing could break his trance, his eyes were so fixed on that building, that beam of light, the same one that faded within just a few seconds.

The world felt lighter in that moment, like every piece in the puzzle fell into place at the very same time. The picture was perfect, the scene was set, and Alastor could not take his eyes off of it. There was a shining realization in his eyes, and then he melted into his shadow and disappeared from the street.

The knife that had been stabbed through his shoulder clattered to the floor, covered in crimson blood. Valentino highly doubted the injury was even still there. Yet that wasn't the thing he was focusing on just then.

The files, he exhaled drastic breaths, reminding himself that his head was still attached to his shoulders. I need to figure out why I can't access the files.

There was no point in even faking a smile any longer. 

The revelation, the realization, that redemption was within reach, shattered Alastor’s heart. He knew he could never possibly be redeemed, to be cured of this disease of Hell. He couldn’t ever escape, and he knew that. He understood.

But Angel, there was hope for him yet.

Oh, if only he just opened his eyes.

Angel hardly even budged a single inch, it was so hard to even spot his chest rising and falling with each breath. His heartbeat was growing stronger and becoming weaker at different hours of the day, and Alastor couldn’t help but think, it’s only a matter of time.

His magic wasn’t supposed to keep a person alive, it wasn’t designed that way. He didn’t practice any healing or life support mechanism because he never needed it before all of this. He was a demon who took life, never saved it.

The child, however, seemed to be thriving on this source despite Alastor’s lack of knowledge of children’s growth. Perhaps it was because the baby wasn’t on the verge of death like Angel was.

Speaking of the child, Alastor crossed from Angel’s bedside to take a gander over the edge of the glass crib. The baby’s eyes were still closed, but it squirmed and jutted its fists out every which way. Tiny noises exited the baby’s parted lips, and Alastor couldn’t help but sink down to the floor. One arm covered his clenched eyes, and the other dipped into the crib.

Five tiny fingers clutched around his pointer, and it was enough to send Alastor over the edge. With a single fist pounding the floor, he released a scream filled to the brim with hopeless grief and boundless fury.

He didn’t know what to do anymore, he was at a complete loss. He thought everything would have been alright, that night he joined in the pillow war. 

Angel was happy, he was smiling, goddammit, he was laughing without a care in the world. He had held him so close that night, and he had actually felt the change in the atmosphere, the one for the better instead of the worse. Was he just caught in a trance? Was he just tricking himself into believing Angel was actually any sort of alright?

Was all of this just a facade?

And that begged the overhanging question; was any of this even real?

Alastor’s pointer finger curled around the baby’s hand, and he forced himself to stand and face it. He lost himself in the child’s developing features, and he began noticing things he hadn’t taken into account before.

This child looked nothing like Valentino.

That wouldn’t have been unusual except for the fact that there were horns poking out of its head. They were itty bitty things, that hardly even showed against pale gray skin. One could have mistaken them for birthmarks, but Alastor knew far better. He reached a shaking hand to the small horns atop his own head, and fumbled around for a moment then dropped his palm back to his side.

“What the hell?” he mumbled, and he caressed the baby’s cheek. “But you are not my child,” he shook his head remorsefully. “Unless, it has something to do with this.” He gestured to the cord of magic keeping the child alive as he continued speaking to no one in particular.

For some reason, this was oddly calming and therapeutic. The baby couldn’t respond, but it sure as hell listened, and Alastor couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth.

“Maybe the reason why I kept you is because I was afraid of losing the memory of Anthony,” he deduced as his fingers trailed through the tiny tufts of hair flopped over the child’s head. The strands were mostly off-white, with splotches of light pink every so often. “Maybe, you’ll look just like him once you’re ready to be truly brought into this world. But,” he pursed his lips together in a fit of sorrow. “I apologize that you’ve been brought into such an awful place.

“Just look at you,” a chuckle burbled from the back of his throat, but it sounded like a strangled sigh instead. “So tiny, so innocent, and yet here you are. You’re not even given a chance. But maybe, just maybe, you could be given a chance.” A rush of emotions overtook his mind, and he let his eyes drift down to the floor. He could hardly stand looking at this child any longer, but he couldn’t bring himself to move his feet. “If Charlie can figure everything out, if there is mercy brought upon us, you can be given a chance to live a normal life.”

