Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Alastor slowly sat up, scrubbing his eyes with both hands. He blinked blearily, struggling to pull his thoughts together. He felt oddly disoriented. Had he fallen asleep in class? He shifted where he sat, quietly marveling at how soft the…mattress? was. The sheets and quilt were both a dark shade of red. His sheets weren’t red. His bed wasn’t this soft. But the quilt…

He pulled the quilt closer, studying it. It looked so much like the one his grand-mère made for his mère. He would recognize that one anywhere, having long since memorized its stitching. His mère let him bundle himself up in it whenever he wasn’t feeling well. And sometimes, when the weather was unseasonably cold, she let him cuddle up with her underneath it.

His père hated when she did that. Said it was inappropriate for a boy his age. That she was mollycoddling him.

Correction. Had hated. His père wasn’t doing anything but rotting in the bayou now. The thought brought a wide smile to his face. His mère didn’t know. She couldn’t know.

But he did.

Happy as the memory made him, he wouldn’t let it distract him from the way this quilt was and was not the same. It was like someone tried to recreate it. A near perfect replica, but a forgery to anyone with intimate experience with the real one.

Alastor hazarded a look around the room, fighting back the wave of anxiety rising within him when he didn’t immediately recognize his surroundings. It was difficult to make out any details, but what he could see was more red. Blood red. His favorite color.

He climbed out of the bed, realizing in the process he wasn’t wearing pajamas. He was still in his day clothes, his blazer, shirt, and knickerbockers thankfully minimally wrinkled. Even odder, he was still wearing his boots. He paused where he stood by the surprisingly tall bed, cocking his head to one side as he listened for the sound of anyone else in the room. Hearing nothing, he opened the bedroom door, peering out.

He squinted, trying to bring the shapes further away into focus. His mère kept insisting she would buy him some spectacles, but he downplayed his need for them. For one, they couldn’t afford something like that. For another, he had no interest in drawing further negative attention to himself.

Bad enough he was often mistaken for being white. He had the lightest skin of any of his classmates and they would never let him forget it. Wearing spectacles would only alert others to his visual impairment and he had no interest in losing any of the wary respect he’d gained thus far by fighting and winning against older boys nearly twice his size.

Still not hearing anyone else, he crept into the new room. A living room? A parlor? He was able to make out a glowing green fireplace and what looked like two armchairs on either side of it. A bookcase stood beside them and he wandered over to it. The skull of a cocodrie sat on one shelf, its mouth open in what looked like a smug grin. The skeleton of a serpent was on display too. The full skeleton of another cocodrie mounted on the wall might have gotten the entirety of his attention were it not for the phonograph cabinet also on display.

Alastor sucked in a sharp breath, eyes going wide. The opulence of the rest of the place was starting to make a lot more sense. He walked over to it, marveling at its wood finish. It had to be a Victrola. It had to. He’d seen them before, but never a model this nice. It must be one of the more expensive ones. His fingers itched to open it and see if there were any records inside. There had to be records inside. Maybe even jazz records!

His thoughts shifted back to the money he’d scrounged together from a variety of odd jobs over the years, finally nearly enough to purchase his very own phonograph. He would never even dream of owning a model as nice as this. A genuine Victrola!

A sudden knock came at the door to his left and he gave a startled jerk, head whipping in its direction.

“Alastor?” an unfamiliar woman’s voice called from behind it.

She knew his name? Was he supposed to be here? What was going on?

When he didn’t answer, she tried again. “Alastor, are you in there?”

Another lower voice sounded, but he couldn’t make out the words.

“Vaggie, wait!” the first woman protested as the door suddenly swung open.

Alastor froze, staring wide-eyed at the two women standing in the doorway. They were gigantic. He was four and a half feet tall and they had to be almost twice as tall as he was. He’d never seen anyone that tall before.

The woman on the left wore a scandalously short skirt, her purple? skin and mostly white hair taking longer for him to register. His face warmed and he quickly looked away from her to the other woman. Was she wearing trousers? Her face was as pale as that of a ghost. Makeup perhaps? And her blonde hair was pulled back into a thick ponytail. The women’s finer features were harder to make out from this distance, but he refused to squint to try and bring them into focus.

The women scanned the otherwise empty room, clearly looking for someone of a similar height. Were they not looking for him then? Was a different Alastor supposed to be here?

“Do you think we should check his bedroom?” the blonde woman asked, turning toward the door Alastor passed through moments before.

“For all we know he’s up in his radio tower,” Vaggie answered, stepping inside.

Alastor reflexively took a step back and they immediately zeroed in on him.

“What the fff–?!”

“Vaggie! You can’t swear in front of a kid!”

“Why do you think I stopped!?” the purple woman,Vaggie, demanded, gaping in his direction. “...why is there a kid in here? Whose kid is this?” Her visible eye went wide. “...does Alastor have a kid?! No. No, that’s ridiculous! Sinners can’t have kids.”

“Maybe he’s from Cannibal Town?” the blonde offered, kneeling down to be closer to Alastor’s eye level.

He took another reflexive step back, wanting to put more space between himself and the strange women. The blonde smiled widely at him as if trying to convey she wasn’t a threat. In his experience, that was rarely the case with white women.

“Hey there! I don’t think we’ve met! I’m Charlie Morningstar! Have you seen our friend Alastor?”

His thoughts were going a mile a minute. Did he agree in the hope they believed him? Did he disagree and potentially get himself into more trouble than he was already? After all, why was he, a stranger, lurking around in their friend’s rooms? His best guess, seeing what looked like a hallway beyond them, was that they were in a tenement of some kind.

“...I think I’m lost,” he hazarded after a long moment. Maybe they could direct him to the door and then he could leave and find his mère without getting into any further trouble.

“Oh! It’s okay,” Charlie insisted, practically melting at the admission. “Don’t worry! We’ll help you!”

“Probably for the best we found him before Alastor did,” Vaggie muttered. “He’d probably have eaten him.”

Charlie shot her a look. “She’s kidding!” she quickly added, turning back to him. “So, are you from Cannibal Town then?”

Seeing as that’s what they thought made the most sense, he nodded.

“Don’t worry! We can get you back there! Hopefully before your parents start to worry. I’ll give Rosie a call to let her know we’re on our way.”

Rosie? He nodded again, offering the small smile that often placated white ladies like this one.

Wait. Had they said radio tower? He chewed his bottom lip. His mère was probably already worried, but he was eleven now. And the man of the house, even if she didn’t know it.

“…is there a radio tower nearby?” he asked, unable to hold the question back. Some more of his Louisiana drawl crept in with his excitement.

Vaggie and Charlie shared a look he couldn’t begin to interpret.

“Oh, yes! Our friend Alastor has a radio show! He’s the Radio Demon, after all!”

The what now? No, it was probably best not to ask.

“Could I see it?”

Vaggie immediately shook her head. “Not unless you wanna get eaten, kid.”

“Vaggie!”

She threw her hands up. “The kid’s from Cannibal Town, babe. Though it’s a little weird he doesn’t know Alastor.”

“It’s not weird,” Charlie protested, though a small furrow appeared between her brows.

They both shot him a sideways glance. Alastor stood tall and smiled wider, hoping a confidence he didn’t remotely feel emanated from him. People tended not to ask too many questions so long as you looked as if you knew what you were doing.

“What’s your name?” Vaggie asked.

Merde!

…pardon, mère…

He racked his brain, throwing out the first name that came to mind. “Je m'appelle, Ed.”

They stared blankly back at him and his smile faltered.

…he wasn’t supposed to be speaking French. His mother kept telling him not to speak it in public, even though they used it so often at home. She was better at French than English, having been raised by her grandmère, but he was helping her practice.

He needed to get himself back under control.

“...my name is Ed.” Hopefully they wouldn’t ask for more. It’d be more difficult to catch him in a lie with a common nickname.

“Was that…French before?” Charlie asked.

Why were they looking at him like that? They were still in New Orleans, weren’t they?

…weren’t they?

“Ou…yes.”

Vaggie’s eye narrowed. He did his best to stare calmly back at her.

“Do they even speak French in Cannibal Town?” she prompted.

“I don’t see why not?” Charlie said, frowning faintly.

“Most of them are Hellborn, aren’t they?”

Hellborn?

Charlie shrugged. “I mean, I guess so? I don’t think it’s a requirement though? What are you getting at, Vaggie?”

Vaggie pointed at him and he couldn’t help his faint scowl in response to such overt rudeness. “What I’m getting at is I don’t buy it.”

There was a flicker of movement against the wall and all three of them turned to stare, but there was nothing there.

Vaggie drew closer and it took everything he had not to back up. He forced a smile back onto his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’ve seen the kids in Cannibal Town and he doesn’t look like one of them. Sure, the outfit is close, but he looks…wrong.”

Alastor cocked his head to the side. Wrong? Did she know he wasn’t actually white? Was that what she was talking about? He tried to mentally calculate the distance between himself and the door without looking at it. Could he get past these two without them catching him?

“Look at his teeth!” she continued, pointing.

His teeth? Jamais de la vie!

“My teeth?” he echoed, irritation seeping into his voice. It was times like this he sorely wished he hadn’t inherited his père’s temper.

He needed to stay calm, to maintain control of the situation.

“...oh. Oh!” Charlie said, eyes going wide. “They’re not pointy! That is…weird.”

He blinked, his righteous indignation fading somewhat at such an odd statement. He glanced between the two of them, noting they had…fangs?

“He doesn’t look like a demon either.”

A demon?

“So my best guess is he’s Hellborn or…maybe a Heavenborn in a human disguise.”

Alastor blinked again. Maybe he was still sleeping? He surreptitiously pinched his arm, both presently folded behind his back. He forced himself not to wince at the resulting pain. No, not dreaming.

…not dreaming…

“May I please leave?” he prompted.

Perhaps politeness and his willingness to deescalate the situation would work in his favor?

“Not until you tell us what you were doing snooping in Alastor’s room!” Vaggie retorted, pointing at him again.

“I already told you. I’m lost.”

“Sure you are,” she said, crossing her arms and glaring down at him.

“Hey, uh, Charlie?” a male voice came from just beyond the door the two women stood in front of. “Your dad’s lookin’ for ya.”

Alastor’s eyes went wide and his heart stuttered in his chest when a white furred beast appeared in the doorway. Rougarou! He bit back a scream as he turned and sprinted in the opposite direction. His mère had told him about them when he was younger, but he’d thought they were just stories made up to keep children from wandering into the bayou!

He very nearly froze up again when he realized there was an actual bayou in front of him. How was that even possible?! They were indoors, weren’t they?! He didn’t make it far when darkness suddenly surged up around him. Now he did scream as he was sucked into the floor. He was vaguely aware of shouting and the thud of footsteps above him, but was too disoriented to make out any of what was going on from the void he was trapped in.

As quickly as he’d been pulled into the shadows, he popped out of them again, now in the hallway he’d only glimpsed before.

He took off down it, nearly falling in his hurry to flee. He caught himself against the wall, thankfully not losing much speed. He had no idea where he was going or what was happening, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from escaping. He darted around the corner and through the maze-like corridors before reaching a grand, winding staircase he practically threw himself down.

Another rougarou, this one mostly gray, appeared at the bottom of the steps. Alastor barely registered the sight of it before he was once more sucked into darkness, popping up again just past it. A set of double doors greeted him and he rushed toward them, arms outstretched.

And suddenly he wasn’t on the ground anymore. He flailed, belatedly realizing there were hands under his arms hauling him upward.

“Sainte Vierge Marie!” he yelped, feet kicking uselessly.

The darkness didn’t save him this time and he was left helplessly hanging in the air nearly a story off the ground. He clenched his eyes tightly shut and abruptly stopped resisting. He was so high up. Could a fall from this height kill him? Their neighbor had fallen from his roof and died, hadn’t he? That was only one story!

Was this how he was going to die?!

Would the rougarous eat him after he died? What if he didn’t die immediately after he fell? Would they still eat him? He began to tremble despite his best efforts, breath coming too fast.

“Whoa, hey, let’s take a second to calm down, okay kid?”

He couldn’t see who was holding him, but it sounded like they were the one speaking.

“I’m gonna set you back down, okay?”

He gave a startled jerk in their hold, clinging now to the arms more firmly wrapped around his chest.

“It’s okay! No one’s going to hurt you.”

Easy for him to say! The ground was where the rougarous were!

…was he in Hell..? Was this his punishment for killing his père? Had he died somehow and now he was going to be eaten by rougarous for all eternity..? Or would it just be the once? He hoped it was just once.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe!

But his mère… He hoped she hadn’t died too. If she had, at least he could take comfort she was undoubtedly in Heaven. Even if it meant he would be eaten by rougarous for all eternity, he didn’t regret killing his father. He’d do it all again, even knowing this was his fate.

It didn’t make it any easier to calm himself down though and he began to feel lightheaded, his chest tightening. His feet touched the ground and he pressed back against whoever had been holding him.

His eyes remained tightly clenched. Was it better to see it happen or not see it? No, it was better to see it. At least then he could anticipate the pain. Prepare for it. Try to lose himself in it.

He just wished he wasn’t so afraid.

“Hey, seriously, it’s okay,” the person behind him insisted. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you.”

Anger rose up at that and Alastor forced his eyes open again, turning his head to face him. The man was only a foot or so taller than him, close to his mère’s height.

He looked like a clown, he realized, though his outfit was more reminiscent of a circus ringleader. Were the red dots on his cheeks and his too pale face just makeup?

Did it matter?

“This is Hell?” he finally managed, pleased to hear only the smallest quiver in his voice.

The clown man arched a brow. “Uh, yeah? Wait.”

He studied him closely as if looking for something and not seeing it. Both eyebrows went up now.

“Holy shit, you’re alive?”

Clearly not if he was in Hell. His breathing was still a bit too fast as he turned back to the stairs, stomach dropping when he saw the rougarous standing there staring at him. The two women were beside them now.

Everyone was staring at him.

“…I don’t suppose you take requests?” he hazarded.

“Uh…requests for what?” The white rougarou asked.

“…how you’ll…do it..?”

“Do what?”

“…kill and eat me? Is it just going to happen the one time, o-or..?” His fists tightened as he tried to summon what little courage he had left. “…it’s eternal punishment, isn’t it? It’s just going to keep happening?”

He had to know. He had to.

The rougarou’s eyes widened. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he protested, making an odd t-shape with two of his four hands. “Time out! Nobody is eatin’ or killin’ nobody!”

“But it’s…Hell? Aren’t I supposed to be punished for my sins?”

He barked out a laugh. “A lil’ twig like you? What, ya steal a gumball or somethin’?”

Alastor stared at him as if he’d grown two heads.

“Two gumballs? Ya know only the heavy hitters end up down here right?”

“Yes. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

He narrowed his eyes as he studied him. “Why d’ya think ya here?”

Was this information he should be concealing? Providing?

Did it matter if he was about to die anyway? Could he use it to his advantage?

“Thou shalt not kill,” he answered, frowning faintly.

“Ya don’t end up in Hell for killin’ a bug or somethin’, kid.”

Alastor’s frown deepened, anger flaring. “I didn’t kill a bug. I killed a person.”

Another laugh. Alastor stared calmly back at him. The laugh slowly petered out.

“…ya what? Are ya shittin’ me?”

A hand clamped down on his shoulder and he gave an involuntary jerk. He looked back. It was the clown man’s.

“Okay, does someone wanna tell me why the fff…freak there is a living kid in the hotel right now? Because that’s what he is. Living.”

Charlie gasped. “What?! Are you sure, dad?!”

“Positive. Maybe he stumbled in through a portal or something? It’s happened before. Not often, but it has happened. It takes an Asmodean crystal to do it. You don’t exactly find those just laying around though.”

“How can you be so sure it’s not just a human disguise, sir?” Vaggie asked. “He could be an agent of Heaven! He was up in Alastor’s rooms!”

“I mean, the people in Heaven are stupid, but they’re not that stupid.” he replied. “They wouldn’t just pretend to be a human kid somewhere like Hell. It’d raise all sorts of red flags.”

Vaggie frowned, but looked as if she didn’t have a great response to the contrary. Alastor hazarded another glance to the rougarous. Both of them were just staring curiously at him now.

Was he…not going to get eaten?

“He can’t be fully human though,” she finally protested. “We saw him use some kind of ability.”

“Kind of like Alastor’s shadow…” Charlie said, frowning thoughtfully.

“How about we all just take a breath and maybe sit down to figure this all out?” the man, her father, said.

Alastor side eyed the front doors he’d been so close to reaching. He didn’t trust these people, but if he really was in Hell, maybe he should at least see what information he could get from them. Especially since they didn’t seem like they intended to hurt him.

Yet, anyway.

He was steered, frowning, toward one of the sofas. The continued pressure of the man’s hand on his shoulder was beginning to set his teeth on edge now he was no longer in a blind panic. He opted for one of the wingback chairs instead. It took some effort on his part to get into it with how high the seat was, but he didn’t think he looked too foolish doing it.

“That’s Alastor’s chair,” Charlie murmured. She hazarded a glance toward the stairs.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let him do anything to the kid,” her father insisted. “Speaking of, you hungry kid?”

The others, meanwhile, filled the empty seats around him.

“No, thank you,” Alastor answered.

He was hungry, but he wasn’t going to let them potentially slip something into any food or drink they provided. They may not want to kill him at present, but there were plenty of other awful possibilities still on the table. He’d figure something out later on his own.

“So, what’s your name?” he continued.

“He said his name is Ed,” Charlie supplied. She gestured to herself. “Vaggie and I already introduced ourselves.” She looked expectantly at the others.

The white rougarou offered, “I’m Angel Dust. You can call me Angel.”

Alastor blinked.

The gray one next to him grumbled out “Husk.”

Alastor turned to the clown man.

“And I’m Lucifer.”

His eyes went wide and his jaw very nearly dropped. “Really?”

He nodded, smiling.

“I thought you’d be…”

“Scarier? Less handsome? Less fun?”

He glanced at his daughter. “Taller. And more…firey.”

Lucifer scowled while Angel Dust snickered.

“You sure this kid isn’t Alastor?” Lucifer grumbled, crossing his arms.

Charlie bit her bottom lip, staring intently in his direction again. She seemed nice enough. He offered her a placating smile. Her eyes widened a touch.

“Would something like that be possible?”

Angel Dust sat up from where he’d been slouching. “You can’t be serious, Char.”

“I know it’s crazy,” she said, holding her hands up. “It’s just all very…odd. He was in Alastor’s rooms, he can do his shadow thing, he even spoke a little French. They speak French in New Orleans, don’t they?”

Angel laughed. “Yeah, and he said he killed a guy.”

He looked to Alastor. Alastor didn’t laugh. Angel’s laugh again awkwardly petered out.

Husk rolled his eyes beside him. “Kid’s like eighty pounds soaking wet. I doubt he’s got a body count.”

When Alastor still didn’t react, Husk eyed him a touch warily.

There was a sudden blur of movement as a small woman with a single eye and bright red hair darted into the room. She paused on seeing him, cocking her head to the side. “You look different, Alastor. Did you get a haircut?”

Alastor blinked. The others slowly turned to the newcomer.

“That’s not Smiles, Niff. That’s a kid.”

The woman drifted closer to where he sat, squinting at him now. “Are you sure? Because it feels like him.” As she said as much, she tapped the spot right over her heart.

Husk frowned and Alastor felt…something odd stir within him. Husk’s eyes widened and he nearly fell out of his seat.

“What the fuck?!”

“Can everyone please not swear around him!” Charlie pleaded.

Husk raised a shaking paw, pointing at him. Another rude person, it seemed.

“…Niffty’s right. That’s Alastor.”

Angel turned to him, frowning hard. “That can’t be right.”

Husk rested his paw over his heart too. “I can feel it. The contract. It’s him.”

Alastor sighed softly. He had no idea what exactly was going on, but it seemed the jig was up on that front.

“Yes, my real name is Alastor. I apologize for lying earlier. It’s a pleasure to be meeting you all.” It wasn’t, but his mère had raised him right and just because he was apparently in Hell didn’t mean he shouldn’t maintain his manners.

“Is this real or some kinda elaborate joke?” Angel demanded.

All of them were gaping now. Alastor had to force himself not to fidget. The red headed woman, Niffty, seemed to tire of the proceedings and scampered off again.

Vaggie was the first to speak after the prolonged, awkward silence. “How is that even possible? He was literally just fighting Adam yesterday!”

Lucifer rubbed his chin, brow furrowing. “I have no idea. I’ve never heard of something like this before. It’s unprecedented.”

“Could something have happened during his fight with Adam?” Charlie asked. “He was supposed to be fending him off, but then all of a sudden he was gone and Adam came after the rest of us.” She bit her lip. “I…I thought…”

She turned to face what looked like an ornate frame of some kind. From where he sat, Alastor couldn’t make out its subject.

“You think Adam could have done something like that?” Vaggie asked, frowning hard as she wrapped her arm around Charlie’s shoulders. “I don’t know, babe, he never mentioned having that kind of power. But the Exorcists never actually had to fight anyone before either. I mean…I guess it’s possible he could’ve tapped into some kind of divine power while up against Alastor? Something he might never have used before.”

“Shame Niff poked him fulla holes,” Angel said with a small shake of his head.

“But if all that’s true, what do we do now?” Charlie cut back in. “Alastor’s…what? A living human kid? What does that mean? He was…purified or something?”

Lucifer’s head snapped toward her. “Purified! Maybe that’s exactly what happened? Adam used some kind of divine power and it took all the evil and demonic right out of him? Can’t get much purer than a kid.”

“You think it’s kind of like redemption?” Charlie asked. “Whatever Adam did brought him back to life, so he has a second chance?”

Lucifer shrugged. “It’s the best lead we have so far, hon. Crazier things have happened.”

“So, uh, Al.” Alastor turned back to Angel Dust. “What year is it?”

Alastor tilted his head to the side. “1923.”

“And how old are ya?”

“Fourteen.”

Angel gave him a look.

“…eleven,” he begrudgingly corrected.

“What’s the last thing ya remember? Prior to bein’ here, I mean.”

Alastor thought back. His memory felt a little fuzzy, but it was slowly coming back to him.

“I had just left school and went to the bayou.”

He’d wanted to check the snares he’d set out, hoping to catch a rabbit or something similar for dinner. Money was tight. His mère wouldn’t let him leave school to work, so he’d been providing this way instead. Hunting and fishing. The only useful skills his père ever taught him. He’d repaid the favor by using them to kill him and dispose of his remains in that same bayou.

It had been easier than he’d expected. His père was always in his drink, even in the midst of Prohibition. Any time he bothered to come home to “play house” he demanded every cent his mère had. He threw it all away on whatever liquor he could scrounge up, the price all the steeper because of the law.

Alastor had waited until his père insisted they go hunting together. He may have hated him, but he knew Alastor was a damn good shot and he’d drunk away all their food money.

All he’d had to do was wait for him to inevitably drink himself into a stupor and slit his throat. Disposing of the body had been simple enough. He’d long ago cut his teeth on dressing deer and the like. It was all the same at the end of the day. And the cocodrie had been all too eager to gobble up the pieces he fed them while he burned his père’s clothes to get rid of the rest of the evidence.

There was nothing left of him now. And it wasn’t unusual for him to disappear for weeks or even months at a time. There’d be nothing to find if anyone ever bothered to look.

Alastor had considered trying to pass off the meat as that of a successful hunt, but he worried his mère might know something was off and, hungry as they were, he didn’t want to entangle her in his crime. His mère was a good woman. The best. She deserved to go to Heaven.

With the dark thoughts that sometimes lurked in his head, Alastor had felt it was only a matter of time before he gave in to those urges. Before he damned himself.

He’d felt so powerful, standing over his père’s still body. He’d punched and kicked and stabbed it in the aftermath, taking out eleven years of frustration and rage and helplessness on the corpse before he managed to get himself under control long enough to properly dispose of it.

His père would never hurt him again but, more importantly, he’d never hurt his mere again.

“…you okay over there, Alastor?”

He blinked, looking over to Charlie. She was watching him, obvious concern on her face. Belatedly he realized he was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

“…yeah, that’s definitely him,” Angel muttered, giving a small shiver.

“Pardon. What were we talking about?”

Angel looked to the others in a silent plea.

“We don’t know if this is permanent,” Vaggie protested.

“We don’t know it ain’t not permanent either.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” Vaggie demanded, brow furrowing.

Should he try to make a break for the door after all…?

Charlie stood, holding her hands up to quiet everyone. “Maybe we should all discuss this without A-L-A-S-T-O-R present and then decide the best course of action?”

Now it was his turn to be offended. Did she really think he couldn’t spell? Let alone his own name?

Alastor held up his hand, reclaiming their attention. “I’m more than capable of making decisions for myself.”

Charlie hesitated. “There’s just…a lot it seems like you don’t know right now? That we don’t even know. There’s no need to make any hasty decisions. We just need to take some time to look into what might have happened and you can stay here until we do.”

His fists clenched in his lap. He wasn’t a child. But she seemed to be trying to take that much into consideration. Or she was patronizing him. He wasn’t sure which. Maybe even both.

“Are you sure I’m not dead? If I’m not dead, I could just go home.”

His mère would be looking for him. Would be worried sick.

“Um…” Charlie’s eyes darted to the others.

Angel sighed heavily. “Ya can’t go home, kid. It ain’t 1923 anymore.”

Alastor frowned.

“It’s 2024.”

Somehow that was harder to accept than the fact he was in Hell. 2024? How? Why? Did time move differently down here?

What about his mère..? Did that mean..?

Was she..?

A lump rose up in his throat and his hands tightened in the fabric of his pants.

Husk shot Angel a look. “I can’t believe I’m doin’ this, but…” He sighed. “Your mom’s in Heaven. You’ve been in Hell since…” He paused, considering. “The late 1930s? 38? 39? Somewhere around there. That’s when you died. You’re supposed to be dead, not…miniature.”

It was a lot of information and it was all coming at him so fast. There was only one thing that really mattered though.

“…ma mère, you’re positive she’s in Heaven? How can you know that for sure?”

Husk shrugged. “I dunno. I mean, I don’t know how…the boss, you confirmed it. But you were confident. If anybody knew for sure, it woulda been you.”

That gave him some comfort. If his…what, older self? had confirmed it, it had to be true. He wouldn’t have stopped until he knew for certain. Or he would have made sure she never left his side if she’d somehow wound up down here with him. He would have kept her safe.

He always kept her safe. Now that he was old enough to do so.

His fingers loosened from fabric and he absently smoothed out the wrinkles he’d caused as he released a slow, shaky breath.

It hurt, knowing she was gone. That he would never see her again. It hurt so much. But at least she was in Heaven. That meant she was safe. Hopefully happy, too. And it meant she wasn’t wandering the bayou looking for him.

So that was his room upstairs? With the Victrola, the skeletons, the soft bed, the not quite right quilt, and the bayou?

And they’d said he had a radio tower too.

He had a radio tower and a Victrola.

None of that was worth losing his mère, never seeing her again, but it took a tiny bit of the pain away. He swallowed hard, forcing the whirlwind of emotions trying to overtake him down. He just needed to take things one step at a time, just like his mère always said. He’d figure this out. He would be okay because she was okay. That was all that mattered.

Although… He tensed, stomach sinking.

His père…

If anyone belonged in Hell, it was him.

His palms began to sweat at the thought. He had to know he was the one who killed him, didn’t he? Alastor had watched the life leave his eyes after slitting his throat.

He had to know. His père would be looking for him. Despite his best efforts, he felt himself begin to tremble.

Charlie was kneeling on the floor in front of him in an instant. She lifted her hands to take his and he reflexively jerked back, eyes wild.

His père. His père.

He’d hurt him enough when he was alive. How badly would he want to hurt him now..?

“Al? Hey, can you hear me?” Charlie asked, voice soft and soothing.

He blinked back at her. She reminded him a little of his mère. She would talk to him like this when he couldn’t stop shaking and his chest was so tight he felt he couldn’t breathe.

His mère. He would never see her again. But he’d definitely see his père. He blinked again, moisture starting to gather in his eyes.

It wasn’t fair. Yes, he was a bad person. Yes, he deserved to be in Hell for killing his père. But it hurt so much to know he was now trapped here with only his père.

“Al, honey? Everything’s going to be okay,” Charlie insisted.

Husk spoke up again, startling him.

“…if you’re worried about your dad, you don’t have to worry about him. The boss…er…you took care of him already. He’s not down here anymore.”

“What? You’re sure?” Angel prompted. As he spoke, he pulled his legs up, wrapping his four arms around them.

Husk grimaced. “Yeah. The boss used to replay the recording he did of that one sometimes… Dunno if he ever broadcasted it, but…” He gave a full body shiver. “Bastard’s definitely double dead or whatever you wanna call it.”

And suddenly the vise around his chest was gone and Alastor gulped in a lungful of air. A soft chuckle escaped him now he had the breath for it. He’d recorded it? That darkness deep inside of him began to open up and his smile was back in full force.

“D’you know where I can find the recording?”

The others all shared a look.

“Uh, no,” Husk finally answered.

Alastor wasn’t sure if he believed him or not. He’d have to do some digging around in the room upstairs to see if he could find it. When he did, he’d have to be careful about how many times he listened to it. He wouldn’t want to damage something so special.

Charlie gave a nervous laugh, rocking back up into a standing position.

“So, um, I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions, Al. Maybe Angel can answer them for you and show you around the hotel?”

Angel jerked in his seat. “What?! Why me?!”

Charlie shot him a look. Angel stared back at her before sighing heavily and slumping back against the seat cushion. “Fine.”

Alastor wasn’t stupid. He knew Charlie was trying to get him out of the way so they could discuss what to do with him. It annoyed him. But he did need to get the lay of the land. And Angel Dust seemed to be the most willing source of information among them. If he was careful, he could probably get more out of him than he ever intended to share.

He would play along for now. Let them think they were the adults and he was the child. At the very least it seemed like they weren’t going to hurt him. He should be safe enough here. Once he had more information, he’d plan his next steps all on his own.

Chapter Text

It was strange following Angel Dust around the hotel. If Alastor had to guess, Angel was nearly double his height. Angel seemed used to walking with shorter companions though because he never had to run to catch up with him.

“I gotta go grab Fat Nuggets and run him out first, but then we can do the tour,” Angel offered.

Fat Nuggets? What in the world?

“You…uh…okay?” Angel asked once they got far enough away from the others.

Alastor blinked up at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Angel’s brows rose. “Where d’ya want me to start? You fought with the First Man himself, got turned into a human kid, found out your ma is…” He trailed off. “And your pa…” He trailed off again.

“Everything is okay so long as she’s in Heaven,” Alastor answered confidently.

Angel paused at the top of the stairs, studying him. He hesitated a long moment before offering, “My nonna and my sister’re up there too. Heaven, I mean. My pa’s down here though.”

He gave Alastor a look.

Oh.

“Do you…see him?”

Angel smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Nah. Not anymore. We ran into each other once, but that was it. He disowned me the second he got wind of what kinda work I do now.”

Alastor tilted his head. “What kind of work do you do?”

“I’m a por…uh… Fuck it. I’m a porn star.”

Alastor blinked, but smiled politely. A what now?

“Uh…I’m like an actor in picture shows? But with…uh…adult themes?” He made quotation marks with his upper set of hands.

“Oh. Like a brothel? My tante works in one of those.”

“Yeah! Yeah, exactly like that! Except, uh, for movies and shit?”

It certainly wasn’t Alastor’s idea of an ideal career path, but he’d grown up on the poorer side of New Orleans. It would’ve been stranger for him not to know about them. Not that he saw the appeal. He’d tagged along with some of the older boys in the neighborhood once or twice when they went to see how close they could get to one of the seedier establishments, trying to peer in through the back windows.

He’d been far more interested in the live music being played. He only accompanied them after that for the music, dutifully serving as a lookout while they pressed their noses to the glass, trying to make anything out through the curtains inside.

His mère would have had a fit if she’d known. And he wouldn’t have been able to sit down for a month at least.

He nodded, smiling politely again. Angel looked a bit bewildered, but didn’t elaborate further, heading down the hallway instead.

“So this is a hotel?” Alastor asked as they went. “I didn’t realize there were hotels in Hell.”

Angel snorted softly. “Yeah, there’s all kinda stuff down here. It’s a lot like the living world. Except with way more drugs and murder and shit.”

Well, that certainly made sense.

“Charlie, she’s the princess of Hell. Lucifer’s her dad. She’s got this whole idea about redeemin’ us Sinners. Thinks we can get into Heaven too, if we try real hard.”

“That sounds like wacky nonsense. You can’t undo the bad things you’ve already done.”

“Damn, kid. Pretty negative outlook don’tcha think? Don’t ya wanna see your ma?”

“I’m not going to Heaven. Heaven is for good people.”

That brought Angel up short again. “And ya think you ain’t? You’re eleven!”

“I knew where I was going the day I decided to kill mon père.”

Angel snorted softly. “Husk meant ya killed him here. In Hell.”

Alastor stared silently back at him, a small smile on his face as he waited for Angel to connect the dots. The cat was already out of the bag.

Angel sucked in a sharp breath. “Wait! Ya wasn’t kiddin’ about killin’ somebody before?!”

“Why would I joke about something like that?”

“Fuck. But…like…it was in self-defense or somethin’, right?”

He considered that before shaking his head. “Hm. No, I don’t think so.”

“Then why’d ya do it?” Angel asked, staring intently down at him.

“No one else was going to. And he wasn’t drinking himself to death fast enough,”

“Fucking hell! Shit, I wondered what you was like as a kid, but I never thought somethin’ like that!”

Alastor shrugged.

Angel hesitated before hazarding. “…was it because..?”

“Because?”

“Did he… Did he hurt ya? Or your ma?”

His expression clouded over at the new line of inquiry. “All that matters is he’s never going to hurt anyone again.”

Angel winced. “…yeah, I guess that makes sense. My pa was the same way.”

He’d figured as much, but he appreciated Angel saying so. He reached out, awkwardly patting his knee. Angel gave him a small smile in return.

“So, yeah, it’s weird as fuck seein’ the all powerful Radio Demon like this,” Angel said, starting back down the hall.

Radio Demon. That was the second time he’d heard the phrase. Did they mean him? Then again, who else could they possibly be referring to?

The thought thrilled him. He wasn’t entirely certain what being a Radio Demon entailed but it sounded swell. It sounded powerful.

“What was I like before?”

Angel considered the question as he stopped in front of a door with his name on the plate near the top.

“Honestly? Terrifyin’. But in a good way? Cuz you were on our side. We’re all friends here. You was helpin’ Charlie with the hotel. Dunno why though. Ya said the same thing about it then as ya did just now. ‘Course then ya also mentioned…how’d ya put it? Somethin’ about wantin’ to see the scum of the earth repeatedly fall into a fiery pit of failure or somethin’ like that.”

Well, that sounded more likely.

“Listen, Al,” Angel continued, expression growing more serious. “Ya don’t get to the level you was at without makin’ a lotta enemies. Charlie’s serious about ya bein’ safe here. There’s nowhere safer in Hell.”

Alastor pursed his lips. “So you’re saying there are a lot of people out there who might want to kill me?”

Angel winced. “Yeah. Or worse. So just…keep your head low for now? And try to listen to Charlie and the rest of us? We know you’re the ‘I can take care of myself’ type, but ya don’t have to. Not here. Besides, we all owe ya big time. And you’re our friend. We don’t want nothin’ bad to happen to ya.”

He crossed both sets of arms. “Charlie can be…a lot. She always wants to see the good in people and she’s pretty fuckin’ naive. But she’s got a big heart and she takes care of her people. So…just try and cut her a lil’ slack, okay? Try to meet her halfway? She’s gonna wanna take care of ya, especially since it looks like the hotel’s the reason ya ended up like this in the first place.”

Alastor frowned.

“She’s gonna drive ya crazy. She drives all of us crazy. But she means well. And she’s strong. Real strong. She don’t look it, but I’ve seen her fight and she’s not someone people should wanna mess with.”

Well, he supposed he could make an effort if everything Angel said was true. He didn’t seem like a particularly skilled liar.

Alastor sighed heavily. “I’ll try. But don’t expect me to cooperate much if you all insist on treating me like a child.”

“We’ll try too,” Angel said, smiling as he unlocked the door and let them both in.

They barely made it inside before something was running over to them. Alastor thought it was a dog at first, but then he finally got a good look at it and realized it was a little pig with horns. He stood there a long moment before immediately dropping to a crouch and holding his arms out to the strange creature.

Fat Nuggets? ran straight into his arms and he let out a startled peal of laughter. The pig snuffled at his face and ear, nuzzling close. Angel watched the two of them, brows nearly escaping the top of his head.

“What am I, chopped liver?” he grumbled. Still, he didn’t seem able to stop the small smile that came to his face as he watched them.

“Is this Fat Nuggets?” Alastor prompted as he rubbed just beneath the pig’s little chin.

“Yea. Fat Nuggets, Nuggs, Nuggsie, Baby Nuggs… Usually it takes time for him to warm up to new folks, but I’m startin’ to suspect a few of the times I got back late from a shoot and Nuggs didn’t seem to wanna eat or go outside, maybe someone else was takin’ care of ‘em. Those kinda snuggles are reserved for folks he knows real well. I mean, I woulda thought ya would be more likely to eat him than anything else, but I guess there’s a lot I don’t know about ya.”

Alastor gave a small shrug. He wasn’t going to pretend he had that much insight into himself a hundred years into the future outside of his feelings toward his mère and père.

“That or Nuggs is a big ol’ traitor,” Angel continued as he grabbed a few things from around the room, including a leash, which he clipped to the pig’s collar who was now settled comfortably in Alastor’s lap, belly up.

“All right, Nuggsie, that’s enougha that. Who wants to go walkies?”

The pig flailed briefly before managing to get himself back upright and Alastor stood too, brushing off his pants in the process. His gaze shifted to the far window, not having yet had a chance to look outside.

“There’s a green space on top of the hotel now,” Angel said as he led the way back out and to what he assumed must be an elevator.

Alastor paused as the doors opened, curiosity getting the better of him as he stared at the empty room inside.

“Oh. Uh, you been in one of these before?” Angel asked, glancing back at him.

He shook his head. Of course he knew what an elevator was, but there weren’t many buildings in New Orleans tall enough to warrant the use of one. He’d certainly never been to any of the ones that did.

Fat Nuggets walked calmly inside. Taking his cue from the pig, Alastor stepped in too. He glanced around, frowning. “Isn’t there supposed to be an elevator operator?”

“Nah, those haven’t been around for decades now,” Angel said as he pressed one of the buttons on the control panel. Alastor drifted closer to it, watching intently as it lit up. And then suddenly they were shooting upward. He sucked in a sharp breath, clutching onto the handrail for dear life. His stomach had just completed a little flip by the time the doors opened again. Wide-eyed, he turned to Angel.

“Can we do that again?”

Angel let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah? Real thrill seeker, huh?” He stepped out, motioning for Alastor to follow. “Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of time to ride the rails later.”

Alastor left the elevator, only slightly disappointed. The rooftop left him hyper aware of how massive the hotel was and he hadn’t even thought to check how many floors there were while on the elevator.

Angel unclipped the pig’s leash and Fat Nuggets bounded over to what Alastor supposed passed for grass in Hell. He slowly made his way across the rooftop, stopping a good distance away from the edge despite the protective guardrail around it.

The sky was red. Much of the landscape and buildings below seemed to match the color scheme too. Though he saw a promising cloud of smoke in the distance, there was no visible fire anywhere. Maybe the air smelled a little sulfuric, but even that was awfully faint.

He supposed it was a good thing everything wasn’t on fire, but it was a bit of a let down after all that time spent listening to the priests and nuns wax poetic about the horrors of Hell. Sister Mary would have been particularly disappointed.

He wondered if she was somewhere below, seeing as her relationship with the head of his school was one of the worst kept secrets in the parish. His mère had told him it didn’t matter what the nuns and priests got up to so long as they kept their hands to themselves and their devotion to his schooling top of mind.

His education was her greatest mission in life. When he’d been accepted into the Catholic school on scholarship, she’d told anyone who stood still long enough about it. She hadn’t had the same opportunity growing up, though she was plenty smart. His père, meanwhile, had barely gotten any education and was as good as illiterate. One of his favorite things to throw in his mère’s face was how, despite the fact she had gotten more schooling, she hadn’t risen any higher than he had.

As if that was her fault. Her family was as poor as his was and her grandmère had been ill most of her life and had passed away when she was only sixteen. The same age she’d been when she’d met his père and Alastor had joined them barely a year later.

The city below was awash with what looked like electric lights. Their home didn’t have electricity, but there was plenty of it elsewhere around the parish. He also saw what he could only assume were automobiles crawling through the streets below, though they were a far cry from the ones he was accustomed to. There were thousands of them, if not more.

“What else has changed?” Alastor asked as he made his way back over to Angel and Fat Nuggets.

Angel rested both sets of his hands on his hips. “Fuck, where do I even begin?”

“The most important things first,” Alastor supplied.

“Right. Okay. So. 1923. I was born in 1917, so a coupla years after ya.” He paused, looking thoughtfully down at him. “That’d make ya, what, five years older than me? ‘cept I died in 1947. You was already an Overlord by then. Had been for a while.”

“A what?”

Angel waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll get to that. Let’s focus on one thing at a time.”

Alastor nodded, motioning for him to continue.

“Oh! Speaking of important things, the biggest would prolly be segregation ain’t a thing anymore.”

Alastor’s eyes went wide.

“So, ya know, treat everybody equal and all that. There’s no ‘whites’ versus ‘colored’ shit anymore. And there are certain words and all ya definitely shouldn’t say.”

He tilted his head. “Words like what?”

Angel blanched. “I sure as fuck can’t say ‘em! And you definitely shouldn’t either. Hard to tell who was what before they wound up down here. And people are still real touchy about that shit. Understandably.”

“So Heaven isn’t segregated either?”

“I mean, I’ve never been, but I figure Charlie woulda mentioned somethin’ like that if it were the case. She was up there not too long ago. Princess of Hell privileges and all that.”

Alastor failed to see how being the Princess of Hell would grant her any such privileges, but he kept the thought to himself.

“Also, he’s never straight up said it but I’m pretty sure Husk is Black. You don’t wanna go pissin’ him off. Plus it’s rude.”

“Ma mère is Black.”

Angel paused, slapping a hand to his forehead. “…and here I am immediately provin’ my own point. Sorry,”

“You’re not the first person to assume.”

“Still. Dick move on my part. But yeah, I mean, some folks are still assholes about that shit, but I wouldn’t worry as much about it nowadays. Segregation ended a coupla decades ago.”

He nodded, trying to digest such big news. If something like that had changed in only a hundred years, what else had?

Angel paused, digging a shiny rectangle from his pocket and scowling down at it. He glanced from it to Alastor and back again.

Alastor tried to glean something from the odd looks he was receiving, but was at a loss.

“Uh, fuck. D’you know what a television is?”

He stared blankly back at him.

“They play picture shows?”

“Oh. Yes, I’ve been to a few with ma mère.”

He’d bought the tickets himself for her birthday. She’d always wanted to go, but they’d never had the money to do so. She’d talked about the show for weeks after. He barely remembered it, having been far more interested in the live music.

It quickly become a yearly tradition of theirs despite her protests over him continuing to pay for the tickets.

Angel cocked his head to one side. “What’d ya think of ‘em? Pretty neat, huh?”

Alastor frowned. “The music was nice.”

That, confusingly, earned a laugh.

“Wow, guess the whole ‘hates picture shows’ thing wasn’t an exaggeration.”

“I don’t hate them. I just have no interest in them. I’d rather read a book than a screen.”

It certainly hadn’t helped he could barely make out any of the words on the screen. Not that he ever told his mère as much. She never would have agreed to go if he had and she would have redoubled her efforts on the spectacles front.

“Oh. I guess they didn’t have talkies yet, did they? Damn, tech’s come a long way, huh?”

“Talkies?”

“Sound with the pictures! Actors talkin’ and the music being part of the movie instead of the accompaniment.”

“They took away the live music?”

Another laugh. “Oh, if that’s what you’re into, then yeah you’d probably hate talkies too.”

Definitely.

Angel held the rectangle out to him and he stared uncomprehendingly at its..screen? There was a blue man on it with an odd box where his head should be. Another demon?

“So this is a hellphone. It’s kinda like if they shrunk a movie screen down so it could fit in your pocket. You can do all kinda shit with it. Listen to music, watch picture shows, call folks.” He paused. “Ya know what a telephone is, right?”

He nodded. They didn’t have one in their home, but he’d used the public ones before.

“Yeah! So, ya can also take photographs with it and…I’m sure there’s some stuff I’m leavin’ out, but ya get the gist.”

Alastor studied the hellphone more closely. “It can do all of that?” A hint of doubt crept into his voice.

Angel turned the device back toward himself, fiddling with it before holding it up in front of Alastor. He then turned it around to show him a photo of himself. In color. The image was so crisp, it was unsettlingly like looking into a mirror.

His skin was a richer color, rather than just the darker tan it usually seemed. He looked white in the photographs they had at home. His hair, meanwhile, was as dark and curly as ever. His mère wanted him to keep it short, but he liked the curl. It wasn’t nearly as curly as hers, but it made him look more like her and less like his père. Unfortunately he’d mostly taken after his père when it came to his looks.

“I can’t believe it actually worked! Ya never show up in photographs.”

“What? Why?” he asked, eager for a distraction from the eerie way his own image made him feel.

“Dunno. Ya always say your face is made for radio. Ya look like a cryptid mosta the time. Or blurry or all glitchy.”

“Do you have a photograph of me that shows what I looked like before?”

Angel pursed his lips. “Lemme see. I’m sure someone out there’s crazy enough to make Radio Demon thirst traps.”

Whatever that meant.

While Angel studied his rectangle, Alastor thought back to the first picture he’d shown him. “The man with the box for a head, why did you show him to me?”

“Oh! Shit. Sorry, got sidetracked. Uh. How do I put this? He works with my boss, Valentino. I got a text from Val askin’ about ya. I’m assumin’ cuzza Vox. Vox’s got a creepy stalker obsession thing goin’ on with ya.” He paused. “Shit, I wonder if any of these thirst trap accounts are his…”

Creepy stalker obsession?

“But, yeah, anyway, just…if ya see him, don’t say who ya are. And try not to be alone with him. He’s got a one of a kind face, so it shouldn't be too hard to steer clear of ‘em.”

He fiddled some more with the hellphone before turning its screen back to him. There were two people in the photo this time. A woman with big black eyes and pointed teeth on the right dressed like she may have been from around the same time as he was. And then there was a man on the left. Alastor couldn’t quite make out his features, though he could see red hair, red…ears? and a red pinstriped jacket.

“Lady on the right is Rosie. She’s good people. You should be safe enough around her once we get her up to speed. She’s your…well, demon you’s bff.”

Alastor blinked.

“Uh, best friend. There’s this other chick, Mimzy, but I dunno if you two’s as close. She said you was friends though. I don’t got a picture of her, but she’s blonde and dresses like she comes from around the same time as ya. Has the whole flapper aesthetic. I’d say she’s around Lucifer’s height, maybe a lil’ shorter. She knew ya when you was livin’ so she might actually recognize ya like this.”

He didn’t know of a Mimzy, so he could only assume he’d met her later in life.

“Oh, but Rosie’s in charge of Cannibal Town. So, maybe don’t eat anything she gives ya?”

Charlie had mentioned her before.

“So Cannibal Town is exactly what it sounds like? A town of cannibals?”

Angel nodded. “They’re mostly Hellborn. Only place you’ll really find human lookin’ kids around here. With your outfit, ya could pass for one of them if someone don’t look too close. They all got teeth and eyes like Rosie.”

That explained the earlier assumption. So if he kept his mouth closed, he could probably pass for one of them. Good to know. Though there wasn’t much he could do about his eyes.

There was a soft buzzing sound and Angel frowned down at his hellphone.

“The fuck is his problem?” he muttered to himself. “He ain’t never used Val as a messenger boy before.” He eyed Alastor over it. “Shit. He’s always got those drones around. Maybe he saw..? Nah, no way Al woulda let him get one of those things inside the hotel.”

On to more important things.

“Miss Charlie said there was a radio tower nearby?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. There’s one in the hotel.”

In the hotel? Alastor’s eyes went wide. “Where? Can we go see it?”

Angel paused, giving him his full attention. “Guess the radio obsession started early with ya. It prolly wouldn’t hurt. I mean, it is your radio tower after all. Ya listen to the radio a lot?”

“Not yet, but they did the first ever broadcast from Loyola University almost two years ago! There are other stations elsewhere, but WWL is the first one in New Orleans! They gave a fundraising speech and even played some piano music! Live! But you could hear it for miles! It’s going to be the next greatest thing! Or…well, I suppose it already is!”

“Yeah? Radio was pretty big for a while. Then television came along and kinda took over.”

His excitement instantly abated. “But there’s still radio, isn’t there?”

“Oh, for sure. Just most folks prefer tv nowadays. Cuzza the pictures and all.”

Alastor frowned at that. “But picture shows are just lazy storytelling! Why would anyone prefer something like that over books or radio?”

“People just like starin’ at screens all day, I guess,” Angel said with a shrug.

He clipped Fat Nuggets’s leash back onto his collar and started toward the elevator. Alastor trailed after, frowning harder.

“If ya look over there, ya can see Al’s radio tower,” Angel said, pointing as they went.

Alastor immediately approached the railing, still keeping a safe distance back, as he looked down at the structure indicated. It was black with dozens of red windows and what looked like branching antlers coming from its roof. His face lit up again, his disappointment in the present sad state of entertainment temporarily forgotten as he hurried back to the elevator.

He was going to get to see the inside of a radio tower. His radio tower! Maybe he could convince Angel to end the tour before it even really began and he could spend the next few hours learning everything he possibly could about the tower and radio equipment. Maybe he could even broadcast something!

“I’m not gonna regret showin’ this to ya, am I?” Angel asked as the elevator doors closed.

Alastor held onto the handrail, shaking his head emphatically. “No!”

Angel snorted softly, hitting the button. They dropped a few floors, giving Alastor the same funny sensation in his middle. He was out the elevator doors as soon as they opened, waiting impatiently for Angel Dust and Fat Nuggets to join him.

“Ya got a Trans-Atlantic accent somewhere in there?” Angel asked as he joined him.

“A what?”

Angel pursed his lips, thinking. “What’d they use to call it?” He snapped his fingers. “World English!”

That term he was familiar with. “I’ve been practicing.” People treated him differently when he used it. Even better than they treated him when they thought he was white.

“Yeah? Lemme hear it.”

Alastor cleared his throat before offering, “Now the hungry lion roars, and the wolf behowls the moon; Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, all with weary task fordone.”

Angel clapped and Alastor felt his face warm as a wide grin came to it.

“That sounds kinda familiar. Shakespeare?”

He nodded. “It’s from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

“Yeah? You a big Shakespeare fan? Accent is spot on by the way. Between that and the smile, it’s obvious you’re just Al in a tinier package.”

“Ma mère works at one of the theaters in the parish! I help her with her work during the summer and get to listen to the actors rehearsing! One of them told me World English was going to be the accent of the entertainment industry and that if I wanted to act or something similar, I needed to learn it!”

Angel grinned, gold tooth glinting. “What kinda work did your ma do?”

Oh, that’s right. It wasn’t 1923 anymore. He forced back the sudden wave of sadness that tried to rise up within him. He’d deal with it later, in private.

“She took care of the theater.” In addition to the other cleaning jobs she took on the side to make ends meet. She was able to take on more in the summer with him there to help her out.

“So this is your natural accent then?” Angel said, as if sensing his sudden disquiet.

He nodded. “Yes. But I speak French at home.” He frowned. “I’m trying to sound less…” He waved his hand, struggling to find the right word.

“Ya wanna have less of a southern drawl?”

“Yes! That!”

“Cuz ya wanna get into radio?”

“Yes!”

But also because people took him more seriously when he didn’t speak in his natural accent. There was power in World English. He didn’t often use it in person, too concerned about being recognized or found out, but he’d used it on the telephone a few times to great success.

“Makes sense! Ya use it all the time nowadays. Or ya did anyway. This is the first time I’ve heard your real accent. Though I ain’t known ya long. Just a coupla months now. We met cuzza the hotel.”

Alastor considered him a moment before offering, “You’re trying to be redeemed?”

Angel’s eyes widened. “How’d ya know that?”

He shrugged. “I don’t believe it’s possible, but if it is I hope it works out for you.”

He smiled faintly. “Yeah? Thanks, kid.”

They continued down the hall, coming to a closed door. Angel tried the knob, but nothing happened.

“It doesn’t feel like it’s locked, but…”

Alastor stepped forward, trying it himself. The door immediately opened.

“Huh,” Angel murmured as they stepped inside.

Alastor sucked in a sharp breath.

He’d read everything he could find on radios and how they worked, but it was something else entirely to be inside an actual radio tower. And, judging from what Angel said, the components here were probably beyond whatever was available back in 1923.

He’d considered trying to build a radio of his own, specifically a crystal set. He’d heard it was possible and not wildly expensive, however he didn’t want to take the plunge until he had a full understanding of how to do it. And he’d have to dip into his phonograph funds.

He’d already been dipping into them for grocery money, just rarely enough his mère believed whatever he brought home was extra from school or from a friendly staff member. It was why he’d been headed out to check his traps, hoping he could supplement their dwindling pantry with game rather than his meager funds.

He made a slow turn about the room, studying everything with intense focus. The bookshelf he found was of particular interest, including manuals on building, maintaining, and repairing the equipment on display.

This was exactly what he’d been looking for! He hadn’t been able to get his hands on anything this comprehensive in New Orleans, but now his dream had come true in Hell of all places!

He squinted back toward the desk taking up a significant portion of the room. He flipped through the manuals, selecting the one that looked as if it had gotten the most use over the years. It was still in near pristine condition, but the spine on it had more give. He set the others down and took the book over to what he assumed to be the control panel. He flipped through the book until he found the diagram matching it and began poring over it.

He was familiar enough with the basics, but the manual was helping fill in the gaps. It would take him some time to work through, but it wasn’t as if he had anything else to do at present. He doubted they had schools in Hell. Except maybe in Cannibal Town?

Angel Dust left him to it, settling on a small red sofa against the far wall. He was too tall for it, so his legs hung over one of the arms. Alastor glanced over to him, noting he was once more on his hellphone, and Fat Nuggets had curled up on his stomach, snoring softly. Angel’s snores soon joined the pig’s but Alastor was too engrossed to notice he’d fallen asleep.

He didn’t resurface from his studies until a soft whirring sound caught his attention. He blinked and rubbed at his tired eyes before turning his attention to the red windows. Some sort of tiny aircraft hovered there, making a slow circle around the tower as if peering inside. He watched it go for a moment before losing interest and returning his attention to the book.

But the sound didn’t go away. It was innocuous enough it didn’t disturb him, though he did occasionally glance up, surprised to see the aircraft had settled on hovering just in front of him. He wondered if the windows opened and, if so, if there was something he could throw at it. He didn’t know why, but he found he didn’t like it at all.

As if in answer to his unspoken prayer, what he could only assume was his shadow slipped away from him and out through what he assumed was a crack of some kind. Moments later, the aircraft burst into flames and tumbled to the ground.

Alastor felt more than saw his shadow return to him. At least this time it hadn’t pulled him into an endless black void. He’d have to ask about that too. And about the odd feeling he’d had earlier when speaking with Niffty and Husk.

Unfortunately the newfound quiet (minus the snoring) was disrupted once more by the whirring of not one but two of the little aircrafts. He swore he heard muffled shouting through the glass, but it wasn’t loud enough for him to actually make out what was being said. Were the little planes talking to him? Perhaps they were piloted by tiny demons? His shadow quickly disposed of them too.

It was proving to be quite useful and he felt he was starting to get the hang of using it. It was like an extension of himself and yet not. Almost like he’d sprouted an extra arm that could…communicate with him? Or at least he thought that was what it was trying to do. If he really focused, he was able to get vague impressions from it.

It reminded him a bit of the loa tied to their family, but more powerful and easier for him to sense and see. His mère said his grandmère had been particularly skilled at communicating with them. Unfortunately his mère hadn’t gotten much training from her before she passed, but the little she had she’d taught to him. When his father wasn’t home.

Of course he could be entirely wrong about the nature of his shadow. It was hard to say with everything coming at him so quickly.

By the time he heard the buzzing noise again, he looked up to now see five of the things. Really, how many of them were there? And why wouldn’t they leave him alone?

He reluctantly climbed out of the chair he’d commandeered and made his way over to Angel.

“Mr. Angel Dust?”

Fat Nuggets lifted his head, staring blearily at him.

“Mr. Angel Dust?” Alastor repeated more loudly.

Angel jerked upright, blinking owlishly. He absently wiped a trail of drool from the corner of his mouth.

“Shit! Uh. Hey, Al. What’s up?” he asked. “Fuck. What time is it?”

He picked up his hellphone to look at the screen, just as the box headed man’s face appeared on the screen. Angel yelped and the phone dropped to the floor, landing face up. Alastor leaned over it, tilting his head as he studied the moving image. And suddenly the box man’s eyes met his.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, kid?!” A voice cried out from the phone.

He glanced to Angel Dust, eyes wide. “He can see me?”

Angel only just seemed to notice the buzzing, head turning toward the window. He blanched.

“Don’t fucking ignore me you little shit! Do you know how much those drones fucking cost to build?!”

Alastor glanced back down at the phone. “Those little airplanes are yours?”

Angel hadn’t said how big this Vox person was, but surely he hadn’t been inside of them if he was yelling at him through a phone.

“Those little… They’re not fucking airplanes! They are top of the line drones.”

Angel seemed to finally get over his startlement and he snatched the phone up off the floor, shooting Alastor an annoyed look in the process and giving a firm shake of his head.

“Uh, sorry about that big boss!” Angel offered. “We’re babysitting some kid from Cannibal Town. He don’t mean any harm!”

“He destroyed three of my drones!”

“He what?” He stared at Alastor over the phone.

Alastor shrugged.

“Real sorry about that, sir! I’ll ask the Princess to cover the damages! Should be able to get it sorted out real quick like!”

“Who’s the fucking kid? And why the fuck are you both in Alastor’s radio tower? And why the fuck can’t I feel his frequency?”

“Uh…”

Angel was terrible at thinking on his feet, it seemed.

“I’m very sorry about your drones, Mr. Vox. And Miss Rosie asked Mr. Alastor if I could see the tower while I visited.”

“Bullshit! Alastor doesn’t let anyone in his tower! Not unless they’re gonna end up dead. And there’s no fucking way he’d let anyone in there unsupervised even if he did. And that still doesn’t answer why I can’t feel his frequency!”

Alastor scowled faintly at the back of the phone.

Angel opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by another tirade.

“If none of you idiots are going to tell me where Alastor is, maybe I’ll just come down there and see for my fucking self!”

“Wait!” Angel protested. He dropped the hand holding the phone, revealing a black screen.

“Did ya really destroy some of his drones?!” Angel demanded of him as he tucked Fat Nuggets under his arm and climbed to his feet.

“No. My shadow did.”

“Your what?!”

As if in answer, his shadow rose up on the wall behind him.

Angel slapped a hand to his forehead. “Fuck!” He poked at his phone and Charlie’s voice filled the room.

“Hey, Angel! Are you two still in the middle of the tour? It’s been hours!”

“Hours?! Fucking shit!”

“Angel!”

“Look, we got bigger fish to fry right now than me swearin’ in front of…Ed.”

“Angel, what’s going on?”

“We got five drones starin’ at us right now, Vox said he can’t get aholda Al’s frequency or some shit, and now he’s apparently comin’ here to see where Al is for himself!”

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit! How d’you know he’s coming here?”

“He told us on the hellphone,” Alastor supplied before making his way back to the control panel to grab his book.

He’d taken a brief look inside the drawers underneath while Angel had been sleeping. Now he discreetly reached into one, wrapping his fingers around the sheathed hunting knife he’d found before. He quickly slid it into his waistband at the small of his back before turning to face Angel. The drones continued to buzz behind him, the sound reminding him of angry bees.

“Look, we’ll meet ya down in the lobby, okay?” Angel said, hurrying out the door and to the elevator.

Alastor closed the door behind them before following after. He found he couldn’t enjoy the elevator ride this time. Not with how annoyed he was with himself and this pompous Vox person.

When the doors dinged open, the others were gathered just outside them.

“What the fuck?!” Vaggie offered by way of greeting. “How the fuck did this happen?! You two were in the hotel!”

“…I mighta dozed off while…Ed was lookin’ around the radio tower. Vox, uh, took over my phone. Dunno if he might still be listenin’ in.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened. “He can do that?!”

“Far as I know, yeah.”

Charlie grabbed a basket from a nearby table and everyone proceeded to put their hellphones inside. She ducked out of the room, returning empty handed.

“Okay! So, how long until he gets here?”

Angel shrugged. “He’s probably headed straight over.”

“What, exactly, happened?” Lucifer demanded.

“Val was textin’ me earlier, askin’ about Al. I guess he sent some drones while I was sleepin’? And Al’s shadow destroyed them. I may have told him you’d pay him back, Char.”

“Why was he asking about Alastor?” Vaggie demanded.

“I dunno! Y’know he’s got that weird one-sided psychosexual obsession with him! I’m guessin’ he keeps tabs on him and noticed he couldn’t feel him anymore on his frequency or whatever?”

“Why don’t you all let me handle this?” Lucifer cut in.

“Dad, as much as I appreciate you wanting to help, I think if you suddenly start throwing around Overlords looking for Al, it’s going to just draw a lot more unwanted attention to…” She paused, gesturing helplessly at Alastor.

“Why don’t we just say he left on another sabbatical?” Husk offered.

Everyone turned to face him and he shrugged.

“It’s not like anyone knows where he went the first time.”

“D’ya think Vox’ll buy that? Al told him Smiles said he could look around the radio tower.”

Husk frowned. “Well no wonder he’s fucking suspicious. The boss doesn’t let anyone in there. What were you two doing poking around in there anyway? I didn’t think anyone but the boss could get in.”

“Yeah, well, apparently that extends to baby Alastor over here,” Angel said, jerking his thumb toward him. “He asked to see it and he’s been through a lot of shit already today! I didn’t think it was a big deal! How was I supposed to know Vox was gonna go full stalker mode when Al’s only been like this a coupla hours!”

Charlie held her hands up in a placating gesture. “Angel’s right. We didn’t know Vox could…feel Al’s frequency. So let’s just try to stay calm and sort this whole thing out!”

“I tried apologizing to him,” Alastor offered. He hadn’t wanted to and he didn’t mean it, but he was somewhat responsible for the situation and he’d hoped to deescalate things by doing so.

“I told him Al’s a kid from Cannibal Town we’re babysittin’,” Angel supplied.

“Good thinking on your feet, Angel!” Charlie said. “So now we just need to get him to stop looking for Al!”

“I could try apologizing to him again in person,” Alastor said with a sigh.

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” Charlie said, worrying her bottom lip. “But if we try hiding you, I don’t know if that’s going to go over much better. While you two were upstairs, we were talking. If Husk and Niffty still feel connected to you because of their contracts, there’s nothing stopping anyone else you have a contract with from doing the same.” She glanced to Husk. “Do you know how many contracts Al has?”

Husk scowled. “He’s been at the top of the ladder since the forties. And he doesn’t have a set territory. And you’ve seen how powerful he is.”

“…so I’m guessing the answer is a lot.”

“And if somebody kills him, those contracts are gonna transfer to them.”

“Fuck,” Angel and Vaggie breathed in unison.

“The boss is one of the heaviest hitters out there. We don’t need this gettin’ out. And we can’t exactly send him up to the living world either. I’ve seen those IMP commercials. Anyone could pay them to take a hit out on him and it’s not exactly like he’d be able to defend himself.”

Alastor scowled, but it wasn’t as if he could refute as much.

“But if he still has the contracts, it’s possible he still has his powers,” Lucifer said, almost more like he was speaking to himself. “It’s possible if he winds up dead, he’ll just revert back to the old Alastor. Or wind up a fun-sized demon Alastor. He might not lose the contracts unless he’s killed twice.”

“Can we please stop talking about killing him?!” Charlie pleaded.

She’d tried to cover Alastor’s ears and he’d quickly stepped behind Angel to avoid her.

“Sorry, hon! Just running through the possibilities. Maybe once we take care of TV head I can take a look at Al and see if there’s anything I can find out about the divine power that did this to him.”

Charlie once again started gnawing on her lip. “…d’you think it’s possible now he could get into Heaven? I mean, ideally not any time soon for the bad reason! But maybe Alastor has a real second chance here and we can help nurture it?”

“I dunno, Char. He said he killed his dad,” Angel said.

“What? No, that’s just what Husk was saying before! After Alastor died.”

Angel slowly shook his head. “Nah, he says he killed him in the livin’ world.”

Everyone was now staring at Alastor who nodded in the affirmative. He couldn’t deny a small part of him enjoyed watching them squirm at the news.

“Fucking hell…” Husk muttered. “I mean, I figured he might have, but…” He gestured to Alastor. “He doesn’t exactly look like he could kill a full grown man.”

“But it was in self defense or something, right?” Charlie asked worriedly.

“I don’t think so!” Alastor supplied, tired of being talked about as if he wasn’t there. “I planned it very carefully beforehand! I figured I’d only get the one chance, so I certainly didn’t want to waste it!”

They collectively flinched back when he punctuated the statement with a wide smile. Even the King of Hell!

“Then why did Adam’s attack turn him back into a human child?” Charlie asked. “What’s the point of it all if he might not be able to be redeemed?”

“We don’t know that for sure, babe,” Vaggie said, patting her arm.

Alastor cut back in, seeing she was on the verge of tears. “Why not just tell Vox we don’t know where I am?”

“He could track down someone who could lead him to you,” Charlie protested.

He looked to Husk. “Do you know of any other contracts I might have?”