He ripped his hands away from the crib at that, and gathered up his remaining thoughts to storm out of the room. He couldn’t take it anymore, the silence, the lack of response, the unopened eyelids. He was alone.

Things have been so different ever since that demon’s redemption, Alastor chose to distract himself with. He found himself in the kitchen within the next few moments, and to keep his hands busy, he began shifting around and grabbing random items. With his brain on auto-pilot, and selectively choosing to ignore the multiple elephants in the room, he began to cook.

He fazed in and out of reality and the world he wanted to see. He craved a life like his old one, where he could wake up and provide for his son each morning. May Benjamin have chosen to demand pancakes, or oatmeal with brown sugar and blueberries, or any assortment of goodies, Alastor would have presented it all to him on a silver platter.

He loved that feeling, he enjoyed that life.

Benjamin’s smiles and gratitude as he scarfed down whatever he was given, with the morning radio playing gently in the background, may it be orchestral music or news.

But, there was a new addition to this household.

Kissing his forehead and holding a babbling baby was Anthony, wearing a grin and one of Alastor’s button-ups.

“Anthony, food’s rea…” he trailed off before his voice could carry too far through the building.

He had gotten too wrapped up in his fantasy.

He pinched two sharp nails into his wrist, snapped himself out of the fake world. 

Why had he made this? There was no family to cook for, no matter how hard he imagined it all.

However, the footsteps pounding up the stairwell were not imagined.

Alastor’s eyes widened as the scent of iron-rich blood filled his nostrils, and he cringed back, his hands encircling the handle of the nearest knife. His gaze darted from the doorway to the stairwell, but the door had not been unlocked, or even tampered with.

None of the others were that heavy-footed, so that easily ruled out every other person within this hotel.

The only other option was…

“Anthony,” he breathed, and dropped the knife to the floor, ignoring the sound of cracking metal as he rushed up the stairs. His door was cracked ajar, and he shoved it open faster than he could react to the sight inside of the room.

What he saw was not what his heart was craving.

It was the opposite.

Fast, he had to act now and fast. There was no time to ponder the remorse of the unopened eyes, because they were at risk of remaining closed forever. Within one swift motion, Alastor’s staff appeared in his palm and called upon his tendrils of shadow to overtake the creature standing over Angel’s bedside.

An X’d out eye greeted him, along with the sinister smile Alastor had been seeing in his dreams for ages.

A spear swiped at him and he narrowly dodged the deadly weapon, missing the tip by just the skin of his teeth. He drew as near as he dared, and snatched the creature by the wrist and propelled it across the room. The wall crumbled around it with the sheer force of Alastor’s throw.

Rubble parted for the thing, and it cocked its head to the side, its glare squinting up and shifting between Alastor and the two defenseless beings in the room. Its smile broke open to laugh, and pointed the spear directly towards Alastor’s heart.

“Weak,” it hissed, and dropped the spear to the ground. It clinked with the hardwood, a few slivers jumping up from the contact. “Never targeted you before, Radio Demon.”

“What do you mean ‘target’?!” he shouted as menacingly as he possibly could without allowing his voice to break. No matter how terrified I am for Anthony, you have to protect him with unwavering strength, he repeated to himself as he steadied his panicked breath.

It laughed at him yet again, a sickening noise he thought he’d only hear in his nightmares. “We’re not simple minded killers, Radio Demon. We have targets every so often. Aside from the mass genocide we love, we have a list of who to kill and when.”

“That doesn’t make any damn sense!” he yelled, and stamped one foot into the ground, balancing and preparing himself to attack. “I don’t give a damn about your list, stay away!” He raised his arms, his staff shifting into an axe at that moment. It felt vaguely familiar in his palms, and that made him even more confident in his steps. “From my!” 

He swung the axe around, gaining as much momentum as possible before he struck. “FAMILY!”

“SMILES!” A desperate scream and a baby’s wailing caught him off guard for the slimmest of seconds, but it only took that minute amount of time for Alastor to lose the power he built up, and the axe struck nothing. He stumbled, and spun around to see Angel jolted upright in the bed, with fingers knotted tightly against the blankets and a horrified expression over his face.

His eyes flashed into a kinder approach, and his hand reached for Angel’s outstretched palm.

Finally, after waiting for what felt like an eternity-

Something wasn’t right.

Something was dripping onto the floor.

Angel wasn’t relieved. He wasn’t smiling in relief, he wasn’t relaxing after realizing he was awake and alive, none of that.

His features contorted into another screech of terror as Alastor’s vision began to blink in and out of existence.

He stumbled forward, coughing and sputtering but he didn’t understand what had occurred. 

“Smiles, Smiles, look at me,” Angel was stammering, his hands at Alastor’s chest and fumbling at the fabric blocking the skin. 

Something was burning holes through Alastor’s soul, it was scorching him more than hellfire ever could.

His eyes caught the glint of the grin in his peripheral, and his fist raised towards it. He released the tension between his fingers, then snapped them back together, and an eruption of blood was soon followed by the fleshy flump and the clatter of metal.

“Anthony,” he choked through the blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. “You’re awake.”

“Smiles,” Angel shook his head with a nervous smile. “You’ve saved me.”

“Of-” A considerably harsh cough broke off his words, and he collapsed into Angel’s lap. “Anthony.” His eyes began to water and burn. “I can’t see you anymore..?”

“You’ve saved me for the last time,” he whispered, and a soft kiss was planted onto Alastor’s trembling lips. A trickle of blood was wiped from his mouth, and yet another kiss replaced the awful crimson. “I’m sorry,” Angel’s voice was fading and Alastor couldn’t hold onto it any longer. It grew even more distant, and his cries descended into desperate sobs. “I love you, Smiles…”

He couldn’t muster any response.

The light purged him inside and out. 

There was nothing left within his heart nor soul.

His shadow’s frantic waves of destruction and violence were reduced to nothing.

An angel’s light waned before it disappeared into the void of nothing.

A newborn baby cried.

Chapter Text

His wounds burned with every step he took towards the vast plain, but he trudged onward, mindful of his step so as to not drop the man he was holding. He stole a glance at the tilted head beside his shoulder, scuffled bangs drifted over drooped eyelids.

“You didn’t have to come with me,” Benjamin whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

Velvet shook her head, her mouth neglecting to open. Benjamin didn’t push further. She was there because she wanted to be, to say goodbye.

There was a veil of sorts covering Vox’s pale face, and his limbs were completely limp in Benjamin’s embrace. He was almost like a stranger somehow, Benjamin was still having a harsh time attempting to realize the demise. He tried to distract himself, to trick himself, into believing that this wasn’t the end of a life. He still wanted to believe that he would return home, with Vox sitting on the couch, listening to the radio.

Benjamin could have given up so easily. He could have taken a single glance at the life leaving Vox’s eyes, he could have taken up a spear from a lost Exterminator, and he could have given up.

He had been so tempted.

But Velvet, what would have become of her if he let go? The world would not have been so kind to her, not like it ever had been to begin with. She would be alone, and being alone would have been the worst possible outcome for her.

So, instead of being selfish, Benjamin held onto that small thread of life he nearly lost, and took up Velvet’s hand.

He stopped walking through the field once at a clearing from the overgrown bushes and prickly rose thorns that tainted blood with poison. The city far out of sight, Benjamin knelt to the dying grass and gently laid Vox on the unkempt earth.

Without a word, Velvet passed him the shovel and Benjamin began to dig. He piled the dirt on the opposite side of the hole as Vox, so not a single speck of muck touched his sleeves.

His wounds released a scream that lasted only a split second, but the lingering agony afterwards made him keel over in a series of coughs and gasps for elusive air. Velvet’s hand was on his shoulder within a moment, and she took the shovel from him. “Let me do the rest,” she said, not even waiting for his response before she stuck the shovel back into the ground.