Whatever a contract meant here. He felt a small thrill at the knowledge they clearly meant power and that it seemed he had a lot of them, even if he didn’t know how to access them now.

Husk scowled, shaking his head. “Dunno if anyone’s gonna want to risk upsetting the boss by helping Vox either. I’d wager they’re more afraid of the boss.”

Charlie nodded. “I guess that’s as good a plan as any! How long d’you think it’ll…”

She trailed off as the hotel doors burst open and Vox stormed inside.

Chapter Text

The others immediately tried to step in front of Alastor and he rolled his eyes.

“Very subtle,” he said as he stepped out from behind them.

He stood up straight, shoulders back and arms tucked behind him. He smiled blandly as the television-headed man’s gaze swept around the lobby finding their group and then zeroing in on him.

Vox strode forward, pointing at him.

Really, was the true punishment in Hell the lack of manners? His mère would have a fit!

Alastor watched him approach impassively. The primary concern of his self-appointed guardians seemed to be word getting out of his present state, rather than Vox killing him. If they couldn’t deescalate the situation, he would.

Vox narrowed his eyes as he stopped a few feet away. The others couldn’t look more conspicuous if they tried. Alastor only slightly tilted his head up to see him, preferring not to look as if he was craning his neck. He had a feeling this man would’ve enjoyed that a bit too much.

“So you’re the fucking kid from Cannibal Town who destroyed my drones?” Vox demanded by way of greeting.

Alastor’s smile tightened. “Yes, Mr. Vox. I am deeply sorry about what happened to your drones. I didn’t realize they were so expensive.”

Vox scowled at him, but some of his temper seemed to ease at the apology. For a moment. Then his eyes narrowed.

“You said you’re sorry about what happened to them, not about what you did to them.”

Caught! Merde!

…pardon, mère…

“Hmm?”

Vox was pointing at him again. “That’s not a real apology, you little shit.”

Charlie fortunately decided this was the perfect moment to step between them.

“Hey there, Vox!” She extended her hand. “Charlie Morningstar, Princess of Hell! I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced!”

Vox glanced at Lucifer before reluctantly shaking her hand. Alastor sidestepped again, just enough so he could keep Vox in view. If this man was an enemy, he needed to know everything he could about him. Frankly, he seemed more like a bully, and Alastor really didn’t care for those.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! Were you interested in learning more about our redemption program or..?”

Vox couldn’t hide his grimace at the word. “No. I’m here to deal with your little rugrat and to visit Alastor.”

Charlie gave a nervous laugh. “Really? I didn’t think the two of you were close.”

“Oh, we go way back,” Vox replied, grinning. “So where is he, princess? Surely he didn’t die from that little love tap from Adam.” He paused, frowning. “…did he?”

“How d’you even know about that?” Husk cut in, crossing his arms.

“Prolly the drones,” Angel supplied, trying to discreetly make his way behind Charlie to Alastor.

Alastor narrowed his eyes at him, his shadow lengthening reflexively behind him. Vox turned at the motion, frowning.

“Well, princess, if you wouldn’t mind letting him know I’m here, I’d greatly appreciate it,” Vox replied, his words polite but his tone far from it. “In the meantime, maybe someone can give me a proper apology.”

Alastor was smiling so hard now his face was starting to cramp. “I’m sorry your drones weren’t better made.”

Charlie and Angel immediately spun toward him.

“A…Ed!” Charlie all but shouted. “That wasn’t very nice!”

He schooled his expression into something marginally more innocent. “Neither is spying.”

“All right, maybe someone needs to go down for a nap!” Angel ground out.

He reached for Alastor’s arm, but he sidestepped again.

“You got some balls, kid,” Vox said, stepping closer. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

Alastor gave him a brief up and down before cheerfully answering, “Not a clue!”

Vox blanched before his expression immediately switched to livid. “It’s not nice to lie,” he belatedly retorted.

Alastor bit back a laugh, but just barely. He was starting to understand why his older self didn’t much care for the man. “Who’s lying?”

There was a loud snort from one of the others who tried and miserably failed to pass it off as a cough.

Alastor’s smile was more genuine now, his eyes lidded as he reveled in Vox’s barely contained fury. Vox gave him an odd look at that, his anger briefly switching to confusion and then back again.

“The boss ain’t here and the kid’s just a stupid kid who apparently has a death wish,” Husk supplied. “You know how the boss is. For all we know he took another seven years off.”

Vox turned to him now. “Ah, as helpful as always, Husker.”

Husk’s fur bristled. “It’s just Husk.”

Alastor wasn’t certain why, but he felt a strange protectiveness over the grumpy cat. Perhaps a result of the contract? He really needed to learn more about those…

Vox took a step forward, tripping when Alastor’s shadow snatched at his ankle from behind. Alastor’s eyes widened.

Oops, he hadn’t meant for it to do that… Had he somehow given it the order or was it working on its own?

His shadow snaked back toward him, but not quickly enough. Vox spun, eyes tracking its movement. Unfortunately Alastor also wasn’t entirely certain how to communicate that now wasn’t the time for it to come back to him and it settled once more on the floor behind him.

“What the actual fuck?!” Vox demanded. His eyes were wide now. “Sinners can’t—“

“God fucking damn it, Al!” Angel cut in, managing to grab his arm that time despite Alastor’s attempts to evade him.

“—have kids?” Vox finished, blinking.

The lobby fell silent as Vox gaped at him.

“What?!” Vox demanded. “Are you fucking shitting me?! Is this a joke? Did Alastor put you all up to this?”

“Yup! A big joke! Pretty funny, huh?” Charlie said, a clear note of desperation in her voice.

“Holy shit, it’s not a joke…” Vox said, shoulders slumping where he stood as he stared.

Alastor rolled his eyes. “You all are terrible liars.”

“And you’re fucking suicidal!” Angel snapped. “Do you have any idea how fast this guy gets information around?!”

Alastor stared calmly back at him. “Of course not.”

Angel threw two of his arms up. “Okay, I walked right into that one. Gonna lock your ass in a fuckin’ guest room for your own fuckin’ safety!”

Alastor tugged at his arm but when Angel didn’t release it, he melted into his shadow of his own accord this time, appearing on the opposite side of the group. It was proving to be quite the useful little ability.

Vox followed his path, mouth still agape. “You’re really Alastor? Wait, so what the fuck happened? Was it that thing Adam did? You’re, what, you but trapped in the body of a kid?” He squinted at him. “Wait, is this what you actually fucking looked like as a kid?”

Whatever they’d all been expecting from Vox, this didn’t seem to be it. The others shot him questioning glances while Alastor longed to retreat back to the bayou in his room or maybe even the radio tower to finish perusing his newfound book.

Charlie hesitated before hazarding, “…you’re not going to try to kill him?”

Vox looked offended. “What? No! Not when he’s like this, anyway.”

“I thought you…hated him?”

“Yeah! But how the fuck would I ever live it down if I killed him like this? No one would take me seriously. And the Vees brand is perfection. Besides, I’m more than capable of taking him out when he’s at full strength. Can’t fucking gloat when he’s like this,” he said, waving a hand at Alastor.

“So you…would help us get him back to normal?” she asked, voice trailing up at the end with uncertainty. “And you aren’t going to let everyone in Hell know what happened?”

Vox scowled. “And have some weak ass Overlord wannabe take him out? Fuck no.”

Charlie sagged with relief.

“So, what, he got shrunk down and turned back into a human?”

Alastor glared. “I’m right here and more than capable of speaking for myself.”

“So are you fucking with me or do you really not know who I am?”

“I know your name is Vox, you have a strange head, and drones. I’ve also heard you have a one-sided psychos—“

Angel’s hand abruptly slapped over his mouth. He was faster than Alastor had thought. He hadn’t even seen him close the distance between them.

“It’s like he just popped in from 1923,” Angel supplied. “And we don’t know why he can still do the shadow thing.”

Alastor tried to pull his hand from his mouth, but Angel stubbornly kept it in place. Rather than use his shadow again, he opened his mouth at which point Angel yanked his hand away.

“You was not about to bite me!”

“If you keep your hands to yourself, I won’t have to!”

Angel looked to Charlie. “Can we please just…I dunno, give him a radio or somethin’ so he’ll behave?”

Alastor perked up despite himself. He supposed he wasn’t above being bribed if the price was right. He was also willing to acknowledge, at least to himself, that he probably couldn’t evade all of them forever. Besides, if he pretended to be on his best behavior, they were far more likely to let their collective guard down and leave him to his own devices.

“1923, huh,” Vox said, expression thoughtful. “Wait, where’s his monocle? Or glasses or whatever?”

Alastor frowned.

“Dunno,” Angel admitted with a shrug. “Why? Ain’t it like a fashion thing or something?”

Vox shook his head. “No, his vision is shit. At least in the one eye.”

“What? Seriously? He actually needs that thing?”

“Yeah. He let me look through it once when he was drunk.” He eyed Alastor. “More of his actual accent comes out then too. Fuck, I can’t believe I didn’t realize it was him sooner.”

“Huh. I guess he was squintin’ earlier in the radio tower.”

Charlie leaned down, hands on her upper thighs so she was closer to his eye level. “Is that true, Alastor? Do you have glasses?”

“No, I don’t have glasses.”

“But do you need them?”

He pressed his lips into a thin, irritated line. “I don’t need them.”

Vox snorted. “Like hell you don’t.”

Alastor’s hands tightened into fists at his sides. “Spectacles are expensive. I don’t need them.”

Something shifted in Charlie’s expression at the words. He was annoyed to see what looked suspiciously like pity in her eyes.

Politeness be damned (pardon, mère). He opened his mouth to tell her exactly what she could do with her pity when suddenly a pair of spectacles appeared on his face. Alastor blinked, stunned at how crisp everything appeared. He could actually fully see the far side of the lobby.

Lucifer was beside him now, staring intently down at him. His vision shifted again, things coming into even sharper focus.

“How’s that?” he prompted. “I mean, I’m not an optometrist or anything, but they should be pretty close to what you actually need.”

Alastor found himself at a loss for words. He closed his mouth again, blinking rapidly. Everything was so clear. He hadn’t realized spectacles could make such a difference. Then again, everything at a distance had been blurry for as long as he could remember.

“I…” He trailed off, feeling a telltale lump begin to rise in his throat. He hadn’t even realized things up close had been a bit blurry too. Maybe that was why he got headaches so often..?

Why were all of these people being so nice to him? Wasn’t this supposed to be Hell? How was it that the people here treated him more kindly than most of the people he knew back home? Even knowing he’d killed his own father?

Charlie was still in front of him, tears welling in her eyes. It looked like it was taking everything in her power not to embrace him. Thankfully she kept her hands to herself.

Alastor took a few slow breaths, forcing his emotions back down to a more manageable level. He finally managed a soft, “Thank you.”

But had the spectacles been freely given? Or was there an as yet unpaid price for them? The latter seemed far more likely. He couldn’t bring himself to care overmuch at present though.

“No problem,” Lucifer replied, easing Charlie back. She leaned against him, eyes still shining.

“So, what exactly is the plan here?” Vox asked, returning to the matter at hand.

“We’re still tryin’ to figure it out,” Angel admitted. “We don’t know if this is permanent or what. Hell, if it’s permanent we don’t even know if he’ll grow up again or be stuck like this forever.”

“What about his contracts?”

The others shared an uneasy glance.

“Still in place,” Alastor said, eager to keep the topic of conversation elsewhere.

“Huh.” Vox absently rubbed his chin.

“It’d help if we actually knew what happened,” Lucifer said. “Unfortunately Alastor doesn’t remember.”

“I recorded it.”

“Of course ya did,” Angel muttered. “Does the video even work with all his glitchy shit?”

Vox shrugged. “Works well enough. I guess I can give you all access to the file…”

Charlie turned to him, face hopeful. “Really?! You’d do that?”

Vox gave a predatory grin. “For a price. And the way I see it, you all also still owe me for those drones.”

Flames licked the corners of Lucifer’s mouth, but Charlie held her hand up to forestall him.

“What price?”

Vox’s gaze drifted to Alastor. “Let me keep an eye on him.”

“What?!” Angel and Husk demanded as one.

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely not!” Angel continued.

“I already said I wouldn’t kill him!”

“The fuck d’ya want him for anyway?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to agree with Angel on this one,” Charlie interjected.

“Well, what’s Alastor got to say about it?” Vox retorted, looking to him.

Alastor stared coolly back at him. “Do you have a radio tower, a bayou, or a pet pig?”

Vox blinked. “What?”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Hey! You want a radio tower, I can get you the best equipped one there is!”

“No! No, no, no!” Charlie protested, emphatically shaking her head. “Please tell me you’re not trying to make a deal with a literal child right now.”

Vox’s expression grew thoughtful. “Not what I was angling for, but now that you mention it…”

Now it was Charlie’s turn for fire to spring up over her head.

“You make a deal with him, and it’ll be the last thing you ever do,” Lucifer offered from Charlie’s side, smiling with all his teeth.

Vox rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay. I get it. Al has scary dog privileges. No deals.”

The phrase earned some confused looks. Only Angel and Husk snorted with laughter. Angel’s eyes widened at Husk’s reaction and Husk pointedly looked anywhere but at him.

“But let me stay here while you all figure this out.”

“Why?” Charlie asked, frowning.

“Because of his one-sided psychos—“

Angel didn’t put a hand over his mouth this time, but he shot Alastor a look, which silenced him all the same.

“His what?” Charlie asked.

“Don’t worry about it, princess,” Angel replied.

“I’ll go look at the video with Vox,” Lucifer offered. “Char, you and Vaggie might wanna come too. Maybe also Husk.”

Alastor frowned. “I want to see the video too.”

“No!” came a chorus of voices.

“Why not?”

“Cuz even if ya already killed a guy, you’re still a kid,” Angel said.

“It’s a video of me!”

“What? You’re joking right?” Vox asked. “No way he’s already killed someone.”

The room fell silent and Vox’s eyes darted from one person to the next, quiet horror dawning on his face when he finally met Alastor’s.

“You’re fucking serious?! Fuck, I knew he was a serial killer, but he’s what…eight?”

“Eleven,” Alastor corrected. “I’m a serial killer? How many people have I killed?”

“In Hell or the living world? Or both?”

Charlie gave a sharp shake of her head.

“Both!” Alastor answered.

“You told me you killed twenty-nine before you died.”

Alastor wrinkled his nose. “Not a very satisfying number.”

Vox shuddered. “Yeah. You said that then too. Fuck, that’s way creepier coming out of a kid.”

Charlie blanched. “T-Twenty-nine..?” She looked to Husk for confirmation. He shrugged, seemingly unsurprised.

“But Al died in his thirties, didn’t he?” she continued.

“He died when he was twenty-eight. So by my math, if he started at seventeen or thereabouts, he was killing two or three people a year,” Vox answered.

“And what about after I died?” Alastor asked.

Vox considered, absently tapping a finger against his screen. “I stopped counting sometime in the seventies. Probably hundreds, if not thousands by now.”

“Hmm.” He wondered if there was a notebook or something lying around where he’d tracked the actual numbers. It seemed like something he might do.

“H-Hundreds?” Charlie echoed.

“Babe, you saw him eat those loan sharks. And you saw how many Exorcists he killed,” Vaggie said, rubbing her shoulder.

“Yeah, b-but still,” Charlie protested, looking shaken.

He’d eaten loan sharks? He supposed that meant he’d given into that particular impulse at some point too. Waste not, want not as his mère so often said.

Unless they were literal sharks in Hell? Not that it mattered to him either way.

Husk sighed. “It’s probably not much comfort, princess, but try to keep in mind the boss hasn’t hurt nobody here at the hotel.”

Charlie slowly turned to him. “…but he’s killed hundreds of people!”

“People in Hell,” Husk corrected. “And I know for a fact at least some of the folks he killed up top wound up down here after. He ain’t the type to go after women and kids and shit.”

“But why not just call the living world authorities or something instead if they were bad people?!”

Vox scoffed. “Because he enjoys killing.”

That seemed true enough to Alastor in his thus far limited experience. He’d certainly enjoyed killing his father. He couldn’t imagine never doing it again. Never feeling that power again.

Charlie looked a bit sick. “But he seems so…so…” She gestured helplessly to Alastor. “You don’t enjoy killing do you?”

“It’s hard to say, having only done it once so far, but I do find myself eager to do it again!”

“Fuck!” Angel hissed.

Alastor tilted his head. “Should I have lied?”

“No! No,” Charlie insisted. “Lying is bad. Killing people is bad.”

Vox seemed to be the only one present who found his admission funny rather than horrifying. Alastor might need to reconsider extending an olive branch to him. He didn’t seem like the type who would stop him from indulging in his darker side. Though Alastor certainly didn’t trust him. While was willing to bet Vox was a better liar than the rest of them, he seemed like a very emotional person.

Emotions made a person sloppy.

“Why don’t I just give you the recording for you all to look over while I keep an eye on little Al here?” Vox offered, grinning.

Alastor narrowed his eyes. “I can keep an eye on myself.”

Vox tapped his chin. “1923, huh? Radio was just starting to be a thing back then. Most folks didn’t even own one. I imagine you’ve got a lot of studying up to do on how far things have come since then.” He leaned down, leering now. “Lucky for you, I started in radio before television took over. And I’m pretty familiar with Al’s equipment. I doubt he’s changed it much. I helped him source some replacement parts once upon a time.”

His eyes widened now as he stared at Vox, looking for the lie in his face and words and seeing nothing.

He could figure it out himself. Of that he had no doubt, especially with the manual. But if Vox had firsthand experience and was a decent enough teacher, he could be broadcasting in no time. The same rush of excitement he’d felt after killing his father swept through him at the thought. Vox’s smile widened.

“Now, wait just one fuckin’ second,” Angel protested. “I don’t think ya should be alone with Al, for one. Whether or not the only thing ya wanna do is teach him how to broadcast. Cuz the two of ya together? Seems like a recipe for wanton murder to me.”

“What’s a little murder between friends?” Vox prompted, eyes darting up to meet Angel’s.

“No! Murder!” Charlie shouted, making him roll his eyes. “Besides, has Al even eaten anything yet today?”

Angel blinked. “Oh. Uh, shit. I don’t think so? He never said nothin’.”

“Dad, could you please go watch the recording with Vox, Husk, and Vaggie? Me, Angel, and Al are going to go make something to eat.”

Vox looked like he wanted to protest, but stopped at a glare from Lucifer. He sighed, letting the others lead him away.

“C’mon,” Charlie said, reaching for Alastor’s hand.

He tucked both behind his back, safely out of reach.

Charlie didn’t press, instead turning to lead him, Angel, and Fat Nuggets to the kitchen.

“You like to cook, don’t you Al?” she asked as they went.

He nodded. “I do…did most of the cooking at home. Ma mère taught me.”

“What? Really? That’s so nice of you!”

“Full blown mama’s boy,” Angel said with a shake of his head.

“Nothing wrong with that!” Charlie insisted.

She reached for the door, but Alastor was quick to intercept her, pushing it open and holding it for the two of them. She smiled as she stepped through.

Alastor followed, looking around the kitchen. It reminded him of the commercial kitchens he’d seen through his mother’s work, though everything here was almost blindingly shiny and made of metal. Even the prep areas.

“You can come in here any time, Al,” Charlie continued. “Anything’s up for grabs, so long as it doesn’t have someone else’s name on it.”

They walked into an enormous pantry and Alastor stared. He’d never seen so much food in his life outside of a grocer. There were plenty of ingredients and spices at hand, though there also seemed to be a lot of pre-made foods. He walked the length of the expansive shelves, taking it all in.

“How many people live here?”

“Oh! Well, there’s all of us and then a handful of new guests who came after the fight yesterday. We’re expecting some more will come along once things have settled down a little.”

It seemed like too much food for so few people. So wasteful. Alastor frowned.

“It’s charmed,” Angel was quick to reassure him. “Nothin’ in there’ll go bad. Some of it’s hard to come by down here, so we stock up when we can. We get regular deliveries and make a trip to the store for the things we can’t get delivered. You actually handled mosta that stuff. You’re real picky about where your food comes from.”

Alastor could imagine. If he had access to this level of bounty, he could see himself being more discerning and seeking out only the best ingredients. Frankly, he didn’t know what most of these items even were, barring the more basic ones. He studied a pre-cut loaf of bread in clear packaging. Had they gone to the trouble to cut it all at once themselves? Why do that?

There were all kinds of boxes and other pre-packaged goods. Of most interest to him were the various fruits, most of them fresh though there were some canned varieties. Canned pineapple had been one of his mère’s very few luxuries when they could afford it. Yes, the price had dropped but that hardly meant much when funds were so tight.

His excitement at exploring the pantry began to wane and he came back out, overwhelmed by the many options.

Charlie watched him with a wide smile on her face while Angel saw to feeding Fat Nuggets.

“See anything you’d like?” Charlie asked.

He thought back to the bread. “Do you have peanut butter?”

“Oh! I think so. Let me check.”

She ducked into the pantry and he wandered over to Angel.

“You really do got a death wish dontcha?” Angel prompted as he approached. “The fuck was all that with Vox?”

Alastor leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “I don’t like bullies. And I didn’t think you all would let him kill me.” He wrinkled his nose. “…I also have mon père’s temper.”

Angel’s expression softened. “That’s why ya tripped him? Cuz he was layin’ into Husk?”

Alastor shrugged, not looking at him. “What is the cost of all of this?” he asked, not so subtly changing the subject.

“Cost of all what?”

He gestured to the spectacles and the pantry.

“No cost. No way Charlie’s gonna charge ya anything. It wouldn’t even occur to her. ‘Sides, she’s loaded. Everyone here stays rent free.”

“Why? Isn’t this Hell?”

“Char was born here. She didn’t get sent here like everyone else. That’s what Hellborn means, by the way. Some demons are, like the folks in Cannibal Town. There’s also imps an’ hellhounds.”

Alastor tilted his head as he considered this new information. “Why doesn’t she want to leave?”

“It’s her home. Always has been. Us sinners are her people and she cares about her people more than anythin’. She also believes everyone deserves a second chance. And a third and a fourth.” He waved his hand. “It’s just how she is. Easier to just accept it than to try and understand it. ‘Specially for folks like us who ain’t all sunshine and rainbows and shit. Which is why ya should try and get along with her.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know. Otherwise ya woulda bit me for real.”

Alastor smiled despite himself.

“Sorry for all the touchin’ earlier. I was just tryin’ to protect ya from Vox.”

“I know, but I don’t need protection.”

Angel looked Heavenward. “Yea. But there’s still a lotta shit ya don’t know and we don’t want nothin’ bad to happen to ya. You’re our friend. Even if ya don’t really remember us right now. And I get that you’re used to takin’ care of yourself and your ma, but ya don’t have to do that here. Easier said than done, I know, but it’s true.”

Alastor sighed softly. “It’s hard to trust other people.”

“Don’t I know it,” Angel grumbled, stretching his arms up over his head with a soft groan. “Oh, be careful if ya let Charlie cook anythin’ for ya. You’ve been teachin’ her how and she’s gotten a lot better. But sometimes you’re still takin’ your life in your hands.”

“I was teaching her?” Hmm, he must really like her then. Maybe he should try a little harder to get along with her.

“Yeah. First night you was here, ya let her help ya make jambalaya. Said it was your ma’s recipe.”

He must really, really like her then. He wouldn’t share his mère’s recipes with just anyone. He was confident the same could be said for his older self.

Charlie finally emerged from the pantry, empty handed. “I’m really sorry, Alastor. I could’ve sworn we had some. I can run by the store if you want?”

He shook his head. “It’s all right, ma chere. Maybe we could…cook something instead?”

Her face lit up at the suggestion and she squealed. “Yes! Yes, we should definitely do that! I mean, if you’d like to!”

He nodded, mentally rifling through his mère’s recipes in his mind. “If I list out the ingredients for jambalaya, would you be able to locate them? It might be faster that way.”

“Your mother’s jambalaya? Oh! We’ve made that a few times! Let me see if I can remember first!” That said, she dove back into the pantry.

A small smile came to his face. Anyone who was such a fan of his mère’s food was already worth keeping around.

“She’s actually gotten pretty good at this one,” Angel offered. “I think it might be her favorite.”

It was his too, but he wasn’t going to say as much. That felt too…personal.

“What are these contracts everyone keeps talking about?”

“Oh. Uh. Well. There’s dealmakers in Hell. Not everyone can do it. The ones who’re the best at it become Overlords. It don’t always have to be over souls, but the contracts are bindin’ nonetheless.” He glanced away, frowning.

He must have a contract with someone. Alastor found himself curious as to who, but it didn’t seem like it was the type of thing one just asked.

“Overlords?”

“Yeah. You’re an Overlord. At the top of Hell’s hierarchy as far as Sinners are concerned. You’ve made a lotta deals over the years.”

For peoples’ souls? He didn’t have any compunctions in that regard, but it was still a heady thing to realize he owned countless peoples’ souls.

“I own Husk and Niffty’s?”

Angel nodded. “I dunno what the terms of your agreement are. You’d have to ask ‘em. Or find the contracts. I think most Overlords keep ‘em somewhere safe. Ya can’t just overwrite a contract. And if a contract owner gets killed killed, their contracts transfer over to their killer. Or, if they’re killed by accident or somethin’ they usually go to whoever their designee is. Unless they ain’t double dead.”

“Double dead?”

“Yeah. Most folks survive gettin’ killed or hurt down here and reform after a while. Usually weaker than before. And it gets harder to put yourself back together every time it happens. If ya see eyes on a wall or piece of furniture or something, they belong to Sinners who can’t put themselves back together no more.”

He grimaced at the image that evoked.

“But there is one way to permanently kill somebody. Well, maybe more than one way, but the only guaranteed way everyone knows is angelic steel. That’ll kill a demon and an angel outright. And it can do some real damage to the more powerful folks in Hell too, like the Ars Goetia and the Sins.”

Alastor’s expression grew thoughtful as he absorbed all this new information, turning it over in his mind. “How do you know it kills angels?”

Angel slumped against the counter. “Cuz they send a buncha exorcists down here, usually once a year, to help with Hell’s ‘overpopulation’ problem.” He said, making air quotes with his fingers. “That’s how ya got hurt. Ya took on the First Man, Adam, and he hit ya with somethin’ real nasty.”

Alastor blinked. He’d never really questioned whether or not the scripture he’d learned over the years was real, albeit likely embellished. But to find out he’d fought against the literal first man was a bit surreal.

“This was the first time we really fought back,” Angel continued. “Cuz we just found out we could with angelic steel. Heaven’s pissed too. So now we're all just waitin’ for the other shoe to drop. Oh, the exorcists are all Heavenborn by the way. And they were a secret even amongst the folks in Heaven until real recently. So your ma wouldn’t know about any of that or have participated in any of it.”

He hadn’t really considered that, but it was a relief to know she wasn’t down here fighting hordes of demons.

“Charlie thinks we can handle the overpopulation problem differently. By helpin’ redeem Sinners instead of the Exorcists comin’ down here and goin’ on a murder spree. It’s the whole reason she opened the hotel in the first place.”

Alastor nodded. From the little he knew about her, it certainly made sense.

Charlie reappeared, setting the ingredients out on the counter. He didn’t want to, but he grabbed one of the chairs from the kitchen table and pulled it over so he could stand on the seat and actually use the countertop rather than be at near eye level with it.

He surveyed the ingredients with a critical eye. “Do you have any sausage or shrimp?”

“Oh! Sorry, forgot,” Charlie said as she hurried away again.

“Didja have an icebox or a refrigerator?” Angel prompted as she went.

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“Shit, when did electric fridges come around again?”

Alastor blinked, but didn’t ask. “We don’t have an icebox.”

Angel looked up from his phone, eyes widening. “Really? Electricity?”

He shook his head.

“Damn. Was that normal around there?”

Alastor shrugged. “Electricity is…was getting more common. And ice boxes and ice were expensive. We had a root cellar instead.”

“Huh. Guess that makes sense. I grew up in New York. My family was pretty well off. We had electricity and an icebox an’ all that. I’d imagine you’re prolly pretty loaded now. You’ve been a big name in Hell for decades. Plus there’s a lotta shit ya could just make with your magic.”

Another thing Alastor would have to look into. It’d be nice if he had his own funds, however much they may add to. He might as well take advantage of what his demon self left behind.

Charlie returned with both shrimp and sausage, beaming. “Al…er…you actually made the sausage yourself,” she said as she set both down.

Angel gave it a look. “With supervision?” he demanded.

“He promised it was just pork.”

Angel didn’t look entirely convinced. Charlie gave the sausage a long look too.

“I don’t think he’d lie about it?”

Angel made a noncommittal noise. Alastor, meanwhile, removed his blazer and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Charlie stopped what she was doing, staring at his arm. He followed her gaze, noting the enormous, faded bruise that took up most of his forearm. A final parting gift from his late père.

“Are you okay..?” Charlie hazarded.

Angel was staring now too. Alastor fought the urge to cover himself back up.

“I’m fine.”

At least his père couldn’t hurt him anymore.

Angel and Charlie shared a look.

“Ya sure it wasn’t self-defense?” Angel asked.

Alastor pointedly ignored them as he climbed from the chair and went over to the sink to wash his hands. His shadow helpfully turned on the water, as he never could have reached the knob himself. Not without another chair anyway. Charlie and Angel followed suit

Alastor headed back to the counter, his shadow supplying a knife from the butcher’s block. He studied it, remembering the hunting knife he had squirreled away under his waistband. He’d have to task his shadow with looking around for any others his former self may have left behind. Or pilfering a few from the kitchen.

It was a relief to lose himself in the preparation of the various ingredients. Cooking always relaxed him. It reminded him of his mère. Soon enough, he was humming softly as he worked.

“Oh! I can turn on the radio if you want?” Charlie offered.

He stopped mid-chop, head jerking up. Charlie grabbed a small box from the windowsill in front of the sink and brought it over. Alastor studied it, marveling at its size. She turned it on, but only static greeted them.

“Huh. That’s weird. There’s always something playing…oh.”

“Oh?”

“I think you usually supplied the music,” she said, fussing with the dial.

Alastor winced as she cycled through a variety of noise that must pass as music these days. Still it was hard to be too upset when there was an actual radio right in front of him and he was going to get to listen to it. Charlie finally settled on a station playing jazz and Alastor lit up. The sound was so clear! It was as if the musicians were in the room with them, performing live!

Soon he was humming along with the radio instead. He continued chopping while Charlie browned the sausage in a pot on the stove. Angel seemed happy to serve as a runner, taking the prepared ingredients over to her as needed.

Charlie kept an eye on the simmering mixture while Alastor turned his attention to washing the dishes, this time moving another chair to the sink. He, like his mother, preferred to tidy while he cooked rather than after.

By the time he was finished with the dishes and wiping down the counter, Charlie was spooning jambalaya into a trio of waiting bowls, which Angel carried over to the kitchen table. They then all settled together at the table, Alastor having been provided with a cushion from the lobby to sit on.

Charlie and Angel immediately dug in while Alastor bowed his head in prayer. They both froze, forks raised. He ignored them, silently giving his thanks for the food and making the Sign of the Cross before he began to eat.

“That was…super weird,” Angel supplied as he resumed his own meal. “Like seein’ a cryptid or somethin’.”

“Are you very religious, Alastor?” Charlie prompted, setting her fork down.

Hmm. He supposed since he was in Hell he didn’t really need to maintain the habit. But the thought of his mère looking down from above and seeing him not do it. Well. He wasn’t going to disappoint her in that way at least.

“We go to mass every Sunday and I go to Catholic school,” he answered.

He went for his mère’s sake. While he’d always believed in the concepts of Heaven and Hell, he struggled to find the same passion his mother did in spirituality. Except when it came to Voodoo. He was a much more eager participant in those rituals. The only thing that ever really interested him at mass was the music.

He found it hard to take the clergy seriously when he knew they weren’t nearly as devout as they claimed. Doubly so for the congregants who were convinced so long as they tithed enough, they could be as devilish as they liked and still make their way up to Heaven. He hoped that wasn’t the case. He’d hate for his mère to be stuck with them for all eternity. That would be much more akin to Hell.

“Catholic school?” Angel echoed. “Hey! Me too!”

Charlie gaped. “What? Really?”

“Why’s that so hard to believe?”

“It’s not! I just…I guess I assumed people who were religious wound up in Heaven?”

Angel snorted. “Yeah there’s a difference between talkin’ the talk and walkin’ the walk. Lotta times the more religious somebody is, the worse of a person they are.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense!”

“Charlie, doll face, for a lotta folks, religion’s just a way to get power. To have power over other folks. Cuz what’re they gonna do? Tell ya that you’re wrong? They got a direct line to the big man upstairs, dontcha know?”

Some of the color left Charlie’s face.

“My pa was one of the most religious folks I ever met. And he was also one of the worst people I ever met. The shit I’d see him do durin’ the week and then watch him simperin’ and shit at mass?” Angel shook his head in disgust.

“Oh… I didn’t realize,” Charlie said, frowning.

“Ya grew up in Hell. S’not like ya experienced any of that shit first hand.”

Alastor glanced up. “You really grew up in Hell? What was that like?”

“Oh! I had a pretty happy childhood! Well, I mean, I guess I was a little sheltered. My dad didn’t let me interact with any of the Sinners until I was older. But just because people are Sinners doesn’t mean they’re all bad! Well, actually you should probably be a little wary of most folks here initially… But everyone you’ve met so far is a good person!”

“Except Vox,” Angel cut in, scowling faintly.

“Yeah, it probably wouldn’t hurt to be a lot wary of him...”

Angel shook his head. “I didn’t like the look he was givin’ Al. Especially after all his talk of wantin’ to keep an eye on him.”

“You think he’d hurt him?” Charlie asked.

“Nah, I think he’d try to turn him into some kinda mini me or somethin’. Matchin’ outfits and all that shit. Didja hear that song they was singin’ the other day? He asked Al to be one of the Vees at some point and got turned down.”

“What are the Vees?” Alastor interjected.

“Vox, Valentino, and Velvette. Three overlords that banded together. Vox controls tech, Valentino controls porn, and Velvette controls social media.”

“Angel!”

“What? He knows what porn is!”

Charlie looked utterly mortified. “What the fff-freak were you two doing on your tour?!”

“Mostly hangin’ out in Al’s radio tower. Speakin’ of.” He turned his full attention to Alastor now, pointing his fork at him. “If someone offers ya a radio if ya get into their white windowless van, the answer is no.”

Alastor arched a brow.

“What I’m sayin’ is don’t let Vox tempt ya into goin’ to a second location with him, unless ya wanna end up bein’ his lil’ Al shaped pet.”

Ah. He understood that well enough. He nodded, returning his attention to the food. The ingredients were top notch and it was even better than what he would have made at home because of it. The serving was also enormous, but he was determined to finish it.

As the others finished up too, Lucifer walked in to join them, giving Alastor a concerned look in the process.

“Dad! Did you get anything from the recording?” Charlie asked, turning to him.

“Yeah. I don’t know how Alastor survived a blow like that. He should be dead.”

“Maybe it hit him so hard he came back to life?” Angel offered, snorting softly.

“Whatever the case, I’d like to take a look at him to see if I can sense any residual angelic energy. Or maybe puzzle out what exactly he was hit with in the first place. That sound okay to you?” The question, he had the courtesy to direct to Alastor himself.

Well, he supposed it couldn’t hurt. Better to know what exactly they were dealing with after all. Alastor nodded before smothering a yawn.

“Can it wait until tomorrow, dad?” Charlie asked. “He’s already been through a lot today.”

Lucifer looked like he wanted to protest, but he nodded. “Yeah, I’ll take a look tomorrow morning.”

“Where’s he sleepin’ for now?” Angel asked, tilting his head toward Alastor.

He tilted his head as he regarded him. “Don’t I have a room?”

“Yeah, but fuck knows what all your older self left in it. Dunno if it’s the best place for ya to be.”

Alastor frowned.

“‘Sides, I don’t trust Vox as far as I can throw ‘em. Last thing we need is for him to try to get ya alone. He may not look it, but he’s powerful, Al. If he had a head start, he could prolly even get ya out of the hotel before we even knew what was happenin’.”

He liked to think he could take care of himself, but he supposed Angel was right. No need to put himself in any unnecessary danger. Especially not where this Vox was concerned.

“It’d probably be a good idea for one of us to stay with you in case anything else happens with the divine energy too,” Charlie agreed. “Just in case. Who would you like to stay with?”

Alastor silently weighed his options. Charlie seemed like she may drive him insane with prolonged exposure, regardless of how nice she was. Angel, meanwhile, had been the best about not treating him like a child so far.

He also had Fat Nuggets.

“Can I stay with you, Mr. Angel Dust?”

Angel looked stunned. “Me? Uh… I guess so?”

Charlie beamed at him. “Great! Dad, would you mind helping make sure Alastor has everything he needs?”

“I’d still like to stay in my room though,” Alastor cut in. It was the closest thing that felt like home at present.

“I mean, I guess that’d be okay?” Angel hazarded. “There’s not nothin’ that’d eat Fat Nuggets in there, is there?”

Alastor thought back to the bayou. “I’m not sure.”

“I can throw up a little fence,” Lucifer offered. “To keep wandering Nuggets out of trouble. Be back in a jiff.”

That said, he opened a portal and stepped through it.

Moments later, he walked back into the kitchen, scowling faintly.

“What’s wrong?” Charlie asked.

“Apparently someone has their room enchanted. I think I’m going to need Alastor to go with me to get in. Otherwise I’m just gonna end up in the middle of the street again.”

Alastor snorted softly at that. Lucifer shot him a look, but didn’t seem too upset.

“Can we take the elevator?” he asked as he climbed to his feet.

Chapter Text

Angel suddenly found himself in an achingly familiar alleyway back in the Living World. He was younger then, sixteen or maybe seventeen. His boyfriend at the time, Ray, had him crowded up against an unrelenting brick wall. He sank further against it, trying to put what little distance between them that he could. It was obvious Ray had been drinking. Ray was always drinking. And when he was deep in his drink, he got handsy.

The problem this time was he’d tried to get handsy in Angel’s family’s restaurant. Where any of them could see. Angel was enough of a disappointment already. He couldn’t risk his pa finding out he was a queer too.

“Ray,” he protested, voice wavering as the older man pawed ineffectually at him.

This wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where the police might turn a blind eye. They also weren’t far from the restaurant. Anyone could see. Someone he knew could see.

“Shaddup and help me, ya piece of shit,” Ray retorted, beginning to yank at his shirt now, hard enough it was in danger of tearing.

“Ray, stop!” he protested, trying to push him away.

Ray’s expression grew thunderous and he backhanded Angel…no, Anthony hard enough he saw stars and tasted blood. A hand slipped underneath his shirt and he pressed harder against the wall, as if he could sink into it.

And then just as suddenly the hand was gone and Ray was sprawled out on his back in the dirt.

A man he didn’t recognize stood there now, a wide smile on his face as he looked down at Ray who was struggling to figure out how he’d ended up horizontal, let alone how to get up again.

Anthony couldn’t tell if the guy was maybe mixed or just of a darker complexion. Not exactly unusual amongst some Italians. It didn’t help that the sun was well on its way to setting, throwing much of the alley further into shadow.

“I believe he said to stop,” he offered, eyes crinkling.

He spoke with that ridiculous sounding World English that was so popular with the rich these days. But if he was rich, what the hell was he doing on this side of town? They were firmly middle class here. Maybe he’d felt like slumming it…?

Anthony watched him warily as he fumbled to right his clothes.

A petulant sigh came from the mouth of the alley. “C’mon, we don’t got all night!”

The man turned, flashing a more natural smile at the petite blonde woman standing there.

“Just a moment, my dear!”

His girlfriend...?

He gave his full attention to Anthony now. “I take it you know one another?” he asked, nudging Ray hard in the ribs with his shoe.

Anthony gave a jerky nod.

Ray gasped in pain, grabbing for his foot. He easily dodged the attempt before kicking him hard enough in the face that Anthony heard a wet crack. The sound of Ray’s ensuing scream was muffled only by the man pressing his foot heavily down on his throat.

Rather than be horrified like Anthony was, the woman gave another sigh. “C’mon, kitten! Either finish him off or let’s get a move on!”

“Hmm.” He looked to Anthony. “What do you think, my dear? Is he the sort you want to come calling again?”

Anthony’s heart pounded almost painfully now in his chest.

Was he asking him if he could…?

“You bitch,” Ray snarled, the man having let up on his throat. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you!”

He turned back to him and knelt down beside him, a deadly looking hunting knife now in hand.

“Oh, I don’t imagine you’ll be doing anything of the sort!” he said, ramming the butt of the knife hard into the front of Ray’s throat with a sickening crunch.

Ray’s hands flew to his throat as he made desperate, choked sounds. The man removed his jacket, holding it out to the blonde who came up and took it from him with a roll of her eyes. He thanked her as he calmly rolled up the sleeve of the white button up underneath. This accomplished, he drove the knife up and under Ray’s ribs with a powerful, practiced motion, angling for what must have been his heart.

Ray tried to cry out as his body seized up with the blow, but couldn’t force much out through his ruined throat.

Anthony was convinced the mangled sound he made would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.

The man rolled Ray onto his side before removing the knife. He remained there, still kneeling beside him for what felt like an eternity but was in reality probably just a few minutes.

Soon Ray’s inarticulate gurgling and feeble movements ceased altogether.

The man pressed two fingers to his throat, nodding to himself. Satisfied, he wiped his knife on Ray’s jacket before shoving him beneath a mound of refuse in the alley, hiding him from view.

If Anthony didn’t already know the body was there, he wouldn’t have given the pile a second glance. The only obvious sign of violence that remained was a small pool of blood, quickly seeping into the ground. The man easily covered it by kicking dirt over it.

Some detached part of him registered how much cleaner the kill was than what he was accustomed to. The vast majority of the blood had pooled in Ray’s ruined guts.

Anthony was more familiar with the aftermath of guns rather than knives in his thus far limited experience. Sure, his pa had taught him how to defend himself, but he was oddly adamant about him finishing school before he would be fully initiated into the Family.

Which would likely involve him taking his first life…

The man turned, flashing him another smile. “Well, I won’t report you for sodomy if you don’t report me for that!” he offered.

Cheerfully.

Anthony gaped at him.

“You’ll wind up catching flies at this rate,” he continued conversationally, tucking the knife back into the shoulder holster he wore. There were spots for two knives and a gun, though the one for the gun was currently empty.

“You’re one of the D’Angelo boys aren’t you?”

Anthony gave a startled jerk at the casual utterance of his last name.

How the fuck?!

“If you’d like, we can accompany you back home. I’ve heard these streets can get a bit dicey after sunset!”

“Y-You been followin’ me?!” he demanded.

“I’m afraid you’re not that interesting, my dear! Your grandmother’s cooking, however…” he said, rolling his sleeve back down.

So he’d seen him at the restaurant. He knew his last name and where he lived. Knew his nonna. Knew he was a queer.

“I’d suggest you get a move on if you don’t want to walk alone,” he said, starting toward the entrance of the alley and the woman waiting impatiently there.

He took his coat back from her with another thank you, sliding into it and straightening his bow tie. He held his arms out, grinning at his girlfriend.

“Lot less messy this time,” she said as she scrutinized him, presumably looking for any blood he may have missed.

“As my mother always says, practice makes perfect!” he answered, leading the way out of the alley.

The streets beyond were mostly empty and would be for a little while yet. Most folks were having dinner at this hour. Anthony stumbled in his hurry to keep up with them. The woman shot him an annoyed look, but didn’t comment.

They clearly didn’t need Anthony to guide them to the restaurant. The man whistled absently as they walked, acting downright chipper despite the horror he’d unleashed mere minutes ago.

Anthony thought he should have felt something after watching Ray die at his hand. They’d been seeing one another for a few months now. But he’d been getting more and more demanding, more and more violent. He’d also been five years his senior. It’d started out sweet enough before quickly devolving into this.

Maybe it made him a horrible fucking person, but all he felt was relief.

“Was all that really necessary?” the woman asked.

The man glanced over to her. “Sometimes one just needs to blow off a bit of steam!”

“Uh huh. That’s what ya keep sayin’. How much steam d’ya gotta blow off?”

“I can’t help if the streets of New York happen to be long overdue for a cleaning, my dear!”

Reaching the door, the man opened it for Anthony and his girlfriend to step inside, following after. He barely made it over the threshold before his nonna was bustling around the counter, speaking with her thick Italian accent, all long vowels with a few extras thrown in.

“Alastora! I t’ought you weren’t a-coming!”

Anthony couldn’t help but stare as his nonna wrapped the man in a hug typically reserved for family and close friends. He seemed all too happy to return it, his smile looking more genuine and less terrifying now.

“I could hardly leave the city without a final goodbye! Heaven knows when I’ll be back!”

“You’ve met my nipote?”

“Oh, yes! Quite the fine lad you’ve raised! A testament to his upbringing to be sure!”

Had he taken something and forgotten? Because right now, Anthony felt high as a kite. Had this man really just murdered someone in front of him?

His nonna switched to Italian, asking him to gather up the order she’d prepared for the man and Anthony hurried behind the counter to grab it. Meanwhile, his normally reserved nonna was chatting almost nonstop.

He went to head back out onto the floor when his pa appeared at the foot of the steps leading to their upstairs apartment, motioning him over.

Anthony hesitated. Had he seen something after all? It was stupid thing to do, but he held up the bag his nonna had requested and hurried back over to her and Alastor. If that was even his real name. He doubted it.

He heard his pa’s heavy footsteps behind him and immediately knew he’d fucked up. Anthony forced himself not to duck at the blow he knew was being leveled at the back of his head. While he heard flesh hit flesh, the usual pain didn’t accompany it.

He glanced upward from where he’d hunched in on himself. Alastor had caught his pa's raised hand in his grip and now brought it down to firmly shake it.

“Ah, you must be Mr. D’Angelo himself! Your mother has told me so much about you.” Alastor grinned, all teeth.

Anthony watched as his pa tried to pull his hand back to no avail. He swore he saw the corners of his eyes pinch in pain. Alastor was still all smiles, but something shifted in his gaze. Something that left the hair on the back of Anthony’s neck standing on end.

Even his pa, a mafioso by birth, seemed wary of that look, jaw tightening as he tried and failed to see what about this otherwise unassuming stranger left him so on edge. Anthony knew it was Alastor’s eyes.

Maybe it was hard for his pa to recognize because he saw something similar every time he looked in a mirror.

If Anthony hadn’t known he’d just killed a man, he would’ve had no doubt then that Alastor had blood on his hands.

A lot of blood.

He had a feeling he might have as high of a body count as some of the big timers his pa rubbed elbows with. Realization seemed to dawn and his pa actually stood down, muttering something under his breath as he turned and headed back upstairs. Alastor watched him go until he was completely out of sight.

…was his pa next on this guy’s list…?

Anthony swallowed hard, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly Alastor returned to his earlier friendly demeanor. He and his nonna chatted a few more minutes before she gave him a final hug and he and his girlfriend headed back out onto the streets.

When his pa was still breathing the next day, Anthony was convinced it was only as a courtesy to his nonna.

Angel jerked upright as the dream…nightmare? drew to a close. He was panting softly, his fur soaked with sweat. His gaze shifted to Alastor and Nuggs. Both of them hadn’t so much as moved an inch.

Fuck. Now that he’d seen Alastor as a human, there was no doubt in his mind he was the man from his memory. He pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping both sets of arms around them. He’d never seen him again in the Living World, to the best of his knowledge.

He shivered, remembering the look in his eyes. Like you could see your impending death in them…

Soft jazz played in the background on one of the many radios filling Alastor’s suite. Angel had to break out the big guns to get him to finally stop marveling at them all and actually go to the fuck to sleep.

And by the big guns, well… Fat Nuggets looked adorable in his jammies. When Alastor spotted him, it was the first time he’d actually looked like the kid he was. His face lit up and he hurried over to get a closer look. Angel showed him some of Nugg’s tricks to keep him in the bed and soon enough he was cuddled up with the pig, out cold.

Angel never thought he’d be inside Alastor’s room, let alone having a sleepover with him. Alastor acquiesced to sharing the enormous bed, seeming to decide Angel was safe enough company.

Angel pulled his phone out, glancing at the time. It was nearly six in the morning. He winced. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw the morning side of the time. If he really listened for it, he could catch the sound of crickets and something far larger in the bayou in the room beyond. He really hoped it wasn’t alligators, but had a feeling that was a stupid thing to hope.

Lucifer conjured a fence as requested. Thank fuck, because Al insisted on sleeping with the bedroom door open. He’d wanted to sleep in the bayou proper, but Angel managed to talk him down from it, using cuddles with Nuggs as his bargaining chip.

Of course Smiles slept. Angel shouldn’t have been surprised to see the small bedroom, complete with a bed so comfy it bordered on the occult. There were loads of pillows and blankets too, making him wonder if the fearsome Radio Demon was the nesting type when he slept.

Al had absconded with a blood red quilt, pulling it up and over himself and Nuggs. Angel waited until he was asleep to lift the edge of it to make sure they got some air.

The suite over all was classy in just the way he’d expected, though far cozier. Everything felt well-lived in and he wondered if the furniture was new or if it’d been moved from wherever Alastor lived prior to the hotel. Despite the damage to the building during the battle, every piece of it had survived unscathed. As had Al’s radio equipment.

Angel just started to drift off again when there was a sharp intake of breath from the other side of the bed. He glanced over, eyes widening when he both saw and felt the mattress begin to tremble. Nuggs made a soft snort of protest, but didn’t leave his charge.

Alastor’s panicked voice rose from the mound of blankets.

“Tu es mort! Tu es mort!”

Angel didn’t speak French, but he had a feeling he knew what “mort” meant. The word for dead wasn’t much different in Italian.

Shit. He turned on his phone’s flashlight to get a better idea of what he was dealing with. Something moved against the far wall and he glanced sharply up only to see Alastor’s shadow writhing and clawing at itself.

Shit!

What the fuck was he supposed to do?! This was Charlie’s area of expertise. He wasn’t good at this kind of thing! Maybe he should call her? Would she even be awake?

And then Alastor sobbed. “S'il te plaît, arrête! Tu me fais mal!”

Angel didn’t think. He just reached over, giving what he hoped was Alastor’s shoulder a firm shake. The effect was instantaneous. Alastor was on his feet, a hunting knife in his hand and his eyes wild.

Angel jerked back, holding all four of his hands up.

“Hey! Hey, it’s just me! You was havin’ a nightmare!”

Alastor stared back at him for a long moment, eyes slowly seeming to focus on him.

“Rougarou,” he mumbled, blinking as he lowered the knife.

“Yeah, ya kept sayin’ that. What’s it mean?”

“…I don’t know the English word,” he answered, accent thicker than usual.

Angel pulled up a translator on his phone, setting it from French to English. “Say again?”

“Rougarou.”

Angel snorted when the translation popped up. “Werewolf, huh?”

Alastor sat back down on the bed, rubbing at his eyes. The knife was nowhere in sight. He didn’t answer. He looked pale.

Angel frowned faintly. “Ya wanna see somethin’?”

He peered up at him as he put his glasses on. It didn’t take long for Angel to pull up a video of someone working on an old timey radio. Alastor sucked in a sharp breath, eyes going wide as he leaned closer.

“There are picture shows about this kind of thing?”

“Yeah. All kinda stuff.”

Despite his purported disinterest in picture shows, he was concentrating so hard on the video Angel half wondered if he’d stopped breathing. Well, at least now he knew how to calm him down. And maybe keep him out of trouble.

He handed Alastor the phone and he took it awkwardly, holding it too close to his face. Angel eased it back some before climbing from the bed and stretching.

“I’m gonna grab a shower. You gonna be okay for a few minutes?”

Alastor didn’t answer. Angel didn’t think he was blinking either.

Oh, well. He’d deal with the fallout of introducing him to the internet once he wasn’t marinating in his own sweat. Nuggs did a few circles on the bed before cuddling back up beside the kid.

Angel left the two there, heading into the attached bath. It was as old timey as the rest of Alastor’s suite, but he certainly hadn’t skimped on comfort. There was a huge white clawfoot tub along with a matching toilet and pedestal sink. Another radio sat on a shelf near the tub, out of reach of the spray from the showerhead.

Angel had brought his own toiletries when he joined Al in the room the night before, but couldn’t help but snoop a bit. Bar soap and unlabeled jars of other products sat neatly on another shelf. He had no idea where Alastor sourced them (maybe Cannibal Town?), but they reminded him of products he’d seen and used growing up. The towels tucked into the linen closet were the fluffy ones with the hotel’s logo on them. He grabbed two and a washcloth, hanging the towels on the hooks by the tub.

Angel stripped out of his pajamas and managed to get the shower running at a comfortable temperature with only a little fussing. He supposed there was something to be said for showers that didn’t have all the bells and whistles. Much easier to figure out.

He stood under the spray of the hot water, eyes closed and head tilted forward. The images from his nightmare tried to resurface behind his eyelids and he immediately snapped his eyes open again before starting on his hair. No use dragging the shower out if his brain was gonna be running that in the background.

Angel finished up soon enough, drying himself off and dressing in a pair of black shorts and a loose t-shirt with a logo so faded he couldn’t even remember what it was or how he came by it. He toweled his hair as he stepped out of the bathroom, only to pause when he realized the bedroom beyond was empty.

His phone lay on the bed, still playing the video.

He hurried out into the living area only to freeze at the sight that greeted him. Nuggs and Alastor were there, but so was fucking Vox.

Vox lay motionless, face down on the ground. Blood pooled from where the backs of his ankles had been cut. Alastor sat on the floor beside him, staring fixedly down at Vox.

The door to Alastor’s suite was wide open. One of the armchairs by the fireplace had been knocked over, like there was a struggle. Alastor held the knife from before in both hands, its point hovering just above Vox’s back.

“What the actual fuck?!” Angel shouted, startling Nuggs out from under the other armchair.

Alastor jerked where he sat, eyes going wide. He looked as if he only just remembered he wasn’t alone in the suite. His pajamas were askew, but Angel didn’t see any immediate injuries on him.

Pounding feet sounded in the hall and soon Charlie, Vaggie (complete with spear), and Lucifer were crowding the door. Husk brought up the rear.

“Holy shit,” Husk breathed when he caught sight of the bloody tableau.

Alastor sighed softly, wiping the knife on Vox’s jacket before tucking it into a sheath in an eerily familiar gesture.

Wait, was that fucking angelic steel?!

“He’s not dead,” he offered, as if that somehow made everything all right.

Charlie rushed to his side, remembering to keep her hands to herself at the last minute. Vaggie, meanwhile, flipped Vox onto his back with a pink slippered foot. His screen was shattered like a bat had been taken to it. Angel belatedly registered what looked like shards of bone on the ground along with what was left of a skull that previously sat on the fireplace’s mantel.

Vaggie pressed two fingers to the side of Vox’s throat and nodded.

“I’ll get him out of here,” Lucifer offered, using his magic to create a portal to the lobby. He vanished into it along with Vox and Vaggie.

Charlie looked helplessly between Angel and Husk.

“Okay, what the fuck happened?” Husk demanded looking at Angel.

“I dunno! I left him watchin’ a video on old radios so I could take a shower an’ then I came back out to this! I didn’t even hear anythin’!”

Alastor stood, frowning down at his blood soaked knees of his pajama pants. “Sloppy,” he muttered with a frown before glancing up at them.

“He knocked on the door. I opened it. He said he wanted to show me something. I told him I wasn’t stupid. He tried to grab me. My shadow hit him with one of the skulls on the mantel. I was trying to decide what to do when you came back out.”

“You was gonna kill him!”

Rather than look unfazed by the accusation like Angel expected, Alastor’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Maybe.”

“Why?” Charlie asked, voice soft.

“I didn’t know how long he would take to wake up. And Mr. Angel Dust said he was dangerous.”

“Ya coulda yelled for help!” Angel protested.

Husk set a hand on his shoulder. “He ain’t never been able to call for help before, I’m guessin’,” he said, voice soft.

Angel was immediately thrust back into his nightmare where he, too, hadn’t called for help. Except he’d frozen up.

He also recalled the huge bruise on Alastor’s forearm the night before. He should be more surprised that the kid had hesitated at all. Vox was strong. He wouldn’t have stood a chance against him without the element of surprise. Angel wouldn’t have either.

Was it possible Al hadn’t called for help because he didn’t want him to get hurt…?

It was hard to say. The kid was definitely fucked in the head. There was no doubt about that. But Angel was fully convinced he’d only killed his pa to protect himself and his ma, despite his claims otherwise. He’d also grown up into someone who had killed Angel’s abusive piece of shit boyfriend and asked nothing in return.

So maybe it was both…? He was used to being the protector and he’d never had anyone else to rely on for protection?

Fuck, did his ma know he’d killed his pa?

He belatedly realized Alastor had gone completely still, staring sightlessly at the bloodstain on the rug. His hand briefly lifted toward the hidden bruise on his arm before lowering again.

Oh, shit. Was he going into shock or something?

Shit. They needed to get him somewhere else so he could get cleaned up and hopefully not spiral any further.

“Hey, uh, Al?” Angel offered.

He didn’t react.

Charlie shot Angel and Husk a panicked look.

Husk blew out a slow breath.

“Hey, bo… Alastor?” He said, kneeling down so he could meet his eyes.

Alastor blinked.

“That was a pretty fuckin’ brave thing you did there.”

Alastor blinked again.

“Probably scary as fuck too.”

He lifted his head at that, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“We’ve all been scared shitless before. And we’ve all dealt with our share of bad news. From the bits and pieces you’ve told me over the years, your old man was one of the worst out there. The Livin’ World was a much better place without him. Hell is too. You shouldn’t’ve been in that kind of position in the first place, but the fuck were you supposed to do? Call the cops on your white dad? For beatin’ your Black mom?”

Alastor’s hand drifted once more toward the bruise on his arm, circling it and squeezing. He flinched.

“You don’t need to worry about Vox because we’re not gonna let him anywhere near you again. We’re the ones who fucked up by trustin’ him in the first place.” He grinned. “It’s gonna take him a while to heal anyway, since you used angelic steel. He’ll be out of commission for a week at least. His ego though, that’s gonna take a Hell of a lot longer to mend.”

Angel chuckled despite himself. “Yeah, dunno if he’s ever gonna recover from losing to an eleven year old. Shame we ain’t got it on video…”

He hesitated a moment before resting a hand on the top of Alastor’s head. “So, whaddya say? Why don’t we get outta here so Niff can clean up and you can get cleaned up too? Maybe we can work on makin’ breakfast after?”

Alastor managed a small nod, scrubbing his eyes with his sleeve. They were still shiny after, but he managed to keep his tears at bay.

“You wanna go with Angel and Fat Nuggets?” Husk asked.

Another nod.

“All right. And when you’re done gettin’ cleaned up, there might be a surprise waitin’ for you.”

He looked up sharply at that, curiosity clearly piqued, though he didn’t say anything.

Angel mouthed a thank you to Husk as he guided Alastor out the door and to his own room. He snagged one of the radios as they went, though there was probably already one somewhere in his room. No matter how many times he found and removed them, another always popped up. He was convinced there wasn’t a room in the hotel that didn’t have a radio. Even the vacant ones.

He swore he’d seen one in a broom closet once too…

His own bathroom was clean, albeit not nearly as tidy or minimalistic in its decor as Alastor’s. Angel wasn’t the type to skimp on comfort or cute shit. He considered suggesting a bubble bath, but the blood on the kid’s knees nixed that idea.

Time for Plan B.

“Hey, Al?”

He looked up at him from where he stood silently outside the bathroom door. His eyes were still oddly hollow and his shadow was hunkered down against the wall, its arms over its head as if shielding itself.

“Couldya do me a favor? Nuggs needs a scrub down too. Ya think ya could take care of him while ya wash up? He loves the shower.”

Al tilted his head, some of the spark reentering his eyes, though it was still muted. He nodded again, leading Nuggs inside the bathroom. Angel gave him the rundown on how the shower worked and the products therein. He should’ve grabbed some of Alastor’s on their way out of his suite, but he’d been too focused on getting him away from the aftermath of Vox’s kidnapping attempt.

He made sure to show him where the towels and washcloths were too before stepping out to give him some privacy. He sent a text to the hotel’s group chat to request another outfit for the kid, since they hadn’t had a chance to go shopping for anything yet. Hopefully Lucifer would see it, or one of the others would let him know if not. He didn’t want to leave Al alone while he was in such a vulnerable state.

Mission accomplished, Angel settled down on his bed with a magazine, keeping an ear out for any signs of distress. Instead, a few minutes after the water started running, he heard a startled shout that quickly dissolved into actual childlike laughter.

He knew he could count on ol’ Nuggsy.

By the time Alastor poked his head out of the bathroom door, he looked far more like himself. He opened his mouth to speak just as Husk appeared in the open doorway of the suite, holding a bundle of clothes. He made his way over, passing them to the kid with a brief smile. Alastor thanked him and closed the bathroom door again.

“Where’d ya get those?” Angel asked, setting his magazine aside.

Husk paused on his way back out the door, leaning against the door jamb instead.

“From the surprise. Figured Cannibal Town is one of the few places in the Pride Ring that might have somethin’ more familiar to him. Figured Rosie should probably know what happened too, seein’ as she’s the closest thing he has to family down here.”

“What about Mimzy?”

Husk wrinkled his nose in disgust. “She’s the last person who needs to know about this. She’d have him out drivin’ around and doin’ coke or some shit.”

Angel snorted. “Yeah, probably. You was real good with him earlier.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well. I’ve known him a while now. Probably know him better than most. Unfortunately.”

“Still. Ya coulda just broke a bottle and ended your contract yourself.”

Husk glared at him. “I ain’t killin’ no kid. Besides, seein’ him like this… Well, let’s just say it’s makin’ a lot of shit make sense. I had my suspicions, but he never woulda confirmed ‘em. Too fuckin’ obsessed with being mysterious or some shit.

“And killin’ his dad when he was only eleven? Yeah, that probably didn’t fuckin’ help steer him toward the big pearly gates.”

Angel grimaced, nodding. “Yeah, makes ya wonder how he mighta turned out if he hadn’t had to deal with all that shit. All of us, really. I mean, we’re our own special brand of fucked up, but…” He shrugged. “We got our good moments too. There ain’t another set of losers I’d trust more in the Livin’ World or down here.”

Husk grinned. “No sense dwellin’ on shit we can’t change. But yeah, I feel the same.”

“D’ya think he’s gonna stay like this? Or grow up or somethin’? Ya think he could wind up redeemed in the process?”

“Dunno. What I do know though is that nothin’ would piss him off more than gettin’ redeemed. He’s got no interest in that shit. Fuck, the money I’d pay to see the look on his face if he turned back into his old self up there…” He chuckled.

“Ya got that right.” Angel bit his lip, hesitating before adding, “I actually realized somethin’ last night. Guess seein’ him human brought back some shit I hadn’t thought about in a while. Apparently I ran into him once in the Livin’ World.”

He had Husk’s full attention now. “What? Are you fuckin’ serious? He didn’t kill you, did he?”

Angel quickly shook his head. “Nah, the opposite actually. Though he did fuckin’ traumatize the shit outta me an’ threaten me in the process.”

And his old man. So far as he knew, his pa was still kicking in Hell somewhere. He wondered if Alastor had run into him again. His pa would probably shit his pants if he did now. Almost everyone in Pride was terrified of the Radio Demon.

“Yeah?” Husk asked. “You wanna talk about it…?”

Angel arched a brow. Why did he say that like he had an idea of what had happened? Still… He’d never talked about it. The memory had lived like a bruise deep under his skin for decades now. He gave a heavy sigh.

“I had a piece of shit boyfriend who…” He shrugged, unable to say the words.

Fuck, he was pathetic, wasn’t he? And he hadn’t learned shit from dealing with Ray either. He’d found himself in the arms of shitty boyfriend after shitty boyfriend until he wound up in Hell with fucking Valentino.

Shame Smiles hadn’t ever added him to his little “to do” list. If he could do that kind of shit to Vox as a human child, Angel would love to see the full powered Radio Demon take on Valentino.

Fuck, no wonder his pa was scared of Alastor back then. Angel was scared of him now. And even with as many people as his pa had killed over the years, he doubted he’d started as young as Al.

He wished he’d had that kind of gumption when he was younger. But then again there was a reason why Smiles was an Overlord and he wasn’t. Angel wasn’t a dealmaker. Never had been, never would be. It wasn’t in his nature, for better and for worse.

He dragged a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. “He was bad news,” he finally managed. “But at least then I had the excuse of bein’ young an’ stupid.”

Husk gave him a knowing look. “I think the word for it these days is ‘groomed’.”

Angel briefly met his eyes before his gaze dropped to the floor and he absently rubbed the back of his neck. “…whatever the case, Smiles killed him right in fronta me. Dunno why he gave a shit.”

“Oh, I can guess. Was the piece of shit gettin’ too…handsy?”

Angel’s eyes widened. “How’d ya know?”

He snorted. “You ever stop and think about the type of people he kills?”

“Uh, everyone?”

Husk crossed his arms, arching a brow. Clearly he intended to make Angel sort it out on his own, the dick.

He absently rubbed his chin as he ran through the folks he knew Alastor had killed. “The loan sharks. The exorcists. A buncha Overlords, my shitty boyfriend, his abusive pa…” He paused, frowning. “Hold on one fuckin’ second…”

Husk had the nerve to smirk.

“But everyone’s fuckin’ terrified of him! ‘Cuz he’s the all-powerful Radio Demon an’ broadcasts the screams an’ shit of the people he kills!”

The feline held up two fingers. “The boss kills two kinds of people.” He ticked one down. “People who threaten him or the folks he cares about, usually only if they’re too suicidal to back down.” He ticked the other down and lowered his hand. “And people who enjoy hurting people. Especially people weaker than them.”

“But he enjoys hurtin’ other people!”

“And don’t you ever forget that. Just because he has some kinda fucked up moral code doesn’t mean he ain’t a monster himself.”

Angel thought back to the alley, how Alastor had threatened him with a smile on his face, and shivered. “…noted. Wait, is that why he never killed Pentious?”

He nodded. “Too busy playin’ with him. And Pentious wasn’t suicidal enough to push him any further. Though he almost did with his fucking coat. He was lucky the boss was in a good mood that day. Probably because he enjoyed fuckin’ with him all those years.”

“So he only broadcasted Overlord screams?”

“Were you not here then? Hmm. Guess not. From what I heard, he cooled off for a while after he took out most of ‘em.”

“Most of them?!”

“Yeah. Believe it or not, Hell used to be a fuck of a lot worse. Or so I’ve heard. Wasn’t here then myself, but like I said before, he replays the broadcasts for himself sometimes.” He shuddered. “A lotta folks don’t notice he only targets the worst of the worst. Apparently he did the same before he kicked the bucket.”

“So why’s everyone so afraid of him then?”

Husk rolled his eyes. “‘Cuz he ain’t above removing a limb or two to prove a point. In case you haven’t noticed, Hell ain’t exactly brimmin’ with folks on their best behavior. And he don’t just kill Overlords. He ain’t exactly subtle about how much he enjoys killin’ either.”

Smiles’ fight with the loan sharks came to mind and Angel grimaced. “Yeah, ya got a point. How come those Overlords never resurfaced? Or his pa for that matter?”

“Dunno. Dunno if I wanna know either.”

Fair enough.

There was a sudden shout behind the bathroom door and they both spun toward it.

“Everythin’ okay in there, kid?” Angel called worriedly.

“I…I don’t know…”

Shit. “Ya wanna open the door?”

A long moment of silence followed before the door slowly creaked open. Nuggs pressed through the widening crack, bounding into the room. Alastor, meanwhile, hung back.

Angel and Husk stared.

His hair was no longer dark brown, but instead was as red as it had been before he was shrunk down, just barely long enough for the ends to switch to black. Even more noticeable, however, was the fact his human ears were gone, replaced by the tufted ones he’d had before. His antlers had also reappeared.

The poor kid looked shell shocked. The ears on his head turned and flicked restlessly before laying flat against the top of his head.

“Huh,” Husk offered eloquently.

Alastor shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the waistband of his new knickerbockers.

“You’re gonna need to cut a hole for the tail.”

Angel whirled on Husk. “The what?! Smiles has a tail?! How am I just now hearin’ about this?!”

Alastor’s shadow peeled itself up off of the floor and apparently did the honors, as some of the discomfort on his face faded. He slowly turned around, peering over his shoulder to reveal the aforementioned fluffy as fuck tail. It matched his hair, the top of it black, and the underside bright red.

“…that is one of the cutest fuckin’ things I’ve ever seen,” Angel breathed, staring. Which was probably why it was never on display. Took away from some of the big, bad, scary Radio Demon mystique.

There was a knock against the doorframe and all three of them turned to see Lucifer standing there. His eyes were glued to the tail too and he wore an expression Angel was sure matched his own. The one people typically reserved for puppies and kittens.

Hoo boy, if Alastor did finally return to his old self he was probably going to kill all of them for daring to so much as think of how adorable his tail was.

Worth it!

“I know, right?” Angel asked, grinning.

Lucifer made a visible effort to not immediately start cooing at the increasingly annoyed looking Alastor.

“…sooo, did you want to share the surprise before or after I take a look at him?” Lucifer finally managed, forcing his eyes to Husk.

Alastor immediately perked up again.

“Prolly before. Might help.”

Lucifer nodded, stepping back out. A moment later, Rosie appeared in the doorway along with him. She’d clearly been told what to expect, as she didn’t have the same visceral reaction as everyone else. Still, her expression softened to something fond. Alastor looked curiously up at her, tilting his head to the side.

“This here’s Rosie,” Husk offered by way of introduction. “Rosie, Alastor. Alastor, Rosie.”

Alastor immediately fixed his posture, expression almost solemn as he offered, “It’s a pleasure to be meeting you, Miss Rosie.”

She beamed down at him, clasping her hands together. “Oh! Such a perfect gentleman, not that I would’ve expected anything less from ya! I know your mama raised ya right!”

Alastor practically preened at the compliment and Angel nearly had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling. He’d thought he’d been tied to his nonna’s apron strings while growing up, but Alastor was on a whole ‘nother level. It must be more difficult for him than he was willing to share that he’d likely never see her again.

“I heard ya probably wouldn’t recognize me, but that’s okay. We’ve been the best of friends for as long as you’ve been in Hell. Met shortly after ya dropped in, actually. So we’ve known each other…hmm, almost ninety years now.”

Alastor’s eyes widened at the number.

“But regardless, just know you’ll always be my dearest friend,” she finished, smiling without teeth. Probably for the best. Wouldn’t want to terrify the poor kid.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Alastor insisted, smiling shyly up at her.

Yeah, Husk made the right call bringing her in. If anyone knew how to handle Alastor, it was Rosie. Angel hadn’t actually met her before but he’d heard enough through the grapevine. And the kid was clearly well on his way to being smitten by her. Probably because she reminded him of his ma.

“I heard Lucifer here needs to take a look at ya to see what’s going on. Would ya like me to stay with ya while he does?”

Alastor immediately nodded. Angel tried not to feel too snubbed, having felt like the favorite up to that point. Though Alastor turned toward him after, absently worrying his bottom lip. His ears stood at attention, nearly quivering with how straight they were.

“…would you mind staying too, Mr. Angel Dust?”

Oh, Angel all but glowed. He might have to take a backseat to Rosie, but at least he was still in the car. Why it was so important Al liked him, he had no idea. It felt like winning a contest of some kind. Especially knowing how slow to trust he clearly was.

“‘Course, kid!”

Alastor offered him that same shy smile.

“I’ll go see how the clean up’s goin’,” Husk said, nodding to them as he headed back out of the suite.

“Ya look real smart in those clothes, Al,” Rosie offered. “We have some kids your age in Cannibal Town, so I happened to have some outfits on hand. Though I don’t know if you’re gonna pass as one of mine anymore now that ya have the ears and tail.”

Shit. She had a good point. Alastor had a pretty distinct look after all. Angel doubted most folks would immediately assume he was himself. They were probably more likely to wonder how Alastor had cloned himself or if he somehow had a kid. Seemed far more likely.

“I might be able to help with that,” Lucifer said. “With my magic, I mean. We can worry about it later though.” He rested his hands on his hips, considering Alastor.

“I know it’ll probably make you uncomfortable, but it’d help if I could actually see what I’m working with. It looked like the brunt of the attack hit you in the chest. If you’d be okay with it, it’d be better if you stripped down to your undergarments.”

The look on Alastor’s face indicated he’d much rather jump off the hotel’s roof, but he reluctantly nodded.

“Would you prefer it if we stepped out of the room?”

He shook his head. “You can just turn around. If you don’t mind.”

It was so fucking weird to see the kid acting so polite and self-conscious after finding him in the middle of murdering Vox less than an hour ago. But Angel supposed he’d always been a pretty private person. The only skin he ever showed was from his chin and up.

They all turned around to give him some privacy. There was a soft rustling of fabric and after a moment, Alastor told them they could turn back around. He’d neatly folded his new clothes and set them on the edge of Angel’s bed and now stood there, alarmingly scrawny and in only a pair of old timey boxer briefs.

Angel’s breath caught at the variety of scars and faded bruises across his skinny frame. He’d known about the one on his forearm, but it looked as if the kid had been beaten on the regular. Angel should know, having born similar marks while alive. Lucifer’s jaw tightened. Rosie was the only one who didn’t react, instead smiling calmly down at him before she took a seat on the edge of the bed, gently patting the spot beside her.

Alastor climbed up to sit next to her and she offered him her hand. He hesitated only a moment before awkwardly taking it in his much smaller one. Nuggs, meanwhile, settled against his opposite side. The combination seemed to bring a bit of his confidence back and Alastor no longer looked as if he wanted to sink into his shadow for all eternity. His ears took on a slightly more relaxed position too.

“All right,” Lucifer said as he approached him, eyes still on the marks. It seemed to take a lot for him not to comment on them. That or he was wishing he could hunt down the piece of shit who’d used the kid as a punching bag and kill him a third time.

Angel could relate.

“Is it all right if I touch your shoulder?”

Al nodded and he reached a gloved hand forward, gently settling it on the bony perch. Lucifer closed his eyes and a bright gold light flowed from his hand across Alastor’s torso. As he worked, his brow furrowed and he frowned.

“I don’t know how the fff…freak that didn’t kill you,” Lucifer muttered more to himself than anyone else.

As he continued, the scar running from Al’s shoulder to his opposite hip began to glow more brightly than the rest of his skin.

“It’s in deep,” Lucifer continued. “But I can feel your demonic energy in there too. Trying to regain control. I think Charlie’s right. I think you were purified to a degree. Likely back to the last point you could fully be redeemed.”

“But I killed mon père?” It was more a question than a statement.

“Yeah, but it seems like that may have been justified. He probably would’ve eventually killed you and your mother otherwise.”

Alastor sucked in a sharp breath, but didn’t refute the claim.

The poor fucking kid. Yeah, Angel was terrified of his own pa, and had suffered many a time at his hand. But he’d never thought he’d straight up kill him. His pa was a murderer, but he hadn’t been keen on permanently damaging the future of the Family.

“But he’s gettin’ his demon attributes back?” Angel asked.

“Some of them,” Lucifer agreed. “I can feel his power in there too, but only because I know to look for it. It’s just all…repressed? Locked down? Freak, he’s strong for a Sinner! That’s probably the only reason he didn’t outright die.”

Like Pentious had.

“Wait…” Lucifer’s brows drifting toward his hairline. “…wait…”

One moment Alastor sat there with perfect posture and the next he doubled over, his hands pressed over his heart as he gasped in pain. His brown eyes flashed into radio dials and the antlers on his head began to lengthen.

Green stitch marks ran across his mouth, forcing it up into his signature grin before they popped open at the seams. Blood trickled from where the magic threads had burrowed in his flesh and Alastor screamed as a rush of green tinged power swept out from him, throwing everyone else across the room. Angel barely had time to catch Nuggs before he went flying too.

Wind whipped around the kid as if he were the epicenter of a storm. Angel’s posters, makeup, and knickknacks getting swept up along with it. Alastor kept screaming as his body went rigid, magic rolling off of him in waves that shook the entire hotel. Other disembodied screams joined his in an ear splitting chorus as the room began to fill with his little shadow people.

It took Lucifer a few tries to make it through the waves of magic forcing the rest of them against the walls, looking as if he was trying to walk through a hurricane. Upon finally reaching Alastor, he pressed his now bare hand to his forehead and everything abruptly stopped. Alastor fell limply back against the mattress as the magical maelstrom was sucked back into him.

The abrupt silence was almost deafening.

Angel didn’t realize how hard he’d been shoved against the wall until the pressure lifted and he fell forward. He caught himself and set Nuggs down. Nuggs immediately darted back onto the bed and to Alastor. He and Rosie were quick to follow.

“What the fuck was that?!” Angel demanded, looking worriedly down at the now unconscious Al.

The cuts around his lips had healed, but a faint green glow lingered on his skin until Lucifer enveloped him once more with his own magic.

“…he had a deal with someone,” he answered.

“What?!” Rosie and Angel demanded in unison.

Husk burst back into the room, eyes wide.

“He had a deal with someone,” Lucifer repeated more confidently. “For his soul. I’m guessing him reverting back to his past self made it start to unravel and I unintentionally gave it the last push it needed to fully crumble. The deal was holding back a significant portion of his power.”

“So his deal just…broke?” Husk asked, apparently the only one of them not surprised by the revelation. “I mean, I suspected someone had him on a leash. Even called him out on it the day you visited the hotel for the first time.” His shoulders hunched. “He pretty much confirmed it when he told me he’d tear my soul apart and broadcast my screams if I ever brought it up again.”

All eight of Angel’s eyes widened. Yeah, he could definitely see why Husk insisted he stay on his guard around him…

He turned to Rosie. “You didn’t know?”

She gave a slow shake of her head. “He never mentioned it. I wondered if something happened during his little sabbatical, but he always changed the subject when I asked.”

“Fuck, so the Smiles we had during the fight wasn’t even at full power?.”

Rosie looked thoughtful as she studied Alastor’s prone form. After a moment, she began to redress him. He didn’t so much as stir.

“It’s too much for him in his present state,” Lucifer said as he retrieved his hat from where it had been thrown by the wind. “I’ve locked his power away. Temporarily. It’s not a permanent solution. Fuck, he could even give some of the Ars Goetia trouble with all of that...”

“So he…what? Sold his soul in exchange for someone nerfin’ his power? Why would he do that?” Angel demanded.

“I dunno. I’m guessing the power suppression was a requirement from the other party rather than from him.” Lucifer twisted the brim of his hat in circles as he stared down Alastor. “The other party… It felt like…”

“Like who?” Rosie asked, glancing up.

“…like Lilith.”

Chapter Text

Alastor slowly opened his eyes, staring up at the blurry and unfamiliar ceiling above. It took him a moment to remember he wasn’t at home, that his mère wasn’t in the next room over. His chest tightened and his throat began to burn before he was able to force the wave of emotion back.

What happened..? He’d just met Rosie and then…pain. So much pain. He’d felt like he was being torn apart from the inside out. Like something was trying to claw its way out of him.

He jerked upright, earning a startled look from Fat Nuggets, the pig having curled up against his side.

He realized he was dressed again in the new clothes. Someone handed him his glasses and he thanked them, sliding them on and bringing the pinched faces of Rosie, Angel, and Lucifer into focus.

“Ya feelin’ okay, Al?” Rosie asked, voice gentle.

“I…I think so,” he managed, voice hoarse.

Angel pressed a glass of water into his hand and he took it, quickly draining it. It soothed some of the irritation in his throat, but not all of it.

Had he been screaming? He couldn’t remember…

“Sorry about that, kiddo,” Lucifer said, frowning. “By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late. It looks like you made a contract with someone in the past. A contract that sealed away part of your power. Between the divine wound from Adam and me digging around with my own magic, the last of the deal crumbled and your full power was unleashed. It was too much for you, so I sealed it away for now. I never would’ve done that if I’d known what it would do to you. I am so sorry I hurt you.”

Alastor was stunned. Not only by the sincere apology from the clearly distraught devil himself, but also by the knowledge he’d apparently sold his own soul at some point.

“But it’s…back now?”

“Your soul? Yeah, as far as I can tell.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. Why would he have sold his soul in the first place? It didn’t make any sense.

“I’ll go let the others know he’s awake and okay,” Husk offered from closer to the door.

They were…worried about him?

“We’re so sorry, Al,” Rosie insisted.

At first he thought she was reaching up to pat him on the head, but then her fingers found the base of one of his strange new ears and he practically melted against her as she scratched it. It was like when his mère scratched his back, but somehow even better. It sapped the remaining tension from him and he was embarrassed to find himself pressing closer as his…his tail wagged.

Angel Dust pressed all four hands to his mouth, eyes shining as he watched.

“…you’re seriously so fuckin’ cute, I’m gonna end up double dead… Please don’t kill me for sayin’ that whenever we get all this shit figured out…”

“How about we talk about the rest of it over breakfast?” Lucifer offered. “Charlie and Vaggie went ahead and got started on it. They should be almost finished now.”

Alastor bit back the small whine that tried to escape when Rosie removed her hand, blinking owlishly up at her in the aftermath. She offered him a smile, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head just like his mère would have. His chest tightened and he swallowed back the renewed burn in his throat.

He felt unsteady as he climbed out of the bed, actually stumbling. His gaze dropped to his feet and he stared.

Hooves.

He had hooves?!

“Oh… Prolly shoulda warned ya about that. Whatever happened with your magic just now, you’re back to lookin’ just like your old self. The whole demon package, just…tinier,” Angel supplied.

Rosie offered him her arm and he tentatively took it, letting her help him over to the full length mirror in the corner. He stared uncomprehendingly back at the stranger looking back at him.

He’d already seen the ears, the tail, and the antlers. He already knew his hair was now red and black…

His skin color had changed, as had his eyes. They were now red on red on black and he looked as if he were wearing dark eyeshadow. He reached up to rub at one of his eyelids only to pause on seeing his hand. The skin of his palm and forearm was completely black and he had red tipped claws now instead of fingers. His mouth fell open and he could only gape at the pointed yellow fangs now nestled inside.

C’est quoi cette merde?!

He pressed his hand to his cheek and the person in the mirror did the same. His ears pinned back as his head swam.

“You okay, hun?” Rosie asked, face pinched with worry.

He didn’t look like his father’s twin anymore at least, but Alastor wasn’t sure he preferred this to that.

Well, he certainly wouldn’t be going back to the Living World looking like this. Not that there was anything for him there.

Not with his mère in Heaven.

She would know just what to say right now to ease the anxiety building in his gut. She wouldn’t care that he looked like a monster. She’d probably say something silly, like he was her petit rougarou.

He blinked back a fresh wave of tears. He couldn’t start crying like some child. On the off chance his mère could see him from Heaven, he didn’t want to worry her. Alastor glanced surreptitiously toward the ceiling, as if he might somehow catch her eye.

It was for the best. She was in Heaven. She belonged in Heaven. He’d rather be here without her than have her forgo salvation for him. She was too good to rot down here.

She wasn’t like him.

His thoughts drifted back toward his fight with Vox, if it could even be called that. He’d been terrified. Angel had warned him in no uncertain terms of how dangerous the man was.

His shadow had bashed his screen in with the skull, but it had been Alastor holding the knife.

It was his first time cutting someone since he killed his father, the only other time he’d done so. The glide of the blade through flesh, the resistance of the tendon as he cut through it… The way blood blossomed on Vox’s pant cuffs before pooling on the ground in growing puddles…

Vox had done something to him. Maybe shocked him? He’d lost feeling in his hands for a moment. Had dropped the knife. When he picked it back up, he’d hesitated. Suddenly it wasn’t Vox laying there, but rather his père. Dead and yet somehow staring up at him with utter loathing in his dull, unblinking eyes.

Alastor didn’t regret for a minute what he’d done to him, but he would never forget the look his père had given him as the life drained from his eyes. He had no doubt he would have killed him if he hadn’t bled out so quickly.

He probably would have gone on to kill his mère too, either out of spite or because she asked too many questions about where Alastor was.

All his père had managed to do was grab him by the arm, holding it so tightly, he’d thought it was going to break. And then his fingers had gone slack, releasing him as he finally died.

He’d yearned to sink the blade into Vox’s back, to hear the wet sound of him gasping for breath. But he’d hesitated. His hands had begun to shake.

Was he already damned? He’d killed his père believing so. But if he killed again, would that seal his fate? Could he lose the miniscule chance he might have left to ever see his mère again?

Was he worthy enough to even be in her presence anymore? She didn’t know about the darkness inside him. He tried so hard to hide it from her. He didn’t want to scare her. He didn’t want her to think he was just like his père. He would never be like him. He would never hurt those weaker than himself.

But maybe he could hurt other people… People like his père and Vox. He could feed the darkness inside of him with their equally dark souls, preventing them from ever hurting another person again. He could enjoy this without becoming like his père.

But what if he was wrong and he became just like him after all? Would his future wife cower at the sight of him? Would his future children pray the shadows would hide them from his wrath? That he would be too drunk to hit as hard as usual?

It wasn’t his love for his mère that ultimately made him pause. It was that fear. The memories of what it felt like to be on the receiving end of his père’s fists, to watch him strike his mère until she was a crumpled and crying mess on the floor.

He’d been too weak to stop him for so many years. The best he could do was redirect his anger to himself to try to spare her. And with every blow his père rained down on him, his resolve to get rid of him once and for all grew stronger and stronger.

He’d planned how he would kill him for nearly a year before the stars aligned. He knew he would only get the one chance. It had to be perfect or he would be dooming himself and his mère. Alastor would have slit his own throat before he ever intentionally brought harm to her.

It had been easier than he expected. All he had to do was give in to the darkness, to let his anger sing in his veins. His only regret was how quickly it was over, that he couldn’t savor the moment for longer.

No, he was never going to end up in Heaven. He should have killed Vox. Maybe he’d get another chance. He was in Hell after all. He may as well enjoy it.

He really hoped his mère couldn’t see him…

“Al?”

Alastor blinked, looking questioningly up at Rosie.

“Are you okay?” she said, sounding like it wasn’t the first or second time she’d asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t ask again. Rather, she offered him her arm again and he gently took it, still unused to the strange way his legs now bent. His shoes and socks reappeared on his feet, though fitted to accommodate his new hooves.

“Thank you,” he said to Lucifer as Rosie led him out the door. The others followed behind.

By the time they made it to the first floor, he didn’t need Rosie’s support anymore. He still wasn’t feeling entirely steady on his feet, but he was able to remain upright and the more he walked the easier it became.

Regardless, his head felt as if it was spinning. He’d woken up in Hell, found out over a century had passed, nearly committed his second murder, and now he looked like some sort of fox deer hybrid.

And he had weird legs.

And somehow the devil himself was kinder than most people he knew.

He’d like to assume he’d lost his mind, but the pain from earlier had been far too real.

Reaching the kitchen with the others, Charlie and Vaggie froze, staring at him with wide eyes in the midst of setting the table. Alastor’s traitorous new ears flattened against his skull as he gazed calmly back at them.

“…holy sh…shoot, he really is Alastor isn’t he?” Vaggie muttered.

Hadn’t they already established that?

Charlie set the plate in her hands down and hurried over, beaming. “Oh, Al! How are you doing? You’ve had a busy morning, huh?”

His eye twitched at her tone. He forced Angel’s earlier words to the front of his mind. This was just how Charlie was. She wasn’t intentionally trying to insult him or talk down to him.

“I’m fine, Miss Charlie. Can I help set the table?” He needed something to do. Something to further ground him.

“Oh! Of course!” She led the way back over to the cabinets and drawers, handing him some utensils.

He turned back toward the table only to pause as she gasped.

“I-Is that..?!”

He was starting to see why his older self kept the damn tail hidden now. Pardon mère…

Vaggie followed her gaze while Alastor resolutely ignored them both. Her eye lit up just like Charlie’s and Alastor sighed heavily. Was this how everyone was going to react?

He helped finish setting the table and took a seat there along with everyone else. Portions had already been doled out and he stared at the veritable mountain of eggs and sausage on his plate, eyes widening.

Alastor felt their stares again as he prayed silently to himself and did the Sign of the Cross before he began to eat. The chance his mère was watching was slim, but not zero. He may be a murderer but he was still her son first and foremost.

Thankfully the constant chatter died down as everyone tucked into the meal. He barely managed to clear his plate, uncomfortably full and yet unable to stop himself. He was considering how he’d spend the day when Lucifer spoke up.

“There’s nothing too pressing today, so I was thinking…why don’t we all go to Lu Lu World?”

Charlie nearly knocked her coffee over as she swung toward her father. “Ohmygosh, yes! I haven’t been in ages!”

Vaggie grabbed the coffee cup before she could bump into it a second time as she now whirled to Alastor. He stared warily back at her.

“Have you ever been to a theme park before, Al?!”

A theme park? Like a private park?

Angel typed furiously on his hellphone before offering, “Places like Carousel Gardens.”

He’d seen it from a distance. Had heard others describe the titular Carousel and its “flying horses.”

“It’s whites only.” Or was, he supposed.

“Shit. I shoulda checked that first...”

“Whites only?” Charlie echoed, looking to an equally confused Vaggie before frowning.

“Al’s ma is Black,” Angel supplied.

Only Rosie, Husk, and Niffty didn’t react to the news. Charlie’s brow furrowed before her mouth formed into a small “o” of understanding. Lucifer frowned and it took Vaggie another moment to catch on.

“Oh, shi…shoot. I’m sorry,” Charlie hurried to say. “I mean, I just assumed and…”

Angel held up a hand to forestall her, much to Alastor's relief. “I let him know segregation like that ain’t a thing anymore already.”

Charlie nodded slowly. “So…you’ve never been to a theme park?”

Alastor shook his head. Even the private parks that allowed Black people hadn’t exactly done so with open arms. Not to mention the sheer cost to visit them. He’d been to picnics with his mère and others from their community, but those trips had been far and few between and stopped altogether when money and time grew tighter.

“Well then we definitely have to go!” Lucifer announced, grinning.

“Slow down, short king,” Angel drawled. “Kid just rode an elevator for the first time yesterday. Let’s ease him in.”

Charlie looked as if she had a million questions about this revelation, but resolutely clenched her jaw to hold them back.

“Don’t worry, we’ll start on the easier rides!” Lucifer insisted.

Though Alastor’s curiosity was piqued, he thought wistfully back to the radio tower. He supposed he could humor them. They’d been very kind and generous so far. It was the least he could do.

And that was how he ended up standing with the others in an otherwise empty theme park. Lucifer had apparently created it and was the sole owner. He’d gone ahead and cleared the park to prevent anyone spotting and recognizing Alastor.

Alastor stared curiously around at what looked like a mishmash of apple and circus decor, much like the hotel. Belatedly, he realized all eyes of their group seemed to be on him. He blinked back at them.

Were they expecting him to…do something? Say something?

“Yeah, he has no fuckin’ clue how to be a kid,” Angel said with a shake of his head.

Alastor frowned and they all reared back, which only made him frown harder.

“…fuck that’s creepy. I thought the smilin’ all the time was creepy, but I was so, so wrong,” Angel continued.

Rosie recovered first, gently resting a hand on Alastor’s shoulder. “Ignore them, hun. What would you like to do first?”

His eyebrows winged up.

…had they solely come here for his benefit? Oh, no.

“Ooh! Ooh!” Charlie waved her hand over her head. “We should go on the teacup ride!”

Before he realized what was happening, Charlie had latched onto his hand and began hauling him away. He shot a pleading look back to the others as he stumbled while trying to keep up.

Not a single one of them came to his rescue.

Traitors.

Why were they so determined that he experience this? Were they convinced he’d missed out on an important childhood moment or something? He was eleven. Childhood was long behind him.

Still, he tried to keep Angel’s words about Charlie in mind, ultimately deciding not to sink into his shadow, pull away, or even bite her. Much to his own dismay.

Thankfully they reached the “tea cup” ride soon enough. He now saw why it bore the name, as it consisted of a series of little carts shaped and painted to resemble them. The cups slowly made their way around and around what looked like train tracks, spinning lazily in the process.

What was the point of this?

More importantly, how could it possibly measure up to the thrill of the elevator?

He didn’t get a chance to ask. The ride drew to a halt in front of them and Charlie pulled him into one of the cups. There was a small wheel on a pedestal in the center of it. He sat as directed, offering her a bit of a forced smile in the process. Hopefully if he humored her for now, she’d lose interest and he could escape sooner rather than later.

Charlie beamed back at him, giving the wheel a small turn which caused the teacup to rotate. Alastor sucked in a sharp breath and was quick to grab hold of it, if only to keep himself upright.

“We can go even faster than that too!” she said. As if that was a good thing!

He dropped his hands to the pedestal rather than clutching the wheel for dear life. Charlie spun it again and he swallowed hard, his ears pinning back. His stomach did an odd little flip like in the elevator and he blinked.

That was…

This time he spun the wheel, a startled laugh escaping him when his stomach flipped again.

Okay, maybe he could see the appeal.

They made a few more circuits along the ride and by the time they got off, his stomach and face were starting to hurt from laughing so much.

They rejoined the others, who were looking alarmingly sentimental, especially Angel Dust.

What on earth..?

“There’s plenty more where that came from, kiddo!” Lucifer said, gesturing to the rest of the enormous park.

Alastor studied the other rides from a distance. This was hardly the most productive use of their time. He opened his mouth to protest, but this time Angel took his hand and he had to jog to keep up with his longer strides.

“What d’ya wanna do next? There’s the carousel an’ the Ferris Wheel an’—“

“Alastor!”

He froze in place, nearly falling when it took Angel a beat to realize he’d stopped.

Alastor stared wildly around them, ears turning every which way.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Angel asked, brows lifting.

“Did you hear—“

“Alastor!”

There it was again! He knew that voice! But how?! Why?! They said she was up in Heaven! She couldn’t be here!

Angel looked up that time too, clearly having heard the same.

Good, he wasn’t hallucinating.

Still, Angel seemed more wary than anything else. “You recognize that voice?”

Alastor nodded, trying to sprint in the direction it originated from. Angel tightened his grip on his hand, holding him in place.

“Hang on!” he protested, squeezing his hand. “Who is it? Sounds like a lady…”

“C’est ma mère!” he all but shouted, trying desperately to tug himself free.

He had to get to her! He had to! What if she was hurt or in danger?!

“Your ma? That’s…” His brow furrowed. “Look, okay, we’ll check it out, but ya gotta stay with me, all right?”

He nodded, immediately darting off again. Angel didn’t release his hand, but he matched Alastor’s pace as they ran.

“Mère?” Alastor called back, his heart pounding in his chest. “Où es-tu?”

“Ici, mon fils!”

The booths and rides blurred together as he fought to catch a glimpse of her while not losing any speed. Why did the theme park have to be so damn big?! There were endless red and white brick pathways she could be down!

“What’s she sayin’?” Angel asked as they rounded yet another corner.

Alastor screeched to a stop upon seeing a white-looking woman standing where his mother should have been. She was at least as tall as Charlie, though her blonde nearly reached the ground. Her expression was hard to read with the wide sun hat and tinted glasses she wore.

No one else was supposed to be here right now. Lucifer had seen to that himself. So who was she and how did she get in?

Angel stiffened beside him, all eight of his eyes going wide. “Wh-What the fuck..?” he breathed.

Alastor looked between the two of them, frowning hard. They didn’t have time for this. If this woman had his mother, he’d make her take him to her.

“Mère?” he called again.

The blonde woman smiled. “Alastor, it’s been a while. I see the rumors are true.”

Her voice was music to his ears and he found himself oddly entranced by it before he managed to shake himself free of its influence.

“You know her?” Angel demanded. He paused, audibly swallowing. “Uh…hey there Ya Majesty! Um…you are Charlie’s ma, right?”

“I am, yes,” she answered, taking long, graceful strides toward them.

“Where is ma mère?” Alastor demanded, trying and failing to pull his hand free. Angel had a near death grip on it.

“She’s in Heaven. She asked me to take you to her.”

His eyes went wide. “Sh-She did?” he asked, voice catching on the sudden lump in his throat.

Was he going to get to see her after all..?

“…but I heard her! Where is she?”

The woman offered him her hand. Alastor frowned at it. Something minutely shifted in her expression, there and gone too fast for him to interpret it, before she was smiling again.

He tentatively began to reach for her hand before Angel jerked him back behind himself, almost sending him sprawling in the process..

“…look, no offense, Ya Majesty, but you’ve been missin’ for seven years now. An’ now you’re back an’ the first thing ya wanna do is take Alastor to Heaven? What about Charlie? An’ Lucifer?”

The woman’s smile tightened. “You must be Angel Dust. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Angel’s mouth went slack. “Ya have? How? Why?”

“Your grandmother talks about you quite a bit.”

Angel stared back at her, eyes now holding a telltale shine. ”...you’ve met my nonna..?”

She inclined her head, offering her hand to him now instead. “Would you like to see her?”

With the woman distracted, Alastor scanned the shadows around them for any hint of his mère. He caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye and spun only to see another unfamiliar white woman approaching. This one had short white hair and wings.

Angel Dust sucked in a sharp breath, backing away from both women and dragging Alastor along with him. “Th-The fuck’re you doin’ here?!”

She smiled in answer, though there was nothing friendly about it. The steel in her eyes reminded Alastor disconcertingly of his père. “You can either come along quietly, or I can make you.”

Angel’s hand tightened on Alastor’s to the point of pain, the bones of it feeling like they were grinding together. Alastor bit his bottom lip to keep back the cry of pain that tried to escape.

“Cha—!“

Angel’s shout cut off as the white haired woman lunged at him, drawing a sword as she went. Angel shoved Alastor away, sending him into a startled heap on the ground. Thankfully the woman didn’t cut off his head like Alastor feared. Instead she brought her sword’s pommel down hard against his temple and he crumpled to the ground.

“Angel Dust!” he shouted, scrambling to his feet.

The woman was in front of him in an instant and he barely managed to slip into his shadow before she caught his arm.

Could he bring Angel Dust into his shadow with him? He couldn’t just leave him there! Or would it be better to go and find Charlie and the others?

He wished he had more time to think! The look in the woman’s eyes made the decision for him. He couldn’t, wouldn’t leave Angel Dust with someone like his père.

Alastor rematerialized beside him, sliding his arms under Angel’s top set as he called upon his shadow again. He felt more than saw it start to envelop Angel and relief flooded him just before pain like he’d never known rocked him to his core.

He lost his grip on Angel, falling back and clutching at his chest. It felt like it was being ripped open, a blinding light pouring from a diagonal cut that had appeared across it. He tasted blood, his hands becoming coated in it, and curled in on himself with a sob that was more of a scream.

He was vaguely aware of the white haired woman looming over him, the pain intensifying with her close proximity. Her sword glowed with the same blinding light.

Alastor had thought the pain this morning was bad, but it wasn’t even a candle to the flame burning inside of him now.

The more he tried to focus on the woman, to push past the pain to try and save himself and Angel, the more her features shifted. Suddenly it wasn’t her face above him anymore, but rather the drink flushed face of his père.

Fear rocketed through him and Alastor struggled to drag himself away from his père, sobbing more than screaming now.

“Je suis désolé! Je suis tellement désolé! S’il te plaît ne me blesse pas!”

The pain grew so strong he couldn’t think straight and he slumped back to the ground, curling in on himself again. Blood dripped from his mouth and soaked through his clothes as he fought to bring his arms up and around his head through the agony.

He was going to die. His père was going to kill him. Was already killing him.

But he couldn’t die! Not yet! He had to help Angel! He had to find his mère!

Alastor forced himself onto his hands and knees, darkness creeping into the corners of his vision.

He couldn’t be a coward. He wouldn’t let him hurt his mère again. If he was going to die, he would take the bastard with him!

A hand rested on the back of his head and he froze, heart hammering hard in his chest. It felt as if it was slamming into the glowing wound, only making the pain worse.

“Rest,” the blonde woman said softly above him. “Rest.”

Alastor’s arms gave out. She caught him before he fell face first into the brick. Her arms tightening around him was the last thing he felt before everything went black.

Chapter Text

Angel woke with a start, jerking upright as all eight of his eyes went wide. His head swam but he forced himself to focus on his surroundings, gaze flitting anxiously around for any sign of Alastor.

He’d expected to wake up in the dirt in the middle of Lu Lu World. Instead he found himself in a pristine room in various shades of pastels that was nicer than anywhere he’d ever been before. He slowly took in the decor, realizing he must be in a guest room, a hotel, or something similar.

It had that telltale look of faux hominess down to its bland, yet sturdy furnishings and the forgettable artwork adorning the walls. Every bit of it was designed to appeal to the masses, yet it still somehow missed the mark.

What the actual fuck?

He was sitting on a bed as soft as a cloud and he belatedly realized he wasn’t alone on it. Alastor was curled in on himself beside him, his eyes closed. He wasn’t in his demonic form anymore, having gone back to looking human. His clothes had been changed and now he wore a pair of light blue pants and a t-shirt in a darker blue. The only remaining part of his prior outfit was the glasses Lucifer had made for him.

Angel watched him until he was sure of the slow rise and fall of his chest before he carefully slid out of the bed, trying not to wake him. He’d get a lay of the land first. He was the fucking adult here, regardless of what Alastor seemed to believe.

He put one hand to his temple as he wobbled in the direction of the small room’s closed door. The knob didn’t budge. It was locked from the outside.

Shit.

He checked the only other door in the room, but all he found there was an equally pristine bathroom clean enough to satisfy even Niffty.

There wasn’t a window to be found in the suite, barred or otherwise.

Angel checked his pockets for his hellphone, turning them completely inside out before he was willing to accept they were empty. The guns he usually kept hidden away were missing too.

Fuck.

Making his way back to the bed, he racked his aching head for the last thing he could remember. Lilith and Lute’s faces slowly swam to the surface. Double fuck. Angel rested his elbows on his knees, staring sightlessly down at the wood floor. He tentatively ghosted his fingertips against his bruised temple before threading his fingers gently through his hair.

Had that really been Lilith? If so, why the fuck was she with Lute of all people? And why was Lute in Hell?

Were they even still in Hell?

A soft whimper abruptly drew his focus back to Alastor. The kid curled tightly in on himself, his breathing ratcheting up to the point he was nearly hyperventilating.

“S’il te plaît ne la blesse pas!” he sobbed, pressing his hands hard over his ears.

Already so keyed up himself, Angel leaned over to gently shake his shoulder, not wanting him to suffer any longer than he had to.

By the time he realized that was probably a really fucking stupid thing to do, it was too late.

Alastor was up in an instant, eyes wild and arms held out in front of him as if to ward him off. Angel slowly raised all four of his hands, palms facing out.

“It’s just me, Al. Angel Dust. You…uh…remember me…?”

Alastor stared at him for so long, Angel began to worry he didn’t. He finally lowered his arms, sinking slowly back onto the bed. His eyes darted around the room and he sat with his shoulders hunched, his posture one Angel knew all too well.

What the fuck had happened?

“…you okay?”

Alastor didn’t answer, expression unreadable as he scooted back against the headboard. His eyes were red, like he’d been crying.

“We don’t gotta talk if ya don’t wanna,” Angel murmured, slowly lowering his hands into his lap. He doubted Alastor would appreciate any sudden movements right now.

Where was the Alastor from earlier? The one who’d finally started to act like the child he was? This was worse than he’d been at the start of this whole thing.

He seemed…terrified.

What the fuck had those bitches done to him? Angel wasn’t going to rest until they paid for it tenfold. But he knew better than to show how upset he was right now. He didn’t want to scare Alastor further.

For his part, Alastor drew his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around them as he stared unseeingly at the far wall.

He still hadn’t said a word since he woke up and Angel knew next to no French. It sounded like he’d said ‘please’ something, but fuck if he knew what.

It took more self control than he liked to not mirror Alastor’s posture. He wasn’t used to being the strong one for someone else. It was a full time job just trying to do that for himself. He hated that the kid was hurting and he had no fucking clue how to help him aside from not turning into a panicked mess himself.

Angel shifted his weight and Alastor tensed. He didn’t turn to look at him, but he watched him warily from the corner of his eye.

Whatever he claimed, Angel had absolutely no doubt now that he’d killed his pa in self defense.

He let out a slow breath, mentally running through all of the therapy exercises Charlie had subjected him to over the past few months. What could he do to try and put Al at ease? What could he do to help?

The answer was so obvious, he wondered if that bitch Lute had knocked a screw loose when she’d hit him.

Music. Duh.

But what was a song the kid might be familiar with? It was harder to think of one than he expected, given his own tastes had become far more modern.

A ridiculous one immediately came to mind, but he supposed it was still popular for a reason. It wasn’t jazz but it’d have to do. Decision made, he started to hum the all too familiar tune. He only remembered the chorus, but it would have to do.

As he hummed along, some of the tension began to creep out of Alastor’s shoulders and he finally turned to face him again, though he didn’t speak or move otherwise.

Definitely not the sort of performing Angel was accustomed to nowadays, but he was gonna do his best, dammit. He began to sing, swaying absentmindedly with the tune. “Take me out to the ball game, take me out with the crowd. Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack, I don't care if I never get back.”

Alastor didn’t seem to realize he was tapping his pointer finger along with the rhythm, but Angel considered it a good sign. It had to mean he was getting out of his head a little and becoming more firmly grounded in the present.

The kid finally opened his mouth to speak when the door swung open. He jerked back as if he’d been slapped, throwing his arms up and over his head in a way that made Angel’s heart ache.

Lilith stood in the doorway, a faint frown on her face. “You’re both awake.”

Alastor slowly lowered his arms, watching her without looking directly at her, as if afraid she might view direct eye contact as a challenge. Her gaze lingered on him before she turned her full attention to Angel.

“Can I speak with you?”

Alastor’s eyes darted from her to Angel before dropping to the white bedspread, his fingers tightening in its fabric.

“…anythin’ ya got to say to me, ya can say to both of us,” Angel answered with more calm than he felt.

He wasn’t abandoning Alastor. Especially not when he was like this.

“I’m afraid this isn’t appropriate for a child.”

Angel shot to his feet, fists clenching at his sides. “Yeah? Well maybe ya shoulda thought about that before ya tricked and kidnapped him!”

To his surprise, she flinched at his words. “It wasn’t my first choice.”

“Are ya even actually Lilith?” he demanded. “How do I know this ain’t some trick? And, if ya are, why the fuck are ya hangin’ around with that bitch?! And how d’ya know Al to begin with?”

“Those are all fair questions,” she answered evenly. “Yes, I am actually Lilith. I believe you’ve met my daughter and husband. It isn’t a trick.”

“What about the rest of it?” He paused, recalling what had happened only hours earlier. “…ya had a deal with Al, didn’t ya? Is that why you was lookin’ for him? Well, tough shit! It’s over!”

Her lips thinned but she didn’t lash out at him like he’d feared. Her eyes drifted back to Alastor. “Is he all right?”

Angel scowled back at her. “Does he look all right?”

Alastor didn’t even butt in to remind them he could take care of himself and that he wasn’t a child. Angel shot him a worried glance. He was hunkered down against the headboard, like he was trying to make himself as small of a target as possible. He clutched his knees tightly to his chest staring back at them with wide, unfocused eyes.

Shit. Shit.

“What the fuck did ya do to him?” Angel hissed, making an effort to lower his voice from the shouting he’d been doing before.

“Lute drew on the power Adam passed down to her after his death. As far as I can tell it…reinvigorated the divine energy trapped inside him. I healed the physical wounds but…” She shrugged helplessly.

“…so he got sliced open all over again..?”

She nodded.

Shit. No wonder he looked shell shocked! “So…what, he’s fully human again?”

“As human as he can be.”

Alastor didn’t react to any of this news. Angel didn’t know if he could even hear them right now.

“…where are we?” Angel asked. Maybe the sooner they escaped, the sooner Al would bounce back.

“Heaven.”

Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that.

“What?!”

Alastor finally stirred, the entirety of his attention shifting to Lilith. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Lilith gave him a small smile. “Yes, she’s here. And she’ll be here shortly.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, arms tightening further around his legs.

“You better not be fuckin’ with him,” Angel growled under his breath.

“I’ve actually become quite close with Eugenia over the years,” she said, expression softening.

He blinked. “…you’ve been up here for years?”

Wait. She’d been gone seven years, hadn’t she? The same as Alastor…

No fucking way…

But…if Angel had to guess, the list of things Alastor would sell his own soul for would probably fit on one hand…

Had he..?

He didn’t get a chance to ask as another woman appeared in the doorway. He might not have recognized her as a human, but her similarities to Alastor’s demon form were unquestionable.

Her skin was several shades darker than Alastor’s, though she’d taken on some deer-like attributes in death too. Her curly black hair was done up in an elegant chignon, the color matching that of her tufted ears. She was younger than Angel expected, looking as though she were in her early forties at most. She also stood about two feet shorter than Angel did.

Had she died before Alastor…?

Tears shone in her eyes as a wide smile came to her face. “Alastor, mon petit cocodrie!”

Alastor launched himself from the bed and was in her arms in an instant, his own wrapped tightly around her middle as he sobbed into the front of her cornflower blue dress. She brushed her fingers gently through his hair, murmuring quietly to him in what sounded like more French.

Maybe it was angelic strength or maybe it was because Alastor was so fucking scrawny, but she pulled him easily up into her arms, tenderly rocking him. She met Angel’s eyes over the top of his head, a single tear escaping down her cheek.

“I heard you’ve been looking after my little boy,” she said, her accent similar to Alastor’s, but thicker.

Alastor lifted his head, looking nothing short of stunned. She grinned down at him, her smile so like his own.

“You can learn a lot in a couple of decades, mon cher,” she said with a wink.

“I-It’s really you..?” he stammered, his own accent growing more pronounced in kind.

She pressed a kiss to the top of his head and he hiccuped, burying his face in her shoulder. He held onto her as if he was terrified she might vanish were he to let go.

“Uh…hey there Mrs. Alastor’s Mom.”

She chuckled. “Not a Mrs. anymore, thank goodness. You can call me Eugenia.” She tilted her head as she absently rubbed Alastor’s back. “You’re Anthony, aren’t you?”

All eight of his eyes popped open. “How… How’d’ya know that?”

“Oh, your grandmère speaks very highly of you.”

Angel sucked in a sharp breath, his heart lurching up into his throat. “Sh-She does..?”

She nodded, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and settling Alastor in her lap. His arms wrapped around her neck as she continued to rock him.

“Lilith already pulled some strings to get me here, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before your grandmère makes an appearance. Whether the powers that be like it or not.”

Angel swallowed hard, feeling like his head was spinning all over again. It was hard enough to wrap his mind around the fact he was up in Heaven of all places, but his nonna might actually want to see him too...?

That must mean she didn’t know…

“I dunno if that’s the best idea,” he said after a long moment.

“Why not?”

“I’m not exactly the Anthony D’Angelo she remembers…”

Eugenia snorted softly, another action that was almost a perfect match to her son. Alastor really took after her, didn’t he?

“Oh please, cher. If I can accept the fact mon petit cocodrie is the terrifying Radio Demon, she can certainly accept your post mortem career. Besides, she already knows all about it.”

He gave a startled jerk. “You do?! She does?!”

“Mais oui. I can’t say I’m thrilled by Alastor’s little exploits, but they won’t keep me from loving him all the same.”

‘Little exploits’ was a very interesting way to sum up ‘unrepentant serial killer who eats people’… To each their own, he supposed.

Alastor finally lifted his head, scrubbing at his eyes. His glasses were askew now and hopelessly smudged.

“Y-You know..?” he stammered. “…about…?”

“I know about everything,” she said, tapping the bridge of his glasses to instantly clean them. “We’ve had many chats about it all over the years.”

“W-We have?”

“Absolument! Though I wish you hadn’t sold your soul to do it. Even if it was to Lilith. But I understand. The circumstances were a bit…complicated…”

Angel could only imagine.

“Y-You can put me down now,” Alastor replied, though he’d yet to remove his arms.

“I’d like to hold my baby a little longer if that’s alright with you,” she said with a smile. “You had to grow up much too fast, so indulge your mère a moment? Let me take care of you for a change.”

“But I’m supposed to take care of you!” he protested.

She pressed a light kiss to his forehead. “You never should have had to, mon petit gâteau.” She took a shuddering breath. “I know I’ve told you this before, but you won’t remember it. You saved my life, Alastor. You saved both of us. I…I should have been the one protecting you from that…that fils de putain!”

Alastor gasped, staring up at her with wide eyes. “Mère! Va donc!”

“You are one to talk,” she said with a watery smile, brushing her thumb across his cheek to catch a stray tear and pulling him close again.

The two of them fell quiet aside from the occasional murmured word in French. It didn’t take long for Alastor to drift off in her arms, his head resting on her shoulder.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Eugenia said as she pressed a kiss to Alastor’s temple.

“Of course,” Lilith insisted. “It was one of the concessions I demanded in return.”

“In return for what?” Angel cut in, though he kept his voice quiet, so as not to wake Alastor up.

Fuck, he looked so…so small. And so young. Was this really the same kid who openly bragged about killing his pa and who almost committed a second murder…what, less than twenty-four hours ago?

Lilith sighed, conjuring up a chair and taking a seat. The door closed of its own accord and Angel frowned at it.

“Heaven got wind of what happened to Alastor after Adam’s attack. There was already enough of an uproar when Sir Pentious was redeemed, but—“

Angel shot to his feet, earning a reprimanding look from Eugenia when Alastor shifted in her arms.

“Sorry!” he whispered. “But seriously? Pentious was redeemed?!”

Lilith blinked. “You didn’t know?”

He shook his head, not entirely trusting his voice. Sure, he hadn’t known Pentious long, but the weirdo had grown on him. And he’d literally double died trying to protect them all.

Fuck, Charlie was gonna flip when she found out!

“Well, between that and what happened to Alastor, those in power want answers. It was decided he would be brought here so they could see what happened for themselves.”

Eugenia’s eyes narrowed and despite her motherly exterior, Angel felt a small thrill of fear shoot up his spine.

“They aren’t studying him. He isn’t some thing they can poke and prod.”

“I agree,” Lilith was quick to reassure her. “I wouldn’t have helped them if there had been any other choice. They were coming for him one way or another. Though, I didn’t realize Lute would stoop so low…” Her lip curled back. “Yes, he may have lost to Adam, but everyone knows how many exorcists he took out beforehand. Heaven has always been concerned about an uprising of Sinners. They’ve been watching Alastor for a while now.”

Angel’s hands tightened into fists. “…fa real? Like…watching-watching him? But he’s just one Sinner, ain’t he?”

“He’s arguably one of the strongest of them, if not the strongest,” Lilith answered. “We…happened to run into one another on extermination day a few years ago.” She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Queen of Hell or not, he took umbrage with the way Adam was speaking to me.”

Eugenia gave a fond shake of her head. “He’s never been particularly good at looking the other way when it comes to that kind of thing. He got into more fights than I can count defending my honor.”

Angel frowned, brows lifting in silent question.

“For having relations with a white man,” she supplied.

Oh. Shit. Yeah, that’d do it…

“He didn’t just hurt those little monsters either. He…” She trailed off, gaze growing distant. “He put the fear of God in them. The few times he was caught in the act, the other children were too scared to own up to what happened. Suddenly they were ‘just roughhousing’ or it was ‘all a misunderstanding.’”

Her arms briefly tightened around Alastor before she continued. “Even the time they tried to hang up on him… They beat him black and blue, but he got off easy compared to them. The only thing that kept him from getting arrested was the police refused to believe one scrawny kid went and did all that. Not against a group of kids almost twice his size and age.”

She rested her chin on the top of his head, her eyes sliding closed. “I saw the way he looked at his père near the end. The last time he beat him, before Alastor killed him, that grown man reared back like Alastor had struck him. Those weren’t the eyes of a little boy anymore. His père was a drunk and a bully, but that look was enough to make him back down. I think it was the first time he realized just what kinda fire he’d been playing with.”

Angel couldn’t suppress his shudder at his own memory of the look in question. The one that had made his murderer mafioso pa backing away with his tail between his legs.

“Alastor… Well, he’s always had a funny sense of right and wrong. I did my best to try and raise him with good morals, but there was a darkness in him from an early age. He took to hunting like a duck to water. Even the men in the hunting club were in awe of how…ruthlessly single-minded he could be. Almost clinically so. It scared them, not that they ever would’ve admitted it.”

Angel gingerly seated himself once more on the edge of the bed. “Were you...?”

“Scared of him?” Eugenia finished for him. “No. Only scared of what he might become.”

She gently tilted Alastor’s head so she could remove his glasses, setting them down on the bed beside them. “I was too young when I met his père. I didn’t know any better. I’d just lost my grandmère and was only sixteen. Maybe I should’ve gone to my extended family for help, but we were all so poor. No one had any extra to give away. His père was twenty-two.”

Angel winced. Unfortunately he could relate a bit too well to that particular age gap…

“By the time I realized what kind of person he was, I was already pregnant. I was scared of him, but I was more scared of not being able to provide for my baby.”

She paused, swallowing hard. “He used to threaten to take him away from me. Run off somewhere I’d never find him. And what was I supposed to do? He was a white man. And Alastor, well, there was no denying they were blood related. He could have been his père’s twin. It would’ve been my word against his.”

Lilith leaned forward, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You did the best you could, Gennie.”

“Doesn’t stop me from wishing I’d done more,” she said, meeting her eyes.

A look of understanding passed between them. Like they shared a common burden.

“…but how’re you up here? Or…why? Charlie’s been lookin’ for ya!”

Lilith settled back in her chair, clasping her hands in her lap. “I never agreed with the exterminations. I’ve been looking for a way to stop them since they began. I’d been talking to Carmilla Carmine about…what other options we might have. I don’t know how, but word made it up to Heaven. That’s why Adam sought me out that day.”

Her lips twisted into a rueful smile. “He offered me a deal.”

Angel’s stomach sank. “A…deal? They can do that?”

She nodded. “It’s not as common and it’s certainly frowned upon, but it’s just as possible here as it is in Hell.”

“…what kinda deal? And what was Smiles doin’ out an’ about on Extermination Day anyway?”

Eugenia chuckled. “Smiles? Oh, I bet he loves that.”

Angel blinked. While Alastor had never threatened to rip his head off and treat him like his own personal pez dispenser, he’d never stopped to think the maniac might actually like the nickname. Huh.

“Niffty,” Lilith supplied. “Sometimes she has these…episodes. She was in the midst of one that day and he went out looking for her. To protect her.”

Shit. He knew Alastor had a soft spot for her, but there was a huge fucking difference between owning her soul and putting his own in mortal danger to find her on Extermination Day. That was before they’d known Angels could be killed, too.

“I found her first,” Lilith continued. “And then Adam found us.”

Angel’s eyes darted back to Alastor.

Fuck.

“Adam wanted me out of Hell. He’d caught wind of what I was up to and thought the best course of action was to offer me a deal I couldn’t refuse to make sure I agreed.” She sighed. “He said he would ignore my attempts to stop the exterminations if I came to Heaven with him. Another stipulation was that I couldn’t contact Lucifer or Charlie.”

She paused, frowning. Angel was startled to see tears brimming in her eyes.

Eugenia reached over, taking her hand in her own. Lilith shot her a grateful smile.

“Lucifer and Charlie… They didn’t know what I was doing. That I’d broken the agreement with Heaven, for all intents and purposes. I put them at risk. I put everyone in Hell at risk. Agreeing to the deal was the least I could do to prevent an even greater massacre.”

Angel sucked in a sharp breath. “…fuck! But why didn’t he want ya talkin’ to Charlie and short king?”

The corners of her lips twitched briefly up again at that. “Because he was a miserable, petty son of a bitch who never got over the fact I chose Lucifer over him. It was his way of punishing me while simultaneously trying to win me back.”

He grimaced. Fuck, he could only imagine what that entailed. He’d barely met Adam, but the little he’d witnessed hadn’t exactly left him with the best impression.

“And Al?”

She frowned, dropping her gaze to her lap. “They were going to kill him and Niffty.”

“They were going to try,” Eugenia interjected.

She inclined her head in acknowledgement. “Seeing as Alastor tends to carry angelic steel around with him, they might have found out even sooner that they weren’t as unkillable as they thought…”

Angel thought back to the hunting knife and grimaced. Yeah, Al may have gone down, but he would’ve made a sizable dent in the exorcist population in the process. Then again, the second he realized they could be hurt, he probably would’ve taken advantage of the element of surprise to go all eldritch horror mode and start hacking away at them with their own weapons. He was exactly the type to revel in unexpected mayhem.

He also definitely would’ve died doing what he loved…

“So, to save them both, I offered him a deal. His soul in exchange for my protection. It was the only thing that would force Adam to spare them.” Lilith rolled her eyes. “And of course, even facing down an army of bloodthirsty exorcists, Alastor took the time to negotiate.

“He wanted to go to Heaven with me, to see his mother. Adam and Lute tried to protest, but I knew they were concerned about how powerful he already was and the kind of danger he posed. Not that they ever would have admitted it. I was able to arrange for him to stay with Eugenia for seven years, Heaven is overly fond of the number seven. In return, he agreed to let me seal off some of his power to make him…less of a threat, as far as Heaven was concerned.”

Angel gave himself a moment to take it all in, his mind already going a million miles a minute with questions. Lilith patiently waited for him to gather his thoughts.

“…and Niff?” he prompted.

“Too much of a loose canon. They sent her on her way back to Husker after making her agree she wouldn’t speak a word of what happened.” She grinned outright as she added, “Little did they know…”

Angel couldn’t help but grin back. “An’ what about the hotel an’ Charlie? Did ya make him agree to help her too?”

Eugenia chuckled. “Oh, no. Lilith spent so much time talking about her that we’ve both developed a bit of a soft spot for Charlie. He did all that of his own accord, even though I don’t think he ever believed redemption was possible. Otherwise maybe he would’ve worked a little harder to get some redemption himself.”

“No offense, ma’am, but I don’t think Heaven could handle him. And he enjoys all the blood and violence a lil’ too much.”

She gave the top of Alastor’s head a wistful look. “I know, but a mother can dream...”

“So…is that why Adam couldn’t actually kill him? Cuzza the deal?”

Lilith nodded. “It seems as though my protection combined with Adam’s divine power had…unexpected results. Though now Heaven wants to know if that’s the only reason, or if it’s actually possible to purify Sinners. Or whatever they want to call it...”

Angel frowned. “Why would they care about purifiyin’ Sinners? They don’t exactly seem like they wanna open up the big pearly gates to all of us.”

“You’re absolutely right about that. But there’s power in knowledge. Just because they don’t actually intend to redeem or purify Sinners doesn’t mean they don’t want to know what happened and what divine power is actually capable of.

“I tried to convince Lute it has to solely be the result of my deal with him, but she and the others insist on seeing as much for themselves. As far as I know, their working theory is that a blast of powerful and undiluted divine power is capable of reverting a Sinner back to a time before they were considered irredeemable.”

Angel shot Alastor a glance. “…so that’s for sure why he ended up pint sized? Cuz that was the last time his sins was still considered forgivable…?” Fuck, just what had he gotten up to after killing his pa?

She nodded. “I believe so. But again, I think the transformation was a result of the combination and not just due to divine intervention.”

“Divine intervention? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Eugenia drawled.

Lilith offered her a small smile.

“So…what’s the plan then?” Angel asked, glancing between the two of them.

“We’re still workshopping it,” Lilith admitted. “But for now all I wanted to do was prevent Lute from going to get Alastor herself. Unfortunately I wasn’t completely successful. I am so sorry, Eugenia.”

Eugenia gave a small shake of her head. “It’s all right, Lily. I know you wouldn’t have hurt him. That bitch, however…” Her eyes narrowed into slits.

“She’s gonna come back for him, ain’t she?” Angel asked.

“Yes,” Lilith reluctantly agreed.

“But what can we do up against all of Heaven...?”

“If Lily’s right, then the only reason this happened is because of her deal with Alastor. Otherwise he would’ve died that day,” Eugenia said. “The way I see it, it’s the lingering divine energy in him that’s causing the problem now.”

Lilith nodded. “I think you’re right. The divine energy has latched onto his soul and is keeping him like this. Not quite human, but not quite a demon either. And, seeing how it flared up again at Lute’s prodding, it seems like he hasn’t fully healed from the fight with Adam either. That maybe he can’t until the divine energy has been extracted.”

Eugenia gently stroked Alastor’s hair back from his face. “My poor baby…”

“But…don’t all this mean he’s got a shot at redemption now?” Angel asked. “I mean, if he stays up here in Heaven? Or don’t return to his ol’ demon self?”

“It’s possible,” Eugenia conceded. “But as much as I would love that, I know it’s not what he’d want.”

She gave a small shake of her head as she continued, “He’s never regretted a single thing he’s done. Why, he’s proud of everything he’s accomplished! He’s tried to tone it down for my sake, but I know becoming the Radio Demon is all he’s ever wanted.

“He has all the power he lacked in life, and he gets to use it to punish the worst of the worst while satisfying the darkness inside of him.”

She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, earning a pleased sigh from Alastor for her trouble. “Loving someone unconditionally can be a hard thing. I know he’d never truly forgive me if I took all that away from him. Even if he doesn’t remember any of it. He’s made his choices and has stood by every single one of them. I have a feeling the only thing he’d ever change if he could go back and do it all again is that he’d find a way to kill his père even sooner.”

Angel flinched. Yeah, that and make sure he at least hit lucky number thirty before he kicked the bucket again. Not that he intended to say as much to his ma. Hell, she probably already knew, based on everything else she’d said so far.

Fuck, she wasn’t kidding when she said unconditionally, was she?

“So the plan is to get the lingering divine energy out of him so he can go back to the way he was before. And then hopefully Heaven will leave him be and instead refocus their attention on redemption,” Eugenia concluded.

“Exactly,” Lilith agreed. “And I’m going to do everything in my power to push for redemption. Which, unfortunately, means I’ll be up here for a while yet.”

That was another kind of unconditional love, wasn’t it? The fact she was so willing to forgo returning to Charlie and Lucifer, all so she could further Charlie’s dreams and protect their people…

Fuck, and the two of them had spent all this time thinking she‘d fucking ghosted them!

Angel would have to see what he could do about getting word to them on what really happened. Lilith couldn’t contact them, but maybe he could.

“So how do we fix Al?” he asked, squaring his shoulders and steeling his resolve.

Chapter Text

Alastor was half afraid to open his eyes when he found himself slowly drifting back towards consciousness. Waking up hadn’t exactly been the best experience for him as of late. On top of that, he’d had the strangest and most wonderful dream.

He’d been in Heaven. His mère was there and she looked different, but it was still her. She’d called him her petit cocodrie and held him close.

He swore he could feel her arms around him now and hear her singing softly, just a little off key, like always.

“Chère, mo lemmé toi. Oui, mo lemmé toi ‘vec tou mo coeur mo lemmé toi…”

Fingers ran gently through his hair and his eyes snapped open. He jerked upright only to freeze upon seeing her. His mère!

His eyes began to well and a lump formed in his throat at the sight of her. She looked similar to how he had in his demon form but he would recognize her smile and her voice anywhere. He was quick to wrap his arms back around her as he struggled to keep his tears at bay.

It was all real!

The overwhelming terror and pain he’d been through earlier felt like a distant memory as she returned his embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Are you all right, mon petit cocodrie?”

He nodded, not entirely trusting his voice. He needed to get himself back under control. He didn’t have time for all these ridiculous feelings.

“Are you hungry?” she continued. “Lily went to get us some food. Maybe I can cook something for you later, too?”

He nodded again, sniffling softly as he leaned back to look up at her. For the first time, he felt he looked more like his mère than his père. Or…he would have if he hadn’t turned back into a human again.

He squinted as he turned his attention to the room around them, noting Angel Dust was still present, though he was seated on a chair he didn’t remember being there before. Meanwhile, he and his mère were on the bed, her sitting up against the headboard and him in her lap.

He didn’t want to be treated like…like a child, but he found it hard to care overmuch when he’d spent the past few days thinking he would never see her again.

His spectacles suddenly appeared on his face and he blinked as Angel Dust came into focus.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you’re also un petit menteur,” his mother said, tweaking his ear.

He squirmed, trying to duck out of her reach. “I didn’t lie!” he protested.

“Oh? Then why do I feel as though I should be calling you ma petite chauve-souris instead?”

He gasped in horror. “Mais non!”

She laughed, giving him a brief squeeze.

Alastor felt eyes on him and he turned back to Angel, alarmed to see he looked almost as soppy as he had at the theme park.

“…is something wrong?” he hazarded.

Angel shook his head. “Nah, I’m just happy to see ya like this.”

He frowned. “Like what?”

“Happy,” his mother supplied, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Oh.

Had he not seemed happy before? Maybe that’s why his older self was always smiling? So people didn’t get the wrong impression?

“…how long was I asleep?” he asked, pulling just far enough away to lean into his mère’s side rather than remain in her lap.

She settled her arm around his shoulders, pulling him a little closer. “Mmm, maybe an hour or so? Not too long.”

He nodded, relieved. There was too much going on for him to be wasting time now. “Did I miss anything? Are we really in Heaven?”

“We are, cher. And you didn’t miss much. Just some boring chitchat.”

He leaned back to shoot her a narrow look. “Now who’s the liar?”

She blinked. “Pardon?”

“You’re a terrible liar, mère! You should really work on that.”

She tweaked his ear again and he yelped, ducking his head even as a giggle escaped him.

“You think I don’t know when you’re lying to me?” she replied. “I should tickle you for that!”

His face warmed and he held up his hands in surrender. “Non! Not in front of my friend!”

“Oh, don’t let me stop ya. I’m filin’ away everythin’ I can under a personal NDA because this is cute as fuck,” Angel insisted, grinning ear to ear.

“What?! I am not cute!”

His mother gave a solemn shake of her head. “You are the cutest little boy I know, mon fils. And don’t think you got any less cute when you grew up!”

Angel sputtered out a laugh. “Oh, fuck, I desperately need to see ya with your ma all grown up now, even if ya wind up killin’ me to hide the evidence!”

His face went an even darker shade. “Non!” he wailed in protest. “People are scared of me grown up!”

“Not me,” she insisted, pinching his cheek.

Thankfully he was saved any further embarrassment by the door to their room opening again. He reflexively leaned in front of his mother, frowning hard when he recognized the blonde woman from before. But…she was friends with his mère, wasn’t she? And…he didn’t think she’d been the one to hurt him.

She didn’t come alone, though. Two other women flanked her, both bearing a striking resemblance to Angel Dust. Angel was on his feet in an instant, all eight eyes as wide as they could go.

One of the women looked close to him in age, while the other looked old enough to be his grandmère.

Angel took a tentative step forward before stopping himself. The other two bridged the gap, wrapping their many arms tightly around him and breaking into what Alastor could only assume was Italian. As the three of them spoke, tears and hugs were plentiful.

Lilith conjured several tray tables bearing plates redolent with spices and herbs. Alastor stared curiously at them, unfamiliar with the dish. All he could really make out was red sauce and an alarming amount of cheese.

“Alastora!” the elderly woman crowed, making her way over to him.

He offered her his most polite smile. Had they met before, or did she know his older self?

“She’s a dear friend. You can call her Mame D’Angelo,” his mother said, giving him a small nudge.

He tentatively returned the woman’s overly familiar embrace.

“Call me nonna! You did before you went back to Hell!” she insisted. “Oh, I recognize you from before now too, looking like this! I remember you from when you came to our restaurant with my nipote! You had just killed that figlio di puttana!”

Angel gasped. “Nonna!”

“Che cosa?” she demanded. “It is true! And good riddance to bad trash! They did not find his body for over a week!” she all but cackled.