Benjamin scooted back to give her plenty of working space, and his eyes drifted to the body that greeted his hand. He lifted the veil that obscured the view of his face, and studied the frozen features.

Vox looked peaceful. His eyes were softly closed, his lips only slightly parted as though he were just sleeping. But, his chest didn’t rise and fall. His heart didn’t beat beneath Benjamin’s palm.

He caressed his cold cheek, and olive skin felt smooth under his touch. He wanted to get lost in Vox’s eyes again, allow himself to trip and fall back into his arms.

Why did God punish those who need help the most?

Benjamin only wished he had the answers. He couldn’t understand why so many things had gone wrong in his life and the last.

A flutter of newspaper drifted down from the wind current overhead, just one scrap of a page, barely even a headline.  Benjamin reached out to grasp onto the sheet of ragged paper, and his head tilted to the side as he read.

“Chaos strikes Pentagram City,” he muttered the title, then the subtext underneath. “Radio Demon killed by…”

The shovel’s routine of pick up and drop slowed to a stop, and Benjamin felt millions of eyes on him. The world didn’t comfort him as bodies toppled all around him.

His mouth opened wide in a silent scream, and his ears became deaf to the world. Benjamin felt a hand on his shoulder, but it was so distant. He could hardly even tell if he was breathing any longer.

A pair of eyes revealed themselves to the atmosphere, stained with tears. 

Electric blue flashed through Benjamin’s mind, and he couldn’t discern between the pain and the grief any longer.

“Vaggie, someone has to take care of him,” Charlie argued as she ran a damp face cloth over the child’s dirtied face. Splatters of blood were caked onto his cheeks, and his mouth hinged open to wail at the uncomfortable feeling. “You saw the- we can’t abandon him.” She choked back a fresh layer of tears, and shook her head violently.

“I know, Charlie, but none of us know how to raise a kid,” she said quietly, grabbing the other woman’s arm anxiously. 

“Who else will?!” she suddenly snapped, and slammed the washcloth into the sink, splashing all over the sink. “Vaggie, you cannot honestly think anyone will willingly and safely take care of him!” She turned her back to her and returned to gingerly washing the baby.

Vaggie hesitated. Her hand fell back to her side, and she took a step backwards. Her breath hitched in her throat, then her footsteps led out of the kitchen and stomped up the stairs. Charlie didn’t even notice her tears until they dribbled down the baby’s face, making it seem as though he was the one crying.

“You need a name, little guy,” she tried to distract herself with. “Angel never spoke about it, though, so I have… I have-” She bit down on the back of her hand as she sobbed.

The baby’s fingers clasped around her knuckles, and she cracked her eyes open to see the child looking back at her. He looked just like Alastor, with the look of sympathy normally shown to just Angel. There was no possible way he understood what she was saying, or what was even happening for that matter.

“You’re such a cute little guy,” Charlie sniffled, rubbing her eyes with the edge of her sleeve. “I think I like Sammy, don’t you?”

He squeezed her knuckles for a moment, then reached upwards for her face, babbling nonsense. She forced a smile, then leaned down and smothered messy kisses over the baby’s cheeks. He giggled and clapped his hands gleefully. “Yeah,” she swiped a splotch of blood from the baby’s nose then rinsed the cloth, her job complete. “I think your name should be Sammy.”

Charlie splayed a towel on the counter, then drained the water from the sink after she had swaddled Sammy. She dried his little face as she swayed from side to side. “You’ll have so many people watching over you to take care of you,” she whispered supportively as she cradled him.

His eyebrows furrowed at her expression, and he frowned. She sighed. “It’s so apparent that even a baby can see.” She couldn’t even deal with the waves of emotions falling down her cheeks. It felt as though all she was capable of doing was crying nowadays.

This passion project had brought nothing but despair, not just to her but to all of Hell. She was sure there would be news report after news report begging the question of how and why. She wouldn’t know what to do when that time came.

Then, oh god, her father.

There would be consequences atop consequences if he found out what she had done, that this was all her fault.

Charlie was certain he was working out the reason as to why thousands of his citizens were slaughtered just days after the scheduled Extermination. Her eyes flickered from Sammy to her phone on the opposite side of the counter, then a small whisper voiced its opinion in her head.