Alastor now fully understood why his older self cared for the woman. His mère gave a small shake of her head, absently patting his back.

“Who did I kill…?” Alastor asked, curiosity piqued.

Angel Dust appeared flustered as he hedged, “We, uh, actually met once while we was both livin’.”

“His bad boyfriend,” Nonna cut in. She reached up, cupping Angel’s face in her hands. “Mi dispiace,” she murmured, pulling him down to place a kiss on his forehead. “I wish you could have come to me and told me what you were going through. I admit I do not know if I would have understood then, but I understand now. I am so very sorry, patatino.”

Angel’s eyes widened and began to well as he stared down at her. “I…”

The younger woman wrapped her arms around them both, sniffling. “I’m sorry too, fratellino.”

“Okay, just cuz you’re older by like five minutes don’t mean I’m your little brother, Mol,” Angel protested, tears skirting down his cheeks.

“Yes, it does,” she retorted. “I’ve missed you so much!” She hesitated, absently worrying her bottom lip. “…ma and pa… They’re both…down there, aren’t they?”

Angel’s face clouded over. “…yeah.”

“Have you…?”

“…just once. Steered clear ever since. I thought… I thought maybe ma…” He trailed off, voice catching.

“Neither of them deserved to have a figliolo as good as you,” Nonna interrupted. “Yet another thing I am sorry for. I should have done more for you. I should not have let them be so cruel.”

Angel’s sister made a soft sound of protest. “You did what you could! …we were all scared of pa. I’ll never forgive him for that time he threw ya out in the middle of a blizzard. All ‘cause ya tried stoppin’ him when he was…” Her voice broke.

Angel swallowed hard, looking like more tears were on the horizon.

“This is enough talking!” Nonna cut in. “Anthony, I made you your favorite, Eggplant Parmesan!” She drew back from her grandchildren to motion enthusiastically to the plates. “Mangiare! Mangiare!”

Angel sniffled, giving her a small smile. He allowed the two of them to lead him to one of the tray tables and immediately tucked in. “Fffuck, nonna! This is even better than I remembered!”

She beamed at the praise, motioning for everyone else to follow suit.

“One sec, nonna,” Angel’s sister said. She approached Alastor, offering one of her many hands. “I’m Molly, by the way. You won’t remember me, but we were actually real close by the time you left.”

Alastor stared down at her hand before tentatively shaking it.

“Yes, you were part of la famiglia by the time you returned to Hell!” Nonna insisted.

His eyes widened as he turned to his mother for confirmation. She smiled reassuringly.

“I met them at a support group for people with family and friends in Hell. We’ve become very close over the years. I was stunned to find out you and nonna had met before. It shouldn’t have surprised me though, not after I tried her cooking for the first time.” Her smile grew fond. “You’ve always had a knack for finding the best restaurants. You used to host a segment on your radio show about them. Though I never found out what you were doing all the way up in New York back then.”

His mother must have listened to his radio show then! The thought of being able to share something like that with her left him grinning ear to ear. It meant all of her hard work and sacrifice had paid off in the end. It was the greatest possible gift he could have given her.

“Sì, he ate at our ristorante and asked to pay his compliments to the chef,” Nonna tittered. “He was as much a flatterer then as he is now. Or, was. Though I am sure he still is! He nearly convinced me to share our family recipes by the time he left town!”

“Damn. I knew you two was chummy, but I didn’t realize you was that chummy,” Angel said around a mouthful of food.

“Maniere, Anthony!” Nonna chided.

“Mi dispiace, nonna,” he said, this time after swallowing.

Alastor tentatively picked up the fork by his own plate. He wasn’t dreaming. They really were in Heaven. It didn’t seem to be a trick either. It should be okay to eat this.

His mother gave his shoulder a brief squeeze before taking a bite of her own. The last bit of his hesitation evaporated at that and he was quick to tuck in too. He wasn’t familiar with Italian food, but if the rest of it was as good as this, he was eager to try more.

A comfortable quiet fell over the room as they ate. He let his thoughts wander in the absence of conversation, though they kept circling back to the same, worrying sticking point. His mother was in Heaven and now he was there with her, but could he stay with her? Was he allowed to? Or would he be forced back to Hell or even to the living world without her?

Somehow it had been easier to accept he may never see her again than it was to accept he would, albeit temporarily. He’d only just started to come to terms with that, and now he seemed destined to experience that soul deep grief all over again.

He wondered if Angel Dust felt the same…

Was it ultimately better to have lost their loved ones completely, or to be reunited only to lose them a second time?

Rather than scooping up another bite, Alastor found himself poking uselessly at the rest of his meal. There was nothing left for him in the living world, and it seemed like it was only a matter of time before his demonic attributes resurfaced.

Would he have to stay with Angel and the others at the hotel forever…?

He was surprised to realize he didn’t abhor the idea, but it would never be the same as getting to stay with his mère. And there was absolutely no way he was letting her go to Hell for his sake.

If he tried to smother the darkness within him, would he be able to stay with her?

It scared him that he didn’t know if he could…

“What are you thinking so hard about, mon petit cocodrie?” his mother asked, startling from his reverie. She kept her voice low, giving him as much privacy as a room full to bursting with people allowed.

“…I don’t know what to do,” he reluctantly admitted. He burned with humiliation at having to say as much, but he couldn’t lie to her. Not about this.

She blinked. “To do about what, exactly?”

He frowned, stomach churning. How could he explain this to her without her trying to treat him like a child?

He was supposed to be taking care of her. Not the other way around. That wasn’t how this worked.

Alastor stared sightlessly down at his plate. After a long moment, he gestured between the two of them, unable to put his thoughts into words.

Her expression softened and she pulled him into a firm hug that left him sinking against her. He’d never thought he’d feel her arms around him again and he intended to cherish every last one while he could.

“It’s all right, cher. We have a plan.”

His eyes widened and he tilted his head to look up at her. “A plan?” he echoed.

Had they made a plan without him? Surely not.

She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Yes, a plan. We’re going to heal your angelic wound.”

His gaze fell to his chest. “But…what if we can’t? And even if we can, what do I do then?”

She absently rubbed his back as she considered his words. “Well, Lily believes you’ll change back to how you were before. That the divine energy is all that’s keeping you like this now, by fighting back against your demonic energy.”

“So I’ll…turn back into a demon?”

That undoubtedly meant he’d be going back to Hell.

“Yes. And you’ll grow back up too.”

Oh.

That was for the best, wasn’t it? He would go back to who he should be and where he belonged.

So why did the thought make his throat feel like it was closing up…?

“Je t’aime. You know that, right?”

He was quick to nod his head. “Oui, mère. Je t’aime!”

His voice caught on the words despite his best efforts and she drew him close again, gently rocking him where they sat on the bed. He sniffled softly, fingers tightening in the fabric of her dress.

Why was it the harder he tried to shove all of these feelings down, the more intense they felt? It was infuriating.

It wasn’t her job to comfort him!

His mère gently ran her fingers through his hair as his vision blurred.

“Wh-What if it doesn’t work though?” he was alarmed to hear himself ask.

“Then we’ll come up with a new plan. We’ll take it one step at a time, mon petit gateau. Until then, let me take care of you.”

He didn’t want to. And even if he did, he didn’t know how. He’d been looking out for her for as long as he could remember, doing his best to protect her from his father and to bolster their finances and pantry.

While other boys his age spent their summers getting up to mischief or exploring the bayou, he spent his rising early with his mère, accompanying her to her cleaning jobs and doing as much as he could to speed along the process and to lighten her load. His classmates returned to school with their skin made even richer by the sun’s rays while he’d further bled what little color he had from spending so much time indoors.

He spent his few breaks during the school day working through as much of his homework as he could. He didn’t have time for friends or wasting his lunchtime playing baseball or whatever new game enthralled them all.

No, he needed to get home as soon as possible after classes ended for the day so he could clean and cook and maybe do an odd job or a little hunting or fishing, if there was time. His mère would come home just after dark, despite having left before the sun rose. He’d watch her shake off her obvious exhaustion as she climbed the steps to their small porch. Then she’d plaster a smile on her face before letting herself inside.

The two of them would eat dinner together and then he would put on a show after, feigning tiredness, so she wouldn’t feel guilty about going to bed so soon after returning home.

Once Alastor was sure she was asleep, he’d entertain himself with books or studying up for his future career in radio. He needed to know as much as he could about how radios worked and the sorts of things people liked to hear. If he was lucky, he could grab the head priest’s newspaper from the trash before it became too soiled to pilfer, quietly reading the articles aloud to practice his accent and then putting his own spin on the information they contained to make it his own.

He excelled in school and was often praised for his ability to command a room when it was his turn to present to the rest of the class. Even the classmates that hated him paid attention when he spoke. He watched them all like a hawk, noting what jokes made them laugh and when their attention began to flag. It was an opportunity to practice in front of a live audience and he certainly wasn’t going to waste it.

After all, the more work he did now, the faster he’d be able to get a job and the sooner his mère would no longer have to work herself to the bone…

Alastor hid his face against her shoulder, taking deep breaths in and out as he tried to get himself back under control.

One moment he was there, holding tightly to her, and the next he found himself in a room consisting only of a stark looking table and set of chairs. Everything in it was white. He sucked in a sharp breath, darting toward the door. Before he reached it, it swung open and the woman from before, the one with the sword, walked inside, flanked by two other similar looking women.

Alastor quickly backpedaled, eyes going wide.

What was going on? How did he get here? Where was everyone else?

His heart hammered in his chest, his gaze drifting toward the sword at the woman’s hip.

“Demon,” she offered by way of greeting, a faint sneer on her face. She gestured to the table. “Take a seat.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. His chest felt tight and he lifted a hand to it, resting it over his heart as if it might keep it from pounding straight through his ribcage.

“Fine. Stand, then,” she snapped, towering over him.

The door closed again, the other women standing at attention on either side of it.

Despite his mounting panic, Alastor forced himself to stand taller, plastering a smile on his face. She reminded him of Vox. A bully. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing him so rattled. Not if he could help it.

“Take off your shirt.”

The command was so unexpected, he thought he may have misheard her at first.

“What?”

“I said take off your shirt,” she repeated. “You don’t want me to do it for you.”

He stared at her before his eyes flicked to the other women. They didn’t so much as blink.

She took another step forward and he stepped reflexively back, only to find his back pressed against the wall.

Lute reached for him and he reflexively called on his shadow, hoping it was still there. Just as it began to envelop him, she drew her sword partway from its sheath. Its blinding light was made all the more so by the white on white of the room.

Alastor gave a choked cry as the diagonal slash across his chest seemed to ignite, pain bursting from it. He fell to his hands and knees, his shadow vanishing. She stared dispassionately down at him as she resheathed the blade.

Lute stood over him without a word, looking down at him with the same disgust he so often saw on the faces of white people. His hands shook as he leaned back onto his haunches and gripped the hem of his shirt. Her hand continued to rest on her sword’s hilt, fingers drumming ominously against it.

Hatred swelled up in him and he welcomed it, grateful for anything that wasn’t fear or despair. It grounded him, clearing his mind and steadying his hands. He hesitated only a moment longer before reluctantly pulling his shirt up and over his head, clutching it to his chest in the aftermath.

She motioned for him to stand, like one would a dog. He grit his teeth as he obeyed.

Angel Dust had told him angels could be killed with angelic steel. If he ever got his hands on some again, he knew exactly what he’d do with it…

“Arms by your sides,” she ordered.

He didn’t move until her hand tightened again around the hilt of her sword. The first holding his shirt gripped the fabric so hard that his knuckles ached.

Lute leaned down, studying his bare chest. She reached for him and he reflexively slapped her hand away. She snarled, striking him hard enough across the face that he stumbled and had to catch himself. He tasted blood where his cheek had split against his teeth.

She hit almost as hard as his père.

“You fucking brat!” she snarled. “If I had it my way, we’d be examining your corpse instead of you! But don’t assume that’s completely off the table!”

Alastor resisted the urge to cup his aching cheek, slowly turning back to face her.

“There’s only one thing his kind responds to,” one of the women offered from beside the door.

Lute glanced up, meeting her eyes and smirking. “You’re right. That’s what I get for trying to treat a fucking beast like a person.”

She gripped her sword, sliding it partway out of its scabbard again.

He expected the pain this time, but it didn’t make it any less agonizing. Alastor watched in horror as the diagonal cut reopened on his chest, blood dripping from it. He shoved one of his fists into his mouth, biting down hard enough to pierce the skin as he crumpled to the floor, curling in on himself.

Was she going to kill him…?

The pain stopped just as quickly, but his chest continued to glow and bleed. Before he could remove his fist from his mouth, Lute pulled her blade out again.

He couldn’t hold back his screams this time, biting harder down on his hand to muffle them as his whole body spasmed and he curled more tightly in on himself. As if it would help.

Alastor lost count of the number of times she sheathed and unsheathed her blade, always just long enough for him to fear the torture would never end, and then the relief long enough to make him hope it finally may have.

Eternal punishment.

Some distant part of him marveled over how he’d expected it in Hell, but had found it in Heaven instead.

He thought the periods of relief were growing longer, but he couldn’t be sure. Not when his mind was slowly becoming a blank expanse, the pain growing more distant, like there was a barrier of some kind between him and it.

Was he dying?

He was vaguely aware of being rolled onto his back by a booted foot. He stared sightlessly up at the blinding light overhead. Fingers wrapped too tightly around his wrist, yanking his fist hard enough from his mouth that his teeth gouged his flesh.

A face gradually swam into view over him.

His…père?

As badly as he wanted to try to get up and run, he was held down by his father’s boot digging into his shoulder.

Was he going to kill him?

Alastor didn’t know, but a small part of him quietly hoped so, if only to end his agony.

But what about his mère?

Would he go after her next?

He tried to push himself upright, despite the boot holding him down. His fingers found no purchase on the blood slick floor. His limbs didn’t want to cooperate, but he tried harder, even though it made him lightheaded.

“Ne la blessez pas…”

The boot pressed harder into his shoulder and he heard more than felt himself gasp.

“…père…s’il vous plaît…’

“That means please, doesn’t it?”

Someone was laughing.

“I guess even scum can be taught new tricks. I’ll give him some time to heal. Doesn’t seem like we’ll be getting much out of him until then.”

He thought the pressure on his shoulder eased.

Footsteps.

A door opened and closed.

Quiet.

Alastor strained his ears, listening hard for any sound from his mère. He didn’t know if the unbroken silence should concern or relieve him.

He spent what felt like an eternity, trying and failing to push himself upright. It wasn’t until he heard ragged sobs that he finally managed, nearly overbalancing in the process.

“M-Mère...?”

No answer.

He used the wall to leverage himself upright, leaving bloody handprints in his wake. He staggered along it, darkness seeping into the corners of his vision.

More sobbing.

“Mère…? Tu m’entendes…?”

He finally reached the door, wrapping his bloody fingers around its knob. Try as he might, he couldn’t find any purchase on it. He tried wiping his hands on his pants, but they were quickly becoming soaked with his blood.

He needed to go back for his shirt. He could use it to open the door.

Alastor began to slowly turn around, but his vision went black. The next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground, the pain from the sudden pressure on his chest having roused him. He attempted to gather his limbs underneath him, but they wouldn’t cooperate at all now.

He sought the wall for leverage again, making it almost all the way upright before he fell like a stone. He couldn’t hold back a scream when he hit the ground this time. Alastor shifted, curling on his side to try to take the pressure off his wound.

Someone was sobbing… His mère…?

Or…was it…him?

The next thing he knew, someone was kneeling down beside him. He must have passed out again. He struggled to focus on the person, even as he tried to push himself away.

A featherlight hand rested on his shoulder and the pain left him so suddenly, it left him dizzy. He blinked, the woman over him coming into focus. Not one of the ones from before.

Alastor scrambled backward, belatedly realizing the wound on his chest had closed up. His eyes darted around the room and to the open door behind the woman. She glanced back over her shoulder. holding out her hand to him.

“Hurry, we have to leave before they get back!” she insisted, keeping her voice low.

He stared back at her, heart hammering in his chest.

Where was his père? His mère? The women from before?

He couldn’t trust her. He wouldn’t trust her.

“Please?” she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on, but please let me help you!”

Footsteps sounded in the hall beyond and Alastor lurched forward in a blind panic to take her hand.

Chapter Text

The next thing Alastor knew, he and the woman were somewhere else entirely. Another room, a bedroom? He yanked his hand away, putting distance between himself and the stranger.

The room was done up in soft pastels like the room he’d woken up in the first time, but had a more personalized touch. It looked lived in, even a little messy. His head jerked one way and then another as he sought out a means of escape.

The woman watched him, but didn’t close the distance between them. She’d made a visible effort to get herself under control, no longer looking as if she were on the verge of tears.

Her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh! Oh! You’re…alive…? But I thought I felt… You felt a little like Charlie when I was healing you…”

The name got his attention and he turned back to her, eyeing her briefly before his gaze shifted to the wall beside her.

“Do you know Charlie?” she asked, voice soft.

He didn’t answer, coming to a stop only when his back met the wall. He didn’t care he was tracking blood everywhere. His head felt fuzzy, even if he was more alert now. His memories of the day felt fractured. The harder he tried to put them back together, the more they resisted his attempts.

He’d seen his mère, hadn’t he? Back at home? And his…père? But where was he now? This wasn’t home. Where were Angel Dust, Charlie, and the others?

…had he imagined all of them?

But the pain had been real. Of that he had no doubt.

The woman lowered herself into a seated position on the floor, crossing her legs beneath her skirt. She wasn’t much taller than him, but she was clearly trying to make herself seem less intimidating.

“I’m Emily,” she offered. “I…I heard screaming and went to see what was happening. That’s how I found you. In one of the detainment rooms. We rarely use them, so I was surprised to see you there,” she babbled.

She bit her bottom lip as if to cut herself off, eyeing his clothes.

“Oh, what am I doing? You probably want to get washed up first! I mean, if you’d like. I could also get you something else to wear.”

Alastor’s eyes dropped to his blood soaked pants and the drying, flaking blood covering his torso and arms.

“The bathroom is the door to your right. We can talk after, if you’d like.”

He didn’t answer as he skirted the wall and went into the bathroom, not taking his eyes off of her until he had closed and locked the door behind him. He sank down against it, staring silently down at the tiled floor.

He felt something shift within him and some of the fog in his mind eased. He no longer felt as if he were trapped in fight or flight, his blind panic easing to a low simmer of anxiety instead.

It was enough for him to climb to his feet and move toward the enormous shower. Getting cleaned up was a good idea. He could hardly walk around unnoticed if he was still half dressed and covered in blood.

He toed off his shoes and socks before slowly removing his blood soaked pants and undergarments, trying not to make any more of a mess than he already had. He looked helplessly around the bathroom, spotting what looked like a waste bin. He stuck the ruined clothes in it.

A quick inspection of himself indicated he no longer had any visible injuries. He cautiously moved his arms and legs and rotated his upper body, all without pain. He must be fully healed then. That was good. With how much blood there had been, he’d worried he was on death’s door. Maybe he had been.

Either way, he was at least physically fine now.

Alastor approached the shower. It was similar to the one in Angel’s rooms. As he reached in a hand to turn it on, he jerked reflexively back as the water cut on of its own accord. He stuck his hand beneath the spray, finding it the perfect temperature. Hot, but not so hot that he couldn’t immediately step under the spray.

He stood there for a while, letting the hot water soak him through, banishing the chill that had settled into his limbs and chest. He quietly watched as the water sluicing off him changed from red to pink to mostly clear.

Feeling marginally more like himself, he studied the products on display, surprised to see they matched those he had at home. He washed up, not once but twice, and rinsed for longer than necessary. As if by doing so, he could wash away every last remnant of that bitch.

He couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t, but he still liked to think it helped. At the very least, his skin no longer felt as if it were crawling.

Feeling more like himself, more grounded, he stepped out onto the bathmat, drying himself off with a towel as soft as a cloud.

A set of clothing had appeared along with the towel. Undergarments, socks, black pants with red trim, a red dress shirt, black suspenders, and a red striped coat. He slowly began to dress himself, unsure why the ensemble looked so familiar. He found a pair of gloves, dress shoes, a waistcoat matching the coat, and a bow tie beneath everything else.

There was one final item of interest, a black leather shoulder holster that was currently empty, but looked like it could hold a handgun and two knives. He quietly marveled at its craftsmanship before he finished dressing.

He’d have to see what he could do about finding weapons to fill it.

Alastor had never had such fine clothes as these, even if the edges of the coat were a bit tattered. It seemed to be on purpose, at least?

He gave himself a once over in the mirror, though he couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something. His hands felt oddly…empty. His gaze dropped to his shadow, which seemed to have fully reverted back to a normal one. He tried to call on it, but nothing happened.

He couldn’t feel the connection between himself and it anymore.

Was it…dead? Was he…fully human now?

Had everything just been a nightmare…?

While his mind seemed clearer, his memories were still a mess.

He hesitated, hand resting on the doorknob when he heard another door beyond open and multiple voices. He froze, pressing his ear to the door as he tried to hear what was going on.

“Sera! What a surprise!” Emily said with what sounded like forced cheer.

She reminded him of Charlie, he realized now. They must know one another, given what she’d said before.

A deeper female voice replied, “Yes, well, I just wanted to stop by to see if you’ve noticed anything or anyone acting…strange recently.”

His heart began to pound so hard in his chest, he feared the women might hear it. He pressed one gloved hand over it, as if it would muffle the sound.

They couldn’t hear it. That was ridiculous.

…wasn’t it?

“What do you mean acting strange?” Emily asked, schooling her tone into one of curious interest.

“There’s a boy who’s been acting…off. Lute detained him and was planning to take him to the healers. He seems…confused. And he’s been lashing out.”

“Oh, no! That’s awful, Sera! What does he look like? Maybe I can help you look for him?”

“No. That’s not necessary. We have plenty of people looking already. But, if you do see him, please contact me or Lute rather than approach him yourself. I don’t want you potentially getting hurt.”

“I don’t think I’m in any danger from a boy!” She laughed, the sound bell-like. “Really, Sera! Give me some credit!”

“Humor me?” Sera asked. “He doesn’t seem to be in his right mind and he may be armed. He’s on the smaller side with curly dark brown hair and brown eyes. He was also wearing a pair of red lensed glasses, the last he was seen.”

Alastor’s eyes darted frantically around the bathroom, looking for anything he might be able to use to defend himself. Before he could work himself up into another panic, he felt that strange sensation wash over him again, calming him and clearing his mind.

“Do you know what might have caused him to act like that? Has he been here long?”

There was a long pause before Sera offered, “We’re not sure. He only recently arrived in Heaven. It could be residual trauma of some kind.”

Alastor narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe I could help? What’s his name?”

“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, he could be dangerous. I’ll find you if it turns out he could use your help.”

“ Still, I’ll keep an eye out too!” Emily insisted. “Oh! You wouldn’t happen to know where Pentious is, would you? I was hoping to speak with him. I wanted to see how he’s settling in and if there was anything I could do to help ease the transition!”

“I’m afraid I don’t. I believe he’s still being looked over by the healers.”

Though he couldn’t see her, Alastor heard the way her speech grew more clipped with her reply.

Liar.

“Well, let me know if you hear anything about him! And if you change your mind about me helping with the boy, just let me know!”

“I will.” There was a brief, charged pause. “Emily, are you…all right? I know a lot has happened and come to light over the past few days…”

“I’ll be okay, Sera. It’s just a lot to digest and I’ve just needed a little space. I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything and understand it all. I know you did what you thought was best at the time. Has there been any further word from above about Pentious or Charlie or the…exterminations?”

Liar. Though she seemed to be better at it than the other woman. Rather than shutting down, she became more effusive, making her come across as more sincere. She also didn’t seem to be above playing on the other woman’s sympathies.

Of course if she was like Charlie, she’d probably never see it that way…

He’d seen the stricken look on her face when she found him. And she undoubtedly knew Sera was describing him.

So why was she protecting him? What did she stand to gain from this?

“Nothing yet.”

“But you’ve…told them, right?” There was the slightest waver to her voice. “They know about everything now, don’t they?”

”Can we talk about this later? After we’ve found the boy?” A plea more than a question.

There was another prolonged silence.

“Emily, please?”

“Do you promise to tell me everything later?”

“I’ll tell you as much as I can,” she answered, nearly sidestepping the request.

Emily seemed to realize it too, judging from her lack of response.

The two finally offered one another stilted goodbyes and he heard the door beyond close again.

Emily’s soft voice piped up on the other side of the bathroom door.

“It’s me. I don’t know if you heard any of that, but she’s gone now. It’s safe to come out.”

Alastor hesitated, hand lingering on the doorknob. But why would she lie about such a thing after lying to the other woman’s face? He took a deep breath before he opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom.

Her expression was far more solemn now, a hint of unshed tears in her eyes. Her face lit up, however, upon seeing him.

“Oh! Oh, you’re adorable!”

His lips twisted at the words. If he’d still had his demon ears, he had no doubt they would be pinned back right now. He swore he almost felt the phantom sensation regardless.

“I’m so sorry! That was rude of me! I meant to say that you’re very handsome!”

That was marginally better.

Thank goodness he didn’t have the ears or the tail at present…

“Are you…feeling okay? Can I get you anything else?”

He didn’t answer, absently fingering the lapel of his coat. He wanted to believe she was like Charlie, but she was in league with the other so-called angels. He needed to keep that top of mind.

“Oh! I probably should have mentioned this before! I’m known as the Joy Bringer! I can tap into a person’s subconscious and manifest things that bring them joy! Some things are easier than others, like picking out clothes you might like! Oh… I hope that was okay? I probably should have asked first. Or told you. I’m so sorry.”

Joy Bringer?

Was that why he felt…calmer? More like himself? Was she doing something to manipulate his emotions too?

He opened his mouth to reply, but the words refused to come. He closed it again, frowning hard. He had these spells sometimes. Where it felt as if he’d lost the ability to speak.

It happened most often after his père…

Alastor swallowed, redirecting his thoughts. It would pass. It always did. There was no need to panic.

Unfortunately telling himself that and actually believing it were two wildly different things…

“Are you all right…?” Emily hazarded, brow furrowing with concern.

He gave a jerky nod, motioning like he was writing.

“Oh! Oh, give me a sec!” she said, hurrying over to the white desk sitting against the far wall.

She returned with a pad of paper and a pink fountain pen and he nodded his thanks.

That strange sensation intensified. He found himself sinking into it despite his misgivings. It reminded him of being held by his mère. Comforting. Reassuring.

It wasn’t real, he didn’t think. It must be a trick of some kind. But if it helped him keep a clear head, should he really fight it?

“Does this happen to you often?” Emily asked. “Being unable to talk?”

He glanced at her as he uncapped the pen.

“Just curious! I work with a lot of people who’ve been through some pretty awful things. This happens to some of them. It seemed like you went through something terrible earlier, so I was wondering if that might have triggered it.”

He studied her a moment longer before ducking his head to write on the paper provided.

Where are we?

“Do you mean in general or right now or both?”

He held up three fingers, indicating the third option.

“We’re in Heaven! More specifically, we’re in my rooms. It’s the only place I felt was safe enough to hide you for now. Especially since it seems like they’re already looking for you... You have beautiful handwriting by the way!”

The compliment momentarily threw him but he brushed it off, thinking hard.

So they were in Heaven. That was real.

But how much of the rest of it was?

You know Charlie?

She studied the paper, face lighting up as she nodded enthusiastically. She seemed determined to put on a cheery disposition in addition to whatever else she was doing. It grated a bit, but perhaps that was another thing she shared with Charlie?

“I do! Charlie Morningstar, right? You know her too?”

He nodded. I need to talk to her.

Emily’s brow furrowed as she read. “Why? What’s going on?”

How much could he safely share with her? How much would she believe? Was it better to recruit her as a potential ally or to get as much information as he could from her?

Even if she was like Charlie and genuinely wanted to help him, he knew the only people he could ever actually trust were himself and his mère.

And Angel Dust, his traitorous mind whispered.

If he’s even real, he sniped back at the unbidden thought.

Everyone had an angle. Angel Dust, if real, was no exception. Regardless of how badly he wanted it to be true. He couldn’t afford to believe otherwise. He couldn’t risk relying on others.

Information it was, then.

Who was that other woman?

Emily grimaced. “…did you hear all of that? Sorry… That was Sera. She’s a High Seraphim. She oversees everything going on in Hell.” She paused, absently worrying at her lip.

Alastor quietly waited to see if she would reveal more.

“…wait, how much do you know about Hell?”

Probably safer not to show his full hand.

Charlie is Hell’s princess. She believes in redemption.

Emily beamed. “Yes! Yes, she does! But how do you know Charlie? Aren’t you alive?”

That was a difficult question to sidestep. How much could he hold back before she got suspicious? Should he admit he was a demon…? Just because she was friends with Charlie didn’t mean she extended that same affection toward Sinners…

Then again, she’d said he felt similar to her before. It was possible she already knew.

I met her in Hell.

Emily’s eyebrows winged up. “What?! What were you doing in Hell?!”

You said I felt like her. That’s because I am like her.

Let her draw her own conclusions from that.

Her eyes darted across the page over and over again, her brow furrowing.

“I don’t understand… Does that mean you’re Hellborn?”

Was that something she’d believe? Or was it a lie she’d uncover too easily?

Thankfully, she continued on before he could reply. “What happened earlier? Why were you hurt?”

That seemed like a safer topic. Surely she wouldn’t think he’d done that kind of damage to himself. Maybe he could play on her sympathies. Unlike her, he had no compunctions in that regard.

Still, it would probably be better if he actually spoke to her. Maybe play up his age a bit. Make her think he was a child who needed to be protected rather than a demon to be tortured. He could never convince the woman with the sword of something like that, but Emily seemed more easily swayed. She also seemed like she might be in a higher position of power.

Could she keep her from hurting him again…? Did she have that kind of authority?

Only one way to know for sure…

Alastor opened his mouth, trying to force the words out. He felt better. He was able to look at her. His shoulders weren’t tight. He didn’t feel…afraid. Those were all precursors to getting his voice back.

So why was he still unable to speak?

Was it because whatever she was doing wasn’t real as far as his body and his mind were concerned? What would happen if Emily were to suddenly stop? He didn’t want her to, but he needed to know. Because if he lost her support, that meant he would likely lose whatever this was too.

He needed to know. To prepare himself for the possibility.

He held up a hand, quickly writing his next message.

Whatever you are doing with your powers, can you please stop for a moment?

Her encouraging smile abruptly faded. “I…I don’t think that’s a good idea. I can feel what’s going on under the surface and it isn’t good. I’m having to exert a lot of my power to help you right now, but it’s more like a bandaid.”

Alastor stared blankly back at her.

A what?

She blinked. “A bandaid?”

I don’t know what that is.

She tilted her head to the side, a puzzled look coming to her face. “…a bandage.”

He nodded, waving a dismissive hand.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. I can’t do that to you.”

His fingers tightened on the pen. Could he really risk wasting time arguing about this?

He needed to prioritize. He couldn’t keep letting himself get distracted.

Time to change tack.

Do you know Angel Dust?

Emily seemed relieved by the change in topic, nodding. “I do! He’s that Sinner who’s working toward redemption! He’s a good person!”

Angel Dust was real too. That was good to know. He was starting to feel more confident about the pieces he remembered, feeling as if he were slowly putting together a jigsaw puzzle.

Maybe skirting around the truth was the best option. Half truths were always the most successful lies, after all.

He’s here too. He and I were brought here by…

He paused, scowling down at the paper. What had Angel called her? Something that started with an “L.” Or was he confusing her with Lilith?

He marked through the words, trying again.

Angel Dust and I were brought here by Lilith and a woman with a sword.

Emily’s brows crept toward her hairline as she read the words. “What? Lilith? That can’t be right! She’s been missing for seven years!”

He nodded, trying to keep himself calm in the face of her incredulity. Was Lilith’s presence here not common knowledge? Should he say he was mistaken instead…?

Maybe it was better to share some information in the hopes of gaining her trust? She seemed like she was already distrustful of Sera, after all. He could use that.

It was a risk, but a calculated one. It was also something he felt he could prove if need be. And, if nothing else, Angel would back him up on it.

Lilith has been here.

She slowly shook her head as she stared down at the paper. “No. No, that’s not possible. You must be mistaken.”

He shook his head, pointing to the words.

She eyed him, frowning now. His stomach sank as he saw something minutely shift in her expression.

She didn’t believe him.

Her eyes darted briefly toward the door. The calm she’d imposed on him began to fracture as his panic began to build.

She didn’t believe him.

How could he have been so stupid? So naive?

He’d wanted her to be like Charlie so badly that he’d been foolish enough to actually believe it.

And now she was going to give him back to the woman with the sword.

His breathing began to come too fast, his fingers tightening around the pen.

He had to get out of there!

He couldn’t overpower her. Couldn’t stop her from raising the alarm.

But maybe he could escape before she found Sera.

Alastor threw the pad and pen at her, darting around her and running as fast as he could toward the door.

The power she’d been using to keep him calm was gone in an instant. It was like she’d thrown a stone in an otherwise clear lake, disrupting the sediment at its bottom and leaving the water impossible to see through. He clutched at his chest, staggering to a stop.

He couldn’t breathe!

He clawed at the bowtie, pathetic whimpers escaping him as he struggled to pull it and the high collar of his coat loose. A hand landed on his shoulder and he spun around so quickly he nearly fell.

It was Emily. Then the woman with the sword. And then his père. He made a choked sound as he stumbled away from him, his back slamming into the door. He cowered against it, raising his arms over his head to shield himself from the blows that were sure to come.

His mère! Where was she?! He was supposed to be looking for her, wasn’t he? Had his père already gotten to her? Already hurt her?

He couldn’t stay here like this, frozen. He had to find her! To make sure she was okay! Because that was the only thing that mattered. That she was okay.

Try as he might, his legs wouldn’t move.

The door suddenly burst open, throwing him forward and into a heap on the ground. He reflexively curled in on himself, arms wrapping around his head to protect it as much as he was able.

Like the coward he was.

He would never be able to kill his père. He’d been a fool to think it was even possible. The best he could ever hope to be was a distraction. To withstand his père’s temper until he was too tired to hurt his mère, or at least not hurt her badly.

Alastor’s vision blurred with tears.

Coward. He was a coward.

If he was braver, he would be on his feet, fighting back. Maybe he could even hurt his père badly enough he wouldn’t be able to hurt his mère at all.

Hands wrapped around one of his arms, trying to force him out of his fetal position. His joints tried to lock up, to keep him in place. He opened his mouth to scream for his mère, to tell her to run if she could, but nothing came out but a broken sob.

He should have tried harder to appease his père. Maybe if he was a better son, his père wouldn’t drink so much or be so angry.

After all, his mère was only stuck with his père because of him.

It was his fault.

Every cry she made as his père beat her was because of him. Because he’d been born. Because he was too much of a coward to protect her. Because he was too weak.

Too weak, and yet somehow not weak enough to die from the injuries his father inflicted. He couldn’t even give her that.

Or maybe this was just punishment for the darkness inside of him. Maybe if he was a better person, a good person, his mère wouldn’t have to suffer like this.

His fault. His fault. His fault.

Alastor was suddenly yanked up onto his feet and he overbalanced, falling against his père. He cringed back as much as he was able with his père holding onto his arm with bruising force.

“Je suis désolé! Je suis tellement désolé!” he sobbed as he was hauled out of the room.

Where was his mère?

Had his père already hurt her? She’d been crying earlier, hadn’t she?

Or…had that been him?

He couldn’t remember.

His vision was blurry with tears and without his glasses. He must have lost them at some point. He thought he heard raised voices behind them, but he couldn’t make out any of what they were saying.

Alastor staggered as he was dragged along, his père’s strides so much longer than his own. They hadn’t gone far when he was suddenly shoved up against a wall with such force that the back of his head ricocheted off of it. He didn’t have time to raise his arms to protect himself either before he was backhanded so hard he fell to the ground.

His head swam and he only cried harder, gasping for air between sobs. A booted foot slammed into his middle, throwing him back against the wall again and forcing the air from his lungs. He immediately fell silent as he struggled to remember how to breathe. Fingers tightened in his hair, jerking him back onto his unsteady feet.

He was forced along like that, stumbling and quietly crying once he had the breath to do so, pain shooting through his scalp every time he lost his balance.

It felt like an eternity had passed before he was finally thrown into another room. He staggered briefly only to lose his balance and fall hard to the ground.

Though it made his head swim, he scanned the rest of the room for any sign of his mère. It was utterly empty aside from a table and chairs.

This wasn’t home.

Where had his père taken him…?

Where was his mère?

He wanted so badly to curl back in on himself. To try to lose himself in the pain, to fall into the void where he didn’t know if he was awake or asleep. Alive or dead. Where he just…ceased to feel anything.

Not for the first time, he wondered if it would be so bad to die. Then again, maybe he already had. Maybe this was his Hell. But if that was true, did that mean his mère was trapped there with him or was she just a figment of his imagination?

He wished he knew for sure, though even if she wasn’t real he didn’t think he could just sit back and let his père hurt her…

Alastor summoned up every last drop of courage he had as he tried to leverage himself upright on trembling arms.

Real or not, he had to find his mère. Had to make sure she was okay.

Coward though he was, he couldn’t live with himself if she died because of him. He let that fear fuel him now, tucking his knees under him so he was on all fours.

It hurt. It hurt so much. But the pain also grounded him, giving him something beyond just fear to focus on.

He was about to try to stand when his père suddenly cuffed him in the back of the head, sending him sprawling and his thoughts jumbling.

Alastor didn’t get a chance to find his bearings this time before his arms were wrenched up behind his back, his wrists bound. His ankles were bound together too. He opened his mouth to try to call for his mère, to tell her to run if she could, only for a gag to be shoved into it, effectively silencing him.

He was left on his stomach, the door to the room slamming closed and the lock outside turning with such force that he heard the deadbolt slide home.

And then he was alone.

Chapter Text

One minute they were all enjoying his nonna’s eggplant parmesan and the next, all hell broke loose.

Angel had thrown the occasional glance over to Alastor and his ma, still feeling protective of the kid despite his ma being right there. And then Eugenia lurched to her feet in a panic.

“Alastor?” she shouted, staring around wildly. “Alastor?!”

Lilith was at her side in an instant. “What? What happened?”

“I was holding him and then he disappeared!” she said, a note of hysteria entering her voice.

Lilith’s eyes widened. Angel was up in an instant, gaze darting around the room like Alastor might pop out from behind one of the decorative plants.

“Ya sure he didn’t just go into his shadow?” he hazarded, her panic jumping to him.

Alastor wouldn’t pull a prank like that. Not with how shaken up he was and how happy he’d been to see his ma. His nonna and Molly looked equally alarmed.

Lilith turned to the closed door, trying to open it to no avail. She called upon her powers, black horns lengthening and curling up over her head and her long hair whipping around her. Angel didn’t need to see her face to know her eyes had gone scarlet.

The room shook with the force of her power, but the door didn’t so much as budge.

Just when Angel was ready to step up and try to physically break down the door, it swung open and a tall, dark skinned woman stood beyond it. Angel was accustomed to being the tallest in any room Valentino wasn’t also in, but this woman easily towered over both of them.

She stared calmly down at them all, a faint frown on her face.

“Lilith. Anthony,” she said, motioning for them to follow her.

Eugenia tried to follow but Lilith caught her before she could get too far. She leaned close, murmuring something in her ear. She looked like she wanted to protest, but finally gave a small nod, tears shining in her eyes.

Meanwhile, his nonna and Molly stared up at the woman with a mixture of awe and maybe a little fear. Angel met their eyes, nodding to them before reluctantly stepping out into the hallway with Lilith and the other woman. The door closed again behind them and the woman waved her hand, making it glow a soft lavender color through a ward of some kind.

Lilith’s fists were clenched tightly at her sides and it looked as if it was taking everything she had not to immediately lash out at the angel. Her horns were gone, but if she was anything like Charlie they were on the verge of making a reappearance.

“Sera,” she growled, eyes flashing. “Where is he?”

The woman, Sera, stood regally in front of them, looking unperturbed by the incensed Queen of Hell. True, they were outnumbered by literally thousands of angels, if not more, but Angel got the distinct feeling she wouldn’t need backup if a fight broke out.

At the end of the day, as powerful as Lilith was, she’d still started life as a human.

“He’s fine,” she answered, holding a hand up as if to placate her.

It sure as fuck wasn’t working.

“Where is he?” she repeated, flames licking the corners of her mouth.

“You know why we brought him up here, Lilith. He’s being examined. It was decided it would be best if he were examined alone.”

“He’s a child!” she protested. “He’s scared!”

Sera appeared unmoved. “He’s a murderer even now. A Sinner. And whether or not he’s reverted back to his younger self, it doesn’t change the fact he is a serial killer and a cannibal.”

“You’re the ones who theorized Adam’s attack purified him in the first place! If that’s the case, how can he still be considered a Sinner?” Lilith demanded. “You can’t treat him like this! He’s a human!”

Sera’s eyes narrowed, more appearing in her hair and on her wings to do the same. “He most certainly is not a human. Lute said herself that his demon attributes reappeared.”

“Then what is there to study?” Lilith retorted. “If he’s reverting back, clearly the change isn’t permanent! Why not just send him back to Hell?”

The angel’s lips thinned. “We need to understand the full extent of the change to determine where he truly belongs. And in the meantime, we can’t risk four million soul contracts falling into another Overlord’s hands.”

Angel sucked in a sharp breath. Four million?

Judging from Lilith’s lack of a reaction to the number, it must be true.

Hadn’t Smiles only been operating since the late thirties? Early forties? How the fuck had he gotten so many? Through killing all those other Overlords…?

The thought of four million soul contracts winding up with someone like Valentino made Angel feel ill.

Did the Vees even have four million between the three of them?

Fuck.

Maybe it was for the best that Al stayed up in Heaven. At least until all of this was sorted out. Everyone and their mother would be gunning for him down in Hell if they knew how vulnerable he was right now. Killing him would throw even the weakest Sinner up to the top of Hell’s hierarchy. As fucked up as Smiles was, Angel had a feeling it was better those contracts stayed with him rather than transferring to literally anyone else.

Even Lucifer couldn't hold off the entirety of Hell…

“So you’re going to leave him unsupervised? With Lute?”

Something shifted minutely in Sera’s expression, there and gone too quickly for Angel to get a proper read on it.

“You don’t think that might not be the best of ideas? Especially after Adam just died at a Sinner’s hand?”

Sera’s eyes flashed. “This doesn’t concern you, Lilith. You would be wise to keep your thoughts and opinions to yourself.”

“He is one of my subjects! Of course it concerns me! And even if he wasn’t, he’s the son of a dear friend! If you won’t let Eugenia stay with him, at least let me! Regardless of who he is or what he’s done, he’s still a child!”

“A child who slit his father’s throat, dismembered him, and fed his remains to alligators. Who burned his clothes to get rid of the evidence of his crime. Who planned it out down to the finest of details a year before he picked up the knife.”

“And what should he have done instead?” Lilith snapped. “Continued to suffer at his father’s hands until the day he took it too far and actually killed him and his mother? Call the authorities on him only to have his mother wind up in prison and the abuse even worse than before? If his father didn’t outright kill him! Should he have suffered in silence? Would that have gotten him into Heaven?”

Sera trembled with barely suppressed rage. “Perhaps twenty-nine people would still be alive if he had died then!”

“Twenty-nine rapists, abusers, and murderers who targeted the weakest and most vulnerable people they could find. How many lives did he save in the process? How many children grew up with mothers who would have been murdered otherwise? How many children grew up with their innocence still intact? How many people did he save from a living hell by damning himself?”

Sera gave a bark of laughter. “By him playing judge, jury, and executioner, you mean? It was not his place! He should have taken his concerns to the authorities!”

Lilith gave a humorless laugh of her own. “How could he when so many he killed were people in positions of authority? Priests, police, teachers, doctors, fathers…”

“He enjoyed killing them!” Sera roared. Though she didn’t seem to grow any larger, the hallway appeared like it had shrunk around them, leaving her towering over them both.

“And Lute and Adam and the rest of your precious exorcists don’t?!” Lilith shouted back, horns bursting forth.

Sera took a moment to visibly get herself back under control, her extra eyes closing and vanishing from sight. “I will not discuss this with you any further. My people don’t act as judge and jury, only as executioners for those who have already been damned.”

As much as Angel was inclined to agree with Lilith, this was getting them nowhere.

“Ya need his cooperation to examine him, dontcha?” he tentatively interjected.

Both women turned to him as if just remembering he was there.

Angel swallowed hard, bolstering his resolve. “Kid’s been through a lot. He’s got a fu…”

Sera’s eyes narrowed into slits.

“…a freak-ton of trauma, from his abusive pa, to Lute reopenin’ his wound, to everythin’ else that’s happened to him since he woke up thinkin’ it was still 1923 and he was never gonna see his ma again. If ya need someone more…neutral, I can stay with him. Keep him calm. Try an’ get him to cooperate so we can get all this cleared up as quick as possible.”

He couldn’t bear the thought of Alastor dealing with all of this alone. Especially not with that fucking psycho Lute calling the shots. She made Smiles look downright cuddly by comparison.

Besides, he couldn’t help but see himself in Alastor. It turned out the two of them had more in common than he’d ever thought when it came to their childhoods. He would be a wreck right now if their roles were reversed.

An odd look crossed Sera’s face before she replied in a more even tone, “I’ll keep that in mind. For now, I suggest you both go back inside. All of you will be staying together until further notice.”

She waved her hand and the ward vanished from the door.

Lilith looked like she wanted to protest, but Angel caught her hand, giving her a pointed look before turning to lead her back inside.

She nearly wound up running into the back of him as he drew to a sudden halt just inside the doorway. The room had expanded into a full blown suite with more than enough space for all of them now.

The door closed behind them with a firm snap.

Eugenia was at their side in an instant and Lilith visibly pulled herself together as she wrapped an arm around her, leading her to one of the other rooms.

Angel watched them, shoulders slumping, before turning to his nonna and Molly.

“What happened?” Molly asked, voice soft.

He sank down onto the sofa that had appeared along with the rest of the renovations. Looked like they had a proper living room and kitchen now, in addition to multiple bedrooms.

“They took Al. They’re runnin’ some tests on him or somethin’. Tryin’ to figure out what made him go all miniature.”

His nonna scowled. “Separating them like that was cruel! The boy needs his mamma and she needs him!”

Angel nodded in agreement. He was trying not to think too hard about why they might not want Eugenia around while they were examining him. Especially since Lute didn’t give a fuck that he was just a kid now.

The look on Sera’s face at the mention of Lute reopening his wound made Angel’s stomach churn. It had only been there for a moment, but he had the distinct impression she was…surprised? Concerned?

Did she even know what Lute was doing to Al right now? For the briefest moment, he thought she might take him up on his offer. Unfortunately, she hadn’t.

Fuck, he just hoped that, whatever was happening, Al was okay. Or as okay as he could be, given everything that had happened to him already.

He should’ve been fucking around in his radio tower or riding the elevator as many times as he wanted. Not almost kidnapped by Vox, hurt and retraumatized by Lute, and then successfully kidnapped by her. No, scratch that. He should still be here with his ma. He’d finally started acting like the kid he actually was between the amusement park and being reunited with her.

What if he’d gone back to the way he’d been when he first woke up in Heaven? Lute sure as fuck wasn’t going to help him through it. If anything, she’d just make it worse and probably enjoy every minute of it.

Angel pulled his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees and wrapping his arms around them.

Their best bet was getting ahold of Lucifer and Charlie. Lilith had theorized Lucifer might be able to extract the divine energy from Al, which should revert him back to his old, terrifying self. The problem was, there was no way he could get up here to help. Which meant they needed to get Al back down to Hell, or bare minimum, meet halfway in the Living World.

So far as they knew, they would either need an Asmodean crystal or an angel to open up a portal for them. In addition to getting ahold of Al again. Lilith wasn’t sure if Lucifer could open one himself. It was also likely that him doing so would bring Heaven’s wrath down on them with a vengeance. Whatever they did they needed to do it carefully.

Fuck, Charlie was probably beside herself with worry between the two of them up and vanishing. On an outing she’d requested and been so excited about, no less.

It would be even better if he could get ahold of his phone so he could hopefully contact them. See if they had any other ideas and make sure they were ready for them when they finally got back. He had a feeling Heaven would notice pretty quickly if they made a jailbreak…

His gaze shifted to his nonna and Molly, his heart squeezing hard in his chest. He’d have to say goodbye to them. No way was someone like him getting to stay in Heaven. Though it was possible he’d get a chance to see them again… Pentious had been redeemed, hadn’t he?

He just hoped he didn’t have to go out in a blaze of glory like he had…

Of course, the more time he spent in Heaven, the less it felt like the eutopia he’d imagined. The only thing he had any interest in now was being permanently reunited with his nonna and Molly.

…which meant losing everyone back in Hell. His new family. A family that accepted him just as fucked up as he was without batting an eye.

Fuck.

Angel felt tears threatening and he blinked hard, belatedly realizing there was still dirt trapped in his fur from his impromptu “nap” back in LuLu World. He could use a few minutes to himself. And he could hardly miss the worried looks his nonna and Molly kept sending in the direction Eugenia and Lilith had gone.

“If it’s all right with you two, I’m gonna grab a shower,” he said as he unfolded himself from the couch and started down the hall.

They nodded, trailing after him. When he stepped into the bathroom, they took a detour to the bedrooms.

Angel did his best to scrub all of the dirt out of his fur, while simultaneously giving himself some quiet time under the hot spray of water just to exist for a moment. A few tears escaped, swirling down the drain with the rest of the water.

He felt a little better by the time he was drying himself off with a sinfully soft towel. He went to reluctantly redress himself in his shorts and loose t-shirt, but was pleased to find they’d cleaned themselves while he showered. He gave his hair one last scrub with the towel before hanging it on the hook in the bathroom and stepping out.

He caught the sound of muffled voices in the room the others had disappeared into and briefly debated on whether or not to join them before heading back into the living room. He couldn’t bear seeing Al’s ma so upset. He wasn’t good at that kind of thing anyway. It was better to leave it to the people who actually knew her. Besides, he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather have on his side were the roles reversed than Molly and his nonna.

Angel had just started to doze off where he’d settled on the couch when the door opened again and Sera silently motioned for him to join her. He glanced back toward the hall, but his words died in his throat at the sharp shake she gave of her head.

Fuck.

He swallowed hard as he slid off the couch and stepped out after her, the wards resealing behind them.

“Did you mean what you said before about getting the demon to cooperate?” Sera demanded.

Angel fervently nodded. “Yeah. He trusts me.”

For better and for worse…

She stared down at him a long moment before turning to lead him down a maze of hallways. He tried to mentally map their route, but quickly became overwhelmed by the sheer number of twists and turns. It didn’t help that the unending walls, carpet, and ceilings were all the same blinding white either.

Where exactly were they? Because while the place seemed clean and nice enough, the halls beyond their room had all the cheer and comfort of a hospital or maybe a real posh jail for rich people. He’d also yet to see any windows.

They were definitely being detained.

Sera finally drew to a halt outside of a nondescript door, which opened of its own accord. They both stepped inside the seemingly empty room only for Angel’s blood to run cold when he saw what could only be Al, curled in on himself in the corner. Rage burned through him when he caught sight of the fucking restraints they’d put him in.

He was at his side in an instant, kneeling beside him with his hands hovering just above his prone form.

“What the fuck?!” he hissed in Sera’s direction.

Alastor didn’t do much as react to his presence, his eyes open and staring unseeingly through him.

For her part, Sera had the decency to at least look stricken. She immediately banished his restraints and the fucking gag. She briefly glanced around the room before waving her hand to make it a closer match to the living room they’d left moments before.

Complete with a basket of toys better suited for a five year old.

“D’ya got a radio in there somewhere?” Angel demanded. “An’ maybe a weighted blanket an’ somethin’ hot he can drink?”

The requested items appeared on the table in the center of the room.

“I’ll talk to Lute,” Sera said before all but fleeing from the room. The door closed and locked behind her.

Angel went to the table, grabbing the weighted blanket and radio. He briefly considered taking the tea tray too, but wasn’t sure if Al could hear him at present, let alone drink anything. He hurried back to him and, as badly as he wanted to pick him up and move him to the sofa, he abstained for now.

Instead, he turned the radio on, flipping between the stations until he found some soft jazz. That accomplished, he carefully draped the weighted blanket over Alastor’s still form. The restraints were gone, but he either hadn’t noticed or wasn’t capable of moving, as his arms remained behind his back and his mouth slack.

He wanted to ease him into a more comfortable position, but he didn’t want to scare him. He just hoped he was making the right decision, leaving him as he was, as much as it pained him to do so.

What the fuck had they done to him?!

With a start, Angel realized the side of Al’s face closer to the floor was now sporting a dark bruise.

He took a seat on the floor beside him, struggling to come up with something to say. Assuming Al could even hear him right now… Angel settled for sitting there in silence instead, making sure he was in his line of sight and not making any sudden movements.

Al continued to eerily stare through him.

They stayed like that for a long while, Angel absently humming along to the music and softly singing the songs he actually knew. He had no clue how much time had passed when Al finally shifted beneath the blanket.

He didn’t move much, but at least it was something.

Angel stared as he slipped his hand from beneath the blanket, holding out to him, palm up. He gingerly wrapped his own around it, giving it a soft squeeze. Alastor blinked, the tiniest bit of awareness returning to his expression. He used his other hand to pull the blanket up and over his head, affording himself some more privacy, though he didn’t withdraw his hand.

Maybe that meant he could use something more than music now…?

“Hey, Al,” Angel said, keeping his voice gentle. “I’m sorry about…about everythin’. We keep promisin’ to keep ya safe and failin’ miserably every time… They locked us in that room. Even Lilith couldn’t bust out, and she’s the most powerful of all of us right now.”

He gave a soft whistle. “She fuckin’ laid into Sera too. Tried to get her to agree to let your ma go to you.”

Alastor’s hand tightened around his at the mention of his mother. Angel’s heart squeezed in his chest.

“Your ma’s okay. Upset about what happened, but okay. Lilith, my nonna, and Mol are takin’ care of her right now. You don’t need to worry about her. She’s safe.”

Alastor gave a hitched sob beneath the blanket and Angel felt answering tears prick behind his own eyes.

What else? What else could he say to help him? What would comfort him if their roles were reversed? If he’d gone from being an eleven year old who was standing in the family restaurant one minute and then in Hell and then Heaven the next?

“It’s all real,” he continued. “All of it. Ya got into a fight with the First Man and shrunk down to how ya are now. Your pa’s double dead, both times by your hand. He can’t hurt you or your ma no more. Ya put Vox in his place, protecting yourself an’ prolly me too. I never got a chance to thank ya for that, so thank you.

“For a lil’ bit, ya looked like your demon self. Ears, antlers, cute as fuck tail. The whole shebang. Ya met Rosie and we all went to Lu Lu World before we got kidnapped up to Heaven. Your ma’s really here. So’s my nonna and my sister.”

He paused, absently tapping a finger against his lips.

“The radio tower was real. So was Fat Nuggets. Ol’ Nuggs prolly won’t let either of us outta his sight when we finally get back. He gets real protective of family. You an’ me an’ Charlie all cooked your ma’s jambalaya together… Fuck… Was there anythin’ else? I feel like I’m forgettin’ somethin’…”

The blanket shifted again and Alastor poked his tear stained and bruised face out from beneath it before slowly sitting up with a wince. He didn’t release Angel’s hand all the while.

Angel offered him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Alastor didn’t return it, but some of the tension left his tiny frame. His eyes dropped to the blanket, now pooled in his lap. Angel reached over and he flinched back.

“Shit. Shit, sorry kid.”

Alastor gave a small shake of his head, motioning for him to continue. He hesitated a moment before helping him drape the blanket over his shoulders, tucking it around him.

“Ya wanna talk about it?” Angel asked. “What happened after they double kidnapped ya, I mean.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to. Besides, we got all the time in the world if ya change your mind.

Alastor stared imploringly back at him, but unfortunately whatever he was trying to communicate with his eyes was lost on Angel.

Not knowing what else to say, he gave his hand another small squeeze as he sat there beside him. The jazz continued playing softly on the radio, and after a long while, Alastor began tapping one of his fingers in time with the rhythm against the back of Angel’s hand.

He offered the kid what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he went back to humming and singing along with the radio. Right now Al needed some comfort and he was going to do his damned best to give it to him in any way he could.

Chapter Text

The door to the room suddenly opened and Alastor dove behind him, pressing close against his back. Angel could feel him shaking like a leaf and was about to tell off their visitor only to pause as a smaller woman dressed similarly to Sera stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind her. She froze on seeing Angel, her eyes going wide.

“Oh my goodness! It’s you! You’re really here!”

Angel blinked back at her. How did she know who he was?

…did they get porn up here?

“You’re Angel Dust!” she continued, hands raising to her mouth. “Oh my goodness, that little boy was telling the truth!”

Little boy? Alastor?

“Uh…heya there, toots. I’m afraid ya got me at a lil’ bit of a disadvantage.”

“Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry! We haven’t actually met before, have we? I’m Emily! I’ve heard so much about you from Charlie!”

Emily? The one angel Charlie said was sympathetic to their cause?

Oh, fuck yes!

“Charlie mentioned ya. An’ how ya were on board with the hotel an’ all.”

She nodded fervently only to pause, glancing curiously behind him. “…is he here too?”

“Who? Al?”

“I didn’t catch his name, unfortunately. We were…interrupted.” Tears shone in her wide blue eyes. “It’s my fault. I think I scared him. Sera said he was…confused. That he might hurt someone. He was acting a little strangely and, for a moment, I wondered if she might be telling the truth.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I should know better by now that she only ever tells me what she thinks I want to hear.”

Charlie trusted her, didn’t she? She was the best lead they had so far, assuming she didn’t sell them out.

“Yeah, he’s been through kinda a lot the past few days. He got hit head on by Adam and wound up gettin’ purified or somethin’. Turned him into a mostly human kid who stepped right outta 1923. His name’s Alastor. He was…is the Radio Demon.”

“Wait, he’s the Alastor? We get his station sometimes up here! Ohmygosh!”

Angel blinked in surprise. “Ya do?”

Did she actually enjoy hearing people scream as they were torn limb from limb?

She nodded. “Yes! He tells some of the sweetest stories about his mother!”

Huh. Was he broadcasting specifically to Heaven for those? Didn’t sound like his usual content in Hell…

“Sera told me to stop listening, but I couldn’t! I enjoy his stories too much! The one where he and his mother won a local dance competition is my absolute favorite!”

Alastor’s trembling began to ease somewhat behind him, though he remained pressed to Angel’s back. As much as he hated seeing him like this, he was glad the kid found some kind of reassurance in him. He trusted him to protect him and Angel was going to do everything in his power not to fuck it up this time.

“Oh, yeah?” he asked. “Sounds like Al, for sure. He loves dancin’.”

As much as he wanted to ask her for details, seeing as her recollection seemed to be helping Alastor calm down some, they didn’t have the luxury of time on their side.

“What are you two doing up here anyway?” Emily asked, studying him curiously. “You look the same as you did before, so you weren’t redeemed, were you…?”

Angel shook his head. “Nah. We got kidnapped by that fuckin’ bitch Lute.”

Emily flinched at the words but didn’t refute them. “Kidnapped?!”

He nodded. “Yeah. They wanna study Al. See what made him miniature.” The three of his hands that weren’t otherwise occupied clenched into fists. “She hurt him, Em. Hurt him real bad.”

Her expression shifted to one of pure horror. “Lute did?”

Angel nodded, face grim. “Yeah. Reopened his wound from Adam. Traumatized him even more than he already was.”

Silent tears skirted down her cheeks. “Oh… Oh, I am so sorry, Alastor! I didn’t know. I didn’t think… I knew Lute could be…a bit much, but I never thought she’d hurt a child…”

Angel blinked. “Ya know they regularly kill kids durin’ the exterminations too, right?”

The color drained from her face. “…what…?”

“That’s what happened to Vaggie. It’s why she got kicked outta Heaven. She wouldn’t kill a kid in Cannibal Town. They gouged out her eye and ripped her wings off.”

Sure, it was Vaggie’s story to tell, but she needed to know.

Emily’s hands flew to her mouth and her breathing quickened. “I…I had no idea,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “I only just found out about the exterminations the other day. I didn’t know… I should have known…”

“Yeah, well now ya do,” Angel answered, shoulders slumping. “An’ I hope now ya have an even better understandin’ of Charlie’s mission. What we’re trying to stop.”

She nodded slowly, eyes sliding closed as she regathered herself. “…thank you for telling me. I never would have let Lute take him if I’d known she’d hurt him. I am so sorry, Alastor. I’m going to do whatever I can to make this right!”

Angel sagged in relief. She believed them. Thank fuck.

He pursed his lips before hazarding, “Are ya able to do any healin’? Al’s pretty banged up…”

Her brow furrowed. “…he is? He looked okay when they took him away. I healed his wounds when I found him.”

Angel sat straighter. “What wounds?! When?!”

“I found him in one of the detention rooms. I…I heard screaming and went to see what was going on.” She bit her lip. “He was hurt. Badly.”

Angel felt white hot rage rising inside him. “Lemme guess, a diagonal cut across his chest?”

Emily’s eyes widened. “…how did you know?”

“Cause that’s the fuckin’ wound Adam gave him. The one Lute reopened. Then Lilith healed him up. But it sounds like that bitch reopened it again!”

The angel looked as if she were going to be ill.

“He wasn’t hurt when he got taken from the room we was in,” he added, claws digging into the flesh of the palms not occupied by Alastor’s hand.

Emily opened and closed her mouth a few times before offering softly, “Let me see…? If that’s all right? I want to help, but it’s better if I can see what I’m working with.”

“That’s up to Al,” Angel answered, giving his hand a small squeeze.

“He…hasn’t spoken to you, has he? He couldn’t when I saw him before. I thought it might be a trauma response.”

“Fuck… No, he ain’t. He was kinda like that before, too. After that bitch got aholda him the first time. I figured he was dissociatin’ or somethin’… He was finally startin’ to act more like himself when his ma showed up and now he’s even worse than before.”

Her lower lip quivered and she gave a tiny nod, not seeming to trust her voice. Looked like both of them were trying to put on a brave face for the kid.

“Whaddya say, Al? Can Em here take a look at ya? Dunno when we’re gonna see Lilith again, so it’d probably be a good idea for ya to go ahead an’ get healed up. Don’t want ya hurtin’.”

Alastor’s only reply was a firm squeeze of his hand and Angel shimmied to the side, revealing his blanket shrouded form.

“Oh! That’s one of mine!” Emily offered, gesturing to it. “It has some of my magic in it! I hope it’s helping… I’ll do what I can to help after I heal him too.”

Angel considered asking her what any of that meant, but stayed quiet for now.

Alastor tentatively lowered the blanket from around his head, the bruise on his cheek already darker than when Angel first came in.

Emily looked stricken. “…that happened after he was taken,” she murmured. “But he had a lighter one before then…”

Which meant he’d probably been hit not once, but at least twice.

Angel couldn’t wait to get all six of his hands on that fucking cunt. He’d make what happened to Adam seem like a walk in the fucking park by comparison.

Alastor finally pulled his hand free in order to undo the buttons of his coat. Angel reflexively turned to give him some privacy and Emily did the same. When he was done, he retook Angel’s hand. Angel turned back around, sucking in a sharp breath at the equally lurid bruise on his stomach.

“Fuck…” he breathed, eyes wide. “Ya can turn back around, Em, but ya ain’t gonna like what ya see…”

She did so, but instead of bursting into tears like he expected, her eyes narrowed, another opening on her chest. Her anger was almost palpable and Alastor shrank back from it.

“I’m sorry,” she insisted, taking a few deep breaths to get herself back under control. “I’m so sorry. I’m not mad at you. I…I’m mad at myself. I’m sorry I let them take you. That I let them do this. That they did this.”

Alastor didn’t answer, his eyes firmly locked on the ground. His palm was clammy where it rested against Angel’s.

Emily studied his injuries a moment longer before closing all of her eyes and summoning her power. It washed across Alastor, his bruises gradually fading beneath her magic’s comforting blue and purple light.

Fuck. How did he even go about bringing something like this up to his ma? He had a feeling Alastor wouldn’t want her to know, but regardless of what he seemed to believe, he was just a kid. Maybe he should run everything by Lilith first? She might have a better idea of how to handle this, though as angry as she’d been earlier, he could only imagine how she might react now…

He wished Charlie was with them. Even if she didn’t always say or do the right thing at first, she eventually found her way there. He didn’t know what the fuck to do. He wasn’t qualified to make these kinds of decisions…

Alastor was quick to redress himself, his hand leaving and immediately returning to Angel’s. He was startled to feel the kid suddenly lean against him, eyelids drooping.

No doubt he was exhausted after all of this. It wasn’t like he’d gotten a full night of sleep since he woke up in the hotel. Angel hesitated briefly before pulling the blanket more firmly around him and then wrapping another arm around Alastor’s middle.

Emily conjured up a pad of paper and a pen, handing it to him before fetching the tea tray from the table and taking a seat with them on the floor. She eyed the door.

“I’m not sure how much longer we have before they come back. I’m not supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to be here before either. I just barely managed to convince Sera that Alastor had gotten into my suite after she left. I don’t think she’s suspicious of me yet. I’d like to keep it that way, or it’s going to be a lot harder for me to help you both.”

Angel nodded, having wondered whether or not she was supposed to be there. Hopefully Sera would insist on giving him more time “alone” with Alastor before she let Lute anywhere fucking near them.

“So let’s talk it out then,” he said, taking one of the cookies from the tray and offering it to Alastor.

“I know ya ain’t a fan of sweet stuff, but it prolly wouldn’t hurt for ya to get a little somethin’ in ya after all this,” he continued.

Alastor reluctantly took it, nibbling at the edge.