Tell him.

“I will,” she agreed absentmindedly. “But before that, let’s get you dressed, yeah?” But, she pursed her lips together. “Oh shiii…” her words trailed off, and she bit the inside of her cheek. No swearing, she reprimanded herself. “We don’t have anything for a kid.”

“You need clothes?” Familiar footsteps entered the kitchen, like how they had left just a while ago. “I’ve found a few things, in Alastor’s room.”

Charlie’s heart sank and rose at the same time.

“I know that you feel obligated to take care of him,” Vaggie continued, setting the pair of clothes on the counter beside Charlie’s phone. “But, don’t do this all on your own.” She caressed her face, and offered her arms for Sammy. “We’re all going to help.” Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Most of us.”

Charlie finally released a small laugh, and she carefully passed Sammy over to the other woman. She unstacked the stack of clothes: a simple black onesie with a radio embroidery on the collarbone. The wrists, ankles, and feet were cuffed with deep red, and small sticky circles on the soles of the feet to keep the baby from slipping.

“I’m sorry, Vaggie,” Charlie shook her head as her chuckle faded. “I didn’t know what I was saying earlier.”

“No te preocupes, mi amor, no te preocupes,” she repeated softly as she took it upon herself to study the child’s features. “God, he looks like Alastor.”

“Doesn’t he?” she grinned, then gestured for Vaggie to place him down on the counter. She slipped a diaper underneath him, and after a moment of struggle, pressed the sticky tabs in the right places. “It makes me wonder how, don’t you?”

“A little,” she shrugged with a shuddering sigh. “I haven’t really thought about it, though.” She shook her head as she fitted Sammy’s feet into the legs of the onesie, then his arms. She picked him up as soon as the zipper was tucked under his chin, and his uncontrolled hands latched onto her shirt for support. He babbled babyish nonsense, with lots of ‘goo’s and ‘gah’s. Her lips formed a tiny smile, and she looked back at Vaggie. “But, I guess we’ll never know.”

Vaggie hesitated, then raised herself onto her toes to plant a soft kiss on Charlie’s lips. Her hand lingered on her cheek for a minute afterwards, then she retracted her palm. “What will you do?”

The other woman’s lips pursed together, and her head fell forwards, gently knocking against Sammy’s nose. He giggled and patted her cheek.

“I’m not going to think about that right now, but I know I need to speak with my father,” she said, then her eyes flicker to the front door of the hotel. “But, if redeeming one soul costs thousands of others, then it’s not worth it.”

“Charlie-”

“No, Vaggie,” she interrupted, and her stern tone shut Vaggie up right then. “It’s not worth it. This thing we tried, whatever it can be called. A passion project, a joke, a mistake, it doesn’t matter anymore.” She took Sammy’s hand into her own, and gently jostled his fist to make him laugh. “I’m shutting this place down.”

A moment of silence passed.

“It’s the only right thing to do.”

Vaggie despised it when Charlie cried.

Charlie felt a tug on the waist of her pants, and her gaze fell down to the child who was wearing a confused look on his face.

“Charlie, whassa mom?” 

Her hands dropped the knife she was holding down onto the cutting board, and her eyes inventarily widened. She stammered for a moment, stunned by the sudden question.

Sammy’s crimson irises peeked out from beneath his multicolored bangs, and Charlie ran her fingers through the pink heart on the top of his head with a sigh. 

“A mom, you ask?” she chuckled and knelt beside him, gently taking his hands and kissing those tiny toddler fingers. Vaggie poked her head into the kitchen with a concerned glance, but Charlie gave the “I got this” look over his shoulder. “Well, Sammy, a mom is the woman who gave birth to you, and she takes care of you. Makes you food, tucks you into bed, keeps away all the s cary monsters.” She pinched Sammy’s cheek and the child released a burst of giggles. 

“Den,” his words were still slurred with childish innocence, Charlie couldn’t help but notice. “Are you my mom?” he asked, pointing up to Charlie’s face. “But,” his eyebrows furrowed, and his mouth opened and closed in confusion. “Vaggie, and Niffty too?”