Emily perked up across from them. “Alastor, can you please do me a favor and think of something you do like to eat?”

He stared quietly back at her, eyes sliding closed. A moment later, a chipped plate appeared on the floor between them with steaming fried dough balls situated around a mismatched bowl containing a mustard based dipping sauce. Alastor opened his eyes again and they widened upon seeing the food. He crammed the rest of the cookie in his mouth as he reached for one of the little balls.

They looked familiar, but Angel couldn’t recall the name. He was pretty sure Alastor had made them once or twice at the hotel, on the occasions they all ate together. Alastor dipped it in the sauce and rather than immediately popping it into his own mouth, he held it out to Angel.

Angel’s heart expanded in his chest to an alarming degree as he took the ball from him, waiting until Alastor took one for himself before tapping them together like he was toasting him and taking a big bite.

It was just as spicy as he remembered and his nose and eyes immediately started running. It tasted just like the ones Al had made too, meaning it was another of his ma’s recipes. Alastor ate a few more of them, undeterred by the spiciness before motioning for Emily to give one a try.

He must be feeling a little less suspicious of her now. It was telling he hadn’t immediately offered the lady of the group the first bite.

Emily cautiously took one, adding a generous helping of the spicy creole mustard before popping the entire thing in her mouth. Angel saw the spark leave her eyes the moment she realized her mistake. She was quick to chew and swallow before frantically fanning her mouth.

He felt Alastor trembling again beside him and he glanced over, relieved to see he was only shaking with silent laughter this time.

Thank fuck.

“Oh, wow! That is… That is so hot,” Emily managed, downing almost half a cup of tea in one swallow. “I was not expecting that!”

“Yeah, he almost killed us with his ma’s jambalaya the first time he made it,” Angel offered. “We all had to adapt fast to survive Al’s cookin’.”

“I can see why,” she said, downing the rest of the cup and pouring herself another.

Belatedly, Angel realized he felt…different. More grounded. Calmer. Was that Emily’s doing? Alastor looked a hell of a lot better too, though he still hadn’t spoken yet. He hoped it would last when she had to leave, but he doubted as much.

Shit. How much time did they have left?

“What are the odds ya could get aholda my phone?” Angel asked, trying not to get too hopeful. Or d’ya got one of your own...?”

Emily blinked. “No, I don’t have a phone, but I’ll see what I can do. Maybe I can even get access to one of the portals too… I can’t make them myself, unfortunately. You said Lilith healed him before, didn’t you? She’s really here?”

Angel nodded. “Yeah. She kinda got strong armed into makin’ a deal with Adam.”

Emily’s face clouded over at the mention of his name. “I see.”

“She’s stuck up here an’ can’t talk to Lucifer or Charlie. Dunno if her deal transferred over to someone else or what after he died.”

“Oh, that’s horrible! I’m sure Charlie misses her so much!”

Angel nodded. “Yeah. She was pokin’ around, tryin’ to see if there was a way to fight back against the exterminations, and got caught. We was with her, Al’s ma, my nonna, an’ my sister Molly. They had us locked up in one of the rooms here.” He pursed his lips “Maybe ya could find them too, while you’re at it? Might be easier to bust them out than us…”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she insisted. “So Adam’s attack is what did this to him?”

“Yeah. We’re thinkin’ he was purified to the last time he coulda been redeemed. Apparently Heaven thinks it’s solely ’cause of his attack, but Lilith’s got a different theory. She had a deal with him from before all this, that she’d protect him from the exorcists an’ Adam. He was there when she got forced into her deal with Adam.”

Alastor stared up at him with wide eyes.

“Oh, shit, sorry Al. You was asleep for all that, wasn’t ya? Yeah, Niffty ran off on extermination day an’ ya went lookin’ for her. Lilith found her first and ya all got cornered. They wanted to nerf ya ‘cause ya was gettin’ too strong. Part of your deal with Lilith was that she locked away some of your power.”

He scowled. “Prolly thought you an’ her was in cahoots. But it was the only way they weren’t gonna kill ya and Niffty outright, so ya went for it. That was before we knew angelic steel could kill angels too.”

Emily gasped, both of her hands shooting up to her mouth. “It can?”

“Yeah. It’s how we fought back this time around. How Adam got murked.”

She lowered her hands, chewing at her bottom lip. “…I’ll see what I can do about that too. Maybe I can find something to help you defend yourselves if Lute tries to hurt you again.”

“As much as I like that idea, I dunno if it’s ya should. It’s one thing to hurt exorcists on our turf. It’s another to bring the fight to them,” Angel reluctantly admitted. “They might take it as a declaration of all out war or somethin’. An’ we’re already waitin’ to see what they’re gonna do about the failed extermination...”

Emily looked like she wanted to protest, but she had to know he was right.

“Would she… Would she hurt ma mère…?”

Angel’s eyes widened and he glanced down at Alastor. His voice sounded weak and raw, but he’d spoken!

“I don’t think so,” Emily answered. “…but it’s probably best not to find out.”

Alastor’s gaze dropped, his expression unreadable.

“Yeah, I’d like to think she wouldn’t too, but…” Angel sighed. “She’s a bloodthirsty, single-minded asshole.”

“I don’t think it’s something Sera would condone,” Emily said. “But it seems like there’s a lot she doesn’t know already about…about what’s been going on.”

She suddenly held her hand out to Alastor. He stared silently down at it.

“Just for a moment?” she asked. “I want to see if I can sense where your mother is. It’ll be easier if I can use you to hone in on her.”

He immediately placed his hand in hers and she closed her eyes, her breathing deep and even as she concentrated. They sat in silence for a few moments before Emily’s face lit up. “There she is! Oh, what a beautiful soul!”

She opened her eyes as she took her hand back before offering it to Angel. “I’d like to get a feel for you and your family too, if you don’t mind. It’ll make it easier to find you all later if I need to.”

“Uh, sure,” he said, taking her hand.

“You said they should be together, right? Ah, there they are! More beautiful souls!”

“Can ya see mine?” Angel asked before he could stop himself.

She smiled as she pulled her hand back. “Of course!”

“…do I wanna know what it looks like?”

She considered the question, absently tapping her finger to her lips. “Let’s see… Yours reminds me of a dandelion that’s sprouted up in the crack of a sidewalk. You have so much potential, but people and circumstances have tried to stifle it. Regardless, you’ve persisted and continued to grow. Even in the absence of outright support! You’ve worked hard to nurture the goodness inside of you against all odds.”

She shifted her attention to Alastor. He frowned faintly back at her.

“And yours… Yours is more like an overgrown rose bush. You can see hints of the flowers in bloom, but they’re hard to reach and you may prick yourself in the process. It feels intentional and unintentional at the same time. You can use those thorns to stave off enemies, but they also stave off friends.”

His brow furrowed, but he made no comment one way or another.

Angel snorted. “So Al gets to be a buncha thorny roses and I’m just a dandelion? Sounds about right…”

Emily tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“A dandelion’s just a weed.”

She looked genuinely offended by the comment. “Dandelions aren’t just weeds! They’re beautiful! And strong! And they do so much good! They bring nutrients up from deep in the soil and help other plants grow! They’re a vital source of nectar for pollinators! They’re an essential part of the ecosystem! And they’re resilient! Their roots run deep and even if the flower is gone, if even a tiny bit of the root remains, it’ll grow again! Not to mention they’re edible and used in medicines and—“

Angel’s throat tightened and he held up a hand to forestall her. Fuck, how was it the nicest things anyone had ever called him were a loser and a goddamn dandelion?

Alastor gave his hand a small squeeze, looking up at him and seeing entirely too much of what Angel was trying to hide.

Emily offered them a soft smile in return before her eyes went wide, including the one that reappeared on her chest.

“They’re coming! I’m sorry, I have to go. But don’t worry! I promise I’m going to help you!” She banished the empty dishes and the pad and pen with a wave of her hand and slipped out the door.

“Shit, I shoulda asked her about Pentious,” Angel hissed. No, instead he’d asked about his soul. Fucking stupid. They didn’t have time for this shit!

Alastor pressed closer to him, trembling. He looked to the door and then back up at Angel.

“I…” He swallowed hard, looking as if it were a struggle to get the words out. “I don’t…want you to get hurt…because of me…”

Angel’s eyes widened and he gave him a fierce hug. “Kid, don’t worry about me. Lemme worry about you, okay?”

He shook his head even as he clung tightly back to him. “I’ll…cooperate…”

Angel’s stomach roiled at the words. The last thing he wanted was for Alastor to have to bow to that fucking bitch. He was prepared to do whatever it took to protect him. He wasn’t going to fail Al again.

Chapter Text

The door opened and Alastor froze in Angel’s arms. His eyes went wide as Lute walked in, her hand on the hilt of the sword at her hip. She glowered at both of them, flanked by two other angels dressed in the same uniform. The door closed ominously behind them, the other women standing at attention on either side of it.

Lute stood over them, her lip curled.

Alastor immediately dropped his gaze, cringing reflexively back from her. She ignored him in favor of glaring at Angel. He clenched his jaw as she met his eyes.

“You’re only here because of Sera. Don’t think I won’t throw you out if you try to interfere, whore.”

Was that seriously the best insult she had? Like he didn’t hear that every fucking day of his unlife…

“Ya ever heard the expression ya get more flies with honey?” Angel retorted.

She scoffed. “You should just be grateful I haven’t ended your worthless life a second time. Though you seem to be doing a good enough job of that all on your own.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah? Well I’ll take sex work an’ crack any day over torturin’ an’ killin’ kids, but I wouldn’t expect ya to understand.“

“A Sinner is a Sinner, regardless of how old they are,” she retorted, redirecting her attention to Alastor.

With visible effort, he forced himself to lean away from Angel and to drop his hand. He kept his head bowed, staring fixedly at her boots. That faraway look was back in his eyes.

Fuck.

“You already know what to do,” Lute barked at Alastor. She drummed her fingers against the hilt of her sword. “But I’m more than happy to remind you.”

His hands tightened in the blanket before he reluctantly pushed it off of his shoulders and began undoing his bow tie and coat with trembling fingers.

“There’s a good little monster,” Lute cooed patronizingly down at him.

All four of Angel’s hands clenched into fists. Alastor shot him an imploring look.

Fuck. Was this what it was like for him with his ma and pa…?

He removed his coat and what looked like a shoulder holster of some kind, though it didn’t contain any weapons. He then slid his suspenders off of his shoulders and saw to his waistcoat and the buttons of his dress shirt. As he went, his movements grew steadier and soon there was the faintest of smiles on his face, even though his eyes remained hollow.

He removed his shirt before lifting his head and staring calmly up at Lute. She frowned down at him, her brow furrowed as if she didn’t understand his sudden transformation.

Angel did. He’d seen his nonna and Molly do something similar when his pa was in a rage. It was something he’d learned to do too, with his string of bad boyfriends and now Val.

Fawn.

Lute motioned for Alastor to stand and he did so, smile solidifying. He kept his head up, shoulders back, and his arms seemingly relaxed at his sides.

Lute’s frown deepened but she didn’t comment even as she eyed his eerie smile. She reached toward him and Angel saw the set of his shoulders tighten minutely as she ran her finger from his shoulder to his opposite hip, tracing the injury that wasn’t currently visible.

For once, Angel was the one tempted to do some biting. But he held back, forcing himself to stay put. They didn’t need to escalate shit, as much as he wanted to show Lute what she could do with her stupid fucking sword.

One of the women by the door took out a notepad, scribbling on it and occasionally looking up at Alastor and Lute.

“There’s no mark,” Lute dictated. “But I can still feel divine energy under the skin.”

She leaned back, hand resting on her sword. Angel was on his feet in an instant, but Alastor held his arm up in front of him, motioning for him to stand down.

“I would greatly appreciate it if you didn’t draw your sword again, Miss Lute,” Alastor said, his Transatlantic accent back with a vengeance. “But I understand if you must.”

Angel stared at him, brows drifting toward his hairline.

Lute looked equally taken off guard. Her hand fell once more from the sword’s hilt. “You’re lucky I’ve already got enough data on that front, demon.”

Alastor’s smile widened further. “Thank you, ma’am.”

The two women by the door shared a confused look.

“Is there anything else I can do to assist you?” Alastor asked, sounding for all the world like they were at some classy joint instead of trapped in an interrogation room in Heaven with a genocidal psychopath.

Lute’s eyes narrowed. “Try to call on your demon powers.”

Alastor tilted his head, closing his eyes. Initially, Angel felt nothing, but then the pressure in the room shifted, building. Lute’s hand returned to her sword. As quickly as the pressure built, it was gone again, and the previously invisible angelic wound on Alastor’s chest glowed with a soft golden light just beneath his skin.

The woman with the notepad began scribbling furiously on it.

Lute stared, eyes widening. “Make a note that the divine energy is actively suppressing his demonic energy.”

That and probably Lucifer sealing away his powers, but Angel wasn’t about to offer up any further information on that front…

The other woman by the door stepped forward, settling a small metal briefcase on the table and opening it. Inside were a few different medical tools, including tourniquets, disinfectant, needles, gloves, and empty tubes.

“I’ll be taking blood from both of you,” she stated, motioning for them to join her at the table. Alastor pulled out a seat for Angel before taking his own. Angel nodded in thanks.

Alastor offered his arm up as the woman directed. The only signs of his discomfort were the tightness of his smile and the small frown line between his brows. Of course the bitch hadn’t told him that he could put his shirt and all back on. As modest as Al was, it was just added insult to injury.

The woman pulled on a pair of gloves and picked up one of the tourniquets, however she paused when it came time to actually touch him. Her hands hovered over his bare arm and she visibly swallowed.

The fuck did she think was gonna happen? She’d touch him and her hand would fall off? No, that’s probably exactly what she expected and the realization made clench his fists under the table to keep himself from doing anything that might get them into more trouble.

She glanced up at Lute, meeting the other woman’s annoyed glare before wrapping the tourniquet around Alastor’s upper arm with trembling fingers. She abruptly drew back when done, staring worriedly down at her hands. When nothing happened, she squared her shoulders and disinfected a patch of skin before grabbing one of the needles.

Alastor breathed slowly in and out as she selected a vein and inserted her needle, filling up several of the tubes with his blood. She pressed a gauze pad to the spot in the aftermath and Alastor dutifully held it in place.

Her hesitation this time was brief as she swapped her gloves out and set to work on Angel. He didn’t have the same compunctions about needles and he barely noticed when she stuck him. Not that he had indulged for a few months now, but he’d long since lost any aversion he might have had, having stuck himself more times than he could count.

He forced his attention from her, every cringe and tremble of her fingers only increasing his ire. Instead, he watched Lute watching Alastor. He smiled pleasantly up at her and she scowled in return. Angel had a feeling she much preferred him quaking in terror than whatever she thought this was. She looked tense, like she was waiting for him to go full kaiju mode and start ripping angels limb from limb and devouring them.

It might’ve been funny, were it not for their present circumstances. Angel couldn’t help but wonder what Radio Demon Alastor might be hiding behind his too big smile and over the top accent. Maybe it wasn’t just a shtick. Though adult Alastor seemed to have long left freeze and fawn behind in favor of fight and frighten.

It was no wonder he enjoyed being a serial killer and an Overlord so much. It clearly gave him the kind of power he must’ve been desperate for as a kid. Killing his pa and not getting caught must’ve been the proverbial final nail in the coffin as far as him taking what others dished out was concerned.

If this really was the last point at which he could have been redeemed, what the fuck had he done so soon after killing his pa that damned him? Killed again? Or was it solely that he finally, purposefully stepped off the path to salvation? Was it the conscious choice or had he committed an actual unforgivable sin?

Surely the kid didn’t have two kills under his belt before he hit twelve... Then again, remembering the way he stared down at Vox…

Angel suppressed a shudder.

He couldn’t help but wonder what Lute and her lackeys made of it all. It was probably the most time they’d ever spent around demons without killing them.

Angel imagined Lute’s life up to this point was fairly normal, aside from all the heavenly brainwashing. She’d probably never seen what abuse did to a person. Hell, Adam was probably the first person she’d ever even lost.

He didn’t think a few hours with them would be remotely enough to change any of their fucked up mindsets, but maybe, just maybe, seeing something that wasn’t all sunshine and fucking rainbows might at least take a small chip away from the pedestal they all clearly held themselves on.

Or maybe he could at least force some part of them to acknowledge he and Al were still fucking people…

He wasn’t smart or clever like Charlie or Alastor. But…he was a dandelion…

Fuck that didn’t sound any less stupid in his head, even if it did somehow bolster his resolve.

He’d already seen Lilith’s attempt with Sera. Maybe if he was a little more subtle…

“Hey, Al.”

Alastor glanced up at him, staring right through him.

“Where d’ya think ya should wind up after all this?”

Lute looked like she wanted to interrupt, but a telltale gleam entered her eye. She was all too ready to put the kid in his place, surely believing he’d say Heaven.

Angel knew better. Alastor had shown he had a pretty black and white way of thinking so far.

“Hell.”

Lute’s utter bewilderment was fucking priceless.

“And why’s that?”

Alastor tilted his head to the side. “Because I killed my father.”

“In self-defense.”

Alastor’s smile stayed firmly in place. “Does it matter? A sin is a sin, isn’t it? That doesn’t change just because of a person’s reasoning.”

“So ya think ya deserve eternal punishment? Never seein’ your ma again?”

His gaze dropped, some awareness returning to his expression even though his accent stayed in place. “I already made peace with that.”

“At least one of you has some sense,” Lute interjected, though she didn’t sound nearly as high and mighty about it as she had up to this point.

Guess Alastor agreeing with her took away some of her bluster.

“And your ma? You’d want her to stay up here even if it means you’ll never see her again?”

Alastor clasped his hands together in his lap, staring down at them. “She belongs in Heaven.”

“Ya wouldn’t want her to go down to Hell even if it meant ya wouldn’t have to be separated from her?”

His eyes snapped up at that, practically blazing at the suggestion. “Absolutely not.”

“And why’s that?”

“She’s a good person. She doesn’t deserve it. Besides, she’s safe up here. No one will hurt her up here. She earned her place as an angel. What kind of place would Heaven be if they hurt someone like her?”

As he spoke, his gaze briefly flicked to Lute.

Her lips thinned, but she didn’t protest.

“An’ what about redemption?”

He gave a small shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s possible. People are judged before they’re sent to Heaven or Hell, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, seems that way. ‘Cept a friend of ours was redeemed recently.”

Alastor blinked, looking genuinely surprised. “What? Really?”

Angel hazarded a glance at Lute out of the corner of his eye. Her expression had become carefully neutral. He hadn’t exactly expected her to jump for joy or apologize for the error of her ways. But he was surprised she hadn’t immediately launched into a tirade of some kind.

“Yeah. He’s up here now. Whaddya think of that?”

Alastor tilted his head, expression thoughtful. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But that means it’s possible for you, too, doesn’t it?”

Shit. With everything going on, Angel hadn’t had a chance to even consider the implications of Pentious’s redemption for himself.

If it happened for Pentious, it could happen for anyone couldn’t it?

Though at least in Hell, what you saw was what you got. There was no hypocritical self-righteousness. Sure, there was a hierarchy with Overlords dealing in souls at the very top, but Heaven had always been the greater threat, what with their ability to leave them double dead.

It took a lot for a Sinner to permanently kill another Sinner. Not to say it didn’t happen, but it was far less common than it was at the hands of the angels. Sure, you could go through some really terrible shit, but you always came back. You always had a second chance.

He’d never really thought about that before. How Hell could be fucking horrible, but it offered demons chance after chance. You healed or you put yourself back together. You would come back weaker than before if you died, but you still came back. And, as far as they knew, angelic steel was the only way for one demon to permanently kill another too.

They only had access to angelic steel because of the exterminations.

Fuck. Was that the whole fucking point to begin with? Infinite chances to be better or do better? Or was it just eternal punishment? Letting people die over and over again, knowing they could never escape from the cycle?

Maybe both?

Or maybe the exorcists were just considered the only ones who could put them out of their misery with the equivalent of mercy killings?

This was why he tried not to think about shit like this. He wasn’t made for it. That was the difference between someone like him and someone like Alastor. Angel focused on the here and now. Meanwhile, even as a kid, Alastor was fixated on the future and figuring out the rules for every game he found himself in.

”…yeah… I mean, I guess so?” he answered lamely.

What was Lute gonna say? It was a mistake Pentious had been redeemed? Because that would imply Heaven wasn’t perfect. But if she said it was Heaven’s goal all along, then what about the exterminations? Looked like she and everyone else up here was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Lute glowered at the two of them, but didn’t confirm or deny what he’d said.

Which meant she probably didn’t know either. Heaven sure as fuck hadn’t realized redemption was possible. They were all in wildly unfamiliar territory now.

The woman with the briefcase closed it up, nodding to Lute as she stepped back out.

“So, what now?” Angel directed to Lute. “Ya gonna keep us here, or can we go back to the room we was in before?”

”There’s other research we intend to conduct,” Lute snapped at him.

He glanced at Alastor from the corner of his eye, noting his perfect posture and smile. The kid was going to crash eventually. He couldn’t keep this up forever.

“So can we just do it and get it over with? I know ya don’t give a shit that he’s a kid, but if ya want him firin’ on all cylinders with this shit, you’re gonna have to let him rest up at some point. ‘Sides, his ma’s beside herself.”

Her lip curled back at that. “Perhaps she shouldn’t worry so much about a monster.”

Angel studied his nails. “Yeah, who killed his pa to save her life. What with him beatin’ the shit outta them on the regular an’ threatenin’ to separate them if they didn’t stay in line.”

He felt like an absolute dick saying all that, especially when Alastor paled a bit at the words. But this was the only kind of thing that seemed to get some sort of non-livid reaction out of Lute so far. Even if it was just neutrality.

“Guess he prolly woulda made it up to Heaven with her if his pa killed them both, huh? His pa ended up in Hell.”

Lute’s lips thinned.

“‘cause if’n you all are right and he got purified or somethin’ to the last point he could be redeemed, that’d mean him killin’ his pa wasn’t what damned him. Even if he thought it was at the time.”

“No one has said that!” Lute all but snarled.

Angel shrugged, forcing himself to stay calm. He was trying to be the voice of reason. The devil on her other shoulder. He couldn’t get emotional about this.

“Still weird this is what happened after he got hit with that blast. Like, why turn him back into a human kid?”

Her grip was so tight on the hilt of her sword, her knuckles had gone white. A muscle jumped in her jaw as she all but bared her teeth at him.

Alastor’s gaze was fixed on the table, a ghost of his smile still in place. His eyes had gone back to being unfocused.

Angel took a deep breath. “I know ya don’t give a fuck about him. I know ya think he’s an irredeemable monster or whatever. But his ma’s up here, ain’t she? She’s worried about him. Don’t she get a say in any of this? Or is she gonna be punished for the sin of carin’ about her kid?”

The woman still flanking the door shot Lute a curious look. Lute glared back at her.

Fuck, at the rate they were going, they were gonna wind up spending the rest of eternity in Heaven’s equivalent of jail. Angel wasn’t super keen on that. For one, the others would be worried sick. For another, how the fuck was he supposed to redeem himself if he never got a chance to do the right thing again?

Would they be put in isolation forever…?

Then there was his nonna and Molly and Al’s ma. Would they let them visit? Or would they be kept on lockdown too? Plus Charlie and Husk and everyone else would be worried sick. What would they think happened if they never came back? Would they ever even find out where they’d wound up?

Alastor finally lifted his head, staring through Lute.

“This is all because of me, isn’t it? Why can’t you just…exterminate me and…get it over with? I…I don’t want my mother to worry about me. I don’t want her to be locked up forever because of me.”

Angel jerked upright in his seat. “What the fuck, Al?!”

Alastor turned to him, his eyes just as vacant. “You’re here because of me. My mother is stuck in that room because of me. Worrying. Isn’t that how this is going to end anyway? Why pretend it isn’t? Whatever happened to me, I’m a threat. I’m still a demon. I can name Charlie as my designee for the souls I own.”

As he spoke, a faint green glow spread across his skin, his hair lifting in a breeze centrally located on him.

“Absolutely not!” Angel protested. “What about your ma?!”

Alastor’s hands tightened in his lap. “She’s suffering because of me. I’ve spent my entire life trying to keep her safe and happy. I’m not going to stop now. Just tell her the divine energy finally killed me like it was supposed to. It’s not a lie.”

Angel reached over to take one of his hands and he flinched reflexively back, throwing his arms up as if to ward off a blow. The woman by the door’s eyes went wide, darting to Lute.

“…sorry,” Angel mumbled, pulling his hand back. “I’m sorry, Al. I didn’t mean to scare ya. I’d never hurt ya, kid. I know it's easier to hear than to believe, but it’s true.”

“It’s okay,” Alastor answered, slowly lowering his arms. His voice was as hollow as his expression. “You’re letting your emotions get in the way of logic. This is what has to happen. Then Heaven can pretend like this never happened. And…even if you can’t go back, maybe they’ll at least let your nonna and your sister visit you?”

“We can’t do that!” the other angel cut in.

“Tambourine…” Lute growled in warning.

“We can’t just kill him!” she insisted. “Because what if he was purified? That's what they’re trying to figure out now! If he’s human enough to be considered one of them instead of a demon!”

Lute had her sword out in an instant, the tip of it at the other woman’s neck.

Angel immediately spun toward Al, but even though the blade was pulsing with divine energy, his wound didn’t seem to have reopened. Alastor stared down at his chest, eyes wide.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Angel breathed, relief and confusion warring inside of him.

Tambourine stared at Lute in horror. Lute glared back at her a long moment before quickly sheathing her sword in one fluid motion. Her gaze drifted to Alastor, her brows approaching her hairline.

“…does that mean he’s healed?” Angel prompted. “Or that he’s not a demon at all anymore…?”

Lute didn’t answer, instead taking Tambourine by the arm and storming out of the room, locking the door behind them.

Angel leaned forward, staring at his chest. He had to look closely for it, but he could see the faint glow of the wound if he really focused.

“…what the hell,” he breathed, leaning back.

He opened his mouth to ask Alastor what the actual fuck he’d been thinking only to snap it closed again when he realized something was happening.

There was a flash of blinding light and when he finally managed to blink the spots in his eyes away, Angel stared.

Alastor was fully dressed again in his radio demon outfit, though the reds of it had become a light shade of cornflower blue and the blacks a soft gold color. The stripes on his now untattered coat gleamed with the same color thread. His microphone had also reappeared, whole and looking as if it was made of or at least coated in gold, the eye on it complementary shades of cornflower blue.

He’d physically reverted back to his demon form as well, though his hair remained the same rich dark brown color of his human form, while soft gold tufts replaced the black on the ends of his ears and the ends of his hair. His skin tone was also a slightly warmer shade than it had been in his demon form.

Angel’s mouth hung open as Alastor stared down at his now gold gloved hands in confusion. One of his ears twitched and he reached up, eyes widening when he felt the fur of it. He slid his fingers along the sides of his head, parting the hair there and revealing smooth skin instead of human ears. He looked up at Angel in question, the reds of his eyes now a soft gold and his pupils that same cornflower blue.

“Wh-What the fuck?!” Angel finally squeaked. “…oh my fuckin’…uh…” He cut himself off before he could take the lord’s name in vain in his literal domain.

“…what happened…?” Alastor hazarded. “Am I a demon again?”

Angel’s gaze settled on the gold halo hovering just above his similarly colored antlers. He dumbly shook his head.

“…what happens if ya try to call on your demon magic now?” he finally managed.

Alastor stared down at the microphone, brow furrowing. He closed his eyes, a faint golden glow emanating from his hands and the microphone, but nothing happened.

“I wonder if whatever Lucifer did is still holdin’ your magic in place…”

Was it possible the souls Alastor owned still fueled his power? Or had he lost them the moment he was redeemed?

In which case, had they gone to Charlie, or…?

He tried not to think about what kind of havoc might ensue if four million souls were suddenly released from their contracts and the Radio Demon was no longer one of the powers at play in Hell.

How many of the other Overlords and demons kept themselves in check out of fear of him…?

Fuck…

“What happened?” Alastor asked, his Transatlantic accent still in place. Which meant he was still very much not okay.

Especially given the fact he’d just said everyone should let Lute fucking kill him.

“…uh, well…”

Alastor frowned up at him, his ears tilting back on his head.

Angel held up all four of his hands. “Whoa, it’s all good, Al! You…uh…just kinda…maybe turned into an…angel…?”

Alastor stared wordlessly back at him, his ears now completely flat against his head.

“Hoo boy, Lute’s gonna have fuckin’ kittens when she sees ya like this…”

Fucking served her right, too. Especially after she’d literally tortured him.

“Look, we may not have convinced Lute of anythin’, but that other angel was obviously feelin’ some kinda way about all this. It’s a baby step, for sure, but now? Fuck. If word ain’t already got out about Pentious bein’ redeemed, there’s no way they’ll be able to keep this a secret too.”

Alastor nodded slowly, eyes back on his gloves.

With a jolt, Angel wondered if his amassing of souls was the exact thing Heaven was worried about with redemption. Lilith said deals were possible but not common here. And an Overlord with four million souls in Hell? Talk about shaking up the status quo. Especially since Alastor had already killed dozens of exorcists while he was a demon.

You get a bunch of Overlords redeemed all at once, or even enough former Sinners willing to band together and…

Well, a millennia of outright genocide that could’ve been prevented all along would probably be top of mind for a lot of them… Not to mention if word got out to friends and family who’d forever lost the opportunity to see their loved ones again because of the exterminations.

That would all explain why they didn’t want anything to do with redemption, wouldn’t it?

Or maybe he was way off base and missing the big picture by a mile. Wouldn’t be the first time or the last…

“This is a stupid question, but are ya doin’ okay? Do ya even know why ya switched into Radio Host Al?”

He gave a small shrug as he shook his head.

“I’m not a shrink or nothin’, but it prolly has a lot to do with you tryin’ to deescalate the situation with Lute. Prolly not the first time it’s happened neither… Though ya might not remember it…”

He tentatively offered him his hand, wanting to give what support he could but not having any fucking idea what to do.

After a long moment, Alastor climbed to his feet and made his way over to him. He stared up at him with such a look of quiet desperation that Angel slowly leaned down, gathering him into his arms and pulling him into his lap.

The kid’s arms wrapped tightly around his neck in return as he pressed his face into his shoulder, body trembling. Angel absently rubbed his back, slowly letting another hand drift higher until he could gently rub the soft, velvety fur of one of his ears.

“…ya prolly already guessed it, but my old man was a real piece of work too. He scared the fuck outta me. Outta the whole family. I dunno if he ever hurt my ma, but I do know she always looked the other way when he hurt the rest of us… She knew it was happenin’ and didn’t do a fuckin’ thing about it. Just went on doin’ whatever she was doin’ like she couldn’t hear him…him hittin’ us or screamin’ at us...”

Hot tears welled in his eyes as memories he’d long tried to forget floated up to the surface.

“…is it fucked up I kinda wish she was as bad as him…? At least then I’d know for sure whether or not she gave a shit about what he was doin’. Instead of her just…actin’ like everything was fine? Might make it easier to just hate her…”

His shoulders trembled as he sniffled. “I just…never understood why she didn’t care. Was it ‘cause he was controllin’ her too? Did she think we deserved it? Was she in on it?”

Angel swallowed hard, forcing himself to continue when his voice tried to catch in his throat. “I’m not sayin’ all this to try to put it on ya. I just…want ya to understand you ain’t alone. We do what we gotta to survive. There ain’t no shame in it. Hell, even not bein’ able to talk is just another way of tryin’ to protect yourself. Like if you can keep quiet an’ outta sight, maybe they won’t notice ya or hurt ya…

“M’sorry ya had to go through all this shit, Al. I’m sorry I had to too. And I’m sorry the shit just keeps gettin’ piled on. It ain’t fair. An’ then to have assholes like Lute, who don’t have any fuckin’ clue what it’s like sit there and judge ya?” He briefly squeezed his arms around Alastor. “She wouldn’t last a fuckin’ minute in our shoes. So don’t let any of the bullshit she spouts get to ya.”

He felt his shoulder growing damp. Alastor didn’t make a sound as he trembled and cried. Angel hoped they were cathartic tears at least. That he might feel better after they were shed, rather than more miserable.

But what the fuck was going to happen now? Was he a permanent angel? Could he still go either way? And if Pentious had only become an angel after he double died, did that mean Alastor had died a second time?

Fuck. It was just out of the frying pan and into the fire with all this shit…

The door suddenly opened and Angel tightened his arms protectively around Alastor. Emily offered him a reassuring smile as she hurried inside, closing the door behind her.

Angel took a deep breath, loosening his hold on Alastor so she could see just what the fuck they were dealing with now. She froze, jaw dropping.

“He…H-He was redeemed?!” she finally sputtered.

“We dunno,” Angel admitted. “Seems like it. But he was still bouncin’ between bein’ a human an’ a demon before, so not sure if it’s finally settled or if there’s just a third option now.”

“Ohmygosh! What did Lute say?!”

“She left right before it happened. Unless she’s got a camera in here or somethin’.”

He frowned, glancing briefly around the room, but seeing nothing. Either they were real stealthy with their surveillance, or it was another thing they had never even considered, too confident in their own power.

“Ya heard anythin’ from Pentious?” Angel asked.

Alastor had yet to lift his head from where his face was still buried against his shoulder.

“I saw him briefly when he first appeared in Heaven, but then Lute took him away. I haven’t been permitted to see or speak to him since then and I’m not sure where they’re holding him…”

Angel winced. “…great, so he got redeemed an’ immediately wound up bein’ a prisoner.”

She flinched at his words, but didn’t deny it.

“Any luck with—“

She rooted around in her pocket, handing over his phone before he could finish the question.

His eyes went wide. “Oh, shit! Thanks, Em! Ya mind if I use this right quick?”

She shook her head. “I’ll try to use my magic on Alastor in the meantime. He feels…” She frowned. “…the emotions I’m getting from him feel different but still…rough.”

Angel nodded, though he didn’t relinquish his hold on Alastor. Never was he more grateful to have so many arms.

He turned his phone on and unlocked it, staring hopefully at the bars indicating service. His heart thumped hard in his chest when he realized he had a signal, albeit not a strong one. And then the screen was awash in notifications. Hundreds of missed calls and texts, most of which were from their friends at the hotel, though a sizable contingent were also from Val.

Not exactly like he could get to work right now…

He was half tempted to text him back to say he’d be there as soon as Val mounted a rescue from Heaven… The only thing that stopped him was that he didn’t want to give the Vees any further intel on what was going on. They would definitely take advantage of it somehow.

Angel quickly pulled up his contacts, hitting Charlie’s number and quietly praying (was that a bad idea right now…?) that she’d pick up.

“ANGEL!” Charlie all but shrieked through the phone’s speakers. Alastor jumped in his lap, pressing closer to him as he patted his back reassuringly.

“Where-have-you-been-we’ve-been—“

She was talking so fast, he could barely make out what she was saying. The heavy static on the line didn’t help either, indicating the reception was spotty.

“Charlie!” he said firmly. “Look, I dunno how much time I got, but me an’ Al are in Heaven. That fuckin’ bitch Lute kidnapped us. Pentious got redeemed. Your ma’s here too. She got strong armed by Adam when he found out she was tryin’ to stop the exterminations. Fuck, what else? Oh! Al’s currently an angel. An’ the exorcists are studyin’ him, tryin’ to figure out what the fuck happened!”

He sucked in a lungful of air after rushing to get everything out.

“Angel? Angel! You’re breaking up! Are you okay?”

“Oh, for the love of…” He paused, glancing warily around.

He pulled up the hotel’s group chat, dictating furiously as he spoke.

“Al an’ me are in Heaven. Lute kidnapped us. Pentious an’ Al are angels. Your ma is up here too cuzza Adam.”

He made sure to enunciate each word, sending each sentence via text to punctuate what he said. He squinted down at his phone, noting some were going through. He desperately hit “resend” on the ones that weren’t.

Alastor shifted in his lap, tentatively touching the edge of his phone. The texts went through and the static cleared up immediately.

“Thanks, kid,” he said, wondering how the fuck he’d done that but too frazzled to really care at present.

Maybe cellphones used radio waves…?

As the signal strengthened, he heard everyone on Charlie’s end talking at once. Angel was struggling to make out what they were saying and was about to tell them all to shut the fuck up when Charlie did it for him.

“EVERYONE! I CAN’T HEAR HIM OVER ALL OF YOU!”

The competing voices dropped to whispers and Angel breathed a sigh of relief.

“Fuck! Angel, that’s all so much to take in! I’m sorry I have to ask this, but is there any way you can prove this is you?”

Shit. Valid question.

“Hi, Charlie! It’s Emily!” the seraph piped up. “I’m here with Angel Dust and Alastor!”

“Emily! Oh, thank fuck!”

“Ya know she could be fakin’ too, right?” Angel groused.

What could he say that would convince Charlie this wasn’t a trick of some kind…?

Fucking think, Angel! Think!

Husk suddenly cut in, fucking singing of all things…

“You’re a loser, baby. A loser, but just maybe if we…”

His eyes widened and he was quick to chime in. “Eat shit together, things will end up differently!”

Emily smiled politely up at him as if he’d just lost his fucking mind. Which, fair…

“It’s him!” Angel and Husk crowed in unison.

“…that was a…very creative song?” Charlie offered. He could practically see the confusion warring with elation on her all too expressive face.

Angel snorted. “Look, we ain’t got much time ‘til Lute comes back. ‘Specially since Em’s helpin’ us on the downlow. They got me an’ Al locked up. We ain’t got a way to get back home.”

Shit. Had he just called Hell home?

He’d spent all this time trying to get redeemed to make it up to Heaven and now he was even more desperate to escape from it. Especially since it seemed like getting redeemed was almost worse than being in Hell. At least in Hell, even with his contract with Val, he still had some autonomy.

Between being mostly free in Hell or in forever jail in Heaven, Hell wasn’t looking so bad anymore…

“Oh! Um… Heaven arranged the portal last time,” Charlie said. “I don’t know if we can reverse engineer it…?”

“Or if makin’ one would cause an all out war,” Angel was quick to cut in.

“Fuck! Fuck, you’re absolutely right about that… Oh, shit! Can Alastor hear me too? Sorry, Alastor! Please ignore the swearing! Or…cover your ears!”

“Maybe we could meet halfway?” Lucifer offered. “We can use an Asmodean crystal to get to the Living World. If you two can find a way there too, we should be able to bring you back.”

It was all such fucking bullshit. How was it they were the clearly injured parties what with the genocide, the torture, and the kidnapping, and yet they were also the ones who had to do their best not to ruffle any feathers for fear of even worse retaliation?

Emily’s brow furrowed. “It’s possible… I don’t have the power or rank to generate a portal directly into Hell, but it's not unusual to generate one to the Living World. Cherubs do it all the time.”

She chewed on her bottom lip, thinking hard. “…cherubs access the Living World in order to help humans. Maybe I can convince one to open a portal. Though they usually only take requests from the deceased souls up here… I’ll see what I can do!”

“Great!” Lucifer said. “Now we just need to agree on where to meet up!”

Shit. Angel hadn’t been in the Living World in decades. What the fuck even existed around there anymore…?

“…New Orleans?” Alastor offered, so quietly Angel almost didn’t hear him.

Probably easier to find them if they were somewhere a little less populated than New York City…

“Yeah. Yeah, we can work with that. New Orleans,” Angel insisted. “Fuck, is that school ya mentioned still around? Maybe that’d be a good place. What was it called again? With the radio tower…?”

Charlie suddenly gasped in the background. “Wait, Angel, you said my mom is up there…?”

He gave a startled jerk when Alastor’s shadow began waving its arms wildly on the far wall.

“Yeah! She’s okay! Outta time! New Orleans!” Angel shot back, guilt swirling in his middle. He wished he had more time to tell Charlie about her ma, but he supposed there would be plenty of time once they were back in Hell.

Emily’s eyes widened and she snatched the phone from his hand as he ended the call, darting out the door. Angel’s heart leapt up into his throat and he fumbled for the blanket to cover Al up before Lute and her lackey walked back inside.

Chapter Text

Alastor didn’t bother to lift his head when he heard the door open and close because who else would be coming in? All he wanted was to stay right where he was, face buried in Angel’s shoulder, or to sink into his shadow and never come out again. Unfortunately neither was an option.

Of course Lute would come back when he wasn’t finished pulling himself back together. At least his père would eventually exhaust himself or his hands would start shaking too much to continue. Or, even better, he’d drink himself into a stupor.

Alastor had thought things were bad before Prohibition, but he’d quickly learned his père being unable to drink was far worse. Some of the most brutal beatings he and his mère suffered were because he’d gone too long without a drink.

Even at his most violent and angry, his père would inevitably give him hours or even days to recover and to push all of these overwhelming feelings so deep down he could almost pretend they weren’t there anymore. Time Lute, with her single-minded focus, would never allow.

What had his life become that he actually wished it was his père standing there instead of her?

Then again, Alastor knew what to expect from him and how to give him what he wanted. No tears. Tears only made it worse. His père would use them as an excuse to prolong the “lesson,” insisting he needed to toughen up.

What his père ultimately craved was the feeling of dominance over him. He was only satisfied when he felt he’d fully brought him to heel. That he’d beaten the defiance out of him and taken him down a peg in the process.

His père hated how easily school came to him. Had been adamant about him dropping out and working instead, saying he was becoming too “uppity” and should “know his place.” Insisted the best he could hope for was work on one of the many Truck farms scattered throughout the city, though he was undoubtedly better suited to “cotton or sugarcane.”

The only thing that stopped him from launching himself across the dinner table at him was the knowledge he would be dead soon, by his hand. Especially when he’d see the anger flash in his mère’s eyes at the implication.

Somehow people like his père always conveniently forgot how their barbarism and greed was what led to people like their ancestors being forced into such work in the first place…

Him quitting school was one of the very few things his père was never able to force his mère to agree to. No matter how much he hurt her. Alastor had begged her to let it go, terrified it would be what ultimately led him to kill her. She’d refused, saying it was his only way to escape from his père and from poverty.

She eventually convinced his père it was in his best interest to let Alastor finish school, solely because whatever money he would make after would dwarf his meager earnings if he left early. She’d even gotten him to think it was his own idea.

The realization his mère would quite literally die just to give him a better life was what had given him the courage to kill his père in the first place. Or die trying, himself. Because condemning his own soul to Hell was better than losing her.

And if it was his père standing there instead, he wouldn’t have had to worry about starting a war or needing angelic steel to kill him.

Lute, however…

Alastor didn’t think there was anything he could do or say to appease her.

While she seemed receptive to his obedience, it wasn’t enough to stop her from hurting him. The presence or absence of tears wouldn’t help either. Not when he wasn’t a person to her.

He couldn’t decide if it was better or worse that she hated him because of the blood on his hands rather than the blood in his veins…

When he woke up in Hell days before, he’d assumed he would face horrors beyond his comprehension. He was an unrepentant murderer. He had enjoyed killing his père. He’d accepted his fate. He knew he would burn for all eternity.

So why was he so scared now?

Alastor clenched his eyes tightly shut, trying to force back the roiling emotions he was drowning in. If he could just clear his mind, sink into the place where he felt like he was watching everything from outside his body… Like it was all happening to someone else…

But no, instead he’d given into the impulse to seek comfort from Angel. This was exactly the kind of thing that was going to get him killed alongside him. Angel had already somehow convinced himself he was supposed to be the one protecting him.

Alastor was supposed to be the strong one. It wasn’t Angel’s job to take care of him, just as it wasn’t his mère’s. Yet here he was, clinging to him like a child and struggling to string two words together.

As if Angel could save him.

As if he deserved to be saved.

It had almost been a relief before, when he’d thought Lute was going to end his existence right then and there. No more fear. No more pain. No more shackling others to him and dragging them down too…

Why wouldn’t they all just stay away? Why was Angel here instead of with his nonna and sister? Why was his mère locked up? Didn’t they realize they were just making their lives harder by throwing their lot in with him?

Alastor didn’t have a death wish. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to wake up and find himself back home with his mère. He wanted to finish school and take care of her. And maybe, if he worked hard and was lucky, he could do so while realizing his dream of becoming the voice on the radio too.

None of it was possible now. His mère was dead. He should be, would be.

No, he didn’t want to die, but he did consider himself to be a realist. After all, what could any of them hope to do against the entirety of Heaven and its army of exorcists, all wielding angelic steel?

They would be slaughtered like the animals the exorcists clearly thought they were.

If his only options were his death or the deaths and suffering of the few people he cared about, it was an easy decision. He would rather take charge of his own fate than doom everyone he loved to fight a losing battle with all of Heaven because of him.

As much as Lute terrified him, at least her motives were clear. She hated him. She hated all Sinners. She enjoyed hurting them. Especially him. What scared him the most, though, was all she needed was an excuse and then it would be Angel suffering in his place.

Angel, who had been nothing but kind and considerate to him since he found himself in Hell. Angel, who wanted to be a good person and to be redeemed. If he died now, he’d never get the chance. But instead he was either going to die or be stuck in prison forever, all because he’d been stupid enough to be nice to him. Angel wasn’t like him. He didn’t have darkness inside of him. He deserved a second chance, assuming he still wanted redemption after all of this…

Heaven wasn’t going to welcome redeemed Sinners with open arms. Emily was as delusional as Charlie, thinking everything would turn out okay because they were on the so-called “good side.” That wasn’t how the world worked, even if Alastor secretly wished he could be as naïve as they were and believe it was.

Just for a little while…

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d believed good things happened to good people. After all, he’d watched his mère, the best and most hardworking person he’d ever known, destroy herself and struggle every day just to survive to support their family. And what had she gotten in return?

Him. His père. Poverty. Pain. An early death.

Her life would’ve been so much easier without him. She wouldn’t have worked herself to the bone. His père wouldn’t have been able to force her to stay with him. She would’ve escaped and found someone who actually loved her. Who would and could take care of her.

She would’ve lived a long and happy life. Have had children who actually looked like her. Who she wouldn’t be secretly ashamed of. She never would’ve heard had to weather all the nasty things people said about her because of her “white” bastard son.

She should’ve had a doting husband, multiple children, and her own little house. She should’ve just been able to focus on being the wonderful mother she was, rather than having to work outside the house.

Her face would be rounder, fuller, because she’d never have to worry about food. Everyone would marvel at how beautiful she was, inside and out. She would be one of the most respected and beloved members of the community.

Most importantly, she would never stop smiling.

But no, Alastor had come into her life and destroyed it. She’d wound up in an early grave because of him. His mère who deserved all of the goodness, and sweetness, and kindness the world had to offer.

Why couldn’t she or Angel accept they should cut their losses and move on? It was infuriating. Why couldn’t they just think about it all logically, like he did? Like Lute did. Why did they insist on needlessly and pointlessly suffering for someone like him?

He wished he was the Radio Demon right now instead of just Alastor. At least then he could protect them from themselves, since they clearly wouldn’t otherwise.

If Angel had just stayed put in the room with the others, this would all already be over with none of them the wiser. He would be double dead. Heaven would claim his injury finally killed him like everyone expected. Maybe Angel could have gone back to Hell. Or, at the very least, he might have tried harder to stay on Lute’s good side. The more he challenged her on his behalf, the more danger he put himself in.

Or maybe none of this was real…? Maybe he was still in Hell and this was his eternal punishment? His body had been torn apart and reshaped so many times over the past few days, the only thing he could be truly sure of was that his pain was real…

Alastor was drawn back to the present as someone shifted underneath him, belatedly realizing there was a blanket draped over his head and arms wrapped around him.

When had that happened?

Why did he keep losing track of time…?

His thoughts grew cloudy. Muddled. Was he in Heaven? Hell? Had he imagined his père? He could have sworn he was there, but…hadn’t he killed him…?

Who was holding him? His mère? Angel Dust?

He struggled to tune back into what was going on. He didn’t hurt right now, so was this even real? A soft whine escaped him when he realized he didn’t know.

“Hey, it’s okay, kid. I got ya.” Angel Dust said. He rubbed his back and Alastor sank heavily against him in relief.

Angel Dust had told him what things were real before. He didn’t lie.

He steadfastly ignored the little voice insisting he didn’t know if Angel Dust was real either.

Claws gently scratched behind one of his ears and Angel began to hum Take Me Out to the Ballgame. He’d done the same before, hadn’t he? Alastor’s eyes slid partly closed, his lashes heavy with tears.

He wasn’t sure if he’d lost time again or if he’d dozed off, but he gradually became aware of voices speaking over him.

“What’s the issue with givin’ the kid a break? He ain’t had a full night’s sleep in days now,” Angel was saying.

Sleep. He was so tired he could cry, not that he would. He needed to stop crying.

Only children cried.

“He has a point, Lute,” a woman (Tambourine?) said. “It’s not like they‘re going anywhere.”

“Have you forgotten what they are?” Lute snapped. “They’re demons! We’ve already done more than enough by letting them sully the ground here! They should be prostrating themselves on their hands and knees to accommodate us! They don’t deserve to be here!”

“Hate to break it to ya toots, but you’re the one who dragged us up here in the first place,” Angel retorted.

Alastor’s breath caught, his heart thumping painfully against his ribs. This wasn’t the way to deal with someone like Lute. What was he thinking?

No, he wasn’t thinking. That was the problem. Angel wasn’t thinking and he was going to get hurt or worse because of it.

Because of him.

He tried to climb out of Angel’s lap only to pause in surprise when his arms tightened around him, holding him in place.

Why was there a blanket over his head? Was he trying to hide his most recent transformation? Or was he just foolishly trying to protect him?

Probably both…

Alastor tried to pull free again and Angel struggled to keep him and the blanket in place. While some distant part of him wished he could stay where he was let Angel handle this, he knew he couldn’t. Not if he wanted to prevent Angel from winding up double dead. Besides, they were going to find out about his latest transformation eventually. He was just delaying the inevitable.

He closed his eyes, searching for the power he’d tapped into before. It was different from the demonic power he’d been growing used to. When he’d helped Angel with his call, it had been pure instinct. Like the first time he’d accidentally used his shadow. Now he’d used it once, it was becoming easier. Like learning a new instrument. The foundations were the same, he just needed practice.

Alastor called on his shadow, relieved he could sense it again. It took a moment, but it welcomed him into its dark and chilly depths. He darted up and over Angel’s shoulder, sliding down the back of the chair and rematerializing beside it.

He’d barely transitioned back when Angel hurled the heavy blanket over his head. He staggered, catching his balance just in time for the blanket to be ripped away again, sending him stumbling in the opposite direction.

Lute stood over him, eyes wide and jaw slack. She clutched the blanket so tightly that its fabric tore, clear beads pouring from the hole and scattering across the floor. Alastor forced himself to meet her eyes, his breath catching when he saw the wild look in them.

He’d seen it before, glowing in the eyes of one of their neighbor’s hunting dogs. It had been missing for a few days before stumbling back home, foam dripping from its muzzle. He’d watched, transfixed, from the porch as their neighbor cautiously approached it, gun at the ready. His mère had pulled him inside before the shot rang out.

He was going to die.

Tambourine gasped. “What?! I don’t… I don’t understand? Is he…?!” she stammered.

She couldn’t see her face.

Lute’s lip curled as she shook off her initial shock. She dropped the blanket, drawing her sword before it even hit the ground.

He was going to die.

She swung it up and over her head, tilting the blade as she did so. It began to descend at an angle, aimed directly at his neck.

At least it would be quick.

There was a sudden flash of movement in the corner of his vision. His heart lurched into his throat when he realized it was Angel.

Angel throwing himself into the path of the sword.

Adrenaline flooded him, clearing his mind and banishing the fear freezing him in place.

Alastor threw his hands up and something inside him…fractured. A mix of green and golden power burst from him, hurling everyone in the room backward. Lute and Tambourine slammed into one another before hitting the door. It splintered on impact, sending them sprawling into the hallway beyond.

Angel would’ve gone with them if his shadow hadn’t enveloped him, protecting him from the maelstrom he’d unleashed. Anything not nailed down was swept up and sent hurtling through the vortex surrounding them.

Alastor shook as the winds grew stronger, disembodied screams filling the room and leaking into the hall. The adrenaline initially blunted the pain following the freeing of his power, but it couldn’t withstand the onslaught and soon his screams joined the rest. He pressed his hands over his heart as if it would somehow stop him from being ripped apart at the seams.

Angel was yelling at him, but he couldn’t hear him. He only knew he was because he saw his lips moving as he struggled to try and escape from his shadow to reach him.

Alastor’s feet left the ground, the gold and green power flowing from him in rapidly increasing waves. His vision darkened at the corners as his arms swung out and back behind him, the angelic wound on his chest glowing so brightly that everything in the room became washed out by its light.

His head tilted back as far as it would go and he stared sightlessly up at the ceiling as his vision tunneled. The only reason he knew he was still screaming was because he couldn’t get a full breath and he could taste the blood from his ruined throat. He thought more might be running from his nose and maybe his eyes, or was the hot moisture against his now chilly skin the result of tears…?

He was dying. It was all finally going to be over, and mostly on his own terms. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but at least he’d protected Angel.

But when he died, what would happen…? Would his power burst from him, destroying everything in his wake, or would it be snuffed out like a candle? If it exploded from him, how far would it go? Was it possible it would sweep through all of Heaven? Would his mère, Angel and his nonna and sister die too…?

Alastor clenched his eyes shut as he fought to stay conscious despite his entire body feeling as if it was burning from the inside out with holy fire.

He dug deep, seeking the demonic and divine energies within him. He tried desperately to exert his will over them, but it was as effective as if he was standing on their little porch during a hurricane, trying to redirect it with nothing more than his bare hands.

As he finally lost his fight to remain awake, he did the only thing he could think of. He prayed. Not to God or to the Iwa, but to his ancestors, pleading with them to intervene on his behalf. Begging for a miracle that would keep his mère, Angel, and Angel’s family safe from him.

As darkness took him, whatever had begun fracturing inside him finally broke. His breath stuttered in his lungs and the pain abruptly dissipated. He dropped like a stone, like the strings keeping him suspended had been cut all at once. But he didn’t hit the ground. No, someone (Angel?) caught him, cradling him to their chest.

They were all safe.

He could finally rest.

Chapter Text

Alastor slowly came to, blinking owlishly. It took him a moment to realize he was lying on the ground, something soft cushioning his head.

Why was he lying on the ground?

He’d made it back to his rooms, hadn’t he? Had he collapsed upon reaching them?

No. This floor wasn’t the hardwood he was accustomed to. Which meant he must have collapsed somewhere else.

He could have sworn he’d made it back to his rooms. Admittedly, he wasn’t at his best…

Alastor’s hand reflexively moved to the wound on his chest, but he felt no pain.

How much time had passed? Had he already managed to heal himself?

That seemed…unlikely, given the angelic nature of the wound.

He forced himself up into a seated position, head swimming and vision alarmingly blurry. Had he hit his head …?

He glanced down at himself, eyes narrowing when he realized he was no longer in his ruined clothes. His gloves were now fully black and he only vaguely recognized the white button up and red waistcoat he wore now.

His coat and microphone were nowhere to be found.

If Niffty hadn’t already ended that worthless bastard’s life, killing Adam and broadcasting his screams would have been the next item on his to-do list.

He lifted his head, hazarding a look around the unfamiliar room. Unfortunately he could only make out the general shape of anything further than a few feet away. It didn’t help that everything looked an absolute mess from what he could discern.

Where was his monocle?

He tried closing his right eye, his bad eye, but the improvement was almost negligible.

He called on his shadow, sucking in a sharp breath when he realized he couldn’t sense it. He immediately tried his other powers but nothing happened. His chest tightened and it took more effort than he would have liked to try to remain calm.

What the fuck had Adam done to him?

Angel Dust suddenly appeared, his face mere inches away. Alastor gave a startled jerk, much to his annoyance. The spider may as well have been part of the white on white color scheme for all he could see at present.

His eyes, including the ones that normally passed for freckles, were wide and his expression…concerned?

“A-Al…?” he hazarded, his gaze sweeping across his face and then down the rest of him.

Who else? Though he didn’t voice the agitated thought. As trying as Angel Dust could be, he seemed nearly as disoriented as he felt. Besides, if something was wrong he couldn’t afford to waste time or energy bickering.

“Where are we?” he demanded instead.

His hands tightened into fists and he had to grit his teeth to force himself not to start hyperventilating when he realized there was no accompanying static or radio filter to his voice.

Something was very, very wrong.

“…do ya recognize me…?” Angel asked, looking worryingly even more concerned.

Alastor could relate.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I? Where are we?”

“Oh. Uh, fuck. Uh…”

Angel didn’t get a chance to answer before the sound of pounding feet approached. Alastor’s head snapped up and he tried to stand only to collapse back to the floor.

What the fuck?! Why weren’t his legs working?!

He made himself take a slow breath as flexed his knees. They bent the wrong way. Had they been broken? But there was no accompanying pain…

Angel stood without issue, stepping between him and what he could only assume was the door. His vision hadn’t been this bad since…

…since…

His hands flew to the top of his head, sliding unobstructed through his hair. His much shorter and curlier hair. His hands shook as he dropped them to the sides of his head where he felt…he felt…

Ears.

Human ears.

His legs weren’t broken.

Panic lanced through him, his heart stuttering in his chest. He had to remind himself how to breathe now. In through his nose, two, three, four. Out through his mouth, two, three, four.

Slowly. Slowly.

People poured into the room. He couldn’t make out their finer features, but he could see well enough to recognize their uniforms.

And their wings.

Exorcists.

His eyes darted around, taking in the white on white of the room again as his stomach sank.

Surely not.

A tall, dark skinned woman swept inside and the exorcists parted before her, letting her move to the front of the group. She was as tall, if not taller, than Zestial. While he’d never met Sera, he’d heard enough about her to be reasonably sure that’s who this was.

“Is it true?” she imperiously demanded.

“…you’re gonna hafta be more specific,” Angel answered, standing between him and the seraphim.

Alastor took another deep breath, resting one hand on the wall as he slowly lifted himself into a standing position. It was awkward, given he hadn’t had human legs in almost a century but he supposed it was a bit like riding a bike.

Though he presently felt as if the front wheel was in danger of coming off…

With a jolt, he realized Angel was now roughly two feet taller than him. True, he was accustomed to having to look up at the sinner, but the distance had been halved before. How tall had he been while alive? Six foot something?

Alastor carefully stepped to the side, unwilling to let Angel shield him regardless of whether or not he was now human. He had a reputation to uphold and he’d be damned a second time before he gave any indication he was as unsettled by his present circumstances as he actually was.

He wouldn’t give the exorcists and their ilk the satisfaction.

Sera turned toward him and Angel followed her gaze, scowling when he realized Alastor had moved out from behind him.

“Your glasses are clipped on your waistcoat,” he groused as he turned back to Sera.

A muscle jumped in Alastor’s jaw as he slid the arm of his glasses free of his waistcoat’s upper pocket. He put them on, the finer details of the room and the people in it coming more into focus.

His vision had vastly improved as he accumulated more power after his death, but it had never been fully fixed. His monocle was, unfortunately, not just a fashion statement. These seemed to be the same glasses he’d had while living too, their level of correction limited by 1930’s optometry.

While he preferred much from that era, there were some modern amenities he appreciated. Like actually being able to see. While these glasses improved his vision, they were a far cry from actually correcting it. He could already feel a headache brewing.

Or maybe that was due to whatever else was going on with him…

The exorcists surrounding them openly gaped at him in a way he didn’t remotely care for. He supposed he couldn’t expect much in the way of manners from them though, given they’d all been created for and indoctrinated by Adam.

Before Sera could elaborate, Lute forced her way into the room despite the two women clinging to her in an attempt to restrain her. Her hair and clothes were an absolute mess, looking as if she’d just stepped in from a hurricane. She froze on seeing him, eyes narrowing as she bared her teeth.

Goodness! Did she intend to bite him?

How gauche!

Alastor gave her his best and brightest smile in return. Her eyes flashed and she lunged forward, losing her hangers on in the process. She nearly made it across the room to him before she was lifted just high enough off the ground that her feet no longer found purchase. She might have snapped out her wings to close the distance were it not for the faint, lilac tinged power now radiating across her skin.

Angel Dust turned his head, having the utter gall to glare at him! Him!

“Have ya always had a fuckin’ death wish? Or d’ya only got one when you’re easier to kill than usual?” he demanded.

He glared back at him, though it undoubtedly looked far less intimidating without his antlers branching out over his head and the shadows lengthening around them.

How unfortunate.

“Tambourine!” Sera called, redrawing Angel’s attention.

Another equally disheveled woman hurried through the door, her eyes going wide as saucers when she caught sight of him.

Really, was everyone going to gawk at him like he was some kind of roadside attraction? Manners certainly hadn’t improved in Heaven since he left all those months ago.

“Report!” Sera barked.

Tambourine snapped to attention. “Yes, ma’am! Lute tried to attack the prisoners, even though one of them looked…” She hesitated. “…looked like an angel at the time.”

Shocked murmurs rose up around the room, silenced only by a glare from Sera.

“The boy used his powers to defend himself and his guardian and threw us out of the room in the process. That was when I called for backup.”

The angel shot him a brief, curious look. “…is that him?” she asked, disbelievingly.

What an odd thing to say. Alastor tilted his head to the side, growing increasingly annoyed by how everyone present seemed to be playing with a full deck while he was left holding just the joker.

Sera turned to him, expression thoughtful. “I believe so. Name?”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed at the rudeness of the request. “Why, you must be Sera!” he offered instead. “Oh, dear Charlotte’s had quite a bit to say about you!” He extended a hand. “Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you, quite the pleasure!”

She made no attempt to take it and his smile tightened as he lowered his arm back down to his side. She was exactly as self-righteous and pompous as he’d expected.

“He was still a boy then,” Tambourine continued. “Was he…purified again? But he was an angel before…”

An angel? Surely she wasn’t referring to him! He had to suppress a shudder at the mere thought.

“Everyone out except for Lute, Tambourine, Angel Dust, and Alastor,” Sera ordered. The gathered exorcists lingered a moment before reluctantly trooping out of the room. Sera waved her hand, the pieces of the ruined door springing back together to afford them some privacy.

“Is this true, Lute?” she demanded. “Was the boy an angel? Did you attack him?”

“He was no angel!” she snarled. “It must have been a trick of some kind!”

“Then how do you explain the divine power he was giving off?” Tambourine protested.

“It wasn’t pure divine power! It was tainted with his demonic magic!”

What the fuck had happened after his fight with Adam?

“I felt it too,” Sera said. “The competing divine and demonic energies. And now he appears to be himself and human again.”

“You all realize that I am currently present, do you not?” Alastor interjected. “There’s no need to talk about me as if I am not here.”

Sera ignored him, his jaw tightening at her blatant dismissal.

“The bloodwork came back too. His results were…complicated. Divine, demonic, and human essences were found. As if his very nature is in flux,” Tambourine continued.

What?

“But if he was purified back to the last point he could be redeemed, how come he’s an adult human now?” Angel asked.

Sera studied first him and then Alastor. “We’ll need to conduct further tests to know for sure. More blood will need to be drawn. Tambourine, go request that one of the healers attend us. That should have been the first course of action.”

Tambourine looked like she wanted to protest, but she nodded and quickly slipped out the door instead.

“Lute,” Sera continued after she left. “You are not to go anywhere near the prisoners without my explicit permission. Return to your office. I’ll speak with you further there.”

Lute’s eyes burned with barely contained fury as she was set back on the ground. She shot him and Angel looks of utter loathing as she stormed out of the room after Tambourine.

That left just the three of them.

“Alastor, what is the last thing you remember?” Sera demanded.

As badly as he wanted to ignore her in turn, he needed answers if he was going to get out of whatever mess he was in the midst of.

“I had just returned to my rooms at the hotel after the fight with your charming exorcists.”

After making an appearance with the others first, of course. He’d refused to let them know how close he’d been to death’s door. Or…had been? He couldn’t be completely sure without visual confirmation, but at least he no longer felt as if his chest was splitting in two.

Sera frowned. “You don’t remember the past several days?”

Days?

His surprise must have shown despite his attempt to school his expression.

“It’s been three days since the extermination,” she clarified.

“Give or take a coupla hours,” Angel added. “All I know is he was still himself that night and then miniature the next mornin’.”

He studied Alastor with an expression he couldn’t begin to interpret. “Maybe he used his magic to age himself up again, since it was too much for him t’handle as a kid? Mighta been a self-preservation thing.”

“We’ll know soon enough,” Sera replied. She glanced around the room, frowning at its state of disarray.

“We’ll move you to another suite in the meantime.”

Angel tensed. “What? Why can’t we just go back to the one we was in before?”

Sera eyed Alastor. “It’s best you stay separate from the others for now. Until we sort everything out.”

“But what about his ma? She’s already worried sick about him!”

Alastor blinked. His mother? She was aware he was back in Heaven?

More importantly, how did Angel know about her?

“I’ll update her and the others myself.”

Angel clenched all four of his fists at his sides. “Can we please just see ‘em for a minute or two? It’s the least ya could do after leavin’ Al with that psychopath!”

Her lips thinned. “I’ll consider it,” she said, turning to lead the way out of the room. “Follow me.”

Angel scowled at her back before sidling up to him, frowning. “You okay to walk?”

“But of course!” Alastor replied, only to immediately regret the words as he took his first few wobbly steps.

“Uh huh,” Angel drawled. “Ya look like a deer tryin’ to walk on ice.”

Alastor shot him a wildly unimpressed look at the comparison.

“Look, lemme help ya? Please? Just until ya get used to havin’ livin’ knees again?”

There was something strange in the way he spoke and looked at him. Alastor had expected to see pity or perhaps even disdain, but instead Angel seemed like he was almost pleading with him to let him help. Like he needed reassurance he was all right.

“…very well,” he heard himself grumble before he realized he was even speaking.

Angel grinned down at him, looping one of his lower arms around him to keep him upright. Alastor supposed it would have to do, what with their current height difference.