“No no,” Charlie shook her hand dismissively, and behind the wall, Vaggie stiffened. “None of us are your moms, Sammy.” She swept him up into her arms and held him safely against her hip. She swayed back and forth to soothe him, silently hoping he’d fall asleep soon.

He leaned his head against her shoulder, then yawned and grabbed for the collar of her shirt to hang onto. “Do I even have a mom?”

Charlie finally hesitated, the swaying coming to a close. Her face ran cold, and her eyes fluttered to the ground. “You did, yeah.”

“Where is she?” He blinked slowly up at her, and she buried her nose into his messy hair, shielding her tears from his young eyes. “Charlie?” he asked quietly, sensing the emotion he recognized as ‘bad’.

“It’s a little, ehh,” she struggled to find the correct words, she wanted Sammy to understand. “You see, your mom wasn’t a woman, but he did give birth to you.”

He cocked his head to the side, clearly more confused than before. “So, a mom can be a boy?”

“Not quite.” She bit the inside of her lip, then started walking out of the kitchen. She passed by Vaggie, who slowly followed them into the living room. Charlie sat down on the couch, with Sammy in her lap facing her. “He was born different from other boys, he could give birth to babies, but he was a boy.”

“Hmm,” Sammy stuck a finger in his mouth, gently biting down on it as he mused over this information. “I don’t get it, but, where is he?”

“He’s not here anymore, Sammy,” she tapped her foot against the floor anxiously, willing herself not to burst into tears. “He died a few years ago.”

“Oh.” Sammy’s nose scrunched up. “Died?”

“Yeah.” She took Sammy’s hand and held it to his chest, right above his heart. “Do you feel your heart beating?” When he nodded, Charlie continued. “When someone dies, it means their heart stops beating.”

“So, mom’s heart stopped beating,” he clarified, and Charlie gave a tiny nod. “And, what about my dad? Don’t I have a dad?”

“His heart stopped beating too, Sammy,” Charlie’s voice cracked, and her hands began quivering in the child’s grasp. “When your dad’s heart stopped beating, your mom’s heart stopped beating.”

“Mom died because Dad died?” Sammy fell silent as Charlie nodded yet again, and his head tilted downwards, his eyes obscured by his locks of hair. He began to sniffle, and tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, ready to drip down his cheeks.

“Oh Sammy,” Charlie broke down, and she hugged the child as close as she possibly could as they both wept. Grief drenched the atmosphere, so much so that it continued to hang thick in the air even after the brunt of the blow had faded.

“Cha-arlie,” Sammy hiccuped with trembling lips, his eyes red and puffy. “I wanna see my mom and dad. I wanna…” he trailed off for a moment, and his hands clenched in their places on Charlie’s shirt. “Te-tell me about them.”

Sammy had long been tucked into bed, sleeping under the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. His comforter was a modification of Alastor’s, seeing as though it was far too large for a toddler. Charlie had sewed and hemmed it herself, and saved the extra for when Sammy would require a larger blanket.

The comforter was a simple black, with swipes of red every so often. There were Alastor’s initials in the corner, A.S , indicating his possession of the item. 

The smaller blanket that Sammy held between two tiny arms was the one Alastor had magicked for him whilst he was still developing. Charlie couldn’t bear to get rid of it, and it was honestly far too adorable to let go. There were tiny radios along the fabric, as well as deer prancing around the edges. Sammy never slept without it.

On the side of the bed, next to the toddler railings to keep Sammy from falling, lay multiple stuffed animals, gifted by Niffty who had made them herself. There were soft lions that cuddled Sammy as he slumbered, tigers that the child voiced roars for, sharks that he ran along the floor, pretending they were swimming, and so many more. And, near a rather large, huggable teddy bear, laid a small, slumbering pig. He hardly left Sammy's side. He would trot along the halls of the hotel, keeping up behind Sammy's heels.

A shadow ran along the edge of the wall, dancing behind the papers filled with crayon scribbles and jumping between the furniture. It caused a ruckus, but Sammy did not wake up to the noise. He remained in his own content dream, where he was free to run underneath a clear blue sky, chasing a runaway kite that flew up towards the sun.

Mom and Dad were there with him, and even if he couldn’t see behind the fog of their faces, he still felt the love and care from both parents. He finally caught the string of the kite, but didn’t stop running.

Bells of laughter filled the cloudless sky, and wind bustled through hair, ruffling it affectionately. 

Sammy smiled in his sleep, his mouth opening to babble whispers of words into the darkness of his room.

Beside him, two ghostly hands found their way onto his shoulder and head, then a pair of lips pressed a kiss onto his forehead. His nose wrinkled at the contact, and his eyes scrunched until they opened.

Two fuzzy silhouettes stood before him, both of them embodiments of love and longing. He reached up and sloppily rubbed his eye, and that was when a shadow akin to his own swiped at his cheek.

“I know you,” he said with a yawn, and his eyes fell half-lidded once again. “But, who are you?”

Neither of the silhouettes answered him, instead looking over at one another before a distant voice spoke. “We’re sorry, Sammy. We never wanted this. Not for us, not for you, either.”

The silhouettes leaned onto his bed to embrace him, and one of them had an unsteady grip. They were shaking, and faint cries filled the quiet. They faded, and the embrace drifted off into nothing.

The silhouettes were gone, but that feeling of love and care lingered for what felt like ages. Sammy laid back onto his pillow, and his shadow rushed to lay beside him, to comfort him.

“Shadow,” he began in a hushed tone. “Was that Mom and Dad?”

It sank down into the covers, and nodded slowly. Sammy wished it could speak to him, to tell him everything he wanted to know.

But, for now, all he could focus on was the voice he had just heard. It sounded so familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.

He closed his eyes, and allowed himself to sleep once more. 

Answers would come at the right time, all he had to do was be patient.

"Accessing memory files.”

“Come on, come on, come on!”

“Access granted.”

Chapter Text

Alastor’s hands danced between a bowl and the pan on the stove in front of him with practiced excellence. He was familiar with the repetition of scoop, pour, and cook.

The pancake batter was tainted faintly blue with berry juice, the streaks of color fading and mixing in as Alastor whisked up another scoop. He held his spatula at the ready, flipping a blob of batter on the griddle to reveal its golden-brown bottom.

The morning radio played quietly behind him, white noise combined with his own humming. Rushed footsteps hustled down the stairs, a small body nearly taking Alastor to the floor as arms wrapped around his legs.

“Papa! Pancakes smell so good ,” Benjamin shook Alastor by the knees, impatiently staring at the small stack on the plate. His eyes were as wide as saucers, his tiny hands reaching for a steaming hot delight.

“Ah ah, not yet, they’re hot,” Alastor tutted, gently tapping the boy’s hand away from the plate. “Go sit at the table, Benjamin. Is your mother awake?”

Benjamin pointed hurriedly to the stairs. “Mama’s getting Baby Brother,” he explained, then stumbled onto a chair, sitting up on his knees. His hands were curled into fists on the table and he was leaning halfway onto it, craning his neck to stare at the breakfast.

As if on cue, softer, less rushed feet made down the stairs. A bright yet exhausted smile caught the corner of Alastor’s eye, and a baby’s babbling captivated his ears. Approaching him with light feet was Anthony, wearing one of Alastor’s button-ups, their baby held securely in his arms.

The baby reached his itty-bitty arms for Alastor, a wide smile on his face as he giggled. “Papa,” he waved his arms towards him, until Alastor gave into that adorable expression and took the baby from Anthony’s arms.

“Did Benjamin wake you, Angel?” Alastor asked as he held the baby in one arm, and flipped pancakes with the other.

“Ugh,” Anthony flopped his head onto Alastor’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his waist in a loose embrace. “I swear, that kid can smell pancakes from five miles away.” He groaned quietly, then brought a grin to his face as he made eye contact with the baby, who giggled at the goofy expression Anthony made.

“I would not doubt that. But do you wish to go back to bed? I can watch the boys,” Alastor offered, placing a fully cooked pancake on the plate before pouring the last of the batter onto the pan.