As they slowly followed behind Sera, he was surprised to find the contact with Angel didn’t bother him. He could count on both hands the number of people who could touch him without his skin crawling (and who would get to keep whatever appendage they used to do so). He was baffled as to why Angel was suddenly a member of that very exclusive club.

What the fuck had happened over the past few days?

Sera led through an endless maze of hallways, each as dull and nondescript as the last. If he had his magic or even his microphone, he would have left himself bread crumbs along the way. Unfortunately he had neither.

If he had access to his abilities, he could have also checked to see if the marks he’d surreptitiously left before were still in place too.

He did recognize the building they were in though. He’d spent the bulk of his impromptu visit to Heaven in one of its so-called suites. A prison was a prison, regardless of its accoutrements. Though he’d only visited the interrogation rooms upon his initial arrival and again before his return to Hell.

He’d been subjected to Lute’s delightful company both times, purposefully snubbed by Adam. Not that he’d been perturbed by his blatant disrespect. The less time he had to spend around that misogynistic wretch, the better. He’d been so looking forward to killing him in the fight… He would’ve succeeded too, if he’d known Adam had long range attacks at his disposal.

Unfortunately their intelligence on his capabilities had been dangerously flawed. He may have also been a bit cocky going into the fight, though he hadn’t expected it to be an easy one. He wasn’t stupid. Just ill-informed. There were few things he hated more than being underprepared. Thinking leagues ahead of others, information gathering, and ensuring he had multiple backup plans was how he’d made it this far in the first place.

As they continued along, he reacclimated to his human legs enough to stop relying on Angel, slipping free from his hold and folding his arms behind his back. Angel shot him a curious look that he pointedly ignored.

Sera eventually stopped in front of yet another plain white door, which opened of its own accord. Inside was one of the many monotonous suites done up in Heaven’s hackneyed pastel color palette. It was almost enough to make him long for tacky circus decor…

Almost.

He wouldn’t be able to alter it to suit his preferences this time either.

“If you need anything, use the phone there to contact one of the staff members on duty,” she said, gesturing to the landline hanging on the wall by the door.

Was that the quaint moniker heavily armed heavenly soldiers went by nowadays? Alastor only narrowly resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Her gaze lingered on him and he flashed her a wide smile. “Thank you, my dear!” he said, though he was far more grateful when she finally took her leave.

Even if the door behind her was undoubtedly both physically and magically sealed.

“Well! This is less than ideal!” he said, drifting toward one of the decorative mirrors lining the wall.

Just as he suspected, his human face stared back at him. Brown eyes, curly dark brown hair, and skin a richer and warmer shade than it was in death. At least his complexion had darkened once he had more time to spend in the sun.

It was just a shade too dark now for him to pass as white without a second glance from those of a more racist inclination. Not that he’d necessarily gone out of his way to pass. It just so happened that not correcting those who assumed otherwise had far more advantages than drawbacks.

From what he understood, his ethnicity wasn’t nearly as much of an issue in this day and age. At least in terms of the day-to-day. He’d been somewhat curious as to how things had changed in the Living World, even if it didn’t really impact him anymore.

No, there had been brand new types of discrimination to contend with in Hell!

Like having the outward appearance of a prey animal. At least he’d been able to disavow anyone stupid enough to believe that stereotype without having to worry about legal repercussions!

Alastor wrinkled his nose as he refamiliarized himself with his old face and body. His hearing was duller like this, largely because his ears were now unidirectional. The real losses were that of his sense of smell and his ability to sense and tune into the radio waves around him.

Had he really been able to smell so little as a human? He may as well not even have a nose!

The radio waves though…

That felt more like missing a limb, a crucial part of his being that made him who he was. Something he’d become so accustomed to that its lack now set him on edge. Left him feeling alarmingly vulnerable. Especially with how oversaturated Hell’s electromagnetic spectrum had become over the years. While he’d occasionally escaped to Cannibal Town for a reprieve from it all, this was not a reprieve.

This pervasive quiet was deafening.

And the thought of potentially never being able to sense and use the radio waves again…

His hands began to shake. He tightened them into fists to force them to still, breathing slowly in through his nose and out through his mouth.

He hadn’t been thrilled by the animal attributes he’d acquired upon death, but he’d long since accepted them for the advantages they gave him. Familiarity had done the rest. Becoming one with the radio waves, however, had made him feel whole. Had been as natural as breathing…

His smile was closer to a grimace now, his eyes narrowing at the square teeth that greeted him.

Blunt teeth. Weak nails. Useless nose. Immovable ears.

No radio waves. No power. No shadow.

Why, he was starting to feel positively homicidal!

He caught Angel Dust’s gaze in the mirror, noting he was trying and failing not to stare. He sighed, turning to face the spider.

“Care to bring me up to speed on the last three days, chum?”

He frowned back at him. “You’re…takin’ this better than I expected…”

Alastor arched a brow. “Should I be wailing and gnashing my teeth instead?”

Angel gave a helpless shrug. “…I dunno?” He shook his head as if to clear it. “So the last thing ya remember is right after the fight with that dick Adam?”

He nodded, pursing his lips. “Yes. And now we appear to be in Heaven! So, why don’t you stop stalling and fill me in, my good man!”

Angel sighed, absently rubbing the back of his neck. “…fuck, where do I even start…? Uh… Adam’s attack, the one that shoulda killed ya, wound up purifyin’ ya or some shit instead. Turned ya into your eleven year old self. It was like ya walked straight outta 1923.”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed. “I see.”

1923. The year he’d killed his father. The year he’d fully given himself over to the darkness inside of him.

The last year anyone had ever laid a hand on him or his mother…

Until his death, of course.

“Any idea what point in 1923?”

Angel winced. “Uh…not too long after ya killed your pa…?”

Well, that was interesting now, wasn’t it? If his theory was correct, it meant killing his father wasn’t what had ultimately damned him.

Fascinating.

Angel eyed him warily as he continued. “You was a kid the whole time. Until just now, I mean.”

Alastor fought the urge to grimace. Was that why Angel was treating him like this? Or was he just being overly cautious because he was now infinitely more breakable?

“So ya don’t remember any of it?”

“I’m afraid not.”

His eyes dropped to the floor. “Oh.”

Alastor arched a brow. “Oh?”

He shrugged. “We spent a lotta time together the past couple days, is all. Felt like I was finally gettin’ to know ya.”

Well, that was alarmingly sentimental!

“Uh, listen, Al…” he continued. “Seein’ ya lookin’ human an’ all reminded me that we actually met in the Livin’ World… I mean, ya prolly don’t remember but…”

He snorted and Angel looked up sharply.

“What?” he demanded, scowling.

Alastor cocked his head to the side, grinning humorlessly up at him. “It seems we both kept up our end of the bargain.”

“What?”

“I won’t report you for sodomy if you don’t report me for that!” he quipped, adding a cheery note to his voice.

Angel’s eyes widened. “You remember?”

“Why, of course, my dear! I never forget a kill!” He absently studied his fingernails, trying to recall how much damage they could inflict before breaking. “Your grandmother mentioned in passing that you’d been hanging around a man of questionable character and I admit I was curious. Why, after all, was a boy of sixteen in the company of a man of twenty-one?”

He’d known exactly why, even if Angel’s grandmother hadn’t.

Angel stared at him now, jaw going slack. “…ya…didn’t just happen to pass by that alley?”

He blinked before abruptly schooling his features. Shit. When had he become so loose-lipped around the spider too?

Well, it wasn’t as if he could take it back now…

“No, I didn’t.”

He’d spent the little free time he’d had in the city prowling the streets around the D’Angelo family restaurant in hopes of coming across the man in question, much to Mimzy’s annoyance. He’d almost given up on his last night in town when he’d finally gotten lucky.

Not that Angel needed to know any of that.

“Thanks….”

As if he wanted or needed his gratitude. It had been a favor to his grandmother in return for her hospitality. That was all. Not that she’d asked or he’d told her either, of course.

Angel crossed his arms as he flopped onto the sofa. “Would ya really have reported me for sodomy?” he demanded.

He rolled his eyes. “Believe me when I say I had as little interest in your sexual escapades then as I do now.”

An odd look crossed his face, there and gone too quick for Alastor to decipher it.

“You was a real cute kid,” Angel said, smiling faintly as he switched topics with no attempt at subtlety. “Real into radio, even then.” He eyed him. “You was bffs with Fat Nuggets too. I‘ve been wonderin’ why he never wants to eat or go outside when I get stuck workin’ late. Figured it was Charlie’s doin’.”

“I have the slightest what you’re referring to,” Alastor answered primly, crossing his arms behind his back.

“An’ ya took out Vox.”

Whatever he’d been expecting next, it certainly wasn’t that. “I…what?”

“He found out ya turned miniature after ya destroyed a coupla his drones while we was in your radio tower. He showed up at the hotel actin’ like he was gonna play nice an’ help us get ya back to normal. Then the second you was alone, he tried to run off with ya.”

Alastor’s brows drifted toward his hairline as a flash of…memory surfaced? He was in his suite, the angelic steel hunting knife from his desk in hand. Vox lay on the ground in front of him, bleeding from where he’d cut his Achilles.

As quickly as it came, it was gone again.

“So, yeah, next time you two do another duet, maybe consider bringin’ up how ya beat him as a kid too.”

That startled a laugh out of him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Now he knew where he was and what had happened, exhaustion began to weigh heavily on him. He felt as if he hadn’t slept in days and had instead spent the time running a nonstop marathon.

He briefly eyed one of the room’s two armchairs before giving a small shake of his head, No matter! He had plenty of experience functioning on little to no sleep in life and death. Besides, it was far more important he do some reconnaissance and determine his next move.

He just needed to keep himself busy until he hit his second wind. And make himself some coffee. He began a slow tour of the room first, looking for any means of egress or items he could use as potential weapons. He doubted he would find either, but it didn’t hurt to check.

Though he had stashed a few things here and there during those seven years…

As far as his keepers were concerned, he’d only ever come and gone from his rooms in the detention facility with their express permission. He’d had to pretend to be a model guest-cum-prisoner after all. While he’d been unable to leave the building itself due to the layers upon layers of wards in place, they hadn’t extended the same level of security to most of the rooms inside. Being able to traverse them at his leisure was probably the only thing that had kept him relatively sane.

He’d seen very little of Heaven otherwise, outside of the very few places he was permitted. And he’d always been accompanied by Heaven’s very own prison warden.

He wondered if dear Calliope was still in residence or if she’d been one of the many killed during the recent failed extermination… Unfortunately, he doubted he could be so lucky.

Spotting a familiar rainbow-shaped rug, he perked up, kneeling down on the floor beside it.

“What’re ya doin’?” Angel asked, climbing to his feet and wandering over to peer down at him.

He didn’t answer, instead pulling up the rug and checking the hardwood floor underneath. He grinned upon seeing the faintest of marks nestled within a whorl of one of the planks. Now he just needed something to pry it up with…

Alastor stood, heading into the kitchenette to retrieve a butter knife, no actual knives were available, returning to pry up the plank in question.

“How’d ya know that was even there?” Angel asked, watching as he pulled a box bearing one of his own obfuscation spells from within.

“I put it here,” he said, relieved to find he could still open the box despite not being his demon self.

There wasn’t much inside, space having been at a premium. He withdrew a half empty bottle of cheap whiskey, a hand drawn map he’d made himself, and, best of all, an angelic steel stiletto. It was far less sturdy than his hunting knife, but it was better than nothing.

It hadn’t been easy to get his hands on angelic weaponry, the armory having been one of the rooms able to keep even him out. But he’d been patient, had taken note of those less fastidious with their weapons, and had absconded with the items least likely to cause outright alarm.

He’d gathered only a handful of them throughout his imprisonment and it was pure luck they’d been put in one of the rooms where he’d squirreled one away.

“Holy shit, is that…?”

Alastor held a finger to his lips, setting the blade back into the box. He would have preferred to keep it on his person, but with a healer coming soon, he couldn’t risk it being found. He did, however, intend to review the map. He made to tuck it into his pocket only to pause when he realized there was something there already. He set the box on the ground so he could check this pocket and the rest.

By the time he finished turning them out, he had his old wallet, his house keys (for all the good they did him now), a pocket knife, a pack of cigarettes, and a book of matches laid out on the ground before him.

He didn’t have one of his better knives, which meant his body must have been plucked from a time he hadn’t actively been on the hunt..

It seemed this body also recalled his penchant for smoking back then. The perils of cigarettes hadn’t been widely known until the 1960s and by then he’d been long dead.

Perhaps he could indulge in just one. To settle his nerves…

He added the pocket knife to the box and closed it again, tucking it back into its hiding spot and replacing the floorboard and rug. He returned the keys, wallet, map, cigarettes, and matches to his pockets and stood, stretching and smothering a yawn with one hand.

First and foremost, he needed coffee. Then he could sort out the rest.

Chapter Text

Just when Angel felt like he almost had a handle on everything, of course a wrench got thrown into the mix. One minute he was throwing himself in the way of Lute’s sword, determined to protect Al if it was the last thing he did, and the next the man from his nightmare was unconscious in his arms.

It was strange, having the old Al back and human. Angel wondered what it would be like to find himself back in his old body. He didn’t think he’d like it, not when he’d spent more of his life as a demon than a human. That body belonged to Tony. He was Angel Dust now.

Al reacclimated quickly though, even if he looked pissed about it.

He’d always been one of the biggest mysteries at the hotel and now Angel was willing to bet he knew more about him than maybe Al knew about himself. He’d spent the past six months diligently performing all of Charlie’s therapy and redemption exercises, after all. Initially they’d felt ridiculous but he’d come to enjoy them and had learned a lot.

Especially about what trauma did to a person.

Angel hardly registered the presence of the booze or the cigarettes, having become far less reliant on both (and wasn’t that simultaneously exciting and weird as fuck?). The dagger though… It was nice to know they had a way of defending themselves, even if the thought of them getting caught with it made his stomach twist into knots. They’d probably wind up exterminated before they could do anything with it…

He curiously watched Alastor wander into the suite’s kitchenette. While his back was ramrod straight and his smile was back in place, Angel was startled to realize he could practically see exhaustion rolling off the man in waves.

Maybe all his time with Mini Al had given him cheat codes for his previously unreadable older self…?

He lurched to his feet, however, on seeing Al pull out what looked suspiciously like the bag of coffee beans and the tin of chicory he used to make his coffee back at the hotel. How he managed to do that was beyond him.

Did he still have his powers?

No, that seemed unlikely. Must be some fancy Heaven thing…

Before Alastor could turn on the coffee pot and set to work, Angel caught his wrist in one of his hands. They both froze and Alastor shot him a glare while he stared back at him, stunned by his own audacity.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, danger lurking in those big brown eyes of his.

“Uh…”

Angel panicked a moment before bolstering his resolve. Mini Al wouldn’t hurt him. He hoped that extended to Regular Al too...

“Ya sure coffee’s what ya need right now?”

Alastor gave him a flat look. “I believe your ‘babysitting’ days are long over,” he all but growled, trying to yank his wrist free.

Angel was surprised how easy it was to maintain his grip. Then again, he supposed demons had a leg up on humans in a lot of ways.

“You’re human now.”

He wrinkled his nose.

“Ya need to take it easy.”

“And you need to remove your hand before I remove it for you.”

He experimentally tugged and Alastor all but fell against him with an affronted squawk.

“Oops, sorry Smiles,” he said, helping right him without releasing his wrist. He then proceeded to pull him from the kitchenette and back toward the living room while Alastor ineffectually tried to free himself.

“Just take a load off for five seconds. I’ll keep a lookout.”

If looks could kill, he’d be a smoldering crater right now…

The second he released him, Alastor tried to return to the kitchen. Angel caught his wrist again, stopping him in his tracks.

“Angel, this is your final warning,” he seethed.

If he’d been his Radio Demon self, Angel absolutely would’ve let him go. But he wasn’t, so he didn’t.

Shame his ma wasn’t here. She probably could’ve convinced him to go lay down without too much of a fuss. Unfortunately, it looked like Angel was gonna have to pull out the big guns. He’d spent the past few days letting Al down in more ways than he could count. Now he had a chance to actually help him and he wasn’t going to squander it.

He turned toward the hallway, leading him down it despite his attempts to dig in the heels of his oxfords. Reaching one of the bedrooms, he tossed him easily onto the bed, using Alastor’s momentary shock and all six of his hands to wrap the comforter snugly around him, effectively swaddling him.

Much like he would Nuggs when he was getting up to too much mischief.

He doubted he’d appreciate the comparison…

A mix of English and French swears poured from Alastor’s mouth as he tried and failed to free himself. If Angel thought he looked mad before, it was nothing compared to how he looked now.

“Angel Dust!” he all but screeched when his attempts proved futile. “Release me at once!”

Angel crossed both sets of arms over his chest, his third pair tucked away again. “Tell ya what, Smiles, if you’re still awake in ten minutes, I’ll let ya go.”

Alastor proceeded to break into another tirade of curses and threats while Angel turned on the radio on the bedside table, finding a softer jazz station. He flicked off the lights and pulled the door mostly closed on his way out.

Yeah, he was absolutely gonna be double dead if Alastor got his powers back… But if there was anything he knew for certain, the guy was running on less than empty and he was gonna wind up causing some permanent damage to himself if someone didn’t remind him he currently wasn’t the big, bad Radio Demon.

The shouting petered off sooner than he expected and, at the ten minute mark, Angel poked his head back into the room. Alastor didn’t so much as stir, his exhaustion having won out in the end. He had a feeling if he’d been able to get him to sit still long enough that he’d nod off and he’d been absolutely right.

Asleep, he looked younger. Almost innocent. How old did Vox say he was when he died? Twenty-eight? Meanwhile Angel had made it into his thirties. He wondered if his adult years had been happier than his kid ones, though seeing as his life had been cut so short, he doubted it.

Had he died before his ma…?

Fuck…

Angel left the door cracked to afford him some privacy while also making sure he could hear him when he woke up. He wasn’t planning on keeping him burritoed, after all. He made his way into the bedroom next door, flopping down onto the bed there with a heavy sigh.

Fuck, he missed Mini Al already. Was that weird? He had to still be somewhere inside of current Al, after all. It’s just… He felt like he’d actually started to understand him. That Mini Al had finally begun to trust him too. Angel had always technically been the youngest in his family. It’d been kinda nice to look out for someone else for once. To be wanted and needed as just Angel Dust. Not the porn star, but the person.

It made him want to do better. To be better.

Al was a sweet kid, in his own way. He deserved so much more than the bullshit he put up with in his original life and his “second” life. He’d wanted to show him that. To be there for him in all the ways he wished someone else had been there for him when he was growing up.

Angel’s thoughts flitted back to his final moments. The way his blood turned to ice in his veins when he realized the kid was about to be fucking beheaded by Lute. Al looked so resigned. Like he was convinced this was the only way things could ever end. It broke Angel’s heart. Made him throw himself into the path of the sword in a desperate attempt to save him.

But the blow never came.

Instead he was thrown forward along with Lute and Tambourine. He would’ve slammed into the wall if Alastor’s shadow hadn’t protected him.

Then all he could do was watch as the kid screamed, glowing green and gold cracks appearing across his body. As if he was about to shatter into a million pieces.

He’d failed him. He’d fucked it all up, like he’d been afraid of. If Angel survived this, he would have to tell his ma (and maybe eventually Charlie) that Alastor was double dead and it was his fault for not being able to protect him.

But, just like that, everything stopped. Like a switch was flipped and then Al was falling. Angel had caught him right before he hit the ground. Then he’d blinked and he’d changed again, turning into his adult human self.

It hurt Al didn’t have any memories of the past few days, selfish as it made him feel. But Angel couldn’t help but wish he’d had more time with the kid, more chances to show him life didn’t have to be so goddamn cruel.

His eyes and throat began to burn and he sniffled, trying to pull himself back together. He was being stupid. He knew Alastor turned out…well…not fine, but okay. Maybe he just wanted to pay him back for the time with Ray?

Or maybe he wanted to feel like he was needed for a little while longer…

Angel rubbed at his eyes. He needed to cut himself some slack. He‘d had a rough few days too. First the extermination, then everything with Al, and (even though he was mostly back to his old self) they still needed to figure out how the fuck to get out of this mess. Lute was still a threat. It terrified him to know that, right now, he was the strong one as far as he and Alastor were concerned. Physically, anyway.

He’d gotten way too used to Al protecting them all without batting an eye. Until his fight with Adam, of course. When everyone, Smiles included, was reminded the Radio Demon wasn’t invincible.

Laying there, his thoughts gradually settling, Angel realized how fucking exhausted he was too.

He’d just begun to doze off when he heard a noise from the other room. He was wide awake and on his feet in an instant, hurrying over. Angel took a deep breath, forcing himself not to barge in, and instead peered through the crack of the door to see if there was actually anything wrong.

Alastor was still be asleep, trying to twist and turn despite his limited range of movement. His eyes were closed and his breathing harsh.

Was he having a nightmare…?

It was one thing to see him in the midst of one as an eleven year old, but something else entirely to witness the big bad Radio Demon do the same.

Did he have nightmares often? Or was this the result of his recent transformation?

Angel tentatively entered the room, unsure how to proceed but unwilling to stand back and do nothing.

“…Al?” he tried, voice barely above a whisper.

No answer.

“…shit,” he muttered to himself. “…At least he don’t have a knife…” He carefully untucked the edge of the blanket, loosening it.

Alastor’s hand shot out from it, grabbing his wrist, his eyes wild. Upon seeing Angel, he almost looked…relieved?

The expression was there and gone too fast for Angel to be sure.

“Just a bad dream,” Angel said, holding his other hands up in a placating gesture.

Alastor’s eyes narrowed, awareness seeping back into them. “You swaddled me,” he accused.

Angel huffed. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m not tellin’ your ma or Charlie why ya keeled over from exhaustion. I know ya don’t wanna hear it, but you’re human now. And you’ve also been through enough shit the past few days to last multiple lifetimes. So yeah, I’m not gonna apologize for bein’ fuckin’ worried about ya and tryin’ to get ya to go the fuck to sleep.”

He half expected Alastor to bite him or something. Thankfully he settled on releasing his wrist with an irritated grumble.

Maybe bringing his ma up was the right method, given the fact she was very much around. It amused the fuck out of him that Alastor, the guy who literally fucking murdered and ate people, could potentially be cowed into compliance by threatening to tattle on him to his ma.

“I hope you realize your days are numbered,” he answered, though he made no move to get up.

He hadn’t expected to get to test the theory so soon. “Yeah? I’m gonna tell your ma ya said that.”

He rolled to his side, glaring now. “You think that will stop me? Need I remind you of my reputation?”

Angel rested his hands on his hips, staring calmly back at him. “Oh I know it will. An’ I know she likes me too. An’ she’s bffs with my nonna and sister.”

He didn’t immediately reply, the silence dragging on between them. Angel began to wonder if he’d seriously fucked up when Alastor bared his square little human teeth at him and rolled to his other side, leaving him to stare at his back.

“Are ya still layin’ down ‘cause you’re tired or ‘cause ya don’t wanna wind up bein’ a burrito again?”

“I will make it look like an accident.”

Yeesh. Maybe he was pushing his luck a little too far…

Although…

Angel shifted from foot to foot, absently chewing his bottom lip.

“What?” Alastor demanded.

“I was thinkin’…”

“Oh dear, did you sprain something?”

He scowled. “No. I know ya don’t remember it, but they’ve already shown they can just teleport people away.”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t tell him to fuck off either.

“They said they was gonna bring a healer here, but they might snatch ya again instead. Or Lute might.”

“Please tell me you aren’t about to suggest what I think you are.”

“All right, I won’t.” He turned to head back out the door.

He nearly made it out before Alastor sighed heavily, as if the weight of the world had suddenly been thrust onto his shoulders. “I fail to see how that will prevent either of us from being ‘snatched.’”

“I mean, it won’t. But if Lute does it, at least the whoever’s still here can use the phone or make a ruckus to get aholda Sera. She was gonna straight up kill ya, Al. I wouldn’t put it past her to try again.”

“Lovely. You realize she tried to kill all of us a few days ago?”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say it’s a li’l different than tryin’ to straight up behead an eleven year old angel in Heaven.”

“Surely you’re not referring to me.”

“I saw it with my own two eyes,” Angel retorted, crossing his upper set of arms and letting the lower set stay on his hips. “Your whole color palette swapped and you was givin’ off divine energy an’ everythin’.”

The silence following his revelation was deafening.

“I’m just sayin’, it might not hurt to be a li’l extra careful right now ‘cause that bitch is fuckin’ crazy. An‘ she’s got it out for ya. She also apparently enjoyed torturin’ ya.”

Did he imagine it, or did Alastor’s shoulders stiffen? Was that what his nightmare was about…?

Fuck.

“Stay on your side,” he finally answered, sounding as if he was speaking through clenched teeth.

Relief flooded him and Angel carefully climbed into the bed beside him, trying not to jostle him while also making sure not to cross the line of demarcation.

“Is Lilith here as well?” he continued after a long moment.

“Yeah. An’ I managed to get a call out to Charlie and the others, lettin’ them know where we was and that her ma’s here too. We’re gonna try meetin’ halfway. Emily’s workin’ on gettin’ us a way to the Livin’ World and Charlie and them are plannin’ to do the same on their end with somethin’ called an Asmodean crystal.”

“Hmm. How exactly did we come to be in Heaven in the first place?”

“They found out about ya maybe bein’ purified and decided they needed to see it for themselves. I just got caught in the crossfire. Pentious is here too. He actually got redeemed.”

Alastor glanced at him from over his shoulder, brows rising beneath his fringe. “He what?”

“Got redeemed. He’s here. He’s an angel.”

Alastor’s expression remained carefully neutral, but Angel could practically hear the gears turning in his head. Especially since he’d been pretty damn vocal about not believing in redemption.

“Where is he? Have you seen him yourself?”

“They got him locked up somewhere. Heaven ain’t happy about it. I got some theories as to why. But pretty much everybody up here’s confirmed it’s true.”

“Wonderful… And what makes you all think we’ll be permitted to leave?”

“I mean, I guess we dunno for sure. But Charlie and them think if we can get the divine energy outta ya, you’ll go back to bein’ your demon self and they won’t have any reason to wanna detain ya no more.”

Alastor reluctantly shifted to fully face him again. “I doubt it, but I suppose our current options are rather…limited.”

Now Angel could see his face, it was obvious how much of an effort he was making to stay awake. Apparently his little cat nap hadn’t been enough.

“Your ma’s fine by the way. She and the others are bein’ detained like we are. They’re stuck in another suite. She was real happy to see ya, but real upset when they teleported ya away.”

“I can only imagine,” he murmured, eyes sliding closed.

“You’ve been bouncin’ back and forth between human and demon and angel. For a li’l while it seemed like Lute’s sword was doin’ it but it stopped right before ya turned into an angel. Then ya went nuclear when she tried to kill ya and wound up like this. Dunno if you’re stuck as a human now or what.”

He made a noncommittal noise as his breathing began to even out and his eyes slid closed. Angel fell silent, relieved to see him finally relax as sleep took him.

He hoped the healer took their time getting there. Al needed all the rest he could get.

Though he’d been about to doze off before Alastor’s nightmare, Angel now annoyingly found himself wide awake. At least Smiles was resting easier now, even if he was still wearing his glasses and shoes. He supposed that was mostly his fault, what with the swaddling…

As eager as he was to get the fuck out of Heaven, Angel hoped he’d get another chance to see his nonna and Mol first. He was also desperate to see Alastor with his ma as an adult. Partly to reassure her he was okay, but mostly because he had to know how much of a mama’s boy he still was.

Angel felt better having him within his line of sight. Even though he was an adult now, he still felt responsible for him. And they’d come way too far for him to get shanked by that fucking bitch Lute now.

He absently wondered how Alastor had died in the first place, seeing as a Sinner’s demon form tended to reflect who they were in life as well as how they died. Had one of his victims killed him? Or had he been caught and executed?

Of course it was just as likely he’d had some kind of medical emergency or died accidentally. You didn’t have to meet a grisly end to wind up in Hell…

Angel would probably never know. The one thing all of Hell seemed to agree on was that it was rude to ask someone how they’d kicked the bucket.

Didn’t exactly bring up the fondest of memories…

His mind drifted as his eyelids began to droop, boredom warring with existential dread. Alastor gradually curled in on himself on the other side of the bed, sleeping much like he had as a kid. He’d always assumed he was the sprawl out type. It was disconcerting how small he looked like this.

Angel must have dozed off at some point because the next thing he knew, there was an unfamiliar woman standing over him. He froze, all eight eyes going wide, because what the actual fuck?!

While she wasn’t dressed like an exorcist, wearing an old timey nurse’s uniform instead, she was very much an angel. His panic eased only when Emily hurried into the room after her.

“Viola!” she whisper-hissed at her. “You can’t—“ She paused on spotting Angel and realizing he was awake. “I am so sorry,” she insisted, keeping her voice low.

Angel sent a worried look to Alastor, who didn’t so much as bat an eyelash. At some point he’d absconded with most of the blankets, only the top half of his face visible from where he’d burrowed into them.

Angel gingerly climbed off the bed, trying not to wake him. He followed the two women out of the room, closing the door most of the way behind them.

Emily offered him an apologetic smile once they made it to the suite’s living room. “We’re so sorry! It’s just…you didn’t answer the door and Viola was worried and—! Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Emily!”

Angel blinked, his brain taking an extra minute or two to process her words, what with him being only half awake. At least it probably helped mask the fact he already knew her. “Uh, Angel Dust,” he finally managed.

“This is Viola,” Emily continued, gesturing to the other woman.

Now he could look at her without his heart jumping out of his chest, he was surprised to find she reminded him of Vaggie. Maybe it was her surly expression, or maybe it was the way her dark hair fell over one eye.

Maybe both.

“We’re here to check on you! Viola is one of our healers and I’m here for emotional support!”

Viola rolled her eyes. “And because Sera is too busy to come herself. She’s apparently trying to apologize for the ’ill treatment’ you’ve gotten so far.”

Angel narrowed his eyes. Were the finger quotes really necessary?

“…right. Uh. I mean, I guess ya already know Al’s sleepin’. He’s pretty wiped out after everythin’.”

Viola nodded. “Yes, I scanned you both already. He will easily sleep for the next day or two, without additional treatment.”

“Ya…scanned us? What does that mean?”

He decided not to bring up how fucking creepy that sounded. He wanted to at least try to keep this woman on their side.

“Your vitals.You’re exhausted as well, but not nearly to the same degree. You both could stand to drink more water too.”

She was really going all out for the Biggest Creeper in Heaven award…

“…’kay. How’s Al otherwise?”

“There is still divine energy within him. He hasn’t fully healed from Adam’s attack, but the divine and demonic energies have canceled each other out. For now.”

Better than nothing, he supposed. “Is that all ya needed to check?”

She shook her head. “There are additional tests I intend to run. And I’ll be giving him a full physical.”

Oh, Al was gonna fucking hate that. The odds of the physical ending without Al muzzled or physically restrained were slim to none…

“He don’t like bein’ touched,” he warned her.

“I don’t need him to be awake for it.”

He would like that even less. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Kinda violatin’ dontcha think?”

Viola pursed her lips. “You’ve already said he doesn’t like being touched. This way he wouldn’t have to know.”

Emily rested a hand on her arm. “I think it would be better if he was awake. He’s already been through so much.”

Viola rolled her eyes and was about to reply when Alastor’s groggy voice came from down the hall.

“Angel?”

“Gimme one sec,” Angel said before hurrying back down the hall.

Alastor looked like he barely knew his own name, let alone where he was. He leaned against the doorframe, apparently struggling with his human legs again while his brain was still booting up. His worried expression eased into relief upon spotting him and Angel gave him a reassuring smile.

“Sorry, Al. We got company. Didn’t wanna wake ya up.”

“Perhaps you should consider not serving up doom and gloom before wandering off without telling me,” he retorted, lifting his glasses with one hand to rub at his eye with the other.

“Yeah, well… It’s the Healer. And Emily.”

“Who?”

He lowered his voice as he answered, “The one who likes the idea of the hotel. But pretend ya don’t know her.”

Alastor shot him a flat look. “I won’t have to. I don’t.”

Angel rubbed the back of his neck before reluctantly offering, “They wanna give ya a full physical.”

His expression soured, like Angel expected.

“…they was also talkin’ about keepin’ ya knocked out while they did it.”

And there was the murderous gleam in his eye!

“Ya think ya can…play nice or somethin’? Let them examine ya? They might need to take more blood samples too.”

“You say all this like I have an actual choice in the matter.”

True…

“Still, I know it’s a shitty situation. I’m sorry you’re havin’ to go through it.”

Alastor scowled. “What on earth do you believe I divulged while I was…not myself? Whatever it was, I can assure you that you’re mistaken.”

Angel crossed both sets of arms as he scowled right back at him. “So ya didn’t kill your pa after he beat the shit outta you and your ma for over a decade?”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “If you think that gives you any right to—“

He cut him off. “I’m not tryin’ t’do anythin’! I just fuckin’ know what it’s like to grow up with a shit dad who hurt ya an’ everyone ya cared about, okay?! So fuckin’ forgive me for wantin’ to make sure you’re all right after I saw what he did to ya, an’ after I watched Lute fuckin’ torture and try to kill ya while there was jack shit I could do about any of it!”

His voice caught on the last few words and he panted like he’d run a marathon. Angel raked his hands through his hair, alarmed to realize he was crying on top of it all. “…ya almost died tryin’ to protect us and the hotel, Al. An’ whether or not ya feel the same way, you’re my friend an’ I hate seein’ my friends get hurt. I ain’t strong like you.”

Alastor stared back at him, his only reaction the widening of his eyes behind his glasses.

He bit back a sob as he added, “Ya can go ahead and laugh in my face now.”

“…I wasn’t going to.” There was a pregnant pause before he hesitantly added, “I…appreciate your assistance throughout all of this, even if I don’t remember it. And I do consider you a…friend.”

Angel gaped back at him. “…ya do?”

Was… Was he embarrassed…? Al was sure as fuck looking anywhere but at him!

“I am not repeating myself.”

Angel gave him a wobbly smile. “Can I give ya a hug?”

“You’re pushing your luck.”

“That ain’t a no~!” he said, wrapping all four arms around him.

He got an indignant huff for his trouble but after a long moment, Alastor tentatively returned the hug. Angel didn’t hold him hostage for long, releasing him after a beat and grinning when Alastor took a pointed step back.

“Can ya at least try not to bite anybody?”

“When have I ever bitten anyone?”

“Ya got the vibe. An’ ya almost did when you was a kid. Plus the whole cannibal thing.”

Alastor tilted his head, his smile shifting to something a little more real despite his obvious exhaustion.

“Is it even cannibalism if they’re a different species?”

“Absolutely it is, ya freak. Now, c’mon. Sooner ya give them what they want, the sooner ya can go back t’sleep.”

Alastor pursed his lips. “While I will attempt to entertain your concerns about my well-being, I hope you realize that little trick of yours won’t work twice.”

He shrugged both sets of shoulders. “Fine, but if ya don’t wanna do it for me, at least do it for your ma. She’s already worried sick about ya. Least ya can do is try to remember you’re human right now and take it a li’l easy for her sake.”

He looked decidedly unimpressed by the request, but didn’t tell him to fuck off, so Angel was going to take it as a win for now.

Chapter Text

Alastor was less than thrilled to follow Angel back into the living room where not one but two angels were waiting. The one in the nurse’s garb was at least a foot taller than him while the other one, currently staring at him with metaphorical stars in her eyes, was (unfortunately) at eye level.

She was quick, however, to school her expression. He was both curious and concerned about why she looked at him like that in the first place. It left him wondering if maybe it was for the best his memories of the past few days remained elusive…

“Hi! I’m Emily!” she offered, beaming at him now. “And this is Viola! She’s here to give you a checkup and make sure everything’s okay! I’m here for emotional support!”

He arched a brow. Emotional support? As if he needed anything as ridiculous as that. Still, at least she knew how to smile unlike her surlier counterpart.

He flashed her a smile in return, offering his hand. “Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, Emily, quite a pleasure!”

She surprised him by actually taking it in both of hers, shaking it with enough enthusiasm to rattle his teeth.

Emily released it and he offered it to the nurse next. She didn’t take it, instead grabbing him by the upper arm and hauling him toward the hallway. Alastor stumbled, nearly falling when he tried to brace himself with his old anatomy in mind. His skin crawled beneath her fingers as his initial discomfort quickly gave way to rage.

But the shadows didn’t lengthen around him, nor did his antlers branch out over his head. Those manifestations of his power were as much a warning as they were a means to protect himself.

For the first time since he killed his father all those years ago, Alastor wasn’t a predator. He was prey. A position he’d promised himself he would never occupy again.

He dug his heels in, trying to yank his arm free. Viola only tightened her grip, actually making him fall when her angelic strength easily bested his. He remained mostly upright only because of her accursed hold.

His skin felt as if it was being branded in the shape of her damned fingers.

“Let go of me!” he snarled, the effect severely diminished by his human vocal cords. It sounded less like an order and more like an entreaty, which only angered him further.

The wide hallway telescoped around them.

The walls were too close. She was too close.

He broke out into a cold sweat, his throat tightening.

She wasn’t allowed to touch him! She had no right!

And there was nothing he could fucking do about it.

Angel’s touch had been tolerable because Alastor knew and trusted him. He didn’t know this woman and Angel couldn’t protect him from her because he was supposed to be the protector. It was his job to face down threats like the loan sharks and Adam. It was his reputation that kept himself and the others at the hotel safe.

Until he’d failed, of course.

He’d killed countless exorcists and now he couldn’t fend off a single angel.

Alastor used every ounce of strength he had to try and pull away.

She didn’t even break her stride.

His breathing quickened, his heart thundering in his ears.

Suddenly it wasn’t the angel in front of him, but rather his father, his hand wrapped tightly enough around his arm to bruise as he dragged him from where he’d positioned himself between him and his mother.

Alastor had succeeded. His père was now angrier with him than his mère. He didn’t think she was conscious any longer, not that it would’ve stopped his père. He’d been about to drag her into the bedroom. He would have, if Alastor hadn’t stopped him.

He silently prayed she was okay. That he wouldn’t be too hurt to check on her after his punishment. That his père wouldn’t leave any marks where she could see them. He didn’t want her to do something foolish on his behalf, something that would make his père hurt her even worse.

At least he never hurt him like that. He knew others his age who weren’t so lucky.

No, when his père ripped Alastor’s shirt off hard enough to scatter its buttons and undid his own belt, he didn’t have to worry about that. He just had to worry about whether or not he could withstand the beating long enough for him to be too exhausted to do anything else to his mère.

He could do this for her. He would do this for her. And he would do his best to smile after so she wouldn’t worry.

Failure wasn’t an option.

“Smiles?! Al? Alastor?”

Alastor blinked and suddenly he was sitting on a sofa in a bland but vaguely familiar living room.

“Al?”

He blinked again. Angel Dust slowly came into focus, seated on the coffee table across from him. He looked almost beside himself with worry.

His eyes darted around the space as he struggled to recall where they were and to get his breathing under control.

“...what…? What…happened?”

An odd sense of calm settled over him almost like a blanket and his exhaustion threatened to pull him back under as the lingering tension drained from his body.

Heaven. He and Angel Dust were in Heaven, currently trapped in one of their faux residential prison cells. Just like the one he’d spent the better part of seven years in.

Emily stood to the side, wringing her hands. “…if I had to guess, I’d say reverting back to your younger self has brought some of your older memories closer to the surface…”

Alastor blinked again, gut roiling with emotions he hadn’t had to deal with in almost a century. Fear, anxiety, shame, self-loathing They’d all but fallen to the wayside as he accrued power in Hell.

No one should be able to touch him. No one should be able to hurt him. No one should be able to control him.

Not like his pè…father had, at least.

“Mini you was dealin’ with a fuckton of trauma,” Angel said. “An’ even though ya don’t remember the past few days, I’m guessin’ some part of ya still does.”

“I apologize,” Viola said, actually looking contrite. “I didn’t realize Sinners had trauma like that.”

Angel shot her a look. “Ya realize we was human once too, right? A lotta folks don’t just decide to do bad shit one day just because.”

She frowned back at him. “But the vast majority of victims wind up here.”

Victims.

Alastor wasn’t a victim.

Angel stared at her as if she’d grown a second head. “Are ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me right now? Ya think Al’s a one off? Ya think I didn’t deal with similar shit? My sister’s up here. Ya think we didn’t experience the same shit growin’ up?”

“Then why is she here while you aren’t?” Viola retorted.

Angel narrowed his eyes. “Prolly ‘cause she wasn’t also dealin’ with bein’ gay in the thirties. And ’cause our pa was kinda a sexist dickbag who thought the only thing she was good for was marryin’ into another mob family. Meanwhile me and my older brother were gonna to take over the family business one day.”

“You could have said no.”

He laughed outright. “Yeah? Guess I coulda got into Heaven then, but I woulda died a fuck of a lot sooner. My pa woulda straight up killed me.”

She looked nothing short of stunned by his proclamation.

“Not everybody gets a chance to be good,” Angel continued, gaze dropping to his lap. “Summa us get put on the bad path real young. I didn’t wanna be in the family business. My pa started trainin’ me for it before I even learned how to talk. An’ even if I had left, then what woulda happened to my nonna and Mol? I couldn’t just fuckin’ leave them. Not with him.”

He swallowed hard, hands tightening into fists. “They was all I had… So I started gettin’ high to cope. Made it easier to do the shit my pa wanted. Made it easier to pretend I wasn’t queer too.”

Tears ran freely down Emily’s cheeks as she leaned over to take Angel’s hands in hers. “The important thing is that you’ve been given a second chance and you’re actively trying to be better now! To be redeemed! I saw it myself when Charlie visited!”

He gave her a weak smile in return.

Alastor had surmised the bulk of Angel’s past from their brief encounter while living. He’d been filled in on much of the rest by his family. Somehow it was different hearing it directly from him. Especially since he seemed to be sharing it all now in an attempt to deflect attention away from his…episode.

Something suspiciously like fondness for the spider settled in his chest

How unfortunate. Very few managed to burrow in so deep. Alastor preferred to keep it that way.

“I am truly sorry,” Viola insisted. “I didn’t realize… You’re the first Sinners I’ve ever met.”

He wasn’t interested in her apologies or her contrition, but he was well aware accepting them (at least on a surface level) was the right play here. The question now was whether Angel’s revelation was enough to fully sway her to their cause or if he should…share something of his own…

The mere thought repulsed him. His past was his alone. It wasn’t meant for others to peer into or nose around in. But perhaps being strategic about it… Using it to his advantage… Well, he supposed it was worth a try.

Even if he almost had to bite his own tongue off to reply, “No harm done.”

“Are you all right?” Viola asked, looking less like an angel and more like the medical professional she was supposed to be.

Everything in him rebelled as he forced the words out. Words he’d never spoken to anyone. “My father was very similar. He enjoyed hurting my mè…mother. I killed him when I was a child because I was afraid that if I didn’t, he would kill her.”

No need to include how much he’d enjoyed it or how powerful it had made him feel. How he’d craved that feeling again and again…

Angel stared at him, eyes wide.

“My mother is a good person. The best. Her light would have been prematurely snuffed out by that monster.”

So he had become the monster’s monster. “The Rougarou of New Orleans,” as the papers dubbed him. They theorized the very few body parts found of his victims were the result of them being torn limb from limb. In reality, he’d cut them up to hide evidence, delay identification, and for easier disposal. The alligators came to recognize him in the parts of the bayou he frequented. They flocked to him, knowing they would be well fed.

It was the perfect end for such trash. They hadn’t deserved a proper burial.

He absently wondered if they’d had eaten him too in the end. He hoped so. He wouldn’t have wanted his mother to see him like that. To have to identify what, if anything, was left behind by the dogs and scavengers.

He’d never asked her if his body was recovered and she’d never volunteered the information.

Now that he’d had some time to pull himself back together, there was one thing he was absolutely certain of. He wasn’t a victim.

He was the fucking Radio Demon and before that he was the Rougarou of New Orleans.

This was just a minor setback.

Alastor wouldn’t let an unexpected bout of humanity or childish fears stop him.

He would adapt. The rules of the game had changed, but he was a quick study. He would simply have to rely on his intellect instead.

“Y’know it’s okay to admit he hurt ya too, Al, dontcha?” Angel asked, drawing him back into the conversation.

“Yes, well, that is neither here nor there.”

“I know ya ain’t interested in Charlie’s therapy sessions, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt for ya to talk to somebody? I know it’s helped me.”

He would quite literally rather rip his own eyes from their sockets and eat them.

“I think it’d really upset your ma if she knew how much you was hurtin’.”

And now he’d gone too far. Alastor opened his mouth to tell Angel what he could do with his unwanted and unwarranted concerns when the door to the room opened and his mother, of all people, rushed inside. She was closely followed by Angel’s grandmother, sister, and Sera.

Apparently Lilith hadn’t managed an invite.

He was on his feet with his arms around his mother in an instant, eyes and throat burning. He thought he‘d never see her again before his seven year absence and had accepted he truly never would after.

She hugged him back just as fiercely, threatening the constitution of his ribs in the process.

“Alastor! Mon petit cocodrie! I was so worried! You’re okay? Please tell me you’re okay!”

Alastor tried to get himself under control, he really did. But the memory of her beaten into unconsciousness was fresh in his mind and he was so relieved to see her whole and unhurt. He pressed his face into her shoulder, some distant part of him marveling at how strange it was for them to be of a height for once.

“How many times will I have to tell you not to worry about me before you’ll finally stop?” he asked, voice thick.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” she murmured, leaning back to press a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s my job to worry about you. I’m your mère.”

“No, it’s my job to worry about you as your son,” he protested. Not that she’d ever agree.

He lifted his head and she cupped his face in her hands, tears shining in her eyes. Despite his best efforts, silent tears of his own skated down his cheeks. He smiled softly at her and her breath hitched.

“Alastor! Now you’re going to make me cry!” she protested, a soft sob escaping her.

“Je suis désolé, mère. I can’t help how happy I am to see you.”

She tutted softly, tears escaping. “You look exhausted, mon petit gâteau. You need rest. Have you eaten anything? You barely touched nonna’s eggplant parmesan.”

He felt multiple sets of eyes on him but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Do you remember anything that happened? When did you grow up again? What happened after they took you away?”

Well that could certainly turn this into an interesting little conversation! Though it would likely doom her to being locked up for the rest of eternity…

Alastor hazarded a furtive glance at Sera. The skin around her eyes was tight and she looked nervous.

How delightful!

She should be.

“I’m afraid I don’t remember much,” he said, returning his attention to his mother.

He caught Angel staring curiously at him from the corner of his eye, having been mobbed by his own family members.

His mother nodded, leaning forward to press another kiss to his forehead. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Though I’m afraid we won’t get to stay for long. Sera said a healer needs to give you a checkup. To make sure you’re all right and hopefully sort out what’s going on.”

What a charming half truth…

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been told too. It’s unfortunate this is the form my body seems to have settled on.”

She gave him a stern look. “Maybe it’s to make sure you stay out of trouble and look after yourself for once. Please promise me that you’ll take it easy while all of this is sorted out?”

His heart squeezed painfully at that. He hated lying to her…

“I’ll keep an eye on him, Ms. Eugenia!” Angel piped up, earning a glare from Alastor. “I’ll make sure he gets plenty of rest an’ all! An’ I’ll also tell ya if he tries t’do anythin’ reckless!”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed into slits while his mother stared at Angel as if he’d hung the moon and the stars.

“You will? You don’t mind keeping an eye on my little boy?”

Angel grinned, shooting Alastor a smug look. “I don’t mind at all!”

“Mother, you realize I’m over a hundred years old now, don’t you?”

“And?” she demanded, pressing another kiss to his forehead. “You’ll always be my baby.”

“…I would straight up sell one of my arms for my phone right now,” Angel said, still watching.

Alastor’s mother scarcely released him before Molly and nonna embraced him too. He sighed softly as he returned the hug, lips pursing as his mother did the same with Angel.

It seemed he hadn’t been bluffing about her liking him after all…

“Now, if you don’t mind, Viola needs to get to work,” Sera said, cutting their brief reunion far too short for Alastor’s liking.

He wasn’t surprised. Not when every second they spent with their family came at the risk of them finding out what Lute had been up to. While their brainwashed seraphs and other Heavenborn were more inclined to believe their leaders, the same couldn’t be said for their own flesh and blood.

Heaven thrived under the tight control of information. While Winners might accept their loved ones had earned their place in Hell, he doubted they would be as eager to agree they deserved to be hunted and wiped from existence after the fact.

That was the problem with purported utopias, after all. They held sway over their denizens by insisting they could want for nothing more. The moment that lie was shattered, they lost any hope of control. No amount of rainbow sprinkles or streets paved with gold would distract them then.

Best case, Heaven would find itself in the midst of a bureaucratic nightmare. Worst case, their previously complacent Winners, who vastly outnumbered them, would do whatever it took to stop the exterminations. Especially if word about redemption got out.

Love was a powerful thing. Reason and logic meant nothing in the face of it. It didn’t matter to his mother that Alastor was an unrepentant serial killer. There were undoubtedly others out there who felt the same about their loved ones. And it wasn’t only murderers who wound up in Hell.

“When can we see them again?” his mother immediately asked as she returned to his side, wrapping her arms back around him.

Sera’s lips thinned.

Emily clasped her hands in front of her, her eyes wide and pleading. “It couldn’t hurt, could it, Sera? It would mean so much to them!”

She looked like she wanted to protest, but what could she say? That he and Angel posed a threat to their loved ones? The Radio Demon may have required some precautions, but he wasn’t the Radio Demon right now. He was a human and had also purportedly been an angel. Angel, meanwhile, was actively trying to redeem himself. He also fit Heaven’s garish color palette and, minus his fangs, he was unlikely to cause mass panic if seen by anyone there.

“Dinner, maybe?” his mother suggested.

There was a long pause before Sera gave a soft sigh. “Fine. But only if Viola has finished examining him by then.”

As she spoke, she ushered the three women out of the suite.

“D’ya need to look me over too?” Angel asked Viola, startling her out of her exceedingly rude staring.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” she said. “You’re the only full Sinner here. It would be good to have a baseline.”

Angel nodded, starting down the hall. She followed after, leaving Alastor and Emily alone.

An undeniably smart move on the spider’s part. His true potential was wasted on Valentino’s leash.

The bedroom door hardly closed before Emily was within mere centimeters of him, staring at him in awe.

“Oh! You’re so much taller than I expected! And so handsome! I always wondered what you looked like when I listened to your show!”

Alastor blinked, stepping to the side to put some much needed space between them.

“You really don’t remember anything from the past few days?”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

“Well, I’ll try to help where I can!” she insisted. “I’m sorry about how things turned out, even if you don’t remember.“

“Thank you,” he said, moreso to head off any further unnecessary apologies.

“We don’t have a lot of time, so let me get to the important parts first. I’m working on getting a portal set up to the Living World through the Cherubs.”

Alastor studied her, trying to assess her ratio of hopes and dreams to reality. She reminded him of Charlie, which was not a point in her favor.

“And what are the odds of you actually succeeding?”

“I think they’re pretty good! The hard part will be getting you both through. I’ll need to get Angel Dust a human disguise too. I have to admit, I never thought I’d be helping someone escape from Heaven!”

“Will they pursue us after?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. If the divine energy can be pulled out of you and you can go back to being a demon, I don’t see why they’d want to force you to stay here anymore.” She paused, eyes growing misty. “You were a beautiful angel, you know.”

It took everything Alastor had not to grimace at the thought.

“It just goes to show that you can achieve redemption too!”

He would rather swan dive off of a cloud.

“How long do you think it will take to get the portal set up?” he asked, redirecting her to the matter at hand.

“I’m not sure. But when it happens, we’ll have to move quickly. I can’t guarantee the Cherubs won’t immediately raise the alarm.”

“If you’re able to get Angel a human disguise, perhaps you can convince them we’re humans, brought here to see relatives who have passed and who now need to return to the Living World.”

She absently chewed her bottom lip. “Maybe…”

“You are the Joy Bringer, after all. Perhaps you can say our ‘visit’ is because of that?”

She nodded. “Yes, that might work… I’ll just have to be very careful about how I bring it up… We don’t want them to be suspicious… It’s very rare for Living Souls to come to Heaven.”

He nodded, offering her a reassuring smile. The more confident she was in the plan, the faster it would come to fruition.

“You’ll need something more modern to wear. You’ve been squinting a lot. Do you need different glasses?”

He tilted his head as he considered her. “Is that something you can assist with?”

She beamed. “It is! Just close your eyes and think about what you’d like to wear!”

“Is closing my eyes necessary?”

“I guess not…” she said, deflating a little.

Emily rallied herself, squaring her shoulders as she raised her hands up over her head. She took a deep breath as she lowered them again to her sides, the movement reminding him of the stretching exercises Charlie kept hoping he’d participate in.

Her power washed over him, feeling (unfortunately) like a warm hug. When its soft glow faded, he was left standing in a modern and less vibrant ensemble. As tempted as he was to regain his signature attire, he had the opportunity to go unrecognized by most at present. It was the smarter play.

He now wore a light gray linen suit with a white button up. He’d decided against a tie or waistcoat, settling on a more…casual look. He tried not to grimace as he looked down at his new white sneakers. Without his abilities, mobility would be key. As much as he would have preferred dress shoes, it was better to have something with actual traction. There was no telling how much time they’d spend in the Living World either, provided they made it that far. His black framed glasses were the last to appear, immediately improving his vision. They were also significantly lighter than his older pair, which meant the skin behind his ears was no longer in danger of being rubbed raw.

“Thank you, Emily. Do you know what Sera is planning to do with Angel and myself?”

She shook her head. “My best guess is that if you’re fully human now, she might send you to the Living World. But if you aren’t, I’m not sure… I think it would depend on whether your body finally settles on the demonic or the divine.”

He kept his expression carefully neutral even as his stomach sank. He certainly couldn’t return to Hell like this. It would be suicide. But if he died again, would he be wiped from existence or simply revert to one form or the other? And what about his contracts? Did he still possess them?

He may have to start over from the beginning in Hell, without the power he’d spent almost a century accruing. Without his network of contractees. And what would become of them? He’d never selected a designee. So many of his four million souls had come from him toppling their former owners…

There was no longer a plethora of overlords, ripe for the picking. He’d been the one to whittle their numbers down in the first place.

He didn’t even want to consider the possibility he might ascend instead…

Before he could slip any further into existential dread, Angel came back down the hall. He drew to a halt at the mouth of it, giving Alastor a slow once over and whistling through his teeth.

“Wow, ya clean up nice, Smiles! Betcha was a heartbreaker back when you was livin’!”

He wrinkled his nose at him . Angel wasn’t wrong. He’d had more than his share of admirers, much to his dismay and his mother’s delight. His celebrity-like status as a radio host had only added to their numbers. While people may not have recognized him on sight, they certainly did the moment he spoke.

Angel shot him a curious look but didn’t comment. Instead, he hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “She’s ready for ya now. It wasn’t too bad.”

Alastor nodded, grateful whatever misplaced sense of duty Angel acquired didn’t extend to chaperoning him for his examination. He reluctantly went down the hall to the bedroom he’d been in before.

Viola was waiting for him. She kept her hands to herself this time.

“Can you please strip down to your underwear?” she asked, gesturing to the en suite bathroom.

Alastor was far from thrilled by the request, but he stepped inside regardless, closing and locking the bathroom door behind him. He was, however, pleasantly surprised to find a hospital gown hanging off of one of the towel hooks.

He made quick work of his new clothes, folding them and setting them on the counter. As he did so, he studied his lean form in the mirror, noting it still bore all of the scars he’d worn in life. He turned his back to the mirror, peering over his shoulder and scowling at the ruined skin that greeted him. He’d been thrilled to lose those in particular when he’d died.

He shrugged into the hospital gown, tying it closed. It was better than nothing, even though it only offered the pretense of modesty.

He took a breath before stepping back out into the bedroom. Viola glanced up from the clipboard she was scribbling on, motioning for him to take a seat on the bed. He reluctantly perched on the edge of it, resisting the urge to curl in on himself in the process. His clothes were his armor and now he was both powerless and exposed.

Viola spent what felt like an eternity studying every inch of him from the top of his head to his sock covered feet. His vitals were taken, blood was drawn, reflexes tested… Eventually she asked him to remove the hospital gown so she could look at his chest, much to his dismay.

He untied the gown, reluctantly sliding out of it, left only in his socks and a pair of black boxers. Her eyes lit on the scars that escaped his back over the curve of his shoulders. Her brow furrowed and she leaned around him to see their origin. By the time she resettled, her face was devoid of color and she looked as if she might be ill.

Her eyes filled with what suspiciously looked like pity and Alastor stared silently back at her, jaw tightening.

Thankfully she kept whatever platitudes were on the tip of her tongue to herself.

She closed her eyes, resting her gloved hand directly over his heart. The center of his chest began to glow beneath her hand. While he still oddly sported the scar from Adam’s attack, it didn’t react to whatever she was doing.

“It’s all settled here,” she murmured. “The demonic and divine energies have almost…harmonized. They’re…coexisting rather than fighting against one another. That's why you’re in your current form. It’s neutral.”

Her brow furrowed and he felt a ticklish sensation as her magic fanned out across his skin.

“There’s an excessive amount of scar tissue here,” she said, tracing along the scar. “I don’t understand. Have you been hurt there before?”

Alastor opened his mouth to respond in the negative only to snap it closed again as another hazy memory rose in his mind. Lute standing over him, her sword drawn and glowing so brightly it was almost blinding.

How many times had she unsheathed and resheathed her sword while he laid at her feet in agony?

“Lute,” he answered simply.

“Lute?”

“Her sword.”

Viola’s eyes snapped open, horror dawning on her face along with understanding. “…she…tortured you. She must have reopened your wound at least a dozen times…”

He could use this to his advantage, couldn’t he? So why did he find he suddenly didn’t want to?

“Something like that,” he murmured, throat oddly tight.

“…while you were still a child?”

Alastor nodded.

Her hand shook where it rested against his skin.

He didn’t want to talk about this…

He considered his words carefully before hazarding, “Is it permanent?”

She blinked, her hand steadying as it drifted back to his heart. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

Wonderful.

“Are you able to tap into…either of the energies? To extract them?”

Like draining pus from an angry wound. Hopefully ridding him of his divine infection.

“It’s impossible to say for sure, but I believe either could be removed at present. However, I don’t think both can be without risking your life.”

He gave a soft, humorless chuckle. “Pardon?”

“I believe if I extracted the demonic energy, you would revert to an angel and vice versa.”

His eyes went wide.

“You were redeemed.”

Cold sweat prickled at his nape. “What?”

“You’re currently stuck in between. Neither angel nor demon nor human. Neither living nor dead.”

“You’re sure whatever lingering divine energy isn’t just left over from the wound?”

“The wound has healed. If you hadn’t accrued so much power as a demon, you would be an angel now.”

Thank goodness for that.

“Could you…extract the divine energy?”

Her eyes snapped to his and she stared intently down at him. “What?”

“The divine energy. Is it possible you could remove it now?”

“Why would you want that? That would turn you back into a demon!”

He bit back the near hysterical laugh that tried to escape him.

“Well, I certainly don’t recall being redeemed! That would make it more of a technicality, wouldn’t it? Rather than true redemption?”

“You were truly redeemed!”

Just what on earth had his eleven year old self done? How could he have let something like this happen?!

“It isn’t my decision to make,” she hedged. “It’s something Sera and the other seraphs should decide.”

“I can assure you that they do not want me to be redeemed.”

Which meant…what? Would they extract the demonic energy then? Or would they force him to remain like this? A neutralized threat, like…a declawed cat or a defanged snake?

A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck.

He’d never be able to access his power again. Never become one with the radio waves. Never return to Hell. Never see his friends…

Even if said friends were entirely to blame for his current predicament.

But if he had the chance to go back and do it all over again, would he really change anything if this was the only way to keep them safe?

Alastor forced the errant and ridiculous thought to the back of his mind.

Focus on the matter at hand.

“Are you…able to sense my soul contracts?”

She pursed her lips, looking like she wanted to protest. Instead she closed her eyes again and he felt her reach into what felt like his very essence. An unsettling chill passed through him and he wondered if this was what people meant when they said it felt as if someone had walked over their grave…

An agonizing beat of silence followed before she finally nodded.

“Yes, they’re still here.” She sucked in a sharp breath. “Millions of them…”

The revelation left him almost dizzy with relief. That meant he still had his power. He just couldn’t access it right now.

“If I’m not living or dead, what would happen if I were to die again?”

“I don’t know,” she said, pulling her hand back. “From what I understand, the attack from Adam should have killed you. If I had to guess, I’d say you dying now would finish what he started.”

Oh, was that all?

“You’re certain?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. This is all uncharted territory.”

He glanced down at the arm she’d drawn blood from earlier, noting the puncture mark was still visible. Was that because he had only human healing abilities now?

He would have to experiment. He needed to know his limitations.

And, most importantly, he needed to not die. Not only for the sake of his own existence, but for the sake of the millions of souls bound to him. Without a designee, they could easily fall into someone else’s hands.

Like the Vees.

His lip curled at the thought. They’d all sold their souls once before, hadn’t they? What would keep them from doing it again? Especially if they could no longer count on him for protection?

Those souls were his and Alastor didn’t treat his possessions poorly. Unlike the Vees.

He was known to be a fair deal maker, or at least more fair than most Overlords. It was how he’d continued to expand his influence once his Overlord killing days were over. He never took more than someone was willing to give, though he always got the better end of his deals.

His treatment of his souls was a mark of pride and a show of his power. He didn’t need to terrorize those who belonged to him. He also always had the fewest losses during exterminations, which meant there had been no significant waning of his power despite his seven year absence.

It helped his people were dispersed across the entire Pentagram, but he also had the more tenured souls teach the newer ones how to survive. Those beholden to him had a support network, much like Rosie’s Cannibals. He ensured the more powerful among them kept the others in line and reported back to him too.

He wagered that, barring Rosie, he had the most day-to-day knowledge of those in his possession. And staying on top of them all meant they never forgot who they ultimately belonged to either.

No, he didn’t have a set territory, but the tendrils of his power threaded through the entirety of Pride. Most importantly, they brought him information, which was the greatest currency in Hell.

All of those decades of work would amount to nothing if he remained trapped in Heaven like a domesticated pet.

There was little doubt in his mind that was exactly what Heaven would want. If they had their way, he’d live out the rest of his days (or all eternity) in this damned detention center.

Viola had resumed scribbling on her clipboard while he digested everything, shooting him the occasional curious glance. Realizing he had no further questions, she nodded toward the bathroom door.

“I have everything I need for now. You can go ahead and get dressed.”

He pulled the gown back over his shoulders and tied it closed before sliding off of the bed. Upon reentering the bathroom, he closed and locked the door behind him. His hands then tightened around the edges of the pedestal sink.

His weak and useless human hands.

He had to get out of here. The sooner, the better.

Before they silenced the Radio Demon for good…

Chapter Text

While Sera kept her word about them having dinner with their families, they were only permitted to do so under Tambourine’s watchful eye. Lilith also wasn’t allowed to join them.

Much to Alastor’s frustration, Viola had done nothing to help with his bone deep exhaustion. He had no doubt it was intentional, which only annoyed him more. He made multiple attempts to brew himself some coffee, but was intercepted every time he even thought about entering the kitchen by Angel or his mother.

As they finished dessert (decoratively sliced fruit), he realized he’d lost count of how many times he’d nearly nodded off in his seat. It took monumental effort to keep his eyes open, let alone focused.

He must have actually fallen asleep at some point because the next thing he knew, his mother was pressing a kiss to his forehead and bidding him goodnight. Alastor moved to his feet, wrapping her in a tight hug.

“Is it selfish of me to want you to stay here?” she murmured into his shoulder.

His stomach twisted at the question. “No.”

“I know that’s not what you want. That it would make you unhappy.”

Guilt flooded him. “I’m sorry.”

“I worry about you,” she continued. “It’s hard not to, knowing you’re somewhere so dangerous.”

“I’d argue I’m one of the most dangerous things down there.”

She huffed, leaning back to meet his eyes. “Not right now, you aren’t. Alastor, please promise me you’ll rest tonight. And for as long as necessary. You need to give yourself a chance to recover from the past few days.”

Truly a missed opportunity on their jailers’ part. His mother’s presence was the only way he’d actually do such a thing.

Though he didn’t like the looks Angel kept giving him…

Eugenia cupped his face in her hands, resting her forehead against his own. “I love you. More than anything.”

His eyes and throat began to burn at her words. It was a struggle to keep his voice level as he replied, “I love you too. Just as much. Maybe more.”

She chuckled. “I’m glad I got to see you again. Even if I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Me, too.”

She glanced to Tambourine, a hopeful expression crossing her face. “Is it really not possible for us to stay with them?”

Alastor’s heart lurched in his chest. As badly as he wanted to cherish this unexpected extra time with her, he needed to plan his next move. He’d already resolved to sneak out of bed after Angel fell asleep, at which point he’d finally make some damned coffee and then get to work.

He belatedly realized the door to their suite was open, meeting an all too familiar set of pale green eyes when he glanced over at it. The angel standing in the doorway flashed him a shark-like grin.

Shit.

“I don’t see why not,” the angel said as she strolled inside.

Calliope was on the shorter side, around Lucifer’s height, though that was where their similarities ended. Her black hair was done up in thick box braids and her skin was as dark as his was light. She was also smart as a knife and almost preternaturally skilled at reading people. Alastor had wondered more than once if she had some sort of telepathy with how effortlessly she saw through even his defenses.

Her eyes gleamed as she held his gaze. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it Al?”

It took everything he had not to scowl back at her. Her smile widened anyway.

Shit, shit, shit.

“But Sera said—“ Tambourine began.

She cut her off with a sharp look. “This is my domain.”

Angel shot Alastor a worried glance, undoubtedly expecting someone similar to Lute. While Lute viewed every problem as a nail and herself as the hammer, Calliope rarely resorted to outright violence. It was what, in his opinion, made her far more dangerous.

No, she studied people, sussing out the best way to exert control over them. Alastor would have been impressed if she hadn’t used it so often against him.

Had he and Rosie been two halves of a whole person, they would have combined into Calliope. Even worse, if she were in Hell,

the three of them would have been inseparable.

“Tambourine, why don’t you escort these lovely ladies back to their suite so they can gather their night things?”

Tambourine reluctantly nodded as she headed for the door. Their family members followed her, looking nothing short of thrilled. His mother paused by Calliope, giving her shoulder a brief squeeze.

“It’s good to see you again, cher. Sera said you had other matters to attend to, but I’m glad you’re here now. You’ll keep them safe?”

The angel’s expression softened as she rested her hand overtop of hers. “Of course, Ms. Eugenia. I’m just sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

“It’s all right. You’re here now.”

She nodded. “We should have tea together again sometime soon.”

His mother beamed in answer before stepping out after the others.

Now it was just Angel, Alastor, and his worst nightmare.

Calliope left the door open behind her. Taunting him.

“Tea with my mother? Really?”

“What can I say? We’ve grown close over the years. She doesn’t need to worry though. I’ll be sure to keep a close eye on both of you.”

She crossed her arms, smirking up at him. “Everyone thought you were as good as dead when we heard about your fight with Adam. I’m glad to see you’re alive and well, though I am disappointed I missed seeing little Al. I’ll have to ask Viola what the chances are that he‘ll make a reappearance.”

Alastor narrowed his eyes. “Hopefully nonexistent.”

“…I guess ya know each other?” Angel hazarded, drifting closer to him.

“She was my near constant companion for the seven years I was here,” Alastor ground out.

Angel studied her, clearly looking for what had him so on edge, but unable to find it. “…you’re not gonna try an’ decapitate him are ya?” he hazarded.

Calliope laughed outright, the sound obnoxiously bell-like. “Now where would be the fun in that?”

“…so why’re ya lettin’ us stay with our families? ‘Cause you’re close with his ma?”

“Partly. I also learned my lesson after last time.” As she spoke, she withdrew the angelic steel stiletto Alastor had hidden under the floorboards.

Fuck.

“Especially since it seems someone wasn’t on his best behavior during his last visit!”

The color drained from Angel’s face.

“That shouldn’t be a problem this time. Not without your powers,” she continued, tucking the knife away. “And as far as eternal punishment goes, I can’t think of a better one for you, Al!”

“…what’s she talkin’ about?”

Calliope widened her eyes in false innocence.

It didn’t suit her.

“Lute’s too shortsighted. She lets her anger and hatred control her. If she actually stopped and thought about it, she’d realize how much more satisfying it would be to tame the Radio Demon instead.”

Angel immediately stepped in front of him. Alastor glared at his back as he stepped to the side to keep her in view.

“You ain’t touchin’ him!” he snapped.

“Oh, I have no desire to! I will, however, enjoy watching him torture himself! What’ll it be, Al? Stay with your mother for all eternity, powerless and bowing to Heaven’s authority? Or will you risk it all because you care more about power than about her?”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut and it took everything he had to keep his expression neutral.

“You finally have the chance to be with her! Forever! She won’t have to worry about you anymore and you can live together in peace. It’s her greatest, most impossible dream come true!”

Her eyes glittered as she grinned at him. “But her happiness has never been enough for you, has it? The entire reason you’re in Hell in the first place is because you just had to have more! You can’t even begin to understand how devastated she was by your death and your subsequent fall into Hell. What could her little boy have done to earn such a thing? Why would he choose to be evil? That’s not how she raised you.

“But you don’t regret any of it, do you? Even knowing redemption is possible, you’ll never make the effort to achieve it so you could be with her again. Hell is supposed to be a punishment, but it’s never been that for you, has it, Al?”

He clenched his fists at his sides, his ever present smile closer to him baring his teeth now.

“Just think of how many Sinners would quite literally kill to be in your shoes. Like Angel Dust here!”

Angel’s eyebrows slammed down. “Lemme guess, ya don’t believe in redemption?”

She laughed again. “I absolutely believe in redemption! I don’t, however, believe Hell should be a one size fits all punishment.”

He stared at her as if she’d grown a second head. “…say what now…?”

Calliope gestured to Alastor. “Can you honestly say it’s fair for the two of you to have been condemned to the same Hell? While you both have blood on your hands, you’ve never been as sadistic or violent as he has.”

“…couldn’t ya say the same about Heaven? I’m sure ya got literal saints up here, as well as fucked up folks who never got fully pushed over the edge.” He crossed his arms, frowning. “Dunno why you’d need a prison up here otherwise.”

“Good to know you’re not just a pretty face,” she said, eyeing him thoughtfully. “I agree. There should be degrees of paradise too.“

Her gaze flicked back to Alastor. “Though if you’re up here, I suppose Hell will, ironically, be the worse for it.“

Angel cocked his head. “What makes ya say that?”

“Oh, just that exorcists come in all shapes and sizes!”

Alastor’s fists tightened at his sides. “I’m not an exorcist.”

“True! You do have some standards after all! It’s why I’m so fond of you, Al!”

His lip curled into a sneer. The most annoying part was that those weren’t just empty words from her. She was genuinely fond of him. As much as he despised her in kind, they had more in common than not. Were their roles reversed, he could see them both rising to similar positions of power.

“Poor thing! You look exhausted! You really should get some rest!”

She snapped her fingers and security cameras appeared in the corners of the room.

Alastor gritted his teeth, his smile hanging by a thread.

“I’ll be watching and listening!” she said, waggling her fingers at them both before leaving the suite.

The door remained open.

Alastor’s jaw was beginning to ache.

“…you okay there, Smiles…?” Angel asked as he drew closer to him. He sent the hall beyond the door a wary glance.

“Peachy.”

“You two seem real…chummy…?”

His nails dug painfully into his palms. An actual growl escaped him, though it sounded pathetic without his omnipresent static fluctuating menacingly behind it.

“…she’s Shrödinger’s bitch, huh?”

Alastor blinked, his rage fading somewhat at the non sequitur. “What?”

“A bitch and not a bitch at the same time.”

A surprised bark of laughter escaped him and he forced his hands to relax. “An apt description.”

Angel frowned up at the cameras. “Ya think she’s got ‘em everywhere?”

“It’s possible they don’t even work. She enjoys playing mind games.”

He glanced back to the door. “Yeah, I can see that. You okay? For real this time.”

Alastor considered telling him what he could do with his misguided concern but refrained. Angel had done nothing but help him so far, in more ways than he even knew. He deserved his respect and his honesty (at least as far as he was willing to offer it).

“No.”

Angel’s expression softened. “Me neither. I ain’t exactly thrilled about bein’ stuck here.”

Alastor blinked.

The spider absently scuffed one of his shoes against the floor, looking anywhere but at him. “Sure, it’s what I want. Bein’ up here with Mol an’ my nonna an’ all. Bein’ away from Val… But…”

He patiently waited for him to gather his thoughts, curious where he was going with this.

“This ain’t redemption,” Angel concluded. “Sure, I wanna get redeemed so I can be with my family again, but this ain’t redeemed. I wanna be able to look them both in the eye and know I deserve t’be up here as much as they do. I wanna earn my place. I…I actually wanna be a better person…”

“I know.”

He gave a startled jerk, all eight eyes going wide. “…ya do?”

Alastor closed the door of the suite, tired of looking at the damn thing, before sitting heavily in one of the obnoxiously comfortable armchairs. “Yes. The fact you take Charlie’s ridiculous exercises seriously and have been making a genuine effort to change shows that. Cruelty also isn’t your strong suit. It’s more something you’ve had to pick up along the way to survive.”

There was a sudden loud sniffle and he snapped his head up, alarmed to find Angel on the verge of tears.

“Y-Ya really mean that…?”

“Of course I do. Otherwise I would’ve ripped your limbs off one by one the first time you propositioned me. I just happen to mind my own business, unlike Husker. All the world’s a stage and all that.” He waved a dismissive hand, trying to temper some of the…kindness behind his words.

He knew quite a bit about playing a part.

“…careful, Smiles, you’re startin’ to sound like I’m growin’ on ya.”

Alastor pinched the bridge of his nose. “Like kudzu.”

Angel grinned. “Permission to hug?”

“Must you?”

”Just a quick one!” he insisted, leaning down to wrap all four arms around him.

Alastor sighed heavily, patting his back and pointedly ignoring how his shirt was beginning to grow damp.

Angel finally drew back, wiping his eyes as he settled down on the couch closest to him.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry ya had to put up with all this shit. Even if ya don’t remember it.”

“I’m sorry you had to deal with it all too,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “And I…appreciate your help, even if I don’t remember it.”

Angel’s grin widened. “Yeah, well, we got a lot more in common than I thought. At least as far as havin’ a fuckton of trauma goes.”

Trauma.

It felt like too strong of a word. His mother had experienced trauma. He couldn’t say the same for himself. He wasn’t the one who had born the brunt of his father’s wrath. He hadn’t had an easy childhood, but there were undoubtedly others who had worse, seeing as he’d survived to adulthood.

“Can I ask ya somethin’?”

“Hmm?” he murmured, eyes sliding closed.

“…what happened after?”

“After what?”

The sofa squeaked as Angel shifted on it. “After ya killed him. Cuz ya still went on to be a serial killer, didn’t ya?”

“Obviously.”

“Was it cuzza the shit ya went through growin’ up?”

He reluctantly peeled one eye open to consider him. His first instinct was to tell him to mind his own business, but he supposed Angel had earned something in return for all he’d done.

“Are you asking me if I became a serial killer because my father hit me?”

Angel blanched. “No! I know it ain’t that straightforward.” His gaze dropped to his lap. “I was just…hopin’ life got better for ya after that piece ‘a shit was outta your life.”

Oh. How alarmingly sentimental.

“It did.”

“Then…why…?”

He didn’t immediately reply, his eyes sliding closed again as he lost the battle to keep it open.

It was the truth. Life had gotten better. They had more money once his father wasn’t around to drink it all away. It had taken his mother time to stop worrying he would walk back into their lives at any moment, but as weeks turned to months turned to years, Alastor had watched her bloom.

He’d continued to help out where he could, working odd jobs and assisting her with her cleaning duties at the theater and elsewhere. He had more time to devote to his studies too, excelling at school and graduating at the top of his class. She’d been so proud. Her life’s greatest mission was a success.

It wasn’t all sunshine and roses, of course. There were still struggles and strife, but none of it compared to the way things had been while his father lived. And if they’d survived that, they could survive anything.

Alastor hadn’t planned on becoming a serial killer. The darkness in him had still been there, just…quieter. It flared up every so often, like when one of his classmates said something untoward about his skin color. Or when his mother was treated poorly solely because of her own. But it became manageable. He was able to pretend it wasn’t there at all most of the time.

Until he took his second life at seventeen, a few short weeks after he graduated.

He’d picked up some work playing piano at one of the speakeasies better versed in discretion, and that also had a police officer on their payroll. He’d learned the basics of piano from one of his mother’s regular clients, an elderly Black woman who was no longer able to clean her home on her own.

Alastor took to the instrument like a duck to water. Access to pianos at school, church, and the theater his mother primarily worked at meant he had plenty of opportunities to practice too. Though getting permission to practice at church and school came at the cost of playing tamer music for functions at both…

He had an ear for music, which was one of the best qualities a jazz musician could have, especially combined for his boundless love of the art. Practicing was never a chore. He’d gotten the offer for the gig at the speakeasy through their church, after much cajoling from the owners to get his mother’s blessing.

Alastor was confident he could’ve had a career as a jazz pianist. He probably would have, if radio hadn’t been the greater of his two passions.

And he may have actually kept any further blood off his hands too, if he hadn’t taken the scenic route along the river after playing one evening.

If he hadn’t heard Mimzy pleading with her attacker not to hurt her.

One minute he’d been heading home and the next he was breathing hard as he stood over the unmoving body of a man, a heavy stone in his hand.

It hadn’t been Mimzy’s voice he’d heard or her face that he’d seen.

It had been his mother’s.

Mimzy, terrified she was next, had thrown her hands over her head as she cowered where she was sprawled under the bridge.

A white woman.

A white woman who’d just watched him kill a white man.

He’d tightened his fingers around the stone, now slick with blood, to keep from dropping it.

Alastor didn’t know how long he was stuck like that, his thoughts torn between running away (foolishly hoping she couldn’t or wouldn’t identify him) and killing her too.

If he killed an innocent woman, he would be worse than his father, wouldn’t he?

But she was a white woman and her attacker, a white man.

If she alerted the police, Alastor would be lucky if all that awaited him was a swift death. It wouldn’t matter how fair skinned he was or that his father had been white.

One drop was all it took.

He’d ruined his life. His mother’s life.

All because he’d lost control. Seen someone that wasn’t there.

He couldn’t breathe. No matter how fast he tried to suck in air, he felt as if he were drowning. His head spun while his heart threatened to pound through his ribcage.

Mimzy was the first to pull herself together, righting her clothes and looking up at him.

“…you okay, doll?” she managed, voice barely above a whisper.

She slowly got up, approaching him like one might a wounded animal.

He heard her. Saw her. But he couldn’t move.

“…shit, you’re just a kid,” she murmured, frowning.

She gingerly took the rock from him. He let her have it. She was no match for him with or without it, tiny as she was. She tossed it into the river (his shoulders jerked at the subsequent splash) and turned her attention to the body.

“Ya know what’s great for corpses?”

He blinked, struggling to make sense of what she was saying.

Mimzy gestured to the river. “Water.”

He blinked again, belatedly realizing he was crying.

Why was he crying?

“So how’s about we take care ‘a this, and then see about gettin’ ya home?”

He didn’t know why he listened to her in that moment. He didn’t know her. Couldn’t trust her.

But she took the man by the feet and Alastor found himself pulling the back of the man’s coat up over his ruined head to keep any further gore off of himself. He then hauled him up beneath the arms.

They both waded into the river before he took over entirely, moving to a deeper section and letting the man go. He stood there after, his teeth chattering despite the summer heat.

The body floated downstream and out of sight.

At some point, Mimzy took his hand and led him back to shore.

Alastor had followed her like a child, accepting a drink from the flask she offered him and half listening as she talked a mile a minute.

He wasn’t able to fully focus again until she took his face in her hands, making him look up at her from where he’d all but collapsed beneath the bridge.

“Thank you,” she’d said, tears in her eyes. “Thank you.”

Alastor felt someone gently shaking him by the shoulder and blinked owlishly only to find his mother smiling softly down at him.

“Why don’t we get you to bed?” she offered, helping him to his feet.

Once again he found himself unable to do more than follow her instructions as she walked him through getting ready for bed.

He felt like he was wading through molasses. Like his head was full of cotton.

The exhaustion must have caught back up to him.

Alastor was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

- - -

He woke the next morning to the smell of bacon and coffee. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, let alone for the entire night. Unfortunately, his hours of uninterrupted sleep didn’t make it any easier for him to get out of bed.

Alastor was still bleary eyed when he lumbered down the hall and toward the kitchen. Angel glanced up at him from where he sat at the dining room table, giving him a cheeky grin.

“Ya look like death warmed over, Smiles. Which is pretty accurate, given everythin’ ya been through.”

While he was distracted, his mother hurried over, steering him into one of the table’s other chairs. Alastor wanted to protest, but then she placed a mug of coffee in his hands and he obediently sat. He inhaled deeply, eyes sliding closed in ecstasy, before he took his first sip. He foolishly hoped it would clear the last of the cobwebs from his mind.

The ladies joined them shortly after with enormous plates of eggs, bacon, and toast. His mother stuck a fork in his hand and he ate without a fuss. By the time he was full to bursting, Alastor was still exhausted but finally felt capable of stringing two thoughts together.

“Welcome back,” his mother said with a knowing smile. “I’d say you should go back to bed, but I know you’ll refuse.”

“Yeah, we’ll just have to get ya to sit still long enough to pass out again instead,” Angel said with a smirk.

He didn’t even have the energy to glare at him.

How miserable.

Despite his best efforts, Alastor spent the morning dozing off and on in the armchair from the night before. He wasn’t capable of actually staying awake until well after lunch.

Picking up on his newfound alertness, his mother came over, gently taking his hand in hers. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” she asked.

He stood and followed her into one of the bathrooms, of all places.

She closed the door and turned on the bathroom fan with a shrug. “I’d like to think they wouldn’t put recording devices in here, but you never know.”

“If I had my powers, I would know for sure,” he groused.

She gave him a small smile, taking a seat on the edge of the tub and patting the spot next to her. He sank down beside her with a quiet huff.

“Angel told me what Calliope said yesterday.”

Alastor gave a startled jerk, glaring at the door.

“Don’t be upset with him,” she said, reaching over to take his hand in hers again.

“I’m going to throw him off of a cloud.”

She squeezed his hand reassuringly. “It’s not true.”

He pursed his lips as he reluctantly met her gaze.

“I know you don’t love power more than you love me.”

Alastor’s gaze dropped to their clasped hands. “Then…why can’t I make myself stay with you? Why can’t I put your happiness first?”

She reached up, gently running the fingers of her free hand through his hair. “Like you already did your entire life?”

His hand tightened around hers. “I didn’t—“

“You did. I was always your top priority. Sometimes I imagine the life you might have lived if I hadn’t kept you anchored in place.”

“Mère! You didn’t! You never—”

“What would our lives have been like if I’d been stronger? If I’d left your father? If you hadn’t had to kill him while you were just a boy to keep us both safe?”

“But that’s not what happened,” he protested. “You did everything you could. He would have killed you! He would have taken me from you!”

“Maybe,” she agreed. “I’ve learned since then that the most dangerous point in an abusive relationship is when the person being abused tries to leave.”

He nodded. “Exactly! Which is why—“

“Unless…” she interjected before suddenly trailing off.

He fell quiet, absently brushing his thumb back and forth across the back of her hand. Letting her gather her thoughts.

“Unless the abuser is unable to hurt them. Now I’m not condoning murder, but I know you saved more lives than you took. Two things can be true at the same time.”

She released his hand, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into her side.

“You were the hero you didn’t have, Alastor.”

He snorted softly, even as his eyes and throat began to burn. “I’m really not. I enjoy killing. You know that.”

“Two things can be true,” she repeated, pressing a kiss to his temple. “And now you’ve taken a place like Hell and made it safer too. Violence isn’t always the answer, but it certainly doesn’t hurt from time to time!”

“Mère!”

She laughed outright. “Think of all the souls in your possession. What their lives were like before they were bound to you.”

“My millions of souls. That I own.”

“Even so, I’d wager their souls are safer in your hands than anyone else’s.”

“They would disagree with you.”

“We also wouldn’t have learned redemption was possible if you hadn’t helped with the hotel and supported Charlie’s dream. She’s a sweet girl. Too sweet.“

He eyed her almost warily. “I can’t believe you’re sitting here encouraging me to engage in murder and violence. Who are you and what have you done with ma mère?”

“I met some of the people you saved while living. And then, seeing you as a child… Knowing the hypocrisy of Heaven…” She shrugged. “It’s given me a new perspective. After all, who knows how many souls you saved from a permanent end by stopping the latest extermination. And now all those people have a chance at redemption.”

“If they want it.”

She nodded. “If they want it. But you and Angel... Charlie needs you. Hell needs you. Heaven has finally admitted the fact that redemption is possible, something they haven’t believed in since the dawn of time. And that’s only because the two of you were there to support Charlie’s dream.”

Alastor shook his head. “You’re giving me far too much credit. I didn’t believe in redemption either. I told her that.”

“Even if the only thing she had accomplished was creating a safe haven in Hell, she couldn’t have done it without you.

“We know there’s life after death now. A person shouldn’t give up on living just because they’re dead. And what about the people down there who were one good deed or one mistake made from Heaven? Do they deserve to be murdered by exorcists or to have other unspeakable horrors done to them?”

He smiled faintly, despite himself.

“You’ve never liked bullies, cher. I imagine there are a lot of them in Hell.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that I enjoy it. Killing them. Hurting them.”

“But you’ve never hurt those weaker than you or those who didn’t deserve it. Your methods may be…eccentric, but I know you have far less innocent blood on your hands than Heaven does.”

“Hmm, you do have a point there…”

She pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “So you should go back to Hell. You should keep helping Charlie with her dream. There’s a good chance she and everyone else you’ve come to care about would have died if you hadn’t fought alongside them, mon petit cocodrie.”

“…I’ll never see you again…”

She rested her cheek on the top of his head, still running her fingers through his hair. “Never say never. We thought we were saying goodbye forever the last time too, didn’t we? And if Heaven decides to support redemption, even if you don’t want to be redeemed, maybe there will be other ways for us to meet or speak in the future. Maybe Heaven and Hell wouldn’t have to be completely separate anymore. There are so many people up here who have been separated from their loved ones. I think there’s more support than Heaven would like to admit for redemption.”

Alastor swallowed hard, tears beginning to gather in his eyes.

“I won’t go into details, but we had a visit from a friend of yours after we left yesterday. She said she thinks she can help you. Maybe sooner than expected.”

“…oh…”

He should have been relieved. Overjoyed.

Unfortunately he wasn’t as optimistic about the future as his mother.

“So let’s enjoy this time together while we have it,” she continued. “And don’t think of it as goodbye, but au revoir instead.”

Tears skated down his cheeks as he pulled her into a proper hug. “Je t’aime, mère.”

“Je t’aime, mon petit gâteau.”

Chapter Text

Alastor did his best to take his mother’s words about enjoying the time they had left together to heart. He threw himself into helping her make gumbo for dinner that evening while Angel spent the time they had left with his sister and grandmother.

Conversation had flowed easily enough between them after their heart to heart in the bathroom. He filled her in on the months that had passed since he last saw her, telling her all about the hotel and its residents.

By the time they finished their prep work and left the gumbo to cook, his mother was grinning from ear to ear.

“You sound awfully fond of them, cher,” she offered, gently nudging him where they sat together on the sofa. “It sounds like they’re fond of you too.”

Alastor pursed his lips. “Fond is a strong word. Tolerate, is more like it. Though you’re right about them being fond of me. But who wouldn’t be? My charms are irresistible!”

She chuckled, taking his hand in hers and giving it a small squeeze. “That they are. How are you feeling? You look tired.”

He sighed, resting his head on her shoulder. “I am,” he reluctantly admitted. It was no use pretending otherwise. Not with her.

She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Why don’t you take a nap? I’ll wake you up when the gumbo is ready.”

His heart seized in his chest, hand reflexively tightening around hers. “I’m all right for now. I’ll likely turn in early though.” Much to his dismay.

The exhaustion had yet to fully abate. He didn’t even entertain the idea of asking Viola for help. He knew it would be pointless. He was worse than a declawed cat like this. He was more like a kitten.

Calliope was probably laughing herself sick. Speaking of…

“Must you continue engaging with her?”

She didn’t need to ask who he was referring to. “She’s a friend.”

“She was and is my jailer. Why would you want to spend time with her?”

“You won’t like the answer.”

No, he wouldn’t. Not if it was what he suspected. He sighed heavily. “Because she reminds you of me.”

“Yes. She also gives me the occasional update on how you’re doing. Even though she doesn’t have to and she’s not supposed to.”

Of course she did.

Ugh.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, Alastor still resting his head on her shoulder and Eugenia gently running her fingers through his hair. There was so much he wanted to say to her now that he’d been granted another final chance to see her again.

She said this was au revoir.

He wished he could believe that too.

For now he chose to pretend he was a child again, cuddled up against her. She must be pretending the same, as she began to softly sing, just slightly off key, as always.

“Chère, mo lemmé toi. Oui, mo lemmé toi ‘vec tou mo coeur mo lemmé toi…”

The rest of the night passed far too quickly. Alastor did his best to stay awake, to cherish what may be their last evening together, but his exhaustion won out in the end. He lost the fight to keep his eyes open and had been all but ordered to bed.

As he got up and started making his way to the bedroom, he glanced back to see Angel, Molly, and his grandmother all deeply engaged in conversation. It sounded almost like they were fighting. He supposed that was just the way Italian was, loud and exuberant, judging by the broad smiles on all their faces.

Alastor managed to sleep through the night. If he dreamed, he didn’t remember any of it. When he finally cracked his eyes open, he sucked in a sharp breath upon finding Emily standing over the bed. She held a finger up to her lips.

“We don’t have much time,” she whispered. “I need you and Angel to follow me, before Calliope realizes I’ve tampered with her cameras.”

His heart thudded almost painfully in his chest.

It was time then.

He would never see his mother again.

Part of him wished he could tell her goodbye one last time, but Emily was right. Time was of the essence. They would likely only get one shot at this.

Alastor leaned over, gently shaking Angel by the shoulder. It took several shakes before he blinked blearily up at him.

“We’re leaving. Now. Get ready.”

All eight of his eyes flew open and he lurched upright into a seated position. “…shit. I mean, Mol said it’d be soon, but shit.”

He clambered out of bed and hurried into the bathroom, presumably to change out of his heavenly pajamas and back into the faded t-shirt and barely there black shorts he insisted on wearing. Alastor went into the hall bathroom to do the same, redressing in the linen suit Emily had conjured up for him.

They met back up with her in the living room. His heart lurched when he saw his mother and Angel’s sister and grandmother were already there waiting.

Their goodbyes were quick, everyone doing their best to keep their tears at bay. Angel clung to Molly and his nonna, murmuring softly to them in Italian.

Eugenia cupped Alastor’s face in her hands, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Fait attention, mon fils. Prends soin de toi.” She smiled, lips trembling, as tears slipped down her cheeks.

“Toi aussi, mère. Je t’aime. Je m'ennuierai de toi.”

She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tight. “Je t’aime, mon petit cocodrie. Au revoir.”

His cheeks were damp when they finally parted. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing at his face. Angel wasn’t much better off, his fur utterly soaked around his eyes.

Emily opened the door, leading them out and quietly closing it behind her.

“You could stay, you know,” Alastor offered. “I don’t think anyone would hold it against you.”

“I know,” he said, sniffling. But this is about more than just us. It’s about provin’ all these assholes up here wrong. An’ about makin’ sure other folks get a chance t’be redeemed, too.”

How nauseatingly sentimental. Yet the corners of Alastor’s mouth ticked even higher at the words.

“Here,” he said, holding out his handkerchief. Angel took it, blowing his nose into it and offering it back.

He stared down at it in bewildered revulsion. “...why don’t you keep it?”

“It won’t be goodbye,” Emily insisted as she took their hands and gave them a brief squeeze. “You’ll see each other again. I know it.”

There was a good chance Angel would, at least. And for the first time since Angel expressed his desire to be redeemed, Alastor found himself torn. As badly as he wanted the spider to be reunited with his family, the thought of never seeing him again sat unnervingly heavy in his heart.

Emily gave the two of them a reassuring smile before they appeared in a room that looked oddly familiar.

A messy bedroom done up in a variety of soft pastels…

Emily’s room.

Had he remembered that, or was it just the most obvious answer?

Did it matter?

Emily hurried over to a cluttered, white desk, grabbing a necklace bearing a lavender colored crystal She handed to Angel. “It’s a human disguise! This should help you keep a low profile in the Living World!”

Angel studied it before pulling it over his head.

The change was instantaneous and suddenly Alastor was staring at an older and taller version of the boy he’d found in that New York alley so many years ago. Blond hair, brown eyes, and a smattering of freckles across his fair skin.

“…whoa,” Angel breathed, staring down at his newly human hands.

“I’ll be right back. I have to go get the Cherubs,” Emily said. “Do you two mind waiting here? The door is locked from the inside. And if anyone tries to come in—”

“We’re fucked,” Angel cheerfully interrupted.

Her smile tightened into more of a grimace. “I’ll be right back! I promise!” she insisted before vanishing.

Angel wandered over to the ornate full length mirror on the wall, slowly turning in front of it to get a good look at himself from every angle. His clothes had shrunk to fit him, or seemed to have at least. Alastor had yet to determine if his shirt was actually supposed to expose one of his shoulders.

“Damn, I was hot as fuck while livin’ too, huh?”

“I can’t say I’m the best judge of that,” he answered, taking a slow tour around the room.

“Whaddya think the odds are of all this actually workin’ out?”

“It has to.”

Once Emily’s involvement was discovered, they would be on their own. She was just one angel up against the entirety of Heaven. If they didn’t escape now, he may as well kiss his freedom goodbye, along with his powers. And then what would become of the hotel and the others without them?

Yes, Lucifer joined the fight near the end, but as powerful as he was he couldn’t stand up to Heaven alone either.

He also wasn’t the most adept when it came to strategy and was more likely to concede to Charlie’s ridiculous whims than to challenge her and push her to think bigger.

Not to mention the fact the purported King of Hell had about as much knowledge as a freshly dead Sinner when it came to the day-to-day of Hell and its politics…

“…still wish we’d had longer to say goodbye,” Angel suddenly murmured, shoulders sagging.

Alastor made his way over to him, reluctantly holding his arms open. He swore he saw literal stars in Angel’s eyes as he threw himself into his offered embrace.

He supposed it wasn’t bad. He didn’t have the same level of comfort he had with him as he did with Rosie or Mimzy, but he could feel the foundation settling. He supposed he didn’t mind Angel being one of the very few people he allowed such liberties.

“S’like huggin’ a statue,” Angel mumbled into his shoulder. His human disguise made them far closer in height, though the spider still had a few inches on him.

“If you don’t want it—“ Alastor began.

“I want it!” he protested, briefly tightening his arms around him. “S’just kinda funny after seein’ how ya are with ladies an’ all. We’ll get there!”

Alastor sighed heavily. He regretted this already but it was too late now.

“Oh!” Angel said, pulling back suddenly.

“Oh?”

“When Emily comes back, I gotta ask if she’s got my phone with her! I took a pic of mini you!”

“…why?”

“I was tryin’ to show ya how far tech had come! Shit, wish I’d gotten one of demon an’ angel you too…”

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“You were bouncin’ all around. Like you was a magical girl!”

“A what?”

Angel grinned. “Don’t worry! I’ll get ya up to speed! We’re besties now, which means we’re gonna hang out an’ everythin’! Maybe even have another sleepover!”

Alastor stared back at him in growing horror.

Angel cackled. “Don’t worry! We’ll do shit ya wanna do too! Bein’ BFFs is all about give ‘n take!”

He didn’t get a chance to respond as Emily suddenly reappeared. There were two infantile looking animals with her. A beagle and a tan colored rabbit, both with excessively large eyes and comically small wings.

Alastor’s jaw reflexively tightened, his gaze lingering on the dog.

Angel’s hands flew to his mouth, the stars returning to his eyes in full force. “Oh em gee!”

The rabbit held a hand up to forestall him. “You can look, but don’t touch. We’re professionals. This isn’t a petting zoo.”

The dog’s wagging tail abruptly drooped. “…not even one pat…?”

She shot him a sharp look that left his lower lip pathetically quivering.

“I’m Flopsie. This is my associate Buddy,” she continued, gesturing to herself and then the dog.

Angel miserably failed at stifling a squeal. Flopsie ignored him.

“So you were brought up here for a special visit and now you need to get back to the Living World?”

Emily nodded. “Exactly! Thanks so much for your help with this! They were supposed to leave earlier today, but then Sera called that meeting this morning and everything got pushed back. We really appreciate your help!”

Meeting? What meeting? Though, given the timing, it likely had something to do with himself and Angel. All the more reason to get out of here as quickly as possible.

“It’s no problem at all!” Flopsie insisted. As she spoke, she lifted her hands, creating a swirling portal on the wall that looked as if it were made up of clouds and…rainbows.

Alastor only narrowly avoided rolling his eyes.

The portal started out the size of a salad plate, slowly expanding to reveal what could only be bayou. The scent of his childhood wafted through, ironically similar to the sulfur he occasionally smelled in Hell. While Alastor had conjured his own bayou in his rooms at the hotel, it was just a facsimile. Much like his grandmother’s red quilt, it was a close match but could never measure up to the real thing.

His heart soared as the portal grew, revealing tupelo and bald cypress trees. The phantom sweet-sour, plum-like taste of tupelo fruit filled his mouth. He could already feel the sun on his skin as well as the near oppressive humidity, made all the more intense by the proximity to the water.

Home.

He was going home.

His eyes and throat began to burn. He swallowed hard, forcing back the unexpected wave of emotion.

The portal had just reached eighteen inches in diameter when there was a distinct clicking sound, like that of a PA system being turned on. They all glanced up as soft chimes began to play, reminding Alastor of someone dragging a mallet slowly back and forth across the bars of a xylophone.

Emily and the Cherubs immediately tensed, their eyes going wide. Angel turned to them in alarm.

“…I’m guessin’ that ain’t the ice cream truck…?”

The portal vanished. Alastor’s heart lurched into his throat.

Shit.

Buddy slapped his hands over his floppy ears, his breathing ratcheting up until he was in danger of hyperventilating.

“…it’s the emergency alert system,” Emily said, gently rubbing Buddy’s back. She tapped into her powers and an air of tranquility settled over them all like a warm blanket.

Alastor hated it.

“There’s not supposed to be a drill today!” Buddy whined, even as the rigid set of his shoulders eased and his breathing began to even back out.

Flopsie looked equally unnerved, though she managed to hold herself together unlike her partner.

“All the more reason to get them back home as quickly as possible!” Emily insisted.

The rabbit eyed her with a hint of suspicion. Emily smiled reassuringly back, the picture of sincerity.

Hmm. Charlie could learn a thing or two from her…

Flopsie hesitated a moment longer before reopening the portal. It had shrunk back to the size of a salad plate but was expanding a little more quickly this time.

Buddy whimpered as the chimes continued over the PA system.

“Huh,” Angel murmured. “For an emergency alert, it’s surprisingly relaxin’. Nothin’ like the ones in… The ones we’re used to.”

Alastor perked up, some of his disquiet easing. “Ah, yes. Those are mine.”

Hell hadn’t had an Emergency Alert System prior to his death, relying instead on the clock tower and then Charlie’s little fireworks show. It had all lacked a certain amount of gravitas that he’d been happy to provide. Vox later added his television and text updates, but one didn’t need a hellphone or a television to receive Alastor’s alerts. One didn’t even need a radio! Not when he’d so generously set up his very own PA system throughout Pride!

After all, why should he limit his broadcasts to those in possession of a radio?

He’d modeled his system after the electric air raid sirens Britain put in place just before World War II. His, however, were capable of so much more, given his preternatural connection to radio waves.

Angel gave him a look. “Why ain’t I surprised to hear that? Why don’t ya switch to somethin’ like this instead?” he asked, gesturing to the ceiling.

“Absolutely not! The siren would never be heard over all that ridiculous club music!“

“Sure, but I dunno if makin’ everybody think it’s the end of the world is the best option either.”

“That is precisely the point of an emergency alert system! The shot of adrenaline it generates only sharpens one’s focus!”

“How are ya sadistic even with public service shit?” Angel grumbled, crossing his arms.

Alastor grinned at him, all teeth.

Sera’s voice suddenly cut on over the chimes. “Please do not be alarmed,” she said, accompanied by an incessant buzzing indicating interference from a ground loop.

Really, this was supposed to be Heaven?

It was purgatory at best.

If he weren’t in the midst of escaping, he would make a detour to investigate. It would be quicker with his powers, but he could hardly call himself a radio host if he was unable to fix such things without them.

His powers would also be useless without his vast knowledge of radio waves and radio communication to manifest and guide them.

A sharp squeal of feedback cut off whatever Sera said next.

Maybe this was an attempt to lure him into a trap or to torture him into submission… Impressively diabolical, if so.

“—two missing persons who may not be in their right minds, Anthony D’Angelo and Alastor Doré. They were last seen in the medical facility, where they were undergoing treatment prior to their disappearance.”

Oh, is that what the general populace thought Heaven’s little prison was?

Alastor kept his expression attentive but neutral. Meanwhile Angel was already starting to sweat and Emily’s smile had grown brittle, anxiety all but rolling off of them both in waves.

Wonderful…

“Alastor is six feet tall with tan skin, dark curly hair, and brown eyes. He wears glasses and speaks with a strange accent.”

His eyebrows shot up and he found himself smiling so hard his teeth began to ache.

A strange accent? How dare she!

Buddy shifted his attention to him, his eyes going wide as saucers as he pointed a trembling paw in his direction. “F-F-Flopsie!”

Well, if no one else was going to solve the problem…

Alastor scooped the dog up, forearm pressing against his windpipe. Not hard enough to injure the wretched creature, but enough to give the impression he wasn’t fucking around. While he had no love for dogs, the damned thing was an innocent.

He didn’t make a habit of harming innocents.

Alastor directed his smile at the startled Flopsie, his voice dripping with honey. “Do be a dear and finish up, won’t you? I would hate for anything to happen to your little friend here!”

“Alastor!” Angel and Emily gasped in unison.

He shot them a glare. “What? I don’t see either of you doing anything!”

Absurdly large tears rolled from the mutt’s eyes, soaking into the fabric of Alastor’s sleeve.

“F-Flopsie!” he wailed, trembling in his hold.

It took everything Alastor had not to roll his eyes at the ridiculous display. The rabbit glared at him with such venom, he had no doubt she was praying for his second (or third?) demise.

“Let him go or I’m closing the portal!”

“If you close the portal, I’ll snap his fuzzy little neck!”

There was another outraged chorus of “Alastor!”

“She clearly isn’t motivated enough by our status as deranged escapees!”

Emily held both hands up, though who she was trying to placate was beyond him. “There’s no need to get violent!”

“Need I remind you both that this is likely our one and only chance to return to Hell? Now, if dear Flopsie will finish opening the portal, she can have her damp friend back in one piece.”

Buddy howled at the word “Hell,” making Alastor flinch. His grip reflexively tightened against his throat to muffle the sound. He had to force himself to loosen it again.

Innocent.

The dog was innocent.

Flopsie’s eyes narrowed as she all but trembled in rage. “Swear it!” she demanded. “I want a deal!”

“This isn’t a negotiation.”

Angel immediately held out his hand. “I’ll do it! I’ll make a deal with ya! If ya finish openin’ the portal and we get through, I swear Al won’t hurt your friend an’ he’ll give him back.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“I'll yeet him offa cloud myself!”

“Really?” Alastor drawled.

“Deal!” the Cherub said, shaking Angel’s hand.

Cotton candy pink magic flared around their joined hands and Alastor was unable to suppress a grimace. First rainbows and now this…

To her credit, Flopsie kept the portal stable throughout. She returned her full focus to it after, sweat beading on her forehead.

Goodness, was this always so taxing on them? Or was it simply because her compatriot was unable to assist?

Just as the portal reached the size of a hula hoop, the door to Emily’s rooms banged open hard enough to ricochet off of the wall.

Lute stood there glaring daggers, her glowing sword in hand. Calliope was next to her, looking disappointed in him, while Tambourine brought up the rear.

Lovely.

“No time like the present,” he said to Angel Dust, hurling the dog at the cluster of angels. He dove through the portal while they were distracted, rolling into a crouch upon landing on the other side.

He turned back to watch as Calliope caught Buddy, presumably before Lute could slice him in two.

Angel threw himself through after Alastor, the portal abruptly vanishing behind him.

Chapter Text

“God fuckin’ dammit!” Angel shouted. “Emily didn’t give me back my fuckin’ phone!”

“That’s the least of our concerns right now,” Alastor retorted, grabbing him by the hand and sprinting deeper into the bayou.

The spider thankfully followed without him having to drag him.

“Wait, shouldn’t we be goin’ toward civilization?” he demanded as they ran.

“Right now we need to be as far from this spot as possible. There’s no telling how quickly they’ll get another portal open. We need to find somewhere to lay low and then we can worry about the rest later.”

He just hoped Emily and the Cherubs didn’t immediately rat them out. Emily, he was fairly confident about. The Cherubs? Not so much.

Regardless of the fact the sun was high in the sky, he couldn’t keep a chill from running through him at how closely his present situation resembled that of his death. Being hunted in the bayou. Like a fucking animal. As angry as it made him, his palms still grew clammy and he swore he heard the baying of hounds in the distance.

He didn’t have time for another episode right now.

This was their one and only chance and he’d be doubly damned before he wound up back in Calliope’s clutches or at the end of Lute’s sword.

Not that his body or mind seemed interested in logic, judging by how his breathing sped up while his heart thundered in his ears.

He fought to ground himself in the present, even as he felt it slipping through his fingers.

It was 2024. He was in the bayou.

Why was he in the bayou?

The reason eluded him.

He doubled down, trying his damnedest to remember.

He just had to remember and then everything would be fine. Then he wouldn’t feel like this anymore.

Crying.

Screaming.

Blood on his hands. The knife slipping in his grip, digging into his own flesh.

Where were his gloves? He usually wore gloves for this.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Normally he had a plan. Why hadn’t he stuck to his plan?

Terrified, pleading eyes staring up at him.

Why were there other people here? No one else was supposed to be here.

Someone bandaging his cut, giving him a pair of gloves. Wiping the blood from the knife’s handle and pressing it back into his hand, wrapping his fingers around it. Telling him it would be all right.

But it wasn’t all right. He hadn’t lost control like this since the incident with Mimzy. He couldn’t afford to lose control. Not now, not ever.

Everything abruptly clicked into place. He was there to dispose of a body. He’d already dismembered it to make it easier to carry. Once he fed his latest kill to the alligators, he could go back home. It was late. His mother would be worried sick.

He caught a flicker of motion from the corner of his eye, his head snapping in its direction. He held still, trying not to draw attention to himself. It was probably just an animal.

As if he’d summoned it with the thought, a buck burst forth from a copse of trees, clipping his shoulder and throwing him to the ground.

And then he heard the dogs. Barreling toward him. Chasing the buck.

Adrenaline flooded his veins and he sprinted in the opposite direction of the deer, hoping the dogs would stick to their quarry. But the deer didn’t look like it was hurt. Alastor, however, had his injured hand and the blood from his kill splattered on his clothes.

Their baying grew louder, indicating they still had enough scent to guide them.

His scent.

Something tugged hard on his hand, sending his heart into his throat..

One of the dogs?!

He yanked it free with such force that he almost stumbled.

Alastor caught himself, taking off again as quickly as his legs would carry him. Someone shouted far behind him, but he couldn’t make out their words. He prayed to whoever would listen that it was the dogs’ handlers.

Was this how all deer felt in their final moments? Muscles burning, lungs aching, left with nothing but instinct and luck to guide them?

Try as he might, he couldn’t break free of the primitive fear gripping him. Couldn’t get himself to think of a plan beyond putting as much distance between himself and the dogs as possible.

He didn’t know where he was anymore, his usual landmarks lost to him in his panic.

Then he caught a flash of water up ahead, illuminated by the light of the full moon overhead.

The water might make the dogs lose his scent, though he would risk the cocodrie instead.

He just had to reach it. He just had to be fast enough.

As he drew closer, he reached a stretch of marshy land, waterlogged due to its close proximity. The muck grabbed at his shoes like the hands of the bayou’s countless dead, trying to drag him down to join them.

The water was only a few more strides away.

He was going to make it! He was going to lose the dogs!

The mud gave way to patches of murky, stagnant water. A fallen tree lay in his path. Rather than go around, he vaulted over it.

Alastor knew he’d fucked up the instant the ground gave way beneath him, the puddle on the other side not nearly as shallow as the rest. He shifted his weight at the last second, as if he could bend gravity to his will, overcorrecting and wrenching his ankle as it sank several inches deep into the mud. He lost his balance, slamming hard into the boggy ground. The air left his lungs on impact, the whoosh accompanied by an ominous cracking sound.

He had to get up. The dogs would be on him at any moment.

Stupid!

How could he have been so fucking stupid?!

If he’d just run around the fallen tree instead of trying to leap over it… If he hadn’t landed so badly…

Alastor tried scrambling back to his feet, but the instant he put weight on his right leg, white hot agony radiated up from his ankle. His foot refused to support him and he collapsed back into the muck. It held fast to his hands, pulling him deeper every time he tried to wrench himself free. He had to force himself to calm, to better distribute his weight across the unstable ground. He made slower, more deliberate movements, dragging himself to more solid ground.

It took only a few seconds, but they were seconds he couldn’t afford to lose.

He hazarded a glance down once he was free and was nearly sick when he saw moonlight glinting off of the bone protruding from his ankle.

He could hear the dogs running now, their baying deafening. Their masters must be leagues behind. Not that they could have heard him begging them to call off their hounds over the commotion they made.

At least ten dogs, if he had to guess...

There was a chance they were well trained, that they were trying to herd him toward the hunters lying in wait for the deer.

He’d been running for miles already.

A shot should have rung out by now.

He was going to die.

He didn’t want to die like this.

Giving up on his injured leg, Alastor crawled toward the water just a few short yards away.

He couldn’t run, but he could swim.

He’d take his chances with the cocodrie and whatever else lurked in the water.

Alastor’s heart soared as he reached the water’s edge.

He was going to make it!

He waded in up to his elbows when teeth sank into the meat of his left leg, trying to haul him back. More bit into his arm, jerking it out from under him. He lost his balance, falling forward while simultaneously being dragged back.

Alastor screamed in agony, foul water flooding his evacuated lungs.

Something ominously popped in his shoulder as he was yanked out of the water.

His arm went numb.

The other dogs arrived, working themselves into a frenzy as they fought each other for a piece of him.

He must have briefly blacked out because then he was on his back.

His glasses were gone. He stared sightlessly up at the night sky above as the dogs tore into his shoulders, gut, and limbs.

They were eating him alive.

The last of his strength left him as his blood painted their muzzles and paws.

As it seeped into the earth beneath him.

The last coherent thought he had as the pain and the dogs consumed him was that he hoped no one found his body.

His mère couldn’t see him like this.

It would kill her.

A sudden shot rang out. His head jerked to one side, pain radiating through his cheek.

The shot didn’t kill him…?

His head jerked to the other side and he blinked owlishly, the sun’s rays almost blinding overhead.

It wasn’t the middle of the night.

There were no dogs.

A blond man crouched over him, his brown eyes wide with worry.

He looked familiar.

“Al! Alastor? Smiles?” he ranted above him, the words slowly turning from vague sounds to something he recognized and understood.

His name.

Alastor’s brow furrowed and he belatedly realized his cheeks were wet. He lifted his hand to wipe away the blood and gore, only to find tears instead.

He stared uncomprehendingly down at them.

Where was the blood?

The blond man hauled him into a seated position, taking his face in both of his hands, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“Take me out to the ball game, take me out with the crowd…”

He was…singing to him?

Maybe it was the bizarre nature of it all, but Alastor’s all-consuming panic slowly began to fade and his mind started to clear.

“…Angel Dust?” he hazarded.

“Oh thank fuck!” Angel breathed, wrapping his arms tightly around him and hauling him against his chest.

What the fuck?

He leaned back, worried eyes scanning his face. “Ya with me, Smiles? Can ya hear me?”

“…of course I can?”

What was going on?

Before he could ask, Angel hauled him up to his feet and Alastor flinched as pain shot up his ankle. He tried to put weight on his foot, but it wouldn’t hold him, leaving him unstable and hanging on to Angel to stay upright.

“Shit. You okay? What the fuck happened? One minute we was runnin’ together and the next ya took off like a bat outta hell. Didya turn your ankle when ya fell?”

Alastor ignored him as he scanned the surrounding area, brow furrowing. “…where are the dogs?”

“What dogs? The fuckin’ puppy ya threatened?”

“The hunting dogs.”

Angel stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “The fuck’re ya…” He trailed off, realization dawning in his eyes. “…shit. Shit. Is that what was happenin’? You was relivin’…”

His voice caught, a greenish tinge overtaking his pale face. “Fuck.”

Angel took one of his hands, giving it a firm squeeze. “There ain’t any dogs, Al. It’s just you and me. We just shawshanked our way outta Heaven. Speakin’ of, we need to get a move on if we’re gonna stay ahead of that fucking bitch Lute.”

Heaven.

Lute.

His mère.

Boudin balls.

A…video about radio repair…?

Spinning in circles in a…teacup…?

Alastor sank the fingers of his free hand into his hair, tightening them enough for his scalp to ache.

What the fuck was going on?

“Ya had another episode,” Angel said, gentling his voice. “Like with Viola the other day.” He glanced around before hazarding, “…I’m guessin’ runnin’ for your life through the woods didn’t bring up the best memories.

“There was a dog,” he protested, shaking his head.

“Yeah, a dog. A Cherub. Named Buddy. Ya threatened to murk him?”

“A beagle. A few of them were deer beagles.”

“Were whats?”

“My ankle is broken.”

Angel’s eyes widened in alarm and he helped him sit back down. Alastor carefully rolled up his pant leg and pulled down his sock only to stare blankly down at his ankle.

His ankle had already begun to swell. He gently probed at it with his fingers, brow furrowing. “It was broken. The bone came through the skin.”

“Do me a favor, Al, an’ tell me what year ya think it is.”

“1939.”

“Were ya the Radio Demon back in 1939?”

Radio Demon.

He was the Radio Demon.

Wasn’t he?

“Where are we right now, Al?”

“The bayou.”

“And where were we before that?”

He tried to think back as Angel periodically squeezed his hand.

He’d killed a man. The bastard had been on his list, but he’d had to wait. To be more careful than usual because of his position of power.

But then something had…happened.

A little girl. Crying.

Her father dragging her by the hair into their home as Alastor was passing by.

She’d called out to him, begging for help.

Not for her, but for her mama.

It was late. Closer to dawn than to dusk.

He’d killed the monster and been in the process of disposing of his body.

Then he heard the dogs…

Angel hadn’t been there though, had he?

Angel was in…New York? Hell? Heaven?

The sun was fully up. It had to be midmorning at least.

There were no dogs.

“Al?”

He blinked, forcing himself back to the present moment. “…Heaven?”

Angel nodded encouragingly. He might’ve been annoyed by it, were he not so discombobulated.

“What’d ya make with your ma last night?”

“Jambalaya.”

“What year is it?”

“2024.”

“Good. That’s good, Al. Now, I know you’re still feelin’ pretty outta sorts, but we need to keep movin’. Ya prolly shouldn’t walk on your ankle either.” He knelt down, motioning for him to climb onto his back.

Alastor could think of very few things he wanted to do less.

“Hop on, Smiles! Unless ya wanna sit around and wait for Lute an’ all t’come find us.”

He wanted to protest, to insist he didn’t need his help, but he still felt so out of sorts. Not to mention the fact he couldn’t put any weight on his ankle.

Alastor blew out a slow breath, forcing back his annoyance as he awkwardly did as Angel asked. He wrapped his arms around his neck while Angel looped his under his knees and stood.

“Good?”

“Not particularly.”

“Great!” he replied cheerily before starting off again. “How’s about ya keep a lookout while we go?”

“I’m not a child, Angel. I don’t need you to give me something to do so I still feel useful.”

“Now you’re startin’ to sound more like yourself!” he chirped, undeterred.

Thankfully, despite his human disguise, Angel seemed to have retained his demonic strength and endurance. He moved as if Alastor weighed nothing more than a backpack.

As they went, he tried to put his disjointed thoughts into some semblance of order. He’d had another episode. Undoubtedly triggered by the damn Cherub and their subsequent flight through the bayou.

He used to have episodes like this when he’d been a child and then when he first arrived in Hell. Eventually they faded until the only time he experienced them was after the rare nightmare.

Surely they would go away again. He just needed to get a handle on himself.

“You okay…?” Angel hazarded a mile or so later.

He wanted to insist he was fine. To tell him what to do with his misplaced and unwanted sympathy. Instead he heard himself say, “…I don’t know.”

“Ya been through a lot. Makes sense you’re havin’ a tough time. Ya don’t gotta talk about it though, not unless ya wanna.”

“I realize that.”

The only person he’d ever discussed his death with was Rosie, and only after a string of night terrors had left him so exhausted and unsettled that he’d confided in her.

“Okay.”

Angel dropped the subject, which should have relieved him. Instead he felt even more off kilter.

Did he…want to tell Angel? How would it help their present situation? If anything, it would make the spider more determined to comfort him. Or, worse, pity him.

Still, he felt he owed him some explanation for his strange behavior. It helped Angel had already put two and two together. He would just be confirming his supposition.

“Apologies. It won’t happen again.”

“Ya don’t gotta apologize, Smiles. We all got bad memories and shit. Though it seems like ya really drew the short straw on that front.“

He snorted softly. He supposed Angel was right, though he knew there were far worse ways to die. Courtesy of his firsthand experience as the murderer rather than the murderee.

“…I didn’t have a real violent death,” Angel continued after a beat. “Overdose. Shockin’, I know. The junkie fuckin’ overdosin’.”

Alastor released a slow breath. He’d hoped that would be the end of the conversation. Apparently not.

“I died while disposing of my final victim, so I suppose we both had rather unimaginative deaths.”

That earned a surprised bark of laughter.

Good.

Anything was better than sympathy.

“Unimaginative? Is that what ya wanna call it?”

He shrugged. “The addict died from an overdose, the hunter died as the hunted. A bit heavy handed on the metaphors, no?”

“You are so fuckin’ weird, ya know that?” he said, grinning back at him over his shoulder.

“Hmm. Well, if I must die a second time, I hope the All Mighty or whoever is involved is willing to accept some constructive criticism.”

“Yeah? Ya gonna march right up to the big man upstairs and tell him ya got some notes?”

Alastor chuckled, the darkness weighing him down lessening to a more manageable level. “There’s something to be said for showmanship and subverting the audience’s expectations.”

“Gettin’ real meta back there,” he said with a shake of his head.

The conversation shifted after, much to his relief. Angel spent the next leg of their journey asking about the bayou, a subject he was all too happy to wax poetic about.

“Y’know, with all your fancy schmancy-ness, sometimes I forget ya grew up in a place like this. That this is as much home to ya as your radio tower.”

By then Angel’s endurance began to wane. Alastor could hear it in his voice.

It had to be approaching or just after midday. They’d made it a few hours now without being caught, which meant their pursuers didn’t know where they were or were playing catch up. The bayou wasn’t the easiest terrain to traverse, but with Angel’s inhuman reflexes and Alastor’s intimate knowledge of it, they’d done rather well thus far.

Angel knelt down, allowing Alastor to climb off of his back. They’d settled in a more secluded area so Angel could rest. While he flopped onto his back, panting for breath, Alastor gingerly removed his shoe and sock. He rolled up his pant leg, quietly assessing the damage.

The swelling of his ankle and foot was already far worse and he had a nasty bruise blooming along the outside of his heel.

Fuck.

Angel sat up, looking over and grimacing. “That don’t look good.”

He sighed softly as he carefully palpated it. “If I had to guess, the ligament is either partially or completely torn…”

“How d’ya know? This kinda thing happen before?”

Yet another question he didn’t want to answer. Alastor’s jaw briefly clenched. “A chronic injury.”

From childhood. It had never been properly treated and had given him trouble the entirety of his life as a result. His mother had done her best, but with no money for a doctor and his father insisting he didn’t need one, there was only so much she could do.

“Chronic?”

“From my father.”

Angel flinched. “Oh.”

Alastor kept putting himself between his father and his mother that day. His father had been in a particularly dangerous mood and he’d been terrified of what it might mean for his mother. He’d ensured he “stayed the fuck down” after the third or fourth time he intervened.

It had been prone to swelling and reinjury ever since.

And it had been his downfall.

He’d enjoyed slicing his father’s feet off when he’d been reunited with him in Hell. He’d relished parroting his words back to him as he inflicted every injury he’d given him and his mother in life on him. Tenfold.

The bastard had the gall to die before he‘d even finished! He’d recorded each session for posterity. Sometimes, when he struggled to sleep at night, he’d play one of the recordings. There was no better balm for bad memories and nightmares than lulling himself back to sleep with his father’s sniveling pleas for mercy.

“Are ya thinkin’ about killin’ your pa again?” Angel demanded, pulling him back to the present.

Alastor’s eyebrows shot up beneath his fringe. “How did you know?”

“Ya got a look,” he answered cryptically.

He belatedly realized he was smiling so hard his face hurt.

Ah.

How embarrassing.

“How’d ya do it the second time?”

“Hmm?”

“Husk said ya recorded it. Mini you said ya slit his throat the first time.”

“Yes, I was unfortunately pressed for time then. I didn’t have to worry about being quick about it in Hell.”

Angel shuddered. “…yeah?”

Alastor sighed contentedly. “He was a shell of a man by the time I finally ended his worthless existence for good. I’d planned on keeping him for a full eleven years, but unfortunately he just wasn’t up to it! It also wasn’t nearly as fun once he stopped screaming.”

What little color Angel had in his face drained from it. “…yeah? How long did it take?”

“Six months or so. I kept hoping he’d get some of his pep back, but I suppose that’s the risk you run when you set out to destroy a person down to the marrow!”

“…didja eat him?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Absolutely not. While I may have considered the idea as a child, I had absolutely no desire as an adult. I did, however, force him to eat pieces of himself! It was the only food I allowed him. He insisted he never would, but everyone has a limit!”

He felt his grin stretching the limits of his face again and forced himself to ease it back some. He let his delight show in his eyes instead.

Angel stared at him a long moment before shuddering. “…y’know what, in the future, if I ask ya somethin’ like that, can you preface your answer with ‘I’m a serial killer cannibal. Are ya sure ya wanna know, Ang?’”

Alastor laughed outright. “I’ll try to keep that in mind, my dear! I didn’t realize you had a more delicate constitution.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “I ain’t got a delicate constitution. You just got one like them goats what eat tin cans and tires and shit. How’s about ya save those kinda details for your cannibal murder bff and we stick to less…gruesome shit?”

“If you insist!”

Angel pointedly returned his attention to his ankle. “Fuck, we might need to get ya to a doctor or somethin’…”

“Or we can find the others, Lucifer can get rid of this pesky divine energy, and I’ll return to my demonic self and it will heal within hours, if not minutes!”

He considered his words, absently fluffing his hair up, it having deflated due to sweat and exertion. “…maybe. We don’t got a way to contact them though.”

“Not true.”

“Whaddya mean? There’s no fuckin’ way ya got a secret hellphone.”

“Correct! But I do have the phone number for the hotel memorized. Assuming we can place a call there from here. If not, there’s always the option of a summoning!”

“…like a demon summonin’?”

He nodded. “Precisely! We’ll need to gather the necessary materials, but it should work.”

Of course it was possible the others might try summoning them too, or Angel at any rate.

“Maybe Em managed to get a text out to ‘em, lettin’ everybody know we made it back to the Livin’ World? If’n she did, they’ll prolly be expectin’ to find us in the city.”

“It would be easier to go unnoticed there,” Alastor agreed. “Though we don’t have any money. Actually…” He paused, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his old wallet and the handful of bills within.

“I don’t think fifteen bucks is gonna get us far, Smiles,” Angel offered, smiling faintly.

“No, but I’d wager it’d be worth more if we were to sell or pawn it.”

Angel’s eyes went wide. “Shit! Yeah, you’re right!”

Alastor had a few caches of supplies he’d buried and hidden around the bayou once upon a time too. If they were stuck in the Living World longer than expected, he could always go looking for them. Assuming they hadn’t already been found or destroyed.

“Ya think they’d be more or less likely to angel hulk out on us if we was around other people?”

He cocked his head to one side. “To what?”

“Attack or kidnap us?”

Ah.

“Perhaps less.”

Now the initial adrenaline and anxiety had worn off, Alastor was distinctly aware of how hot it was and how thirsty and hungry he’d become. His human body was better acclimated to the weather at least. Angel looked like he was on the verge of melting.

“Any idea where we are right now?” .

“Hard to say. I imagine the topography has changed a bit over the last century.”

Angel opened his mouth to reply but Alastor shoved a hand over it before he could, body tensing.

While his senses weren’t nearly as honed as they were in his demon form, he was well attuned to the normal sights and sounds of the bayou. He’d caught a flash of bright orange that absolutely didn’t belong through the foliage.

Shit.

“Hello?” called a woman’s voice.

She didn’t sound like any of the angels they’d met so far, but there was no telling how many had been sent after them.

“I think you’re just hearin’ shit,” a man’s voice answered.

Angel abruptly pried his hand free. “Li’l help here?” he called out to the strangers.

“Angel!” Alastor hissed.

“What? Ain’t all the exorcists gals?”

There was some rustling to their far right before two humans stepped into view. They had to be siblings, if not outright twins.

He studied them both with a critical eye, trying to determine if they were a threat or potentially exorcists in human disguises.

Their skin was a closer match to his than Angel’s and they seemed to be in their late twenties or early thirties. It was a point in their favor that they were dressed appropriately for their surroundings in lightweight clothing and waterproof boots. They also wore bright orange ball caps with Guimont Landscaping embroidered across them.

Guimont.

The tear-stained face of the little girl floated up again in his mind’s eye. But she had been white, or at least white passing, along with the rest of her family.

True, times had changed, but what were the odds? Especially since the surname wasn’t uncommon.

Upon seeing them, the woman froze in place, her eyes going wide. The man, meanwhile, seemed more confused than unsettled.

“Shit, what’re y’all doin’ all the way out here?” he asked as he ambled over.

He was of a height with Angel and built like someone who spent their time doing strenuous work outdoors, presumably landscaping. The woman was on the smaller side, but had a similar build.

“Uh… We got kinda lost?” Angel offered sheepishly. “And then my pal here fucked his ankle up.”

“Y’all tourists?” he asked, coming to a stop a few feet away. He eyed their outfits, arching a brow at Angel’s shirt and shorts and Alastor’s dressier ensemble.

“Yup! What’s your name, big guy?”

Alastor slowly turned to face Angel, noting the way he daintily worried his bottom lip and how his eyes had gone soft.

Was he… Was he flirting with this man?

The man flushed, giving an almost nervous laugh. “I’m Louis. This is my sister, Claudia.”

Angel’s brows shot up. “Whoa, like the—“

“Please don’t say it,” Claudia cut in. “It’s been straight up hell since the show came out.“

Louis absently rubbed the back of his neck. “…I kinda like the show.”

She gave him a look. “You and mama are the worst. Just ‘cause she named us after the damn characters in those books don’t mean you need to enjoy it.”

Angel grinned. “Oh~? I like the show too. All those hot guys all over each other? Now that’s my kinda tv!”

Alastor had absolutely no idea what any of them were talking about.

He hoped to keep it that way.

Regardless, he was impressed by how quickly Angel had connected with the other man. He could’ve done the same, of course, but the spider’s methods were far quicker. It wasn’t just the flirting, but rather his willingness to be both genuine and vulnerable. While he’d never seen the appeal of his chosen profession, it was no wonder he was so successful.

He really should think bigger. With his skill set, he could have half of Hell eating out of the palm of his hand.

“I’m Anthony, but you can call me Tony, handsome! An’ this here’s my pal, Al.”

Claudia stood straighter, the entirety of her attention returning to Alastor.

Why did she keep looking at him like that?

“How bad’s the ankle?” Louis asked, kneeling down beside him.

He studied Alastor’s ankle, thankfully keeping his hands to himself, before grimacing and whistling through his teeth. “That looks bad. Y’all need some help gettin’ to a doctor?”

Angel perked up. “Ya don’t mind?”

Louis met his gaze, face flushing as he shook his head. “Our boat ain’t far. You prolly shouldn’t be walkin’ on that ankle though. Need some help?”

“I got ‘em,” Angel answered.

Alastor sighed heavily, stuffing his sock into his shoe and tying its laces together so he could loop them over his arm. He doubted he’d be able to get his shoe back on with how swollen everything was. Getting it off had been difficult enough. He reluctantly resumed his place on Angel’s back.

Angel stood, grinning at Louis. “Ya ain’t the only strong man out here!”

“Oh my god,” Claudia muttered, rolling her eyes so hard Alastor wondered if they might make a full circuit.

“So, are y’all friends, or…?” Louis hazarded as he led the way out of the little clearing.

Alastor narrowly resisted the urge to roll his own eyes. How Angel managed to snag the man’s interest in his present state was beyond him. Then again, Angel tended to flirt with anything that moved, himself included.

“Yup! Are the two of ya locals?”

“Sort of,” Louis replied. “Our mama’s side is from here while our daddy’s is from North Carolina. They split when we were kids, so we grew up bouncin’ between both.”

“What about y’all?” Claudia cut in.

“I’m from New York,” Angel answered with a grin. “Can’t ya tell?”

“And you?” she asked, eyeing Alastor.

Which put him in an awkward position. Sera had already tried to identify him as having an “strange accent.” And he was caught up enough on modern day popular culture that he knew his Transatlantic accent would make him stick out like a sore thumb.

But if they were pretending to be tourists…

“I’m originally from New Orleans,” he said, letting some of his natural drawl creep in.

Angel tensed beneath him in surprise. Alastor’s newfound good will toward the spider was the only thing preventing him from flicking him in the back of the head.

“Really?” Claudia prompted, putting a (frankly) unnecessary amount of emphasis on the word. “I thought y’all said you were tourists?”

“We are. I haven’t lived here in quite some time. I offered to show Anthony around my old stomping grounds, though I’m afraid I was a bit…overzealous.”

“Must’ve been a while since you last visited if you came dressed like that,” Louis said with a chuckle.

“We didn’t intend to come this far out. Unfortunately we lost our cellular phones and our GPS along with them.”

“You still got any family around here?” Claudia asked, giving him another strange look.

“No, it was just myself and ma mère.”

“Oh? What’s your mama’s name? She grow up here?”

The questions weren’t unusual per se, but there was an odd weight to them Alastor couldn’t begin to interpret. “Eugenia. Eugenia Doré. And yourselves?”

It had been almost a century. He sincerely doubted he would run into anyone he’d known in life.

“Huh.” Louis paused, glancing curiously back at him. An equally strange look crossed his face. “You ain’t related to the radio guy, are you?”

Alastor’s brow furrowed. What the fuck?

“Hmm?”