Anthony shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. “Psh, nah. It’s all good.” He remained on Alastor’s shoulder, comfortable, until Benjamin began whining about the lack of food in front of him. “Alright, sweetie, I’ll get some for you. Do you want milk too, Ben?” Anthony pulled his arms away from Alastor’s waist, then headed towards the cupboard when Benjamin nodded eagerly.

Alastor turned back to the pan, then nuzzled against the baby’s cheek when he came close to his face. He kissed the baby’s small nose, earning a giggle and a “Silly Papa.”

Finally, the last pancake was done. Anthony sat down beside Benjamin as Alastor secured the baby in his high chair. He dished out pancakes onto two more plates and cut up half of one to feed to the baby.

“Any plans for today?” Anthony asked, taking a bite of his own pancake before spooning one into the baby’s mouth, who had his little arms outstretched.

Alastor thought for a brief moment, then shook his head. “I have to register Benjamin for school, but that can be done tomorrow.”

“Aww, school, Papa?” Benjamin whined, his eyes pouting up at Alastor, who chuckled softly and ruffled the boy’s hair.

“Yes, Benjamin,” he replied with a nod. “School is important, it’ll help you become successful in life.”

The boy’s face contorted into a look of disgust, and he stuck his tongue out. “Learning sounds hard.”

Anthony put his hand on Benjamin’s shoulder, then cupped his cheek. “But, don’t you want to be a strong, independent man like Papa?”

“Papa went to school?” His mouth went wide, and he whipped back around to face Alastor. “I want to be like Papa!”

Alastor stole a glance up into Anthony’s eyes, and gave him a smooth smile. The other man turned towards the baby for a moment, then sent Alastor a bright grin back. “Finish up your breakfast, Ben. Let’s go do something fun today,” Anthony suggested, patting the child’s head.

“Okay!” Benjamin was in a hurry in a split second, shoveling pancake into his mouth and washing it down with his milk.

“Be careful, Ben,” Anthony warned, and the child slowed his movements, but only a little. The baby whined at the lack of attention, which Anthony returned to him immediately. He fed him another piece of pancake, then handed him his sippy cup.

“Dank you, Mama,” the baby mumbled around the mouthpiece of his sippy cup, then tilted his head back to take a drink of the milk.

As Alastor finished up eating his own breakfast, he took in the sight of his family, all smiling around the table, at the breakfast he had prepared for them all. A warm feeling spread throughout his heart, lifting him up to the sky. He felt content.

Until that feeling was broken.

Alastor jerked upright in bed, his chest heaving as tears streamed down his cheeks. His hands fumbled around, desperately searching for purchase on any familiar items, but only latched onto a cold hand.

“Anthony..?” he tried, only to be met with silence.

The body beside him was cold, barely even breathing. Reality slapped Alastor across the face, as it had done many times before. He drew his hand back, away from Anthony’s body. Then, he returned, cradling that white head close to his chest, forcing himself to be silent as he sobbed, craving that dream to come back and embrace him.

He craved the blessing of family, one last time.

Chapter Text

It certainly has been a while since I've thought about writing for this story again, but, I will be! I'm working on a rewrite of this work, since I wasn't that happy with how the first chapters turned out. My writing style has changed so much, and it has been an honor to share it with you all. I am so deeply excited to be presenting the rewritten version to you guys as soon as I have the first chapters finished, which will take a while, but I hope you're patient with me! I have a LOT more in store for you guys, and I hope to make it just as heartbreaking, perhaps even MORE heartbreaking, as this one!

I will take suggestions and try my best to incorporate them into my story, because I want you all to enjoy it as much as I do. Feel free to comment what you want to see, may it be angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, or any shape of story you enjoy! Just no character death. Not yet, at least, hehe >:]

I'll see you soon, fellow travelers!

Stay tuned~

Chapter Text

And so I have done it.

Shadows on the walls - Midnight_Sunrise_63 - Hazbin Hotel (Web Series) [Archive of Our Own]

Flock to my newest creation.

It has only just begun.

Stay tuned~