“Used to be a local celebrity,” Louis continued. “Til he up and vanished one day. There were rumors he went and got himself killed, possibly by the serial killer runnin’ around back then, but they never found a body.”

“Serial killer?” Angel piped up.

“Oh, yeah! The Rougarou of New Orleans! They never caught the guy. There’s all kinda theories about who he was though. You related?”

What the fuck was going on? Were these people angels who were just fucking with them now?

It certainly seemed like something Calliope might do…

“It’s possible,” Alastor hedged, “Ma mère didn’t talk about her family much.”

Thankfully the conversation was interrupted as they reached the aforementioned boat. Alastor had seen an airboat before, but had never ridden in one. He’d used a pirogue, himself. Easy to pole or paddle and designed to maneuver effortlessly through the bayou.

It had come in quite handy in helping him dispose of the bodies of his victims.

He settled on the bench at the front of the airboat, with assistance, next to Angel. Claudia and Louis took the two raised seats behind them at the back of the boat, its controls resting between them.

Claudia handed them each a pair of earmuffs before Louis started up the boat.

The noise from the fan guaranteed their conversation would remain on hold and Alastor relaxed in his seat as they started off.

Well, if they were exorcists in disguise, at least they hadn’t immediately taken them

back to Heaven. Not that Alastor trusted them in any way shape or form. Especially with the looks the two kept giving him.

The instant they were out of the bayou and in the city proper, they would be parting ways.

For now, Alastor let himself relax in his seat. The breeze generated by their travel made the heat and humidity far more tolerable. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend the last few decades had never happened. That it was still the late 1930s and he hadn’t met such a gruesome fate that night in the bayou.

It simultaneously felt like home and not. The bones were the same, but there were distinct differences too. Brought on by humanity’s insatiable urge to destroy everything beautiful in the world, in addition to what he’d heard referred to as “climate change.” And from Mother Nature herself, largely via hurricane.

It was surreal. Like a dream. Somehow it had been easier to accept he was back in Heaven than that he’d returned to the Living World. Let alone to New Orleans.

It was unfortunate the threat of being wiped from existence by angels had to hang over it all…

His exhaustion reared up again, but Alastor forced himself to stay awake. He kept his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings for any hint of danger, divine or otherwise.

Angel, meanwhile, lost his own fight against sleep. When he seemed liable to tip overboard, Alastor looped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him against his side instead.

He immediately regretted it when the ungrateful wretch began drooling on his shirt. Annoyingly, he didn’t have the heart to shove him into the bayou for his transgression.

He took in the spider’s relaxed features from the corner of his eye and heaved a heavy sigh.

The sentimental fool wouldn’t ask for anything in return for everything he’d done for him, would he? From risking his own life to protect him to keeping him safe while he was at his most vulnerable…

It was going to be a chore to force Valentino to hand over or nullify Angel’s contract.

Assuming they survived all this, of course.

He really was getting soft…

Chapter Text

As badly as he wanted to stay awake to see more of the bayou and where Alastor had grown up, Angel’s exhaustion got the better of him. Between running around with an Alastor shaped backpack and not having anything to eat or drink all day, he conked out.

The next thing he knew, he was blinking owlishly as someone gently shook him by the shoulder. When he didn’t wake quickly enough, they flicked him in the forehead.

“Ow!” he protested, jerking upright.

Oh. Shit. Had he been sleeping on Smiles?

Before he had a chance to ask, Alastor shoved a bottle of water into his face. His thirst reared up and Angel unscrewed the top, downing most of the water in a few desperate gulps.

Probably would’ve been a terrible idea if he was actually human.

“You drooled on me,” Alastor said, scowling faintly.

Angel gave a sheepish grin. “My bad, Smiles.”

He belatedly realized the boat had come to a stop and his earmuffs were gone. They were seated alone at the private dock of an older, well-maintained home. It wasn’t a mansion or anything, but being right on the water it sure as fuck wasn’t cheap.

“Where’d the twins go?” he asked, rubbing an eye.

“They have a set of crutches they said I could borrow. But it also seems like something is…off.”

“Off? Whaddya mean? They seem nice as fuck.”

“They keep giving me odd looks.”

Angel snorted. “Yeah? So? You’re dressed like ya just came out of a meetin’ in the middle of the fuckin’ bayou. An’ it’s prolly also ‘cause you’re hot.”

Alastor looked adorably confused.

“I… What?”

“You’re hot,” Angel repeated, patting him on the shoulder. “It’s a tough world for guys like us.”

Damn, his flabbers were straight up gasted!

“There’s no way you wasn’t popular back in your day. Ya had to have ladies throwin’ themselves at ya!” Angel paused to consider him, expression thoughtful. “Oh… Smiles, no…”

“…what?”

”How many hearts did ya break bein’ oblivious as fuck? Ya poor, poor asexual studmuffin.”

Alastor stared blankly back at him before seeming to regather himself. “We don’t have time for…whatever you’re referring to. I think it would be best if we leave before they get back.”

“Ain’t they bringin’ ya crutches?”

“Supposedly.” As he spoke, he made to stand, keeping his injured leg in the air.

Angel glanced down at his ankle, grimacing. “Shit, Smiles. That looks…”

Awful. Painful as fuck. Nasty.

“Bad.”

“It’s fine.”

Uh huh. And he had never tried crack.

“We could use some help, Al. And somewhere to lay low ‘til we can get in touch with Charlie and them.”

“What makes you think they intend to help us any further? They’ve already done quite a lot. We have nothing to give them in return.”

“Pessimistic much?”

Alastor scowled back at him.

“Sometimes folks are just nice. Like Charlie.”

“Charlie is an outlier and shouldn’t be counted.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

“Tell ya what, if they try to steal your kidney, I’ll take off the human disguise and scare the shit outta them.”

He looked like he wanted to protest, but the twins were already headed across the backyard toward them, crutches in tow.

“I’m letting them take your kidney,” Alastor retorted, offering the two a wary smile.

Angel climbed out of the boat and onto the dock while Alastor glared at it. The nutcase looking like he was planning to fucking jump.

“Don’t ya even think about it!” Angel protested, blocking his path.

“Anthony,” he growled, hanging on to one of the upper boat seats to check his balance when he began to wobble.

“Need some help?” Louis asked, glancing between the two of them.

“Yeah, but he might try an’ bite ya,” Angel said, hands on his hips. “Between the two of us, I think maybe we can get him outta the boat without him killin’ himself in the process.”

Maybe.

“I can hear you.”

“Good! Don’t bite him, Al.”

If looks could kill…

It took some finagling, but Angel and Louis managed to get Alastor out of the boat and onto the dock without anyone getting bit in the process. Alastor leaned on Angel after to keep his balance as he reached for the crutches.

Claudia pulled them away with a frown. “I dunno if you should be usin‘ these before your ankle’s wrapped.”

“He ain’t exactly the best at self-preservation,” Angel agreed as he gave the yard a thorough once over.

The bulk of it was taken up by an inground pool, which didn’t leave much room for error. As funny as it would be to see Alastor fall in, he’d probably hit his head and wind up with a concussion or something on the way down. It was a fucking miracle he’d made it to adulthood if his luck in life was like it was now.

“How’s about one more piggyback ride for ol’ times sake, Smiles?”

The fact Alastor didn’t make a fuss wasn’t lost on him as he lifted him up again.

It was for the best. He would probably try to make a run for it on the crutches otherwise…

Alastor must be wiped out too. Viola said he could probably sleep for a few days straight. By Angel’s math, he’d yet to get more than a few hours.

While he pondered, he trailed after the twins as they led them through the house’s back door and into the kitchen. Alastor’s arms hung loosely over his chest, swaying with each step. It was a far cry from how he used to react to physical contact between the two of them. Angel hoped it meant Al felt safe with him. That he trusted him.

It was warm inside, even with the air conditioning running. He’d happily take it over the damn humidity outside, though.

Angel glanced curiously around, immediately pegging the place as an old lady house. Who else would have fucking doilies and a tablecloth on their kitchen table? Not to mention the older looking furniture and tchotchkes. Having been around the block a few times, he recognized a lot of it as stuff belonging to the fifties and sixties.

The kitchen reminded him of the one in the apartment he’d grown up in over his family’s restaurant. His nonna’s space. Outdated, but that was what made it homey. What made it a place to gather with your loved ones, instead of a stopover on the way to microwave a frozen burrito.

It reminded him of the kitchen at the hotel too, before they had to rebuild the whole thing. Alastor’s space. The Radio Demon definitely had some li’l old lady in him too.

Angel really hoped he’d bring his personal touches back to the industrial one Lucifer had created. Things like organizing it in his signature esoteric way that somehow made perfect sense to anyone who actually used it. Or how he dedicated a good deal of wall space to herb racks to dry his own, making the place smell delicious and cozy. At some point he’d even added a chipped ceramic pitcher on the island, filling it with a new set of fresh cut flowers each week.

Alastor’s kitchen invited you in and encouraged you to stay. Just like this one and his nonna’s.

“Grandma said she can take a look at your ankle,” Louis offered as they continued through the house. They moved from the kitchen, past a formal sitting room, and then into the actual living room.

The furniture here was on the shabbier side, but in the well loved and regularly used sense. Unlike the formal living room, it was a mishmash of pieces, all selected for comfort over style. There was also genuine clutter present in the form of newspapers and magazines spread haphazardly across the coffee table, a myriad of family photos lining the walls, and brightly colored crocheted blankets tossed over the backs of the leather recliners and sofa.

The instant the old lady in question came into view, Angel felt Alastor straighten and had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Maybe the stubborn bastard would listen to her at least…

Mr. Cannibal-Serial-Killer wouldn’t wanna come across as rude, after all.

If Angel had to guess, the woman had to be in her eighties or older. She still looked good for her age though. Regal, almost. She wore a white blouse and a dark blue skirt, along with a peach colored cardigan. The family resemblance between her and the twins was immediately obvious, them sharing her eyes and nose, though Angel thought she looked white or closer to.

She stood, eyes widening behind her glasses as she looked at him, Or, more correctly, looked past him and at Alastor.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t completely wrong about the twins giving him weird looks…

Fuck.

“You look just like him,” she murmured, hand raising to hover over her mouth.

“…pardon?” Alastor hazarded as Angel carefully set him down, keeping one of Al’s arms tucked over his shoulders to help him balance.

“…you sound just like him too…”

Alastor offered her a polite smile. “I’m afraid you must have me confused with someone else, ma’am.”

The woman shook her head, grabbing a picture frame from the end table by her recliner. She held it out to them with a trembling hand.

Angel sucked in a sharp breath as he stared down at the photo. It was old. It had to be, seeing as it was of Al and his ma.

Alastor froze, his brows darting toward his hairline. Angel could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he tried to come up with some kind of explanation.

What the fuck?

No wonder they were looking at him like they’d seen a ghost or some shit!

“Mr. Doré…?” the woman hazarded.

His eyes remained fixed on the photo, expression unreadable. He finally lifted them to meet hers. “That’s a very old photo.”

“It is.”

“Why don’t we all sit down?” Claudia offered, escorting her grandma the short distance back to her seat.

Louis, meanwhile, directed Alastor and Angel to the sofa. He and his sister took the sofa opposite them. Once they were settled, Louis leaned forward, eyes wide as he tipped his head toward them.

“…so does this mean vampires are actually real, granny, or…?”

A nervous laugh escaped him and Angel slapped his hand over his mouth to try to stifle it.

What the actual fuck was going on? Why were they all so ready to believe something impossible like that?

Maybe they were super into the paranormal…?

“I think you have me confused with someone else,” Alastor repeated. “Though I admit it’s a close likeness.”

“I don’t,” the woman protested, shaking her head.

Alastor turned to her grandchildren, but they looked equally convinced.

“You still have the scar from when you lost that fight with Mame Anne-Marie’s no-good rooster,” she continued, gesturing to his face.

Angel’s gaze followed her path, noting the scar in question for the first time. It wasn’t super obvious, following the line of his left brow before cutting through the very end of it.

Despite his mounting anxiety over this whole situation, he made a mental note to ask Al how and why he’d gotten into a fight with a rooster and lost.

Alastor’s eyes widened while their hosts stared fixedly at him. He released an unsteady breath before hazarding, voice soft, “…Helene?”

She sat straighter in her chair. “You remember me?”

He looked torn between frustrated and…sappy. His version of sappy, anyway, eyes softening and ramrod posture relaxing into something more like how normal fucking people sat.

“Helene Guimont,” he replied with what sounded like the frenchy pronunciation.

Ghee-mon. The only thing Angel really knew about French was most of the letters were there just to look pretty.

Hell, there were probably twelve silent ones in Al’s last name alone.

“That would make you…what, ninety-five now?”

“Soon. And it would make you over a century. Yet here you are, lookin’ exactly like you did when I last saw you. Right before you up and vanished, leavin’ your mama beside herself! And last I checked, ghosts ain’t prone to injuries! And you died in 1939. Your friend here don’t seem surprised by none of this either.”

Angel winced. “…whoops…”

“…time travel?” Louis asked.

“Nothing so exciting,” Alastor said with a shake of his head. “More like…temporary leave.”

“How?” Claudia cut in. “I thought maybe you was related, but…” She trailed off, brows pinching in confusion.

“It’s…complicated.”

“I imagine so,” Helene said. “Etienne admitted to killin’ you on his deathbed. Nobody believed him. Nobody ‘cept mama, I mean. His mind was long gone by then. Alcohol-related dementia. He picked up the bottle in 1939 and didn’t put it down until the day he died.”

Alastor winced. “It was an accident, though I always wondered who… Etienne. That’s…” He paused, as he struggled for the right word. “Unfortunate.”

Unfortunate.

“Unfortunate” was a fuck of a lot nicer than Angel expected from someone who nursed his grudges so diligently, he could probably claim them as dependents on his hell taxes.

“Mama was his nurse. It broke her heart when she found out. Only other thing she got outta him was it happened somewhere in the bayou.” Her gaze flicked to her grandchildren. “Mama was determined to find you. Wanted to lay you to rest proper, after all you did for us.”

He looked nothing short of stunned. “While that was very kind of her, I imagine there…wasn’t much left.”

Angel’s stomach roiled as he recalled Alastor’s question after his latest episode.

“…where are the dogs?”

Fucking hell.

Helene’s face crumpled, tears shining in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mr. Doré.”

He gave a humorless laugh. “Don’t be. It was for the best. It would have killed ma mère, seeing me in such a state.”

“Still… If you remember anything about where it happened, let us know. I’d like to lay you to rest. It ain’t good for the soul, not havin’ a proper place.”

Alastor leaned forward, offering her his hand. She took it and he gave hers a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you, Helene.”

The tears welling in her eyes grew to be too much and began rolling down her cheeks. “No, thank you,” she insisted. “If you hadn’t been there… If you hadn’t… Daddy would’ve…”

“My only regret is I wasn’t there even sooner.”

She offered him a watery smile. “You took an awfully big risk. It wasn’t a secret, what he was doin’ to mama. To all of us. And him bein’ so high up in law enforcement… Everyone turned a blind eye, but not you… Mama called you her guardian angel. A lot of the families you helped said the same.”

Angel sniffled as his eyes began to burn. Alastor glanced back at him, arching an inquiring brow. He didn’t reply, convinced he’d go into full blown waterworks if he opened his mouth.

He’d always been a sympathetic crier. He didn’t mind it when they were happy tears, but it was always awkward as fuck when they weren’t.

“Those of us who knew, we kept your secret. It was a hard thing. We were so grateful for what you did, but we knew others wouldn’t see it the same way…”

Alastor gave a humorless chuckle. “No, I imagine not.”

“Didn’t want nobody defacin’ your grave either. Even if you weren’t in it.”

He nodded. “I appreciate it. And…I’m sorry you were there when it happened. No child should have to witness something so violent.”

“I admit it was a bit…much, but it was a relief more than anything.”

Angel could only imagine.

“You did the same with the others too, didn’t you? Doin’ what you had to so they’d give you documents, keys and everything else you needed?”

“I did. Couldn’t have it all die with them, now could I?”

Her mascara began to run as she cried harder, leaving watery black streaks down her cheeks. She gripped his hand in both of hers, leaning forward to better meet his eyes. “We would have been on the streets if you hadn’t. He took everything from mama and locked it up.”

There was a long pause before Alastor’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I enjoyed it. I don’t want to give you the impression it was all for the sake of altruism. I’m no one’s guardian angel. There’s…always been a darkness in me.”

The way he spoke, voice tight and barely audible, made it sound more like a confession than a declaration.

Rather than look upset, Helene lifted a hand to cup his chin, tilting his head back up. Angel was stunned to see unshed tears in his eyes.

“I know, cher. But those so-called angels didn’t help us, now did they? What good’s an angel who can’t be bothered?

“You didn’t have to kill men like daddy. You didn’t have to help the women and children they hurt. But you did. Mama would’ve died that day without you. The rest of us too. Nothin’ short of the bastard bein’ six feet under would’ve kept us safe. He was irredeemable. Those weren’t men you killed. They were monsters.”

She cupped his cheek, brushing away the single tear that escaped.

“You know how it feels to be helpless. What monsters like them are capable of. Society didn’t care. The police didn’t care. The church didn’t care. But you cared, Mr. Doré. And all the people you helped cared about you too.

“We took care of your mama after you went missin’. We take care of your grave, even though you ain’t in it. And your mama’s, since it was just the two of you.

“Your mama was a beautiful soul. She did so much for others without askin’ a thing in return. She came to live with us after. My mama saw her through her final days too.”

She paused, swallowing hard. “…did you ever see her again? Does she know what happened…?”

Alastor smiled, one of his real ones, as another wayward tear raced down his cheek. “I did. She does. She’s doing well. I’m afraid I haven’t seen your mère, but she has. She’s doing well too.”

“A-And…daddy…?”

“Wiped from existence. I saw to it myself. Him and all the others.

“Thank you,” she sobbed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Their tears mingled together as Alastor wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

“Thank you,” she said again, the words passing through her lips like a benediction.

- - -

Angel was grateful to retreat to the upstairs bathroom for a hot shower while Helene and Claudia saw to Alastor’s ankle. He desperately needed some time to pull himself together, though he was proud to have held back the bulk of his tears until he was alone. He wasn’t ashamed of crying, but he hadn’t wanted to interrupt his and Helene’s moment together.

It was surreal, seeing Alastor cry. Even if they were happy tears in the end. Tears of gratitude he shared with Helene while she caught him up on the goings on after his death. Angel couldn’t help but wonder what all of Hell would think of the terrifying Radio Demon if they knew how many lives he’d saved.

Actually, it probably wouldn’t change much. Not with how firmly and gleefully Alastor had cemented his reputation in Hell… Anyone stupid enough to call him altruistic or soft to his face was bound to wind up as a surprise guest on his next broadcast…

The Guimonts hadn’t said as much, but Angel wondered if the whole reason Claudia and Louis were out in the bayou in the first place was to find Alastor’s body. Helene said they’d been searching for it for decades now.

Crazy to think eighty plus years later, the people Smiles helped were still trying to help him in return. And that his side gig as the “Rougarou of New Orleans” was simultaneously one of the best and worst kept secrets in true crime history. Dozens and dozens of people knew the truth, but none of them came forward and neither did their descendants.

Instead they came together, mourning him and supporting each other in the aftermath of all the terrible shit they’d been through.

The most fucked up part about it all, in Angel’s opinion, was none of these women or their families got any help while their tormentors were alive, but everyone clamored to help them after the bastards died at the hands of a serial killer.

He couldn’t imagine having to play the part of a grieving wife or girlfriend or kid while people condemned their savior and venerated their abusers. To have to sit there and know the only reason anyone cared now was because they felt sympathy for the monsters.

At least everyone knew Val was a piece of shit. No ifs, ands, or buts about that.

Fuck. Val was gonna make him wish he was double dead by the time they got back to Hell… He wouldn’t give a damn he’d been stuck up in Heaven.

But… If Angel had to do it all over again, he would’ve made the exact same choices. He wouldn’t have let Al face all of this alone, kiddified or not.

Fuck the consequences.

By the time he made his way back downstairs, Alastor’s ankle was wrapped up and he was awkwardly practicing with the crutches. Helene was exhausted after all the excitement, so Claudia had helped her to her room to get some rest. After she made them some sandwiches to eat, at her own insistence.

Angel, Alastor, and Louis sat and ate in the living room in companionable silence. Louis kept shooting them both curious looks, but he waited until they finished their lunch before turning his full attention to Angel.

“…are you dead too?”

Angel couldn’t hold back a startled laugh at the earnestness in his voice.

“Sorry, doll,” he said, trying to stave off the embarrassment rapidly blooming across the other man’s face. “Just wasn’t expectin’ that. Yeah, I’m dead too. Died back in the forties.”

He dropped his gaze to the floor, frowning down at his work boots. “Oh…”

“Don’t worry though! There are plenty of other fish in the sea! ‘Specially in a town like this! An’ any guy’d be lucky t’have ya, sweetcheeks.”

Louis flushed an adorable shade of red. If Angel didn’t currently have his hands full trying to keep an injured and human Radio Demon alive while evading fuck knew how many angels and exorcists, he would’ve been all too happy to turn his frown upside down.

The guy was cute! So sue him! Besides, this was turning into the longest stretch Angel had gone without getting laid since he’d died.

“…so…how are you here now?” Louis asked once he’d recovered enough to meet his eyes again. “Not vampires or time travel?”

Angel shook his head. “Nah. Prolly shouldn’t go too into the weeds. There’s rules an’ shit about all that after ya die. Let’s just say we’re here temporarily and we’re hopin’ to be outta your hair quick fast. Speakin’ of, do ya got a phone we could borrow for a sec?”

”Oh! Sure!” he said, digging into his pockets to pull out a battered looking smartphone. “…so you have phones and all still…? Or is that somethin’ you can’t say neither?”

“Yup!” he said as he took it from him and studied the phone. It looked close enough to the VoxTek ones, so it probably worked the same. “We got our own brands, but they’re pretty similar. Not sure if this is gonna work. I dunno how the networks connect. If they’re even connected.“

“I haven’t delved much into the world of cellular telephones. It’s likely a long shot due to all of the competing frequencies and the sheer distance, but it would be foolish not at least to try.”

Angel cocked his head to one side. “So cellphones do use radio waves?”

“Practically everything does nowadays.” Alastor answered, lip curling in clear distaste. “It used to be so much quieter.”

Huh.

You learn something new every day.

Angel pulled up the phone app before handing the device over to Alastor.

They’d been able to make a call from Heaven, so maybe there was an actual chance this might work.

Fuck, he really hoped they weren’t going to have to try a summoning. As accommodating as their hosts were, he didn’t know if they’d be open to helping track down the shit needed to summon the literal fucking devil…

Most folks would probably balk at that…

Alastor typed the hotel’s main line into the app before hitting the speakerphone button. Angel bit his lip, crossing as many fingers and toes as he could.

“Your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please hang up and try again.”

He groaned, slumping in his seat. “…yeah, I figured we weren’t gonna have that kinda luck… Ya think they got some other way of contactin’ us? Or findin’ us?”

“I’m not sure. They have some powerful tools at their disposal.” He tilted his head, expression thoughtful. “If I was in their position, I would try a summoning before attempting to track us down on foot. Though I don’t know how successful it would be for myself at present.”

Fuck. For the thousandth time since they’d been whisked up to Heaven, Angel found himself desperately wishing for his phone.

“Hopefully Em got word to ‘em. Shit, I hope she’s okay…”

What if she Fell because she’d helped them?

The thought made Angel nauseous. Emily wouldn’t last five seconds in Hell. And if she Fell, it sure as fuck wouldn’t help smooth things over with Heaven or help their cause…

How did Falling even work? Did all the other angels get together and kick them out? Or was it like what happened with Pentious, and they just suddenly got a makeover and popped up in Hell?

Fuck, his head was starting to hurt…

Speaking of, could Heaven summon folks too…?

No. Otherwise they would’ve done it by now, right?

Right?

Angel did his best to smother that train of thought before he started hyperventilating. Unfortunately that didn’t stop his palms from getting clammy or his heart from trying to yeet itself through his sternum.

“They may already be here,” Alastor offered, absently patting his knee. Angel wondered if he realized he was doing it. “You told them to meet us at the university, didn’t you?”

He straightened up, his heart easing up on its impromptu escape attempt. “Yeah! Yeah, we did! The one that did the first broadcast, right? We’ll have to scope out the radio tower there.”

There might be a light at the end of this shitty tunnel after all!

The reassuring weight of Alastor’s hand settled on his knee. Angel blinked down at it before giving its owner a discreet once over from the corner of his eye.

He looked as exhausted as Angel felt, which was saying something with how well he usually masked that kinda thing. There were dark bags under his eyes and the space between them on the sofa slowly shrank as Alastor tipped ever closer to him.

Maybe things had finally calmed down enough for them to get some much needed shuteye.

If Angel played his cards right, maybe he could also get the Radio Demon down for a nap with minimal fuss… He just needed a light touch to coax him the rest of the way to beddy-bye.

Even better if he got Al to think it was his own idea.

“Oh, I guess a lot’s changed since you were here last,” Louis offered. “There are a couple of schools with radio towers now.”

Alastor perked up from where he’d almost settled against Angel’s side. “Really? How many? What do they play?”

“Uh uh,” Angel protested. “No radio talk right now or we’ll never get anywhere. ‘Sides, you could prolly use a shower an’ a change of clothes too, Smiles.”

“I’m sure it goes without saying, but y’all are welcome to stay here as long as you want,” Louis said.

“Thank you,” Alastor insisted. “Though we’ll do our best not to impose on your hospitality any longer than necessary.”

He pulled himself upright with one of the crutches, reaching for their empty dishes.

Louis intercepted him, gathering the empty plates and glasses before he could. “Can you make it upstairs on your own?”

Alastor reluctantly grabbed the other crutch instead. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll go with him to make sure he don’t do any backflips on the stairs,” Angel said, climbing to his feet.

Alastor shot him an annoyed look as they headed for the stairs. They made it up To the second floor in one piece, thank fuck.

“How’s the ankle?” Angel asked as he grabbed a towel and washcloth from the hall linen closet for him.

“Better. They want me to go to the hospital, but that would cause more problems than it would solve.”

He sighed as he stepped around him to set them on the bathroom’s vanity. “Yeah, gotta agree with ya there.” He paused halfway through the bathroom door. “Wait.”

“What?”

“You was still miniature when we was talkin’ about where they should meet us.” A sudden thrill shot through him and he had to bite back an excited whoop. “Holy shit, ya remembered!”

Alastor’s brow furrowed. “Did I? I don’t recall the specifics.”

He nodded, grinning. “Maybe you’ll get the rest of your mini memories back too!”

For better and for worse.

“Maybe,” Alastor agreed. “Speaking of, in the event one of us is summoned, we need to have a plan in place. Especially if it’s not possible for both of us.”

He meant not possible for him specifically, but Angel didn’t call him out on it.

“Yeah, we should prolly get Louis’s phone number and the address for this place too.”

“Assuming this is Helene’s childhood home, which I believe it is, I already know the address.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to check. Get it in writin’, too. How’s about I do that while ya get cleaned up? Unless ya need—“

“Do not finish that sentence,” Alastor growled.

“Sheesh! Fine, but if’n ya wind up makin’ your ankle worse, I’m gonna tell Helene and your ma,” he warned as he headed for the stairs.

Alastor shot him a withering look, shutting and audibly locking the bathroom door in answer. Angel rolled his eyes, turning back to the stairs and almost running into Louis in the process.

“Hey! Just the guy I was lookin’ for! Would ya mind writin’ down your phone number and address!”

Louis smiled shyly back at him. “Way ahead of you.”

He held out a scrap of lined paper with cutesy flowers printed along its edges. Angel was pretty sure he’d seen the same pattern on a notepad stuck to the fridge when they walked in.

He reached for it only for his hand to pass through empty air. Angel staggered, his head spinning while his stomach debated on whether or not to keep his lunch. He blindly caught himself on the back of a familiar armchair as the strange sensations passed as quickly as they began.

He blinked owlishly as he looked around for Louis, only to find the hotel lobby instead.

The fucking hotel lobby!

“Holy shit!” he whooped, heart soaring.

“Angel…?” Charlie hazarded, taking a tentative step forward.

Oh, human disguise! Right! He yanked the necklace off, returning to his normal height and appearance.

She shrieked, launching herself at him. He was immediately buried under a group hug and he did his best to hug every single one of those fuckers back as tears sprang to his eyes.

Fuck. It was over! They made it! Now they could fix Al and then…

He tensed, head snapping up to scan the tops of the heads around him and then the rest of the lobby. The only other person he spotted was Lucifer. He knelt next to an empty summoning circle, expression stricken.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Chapter Text

It took some effort, but Angel managed to break free from the group hug, dropping down beside Lucifer to stare at the empty summoning circle.

“…it didn’t work…?”

Lucifer gave a slow shake of his head.

Shit.

Fucking shit!

“We gotta get back there. Like, yesterday!”

“Dad…? What’s wrong? Where’s Alastor?” Charlie asked, the first of the others to register something was amiss.

“I tried summoning him, but it’s not working. It should be working!”

“He’s human right now! Or…close to it? Maybe his demon energy ain’t strong enough for ya to summon him? Or maybe the divine energy’s cancelin’ it out?” As Angel spoke, his mouth went dry and his heart began to hammer against his ribs.

“Shit! Emily mentioned he looked human, but I thought I’d still be able to tap into the demonic energy in him,” Lucifer murmured as he paced back and forth in front of the circle.

“Please tell me ya got the crystal thing ya was talkin’ about before!”

He nodded, pulling back his sleeve to reveal a gold watch with a red crystal fashioned into an apple in the center. “Right here.”

“Then let’s go! Now!” He wasn’t gonna calm down until he had eyes on the reckless fucker.

“Hold on, take a breath, Angel,” Charlie said, offering what she probably hoped was a reassuring smile. “It’s only been a few minutes. There’s nothing to worry about. First things first, where is Alastor?”

“I don’t know exactly where he is! I was just about to get the address and phone number and then I wound up here!” he said, sinking his hands into his hair so hard his scalp ached. “Al’s hurt an‘ human! Lute’s gonna fuckin’ kill him if she finds him before we do!”

“Alastor’s hurt?” Charlie asked, eyes wide.

“He fucked up his ankle! And he ain’t got any self-preservation! So let’s fuckin’ go!”

“You said you were about to get an address and phone number,” Husk said, his calm voice slicing through their collective building panic. “D’you remember the name of the place you were?”

Angel shook his head. “It wasn’t a place! It was a house!”

“D’you know who owns the house?”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Yes! Fuck, yes, Whiskers! The lady’s name is Helene! Helene…” He trailed off. “Fuck! What was her last name?! Started with a G! Somethin’ Frenchy! Unless she changed it when she got married… Goddammit!”

Husk closed the distance between them, resting both paws on his shoulders and forcing him to meet his eyes. “Angel, calm down. Just breathe like Charlie was sayin’. You’re not gonna remember anything if you’re all worked up like this.”

He demonstrated by drawing in a breath, holding it a few seconds, and then releasing it. It took Angel a moment to calm down enough to copy him. With each deep breath he took, his heart rate gradually slowed to something approaching normal.

“The boss may be an idiot, but he ain’t stupid,” Husk said, tapping his claws against his shoulders in time with the breath exercise. “This lady has a Frenchy last name startin’ with a G?”

Angel nodded. “G… Gee… Fuck! It reminded me of that fancy ass butter Smiles was talkin’ about a while back…?”

Husk’s brow furrowed. “…ghee?” he hazarded.

“Yeah! Ghee…” The logo on the twins’ hats flashed in his mind’s eye. “Guimont! Helene Guimont!”

Husk nodded, tightening his grip reassuringly before stepping back. “We got a name. It’s a start at least.”

Lucifer nodded too, way more times than was necessary. “As much as I’m sure we all want to go, if Lute’s there looking for Al, we need to keep a low profile.” He pursed his lips. “Sinners aren’t technically supposed to use the crystals either, by decree of Heaven. It…uh…came up during the talks about the exterminations...”

Angel could only imagine. Hell would be a lot emptier if Sinners could pop back to the Living World on a whim.

“So…what does that mean?” Charlie asked, brow furrowing. “Angel and the others can’t go without breaking the treaty?”

“They already broke the fuckin’ treaty!” Angel protested, all four fists clenching at his sides.

He was so fucking sick of Heaven doing whatever they wanted while they had to walk on eggshells.

Lucifer held his hands up, offering a smile that wasn’t much better than Charlie’s attempt. “Whoa, what I’m saying is we can probably get away with you going back since they know you were already there. It just wouldn’t be…wise to bring more Sinners with us. Even with demon summoning.”

Angel blinked. “Ya can summon Sinners to the Livin’ World?”

He’d heard about demon summoning of course, but he’d assumed it only applied to Hellborn.

Lucifer nodded. “Usually it’s only Hellborn who wind up summoned. It can be tricky summoning a Sinner. The Sinner has to be powerful enough, for one, and you have to use their name in the invocation. The books and shit in the Living World detailing the process don’t usually include John Smiths. Heaven keeps tabs on summonings too.”

Angel’s heart lurched into his throat, breath coming too quick again. “…they do? How do they know about ‘em?”

“They monitor spikes in demonic energy in the Living World.”

“…does that mean they woulda sensed ya summonin’ me an’ Smiles…?”

What little color there was in Lucifer’s face abruptly vanished. “…possibly…? I’m not sure…? This is kind of a first, so far as I know. Summoning a demon back to Hell, I mean.”

“Please tell me ya didn’t throw up a neon sign tellin’ them where Smiles is!”

Lucifer gave a nervous chuckle. “…I mean, I don’t know for sure, but—“

“We need to fuckin’ go now!” Angel shouted, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket. “Lute’s already tried killin’ him once! Back when he was still mini! She was gonna cut his fuckin’ head off!”

“She what?!” Charlie demanded, flames sprouting over her head.

“Babe, focus,” Vaggie said, though she looked equally rattled.

Lucifer carefully pried Angel’s fingers from his coat. “We will. Right now. I promise. Put your human disguise back on, Angel. You and I will go.” He studied the others. “Charlie and Vaggie too. That’s probably all we can get away with.”

Four of them. Against fuck knew how many angels. And Smiles was on his own, if Lute hadn’t already found and killed him.

Angel was gonna be sick…

Husk clapped him on the back. “Breathe, Ang. He’s alive. Contract’s still in place. I can feel it.”

“…for now,” Angel mumbled as he slid the necklace Emily gave him back around his neck, reverting to his human-like appearance.

Lucifer tapped first Charlie and then Vaggie on the nose. Charlie’s skin became a peachier color, her eyes reverting to a bright blue while her fangs and the red spots on her cheeks receded. She shrank down to a less inhuman height. She was almost eye level with Angel now, making her a little under six feet tall.

Vaggie, meanwhile, gained a warmer complexion, though her skin remained darker than Charlie’s. Her hair switched to black and her fangs vanished as she shrank down to stand a head shorter than Charlie.

Lucifer changed himself last, his skin and eyes a match to his daughter’s. He didn’t adjust his height. Not for the first time, Angel wondered if he’d always been on the shorter side or if it was just a preference.

“Might want somethin’ a little more incognito to wear too,” Angel said, gesturing to their clothes. Both to blend in and because Lute had seen them in their usual threads.

“Right!” Lucifer snapped his fingers, putting himself in a more conventional white suit with red accents, Charlie in jeans and a t-shirt a lighter shade than her suit jacket, and Vaggie in a skirt and shirt, also in lighter shades of her usual.

Angel’s borrowed shirt and cargo shorts changed too, but only so they better fit him. While he and Louis were close in height, the other man had broad shoulders and more muscle definition than Angel could ever hope for. He’d always been on the lankier side, in life and in death, built more for speed and flexibility than strength.

Belatedly he realized the soft orange shirt he wore had the same Guimont Landscaping logo as the twins’ hats.

Wow, he was a fucking idiot.

Either the others hadn’t noticed, or they’d decided to cut him some slack because of how panicked he’d been.

“It’s hot and humid as fuck there,” Angel warned as Lucifer pressed the crystal in the center of his watch. A portal appeared in front of them, revealing a narrow vacant alley beyond.

As Angel stepped through, he noted the temperature and humidity didn’t feel all that different from one place to the other.

No wonder his fur was always frizzy as fuck.

Once the four of them stood on the other side, Lucifer didn’t immediately close the portal. Instead he turned back to look at Niffty and Husk.

“Husk, if you notice any…changes, let us know, all right? Our phones should still work.”

Husk’s jaw tightened. “You got it. I wouldn’t worry too much though. Pretty sure the bastard’s unkillable. Minus the first time, o’course.”

Angel’s stomach twisted even as Husk’s exasperated tone brought a small smile to his face. He knew Al better than most and he wasn’t panicking. That had to be a good sign, right?

Niffty cackled as she brandished her feather duster like a weapon, presumably to see them off. Her manic grin was the last thing they saw before the portal closed, leaving them in the middle of New Orleans.

Charlie stared at the dumpsters and litter in the otherwise barren alley in awe, hands clasped in front of her. Vaggie, meanwhile, eyed the dumpster like it might attack at any moment. Angel hadn’t asked, but based on their reactions, he was willing to bet this was their first time in the Living World.

“So we have a name,” Lucifer said, leaning against one of the brick walls surrounding them as he pulled out his hellphone. “Now we just need an address.”

“It’s right off the water,” Angel offered, peering at the screen over his shoulder. The only search options available on Voogle were Hell related. “They had their own dock an’ everything.”

“Unfortunately that doesn’t narrow it down much in New Orleans. Are phone books and payphones still a thing?”

“Uhh… No clue. Prolly not, seein’ as we don’t got ‘em in Hell anymore.”

He nodded, snapping his fingers. A regular cell phone in a plain red case appeared in his hands instead and he began typing furiously on it.

“You said Helene Guimont?“ Thankfully it didn’t take him long to locate someone with the name. “Helene Guimont. Bancroft Drive.”

He pulled her address up in the maps app, switching to satellite view. “Looks like this might be her. The house has a boat dock and is off of Bayou Saint John. Two stories, brick exterior. Was there a pool?”

Angel nodded, the tight knot in his chest loosening ever so slightly. “Yeah! That sounds like the place!”

“We’re not far. It’s only seven miles away.”

“So can we like…teleport there or somethin’?”

“We could use the crystal again. But if Lute’s already there, we don’t want to show our hand. Heaven probably monitors the spikes the crystals give off too, but with the constant traffic from Incubi and Succubi, especially somewhere tourist heavy like here, we shouldn’t have to worry too much.

“There’s a park about a mile from the house. It should be safe enough to open a portal there. Then we’ll just have to take one of the bridges across the bayou. I’ll conjure up a car for that. It’ll help us blend in and give us a better chance to scope out the area for Lute and any of her lackeys.”

“Sounds good to me,” Angel said, relieved Lucifer was doing his best to make up for his prior miscalculation. Lute might be impulsive, but she wasn’t stupid. If they were gonna save Al, they needed to draw as little attention to themselves and him as possible.

Lucifer pocketed his phone and pulled up his sleeve to press the crystal. The portal materialized on the side of the wall opposite them. He led the way through it and directly into a copse of trees.

Charlie gaped at the wall of green foliage around them, eyes sparkling. “It’s so pretty!” she said, wheezing with the effort to keep her overboiling excitement in check.

Vaggie pulled out her hellphone to check the time. “By the time we get there, it’ll have been half an hour since we summoned you, Angel.” She glanced up, arching a brow. “How much trouble could he get into in half an hour?”

Angel took her by the shoulders, face inches from hers. “Vagina, believe me when I say Al only needs seconds to get into deep shit.”

Charlie gave a nervous laugh. “Seconds seems like a bit of a stretch! Al’s pretty level-headed! And he’s always thinking ahead!”

He released Vaggie so he could meet Charlie’s eyes, his own nearly crazed. “Yeah, normally! But he ain’t himself right now and he’s been through a fuck of a lot. Plus you didn’t see the way Lute was lookin’ at him or the shit she did to him… She fuckin’ tortured him, Charlie. While he was still a fuckin’ kid!”

A heavy silence fell over the four of them.

“She tortured a child,” Lucifer finally managed. “Who, for all intents and purposes, hadn’t committed the sins that damned him yet. Even if he looked like a demon.”

“He didn’t though!” Angel protested. “She used her stupid fuckin’ sword to suppress his demon shit and fuckin’ tortured him after that! Not to mention the fact every time she whipped her sword out on Mini Al, it reopened his fuckin’ chest wound from Adam!”

His voice caught, tears racing down his cheeks. “Sh-She’s a fuckin’ monster! An’ we’ll be lucky if the only thing she does when she finds Al is kill him!”

The others stared back at him with a mixture of rage and horror while he scrubbed at his eyes, struggling to get himself back under control.

Lucifer rested a hand on his shoulder, much like Husk had, as if he was trying to help ground him. “Hey, let’s take a breath. So long as the bellhop’s alive, there’s still a chance we can save him. And…even if he dies, we don’t know for sure it’ll wipe him from existence.”

Angel and Charlie flinched. But he supposed it was technically true. After all, Pentious had died and he wound up in Heaven.

And wasn’t it weird as fuck Angel desperately hoped if Al died again, that he’d wind up back in Hell? He didn’t want him anywhere near Heaven or exorcists or Heavenborn ever again. Not after everything they’d done to him.

“Let’s focus,” Vaggie cut in, leading the way out from beneath the trees and to the small parking lot nearby.

She glanced around to make sure the coast was clear before nodding to Lucifer. He nodded back, immediately conjuring an unassuming white SUV with New Orleans plates.

“Um…dad?” Charlie said, studying the vehicle.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“I think it might be better if we have two cars. Or…maybe a motorcycle? Something a little more agile?”

Vaggie’s face lit up. “Good thinking, babe!”

Lucifer pursed his lips, looking less than thrilled by the suggestion. “I don’t like the idea of us potentially getting split up, but it’s not a bad idea...”

“How about I ride with you?” Charlie offered.

The building tension in his shoulders eased and he glanced to Vaggie and Angel. “Okay. Have either of you ridden a motorcycle before?”

They both nodded before glancing curiously at one another.

Lucifer snapped his fingers and two motorcycles appeared, including protective gear. They were as unassuming as the SUV, designed to draw as little attention as possible. Angel was relieved to see the helmets would completely cover their faces too.

“There’s an extra set in the saddlebags in case Al needs to ride with either of you,” Lucifer said, tossing them each a set of keys.

“Think ya can make me a phone too?” Angel asked hopefully.

“Oh! Right! Sorry, it won’t have any of your contacts or anything, but I can mirror the ones I have in mine.”

“So long as it’s got everyone here an’ back at the hotel in it, that’s all I really need,” he said, relief flooding him as he took the phone Lucifer conjured from him.

He snapped his fingers, making three more, all with red cases, and handing them out. “Living World phones. Hellphones won’t work here, except to call other Hellphones. Use these if you need to make any local calls or access the internet here.” He paused, absently rubbing the back of his neck. “Fuck, I’m forgetting something. What am I forgetting?”

“IDs an’ cash?” Angel offered.

“Yes! That!” he agreed, grinning at him as he conjured those too. “Now let’s go get that fucking pain in the ass!”

Vaggie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well unfortunately he’s our pain in the ass, so.”

“That’s what I said! Just texted the address to everyone, so let’s go!”

Angel and Vaggie suited up in their new protective riding gear while Lucifer and Charlie climbed into the SUV.

Vaggie settled on the seat of her motorcycle and pulled up directions to the house. “Two miles from where we are now. Says it’ll take five minutes to get there.”

She attached her phone to the mount on her handlebars and Angel followed suit. The two of them were the first out of the parking lot, heading out of the park and toward the closest bridge crossing the bayou. Charlie and Lucifer were close behind.

Angel was grateful to finally have somewhere to direct all his nervous energy. Regardless of the outcome, at least now they were doing something. Anything was better than standing around waiting for something to happen.

Something like Al winding up double (triple?) dead or getting kidnapped back to Heaven…

He forced himself to focus on his surroundings and soon they were cruising down Bancroft. Angel pulled a little ahead of Vaggie, heart hammering in his chest as they approached what he hoped was the right address.

The only thing he knew for certain was the place had a brick exterior, having only seen it from the backyard. The house looked grander from the front, sporting a handful of white columns that stretched all the way up to the roof of the second story. It fit right in with the rest of the enormous houses lining the street too.

Angel almost veered into a utility pole across the street when he caught sight of Lute and Calliope, in human disguises, walking out of the home’s front door. He spotted a white panel van idling in the driveway immediately after with what looked like Tambourine and Viola seated inside.

No Al. And Lute looked pissed.

Either they hadn’t found him inside, or Al had somehow hightailed it out of there. Angel was putting his money on the latter.

He forced himself to drive sedately past the house, hoping the others got the hint. Even if Lute and the others didn’t spot them, there was no telling if they had other exorcists posted around keeping watch.

Angel looped back around to the park they started at, pulling back into the parking lot as he waited for the others to join him. The second Vaggie arrived, she yanked her helmet off, face pale.

“What the fuck is Calliope doing here?” she muttered, more to herself than to him.

“Ya know her?” Angel asked, glancing over in surprise.

“She used to be an exorcist.”

“She’s Heaven’s prison warden now. Apparently she an’ Smiles got real close while he was up there too.”

Vaggie’s brow furrowed. “Over the past few days?”

“Nah, when he was up there for seven years.”

“When he was what?!”

Angel winced. “Oh. Uh, shit. I guess I didn’t really get a chance to mention that before, huh? It’s hard to keep track of everythin’ with all the shit goin’ on the past few days.”

“Alastor was in Heaven? For seven years?! How is this the first time I’m hearing about this? Fuck, I was still in Heaven seven years ago! How?! Why?!”

“He was up there visitin’ with his ma. Real sweet lady. She’s friends with my nonna and my sister.”

“I…I don’t even know what to do with all that right now,” she said with a slow shake of her head.

“It ain’t important right now,” Angel insisted. “Though if ya know anythin’ about Calliope, that might be. She had Smiles shaking’ in his boots. Or…well, as shakin’ in his boots as he ever gets.”

Vaggie’s expression soured but she was cut off from answering by Lucifer and Charlie pulling up beside them.

“That was close!” Charlie exclaimed as she leaned out the passenger side window. “So what do we do now? Does them leaving mean Alastor’s not there anymore…?”

“I’m guessin’ not, but unless he got a ride or somethin’, he wouldn’t get far with how fucked up his ankle is,” Angel answered with a frown.

“Is it possible the summoning actually did work, but sent him somewhere else?” Charlie asked, eyes growing wide with alarm.

Lucifer immediately shook his head. “No, it didn’t work at all. He’s around here somewhere.”

Angel crossed his arms, leaning against the side of the SUV by Charlie’s window. “…supposin’ he got a ride, my best guess is he’s goin’ to the university we was gonna meet up at before.”

“What university?” Vaggie asked, already consulting her phone.

“Uh… Oh… Uh…fuck! Fuck, what was it fucking called?!”

Charlie gave his arm a reassuring pat. “It’s okay, Angel. Is there something special about the university? Why did he want to meet there?”

Angel turned to face her, wrapping her hand in both of his. “He was talkin’ about it when he was still mini. About how they did the first broadcast in New Orleans there. I figured maybe it was still around, so it was as good a place as any to try an’ meet up.”

“Loyola University?” Vaggie offered, not looking up from her phone. “It says here the first radio broadcast in New Orleans was from Loyola University on March 31, 1922.”

“Yeah! That sounds right!” Angel insisted, relief flooding him. “How far’s it from here?”

“About six miles. Twenty minutes by car. Even if he drove there right after we summoned you, he would’ve only gotten there a few minutes ago.”

Charlie leaned further out the car window, squinting at Vaggie’s phone as she asked, “How sure are you he’s not still at the house, Angel? I mean, he could’ve hidden nearby, couldn’t he? Do we really want to go there without checking first?”

“I dunno,” he admitted. “If he knows about Heaven trackin’ spikes in demonic energy, I don’t think he’d risk bein’ anywhere close to here. I don’t think we can waltz up an’ ask the Guimonts either.”

“He has a point,” Vaggie agreed. “Knowing Lute, she’s probably got exorcists monitoring the place. She might have an oversized ego, but she’s thorough. There’s a reason she was Adam’s second in command.” Even as she said it, she wrinkled her nose. “The absolute last thing we need is for her to realize we’re here too.”

“But if they came here because of the energy spike, maybe they’ll think Al was summoned back to Hell since they can’t find him?” Charlie hazarded, a hopeful note in her voice.

Lucifer grimaced. “Sorry, sweetie, I don’t think so. I don’t know all the ins and outs of how they monitor things, but there’s a big difference between the energy spike from one summoning and the spike from two.”

“Is there a way to find her phone number? Like how we found her address?”

“It can’t hurt to look,” Lucifer said, pulling out his phone.

Charlie and Angel did the same, silence falling over them all as they scoured the internet. Angel’s first thought was to try finding the twins through the Living World’s equivalent of social media, but then he had a better idea.

Guimont Landscaping. They had to have a website or something, didn’t they? There were no guarantees a phone number listed there would take him directly to one of the twins, but it was a fucking start!

“Fuck yes!” he crowed as he pulled up their company’s page. The twins stood back to back in a photo right at the top, arms crossed and grinning at the camera. Or, well, Louis was. Claudia’s expression was a bit more reserved.

He immediately tapped the phone number listed, waiting with bated breath as it began to ring.

Please be an actual fucking person.

Please be an actual fucking person!

Just when he thought it was about to go to voicemail or send him to an automated directory, someone picked up.

“Guimont Landscaping. This is Claudia speaking.”

Never before in his life or unlife had he been so happy to hear someone’s customer service voice.

“Claudia!” he all but shouted before forcing himself to a more reasonable level. “It’s me! Ang… Anthony! Is Al still there with ya?”

Vaggie waved impatiently at him and he switched the call over to speaker.

“Anthony?” she echoed. “Louis said you vanished into thin air!”

“Long story! Is Al still there with ya?” he repeated.

There was a pause, like she was debating on whether or not to press for an explanation.

“I’m real sorry, I wish I had time to explain everythin’ to ya, but I really, really need to know where Al is.”

She gave a soft sigh. “No, he ain’t here. Right after you vanished, he asked Louis to drive him somewhere. He didn’t say where. Said it was better if we didn’t know, since someone else might come lookin’ for him.”

Angel pumped his fist, grinning at the others. Charlie looked like she was on the verge of tears while Vaggie and Lucifer nodded back to him. He was pretty sure they were trying for nonchalance, but he could tell they were as relieved as he and Charlie were.

“Someone else did come lookin’ for him,” Claudia continued. “Had a picture and everything. Told ‘em we saw him and you skulkin’ around in the backyard. That I went out to ask what y’all were up to while granny hung back in case she needed to call the cops. Said y’all gave some bullshit story about your car breakin’ down and asked for directions to the nearest pawn shop. Mr. Doré said it should get ‘em to leave without much of a fuss and he was right.””

“Good! An’ if they come back, just stick to the story, okay?”

“Who are they?”

“Folks who wanna hurt Al. The less ya know about them, the better. They shouldn’t try anythin’ with ya, but better safe than sorry as far as they’re concerned.” Angel answered.

“Do you think they’ll come back by? Is it safe for us to stay here?”

“If Al said it was, ya should be fine. He woulda told ya to leave otherwise. He has a real soft spot for your grandma.”

“Okay. Can I call or text you at this number if they come back?”

“Yup! Would ya mind given’ me Louis’s cell number? He’s got it with him, right? I wanna see if I can get ahold of him an’ Al.”

“Yeah, he should. I’ll text it to you.”

“Thanks, toots!” he insisted as his phone chimed with her incoming message.

“Are you and him gonna be okay?”

The earnestness in her voice brought an unexpected wave of affection through Angel and he felt his expression soften. “Should be! Thanks for all your help! And tell Ms. Helene thanks for me too, yeah?”

“No problem,” she insisted. “Anything to help Mr. Doré. Good luck! And stay safe!”

“You, too!” Angel answered before hanging up.

“Anything for Mr. Doré?” Vaggie echoed, arching a brow.

“Long story. I’ll tell ya all about it once we get Smiles back.” As he spoke, he tapped the phone number in the text message from Claudia. He hit the speaker button, hoping Louis was the rare type who answered unknown numbers.

They didn’t have to wait long. He answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

Angel allowed himself two fist pumps this time. Fuck, he was about ready to try clicking his heels while he was at it. “Louis? It’s me, Anthony!”

“Oh! Hey! Uh, what the actual fuck happened earlier?”

“Long story. Is Al with ya?”

Please, please, please let him be there.

”No, I dropped him off a few minutes ago. The second you did your disappearin’ act, he said he needed to get outta dodge. I tried to talk him out of it, but he said he was gonna walk if I didn’t.”

Angel rolled his eyes. “Course he did. Where’d he ask ya to drop him off?”

“Audubon Park.”

That brought Angel up short. “...what? Audubon Park? Where the fuck’s that?”

Vaggie tapped his shoulder, showing him the map she’d pulled up on her phone. The park was across the street from Loyola University. Okay, that made more sense.

“You want me to go back for him? I’m only a few minutes away. Wait, how’d you get my number?”

“Your sister. Could ya? Please? I really need to talk to him.”

“Sure. D’you want me to stay on the line with you, or should I call you back when I find him?”

“Ya can call me back. I’m gonna head that way too, but I’m a ways out.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Eh, more or less. But, uh, if you see four broads in a white panel van, the best thing ya can do is hide. An’ if Al’s with ya, make him hide too.”

“…that don’t sound strange or ominous at all…”

“Sorry, hun. Wish I could tell ya more. The less ya know about them, the better.”

“Every time I think today can’t get any weirder… All right. He can’t have gotten far. I’ll call you back in a few.”

“Thanks!” Angel insisted, hanging up.

“Why would he go there instead of directly to the university?” Vaggie asked, studying the map. “The park looks huge.”

Angel leaned over to get a better look. “Prolly ‘cause he’s paranoid as fuck? Least we sorta know where he is now. Gonna put a bell an’ a fuckin’ GPS tracker on him…”

Vaggie snorted. “Good luck with that. At the very least, we’re having an intervention after this and making him get a fucking phone.”

“If that don’t work, maybe we can get him t’eat a tracker or somethin’. Plant it in his food…”

“Why not both?” Lucifer asked, smirking. “We’ll feed him a tracker and I’ll permanently attach a phone to him!”

Charlie shot them all an admonishing look even as she fought back a grin. “So does this mean we’re portaling there?”

Lucifer considered that, absently drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “We could, but if we keep portaling around we’re more likely to draw attention from Heaven. It’s not too far and we don’t have any reason to believe Lute knows where he is. Why don’t we just drive there and if we hear back before we arrive, we can pull over and portal?”

“Yeah, makes sense. Last thing we wanna do is lead ‘em right to him. Mind if I ride with you two?” Angel asked. “I wanna be able to pick up when he calls back. Knowin’ Al, he’ll prolly think it’s a trick or somethin’ otherwise.”

“Of course!” Charlie said, motioning for him to join them.

“I’m gonna stick with the bike for now,” Vaggie said. “I’ll ride ahead and keep a lookout. Just flash your headlights at me if you hear from him and are about to portal.”

“Thanks, babe!” Charlie said, leaning out the window to give her a peck on the lips.

Angel clambered into the backseat while Vaggie put her helmet back on and started off. His own motorcycle vanished.

Lucifer pulled out behind her while Angel turned his attention to the scenery as he anxiously bobbed his leg.

“Ya think he’ll be able to find him?”

“I know so!” Charlie said, turning to offer him a reassuring smile.

“He was smart enough to get out of there after the summons at least,” Lucifer reluctantly admitted.

While he and Charlie lapsed into small talk about their surroundings, Angel kept checking the time on his phone. He was half convinced time had slowed down or even stopped with how fucking long it felt between one minute to the next.

Five minutes came and went and his leg bouncing went into overdrive.

It was probably fine. Alastor being paranoid as fuck was a good thing right now, regardless of whether or not it made Angel wanna strangle him. He’d probably already started toward the school.

He better be going to the fucking school.

Angel attempted to distract himself by looking up info on the university, trying to gauge the size of it and if he could find a map.

Fuck. They had over four thousand students across an almost twenty acre campus. He was sure it could be worse, but time was kinda of the essence.

If he was Smiles, where would he go once there…?

Angel jerked upright in his seat. He must be more tired than he thought. Of fucking course Al would make a beeline for the radio tower! So where the fuck was it?

He immediately switched to searching for that instead, only to stare blankly down at his phone.

Internet radio station.

“…the fuck is internet radio?”

Charlie glanced back at him in confusion. “What?”

“It says the school’s got an ‘internet radio station’.” He searched the term next only to groan in frustration. “Are ya fuckin’ shittin’ me?! They don’t even use a tower anymore?!”

“What’s the big deal?” Lucifer asked. “Don’t tell me you caught whatever crawled up his ass and died.”

“I was tryin’ to think where he might go on the campus,” Angel retorted, furiously searching now. “What the fuck? I don’t think their station’s even around anymore! The website don’t work and they ain’t updated their social media in years!”

Charlie studied him, worrying her bottom lip. “Alastor probably doesn’t know that. Did there used to be a tower?”

“I dunno. It says here the first ever broadcast was from Marquette Hall? Back when they was still WWL. They switched to Crescent City Radio at some point.”

“That seems like a good place to start!”

“Assumin’ he don’t burn the fuckin’ place down once he finds out they don’t do radio no more.”

“Don’t give him ideas!” Lucifer protested.

“…he wouldn’t actually do that, right? I mean, his number one priority right now is hiding from the exorcists, right?” Charlie asked with a nervous laugh.

“He’s fuckin’ psycho!” Angel retorted. “He’d prolly just say he was multitaskin’ and doin’ the world a service or some shit!”

“…that does sound like something he’d say…”

“I swear to fuck, if we have to save this fucking school from him in the process of saving his scrawny ass…” Lucifer growled.

The phone suddenly began to ring in Angel’s hand and he almost dropped it in his hurry to answer it. “Louis?”

“Hey! Sorry, I ain’t been able to track him down yet. I’m still lookin’ though. Ain’t seen any ladies in white panel vans neither.”

“Have ya tried the university over there? Loyola? We were talkin’ about meetin’ up there, so my best guess is that’s where he’s headin’.”

“No, but I can check it out. Anywhere in particular on the campus?”

“Maybe Marquette Hall?” It was as good a place to start as any.

“Sure! I actually got tickets for a show there as an early birthday gift for granny a few weeks back. Orpheus Descending. She’s a big Tennessee Williams fan. Show’s not for a couple more months, but she’s gonna flip when I give ‘em to her.”

“Thanks, doll,” Angel said, slumping back in his seat. He was gonna end up double dead from the stress of all this alone…

Smiles was never leaving the goddamn hotel again. He was gonna lock him in his radio tower with all the jambalaya he could eat and throw away the fucking key.

He listened while Louis went on a tangent about how Claudia had refused to accompany them to the show because she had ‘absolutely no taste.’ Apparently she wasn’t a big patron of the arts.

“Oh, this place is fancy. It looks kinda like a church. Maybe I can scope out where the theater is too,” Louis continued after a few minutes, accompanied by the opening and closing of a car door. “Any idea where he might be inside? It looks pretty big.”

“I dunno. Maybe the theater or a music room or somethin’? Al said they played the piano on the first ever broadcast. ‘Course that was over a hundred years ago, so…”

“Sounds good! Directory says the theater’s on the second floor.” he said, the ambient noise around him fading as he went from outside to inside.

“It’s worth a shot,” Angel answered, crossing his fingers. “…ya don’t smell smoke or anythin’, do ya?”

“…should I?”

“…nah, just curious!”

“Wait! Mr. Doré!”

Angel shot back upright, eyes widening. He switched to speaker and Alastor’s voice, complete with his slight New Orleans drawl, filled the SUV.

“Louis? What’re you doing here?”

“Anthony called. He said he needed to talk to you.”

“How does he have your number?”

“Can ya please put me on speaker?” Angel all but begged.

“You’re on speaker now,” Louis answered.

“Al! I know ya got every right to be paranoid, but it’s actually me!”

“And how am I supposed to trust that?” Alastor shot back.

“For the love of…” Angel took a deep breath, forcing back his mounting frustration. “I dunno! How the fuck d’ya want me to prove it?! We ain’t exactly had any duets!”

“Hmm. Not very convincing!”

“…why does he sound like that?” Charlie whispered.

“His normal stupid accent would stick out like a sore thumb,” Lucifer answered.

“Hi, Alastor!” Charlie offered, far louder than she needed to be. “Are you okay? Angel said you hurt your ankle!”

“I remain unconvinced and I am now leaving.”

“Hey, Louis, what’re the chances ya could just…take his crutches away?” Angel cut in.

“He ain’t usin’ em.”

“Are ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me?! I’m gonna tell your ma! An’ Helene! An’ Rosie! An’ Charlie knows now too!“

Alastor hummed in thought before finally offering, “I suppose that’s good enough, empty threat aside.”

“It ain’t an empty threat, ya fuckin’ idiot!”

“Louis, would you be a dear and hang up on them?”

“Louis, don’t fuckin’ listen to him! He’s a crazy person! Just throw him in the trunk of your car and we’ll be there in a few to pick him up!”

A door opened and closed in the background, heeled footsteps echoing loudly over the line.

“Well, fuck,” Alastor bit out, Transatlantic accent back in full force.

Angel froze. “…Al?”

“Well, well, well! If it isn’t my little monster!”

His heart stilled in his chest at the all too familiar voice.

Lute.

Chapter Text

“Louis, you need to leave,” Alastor said as he stared calmly back at Lute.

She’d donned a human disguise, which only tweaked her pre-existing features into something less inhuman. Her white hair had become platinum blonde and her irises so dark a brown, they were almost black.

She didn’t have her sword. Or, if she did, he couldn’t see it.

“What?” Louis asked, gaze darting between the two of them.

“Please leave,” he repeated.

While he wanted to believe Lute wouldn’t kill a human, there was little he was willing to put past her at this point.

“I think he should stay,” Lute countered, smirking as she closed the distance between them.

Alastor’s eyes narrowed. “Careful, my dear, you wouldn’t want to fall.”

Her eyes flared and she had him up against the wall in an instant, unleashing her wings for all and sundry to see to do it. Her forearm pressed against his windpipe like a vise, his bad ankle radiating agony up his leg.

Between the wrapping administered by Helene and the tall work boots he’d borrowed from Louis, he’d gotten the pain down to a manageable enough level to walk without the crutches.

He wasn’t so sure he’d be able to now.

Alastor attempted to squirm free, his fingers meeting the unusually firm flesh of her arm. His efforts to dig his nails in proved fruitless.

Prosthetic?

Was that the arm she’d lost?

Lute only pressed harder as he tried and failed to pull her arm away. Black spots began to appear in the corners of his vision.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t breathe, but maybe that was all right.

This was as good a time as any to test his theory.

What did he have to lose?

Alastor let go of her arm, sliding one of Louis’s hunting knives from his sleeve into his left hand. He shoved it up and under Lute’s exposed ribs in a single, practiced motion. She gave a choked gasp, releasing him and staggering back as he yanked it free.

The blood dripping from the blade lacked any divine luster, leaving it more of a tarnished gold. The knife wasn’t angelic steel of course, but he’d hoped perhaps Lute wasn’t so angelic herself anymore. He’d hoped she’d begun to rot from the inside out, festering with the poison of her own hate.

This wasn't exactly how he’d wanted to conduct his little experiment, but needs must!

He slid the knife from his other sleeve into his right hand, grinning at her as he lunged forward.

Every step he took now was excruciating, but his ankle hardly mattered when his life was on the line. And Louis’s.

Lute evaded his next blow, keeping one glowing hand pressed to her wound, but he dodged her following counterpunch. The close quarters limiting the use of her wings, and her fury overriding her sense were likely the only reason he had a fighting chance in his current state.

Another voice suddenly rang out over speaker phone.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“H-Hi, I’m in Marquette Hall on Loyola University’s campus!” Louis stammered. “Th-There’s a woman here trying to kill someone!”

Well, that certainly wasn’t ideal…

Lute seemed to agree, her eyes flashing as she surged forward with an extra burst from her wings, slamming into Alastor’s middle and throwing him into the wall. The back of his head ricocheted against it hard enough he saw stars, made all the worse by the air being forced from his lungs on impact. He fell in a crumpled heap to the floor, gasping for breath.

Not good.

Alastor’s ears rang as he tried to pull himself upright, the world spinning around him. Lute’s fist tightened in the back of his shirt, like she was scruffing a disobedient dog, and she began dragging him toward the doors.

He’d managed to hold on to one of his knives, using it now to clumsily slice through his shirt and free himself. He dropped back to the ground, rolling away to put some distance between them.

He couldn’t let her take him outside. The instant she did, they would be in the air and he was as good as dead.

Alastor felt more than saw Lute spin on her heel, her wings flaring out behind her. The bloodstain on her shirt hadn’t grown any larger. Had she healed herself? He tightened his grip on the knife as he forced himself up into a crouch.

”What’s going on?” an unfamiliar voice called out before panicked screaming filled the air.

Normally he enjoyed screams. Unfortunately each of these felt like a hammer to his already aching head. He struggled to make out any words other than “lockdown” and “knife.”

Despite their audience, Lute didn’t tuck her wings away. Instead her sword appeared in her hand and Alastor’s blood ran cold.

He was going to die.

“Louis, get out of here!” he shouted when he spotted him wide eyed and frozen against the far wall.

He would be doubly damned before he let this rabid bitch lay a fucking finger on him.

Lute grinned, lunging forward faster than Alastor could follow and grabbing a fistful of his hair. The jostling of his spinning head combined with the searing pain to his already battered scalp was almost enough to make him retch.

She yanked his head to one side to bare his throat, drawing back her sword with every intention of ramming it straight through.

It wasn’t enough for her to simply kill him. She wanted him to suffer the indignity of choking on his own blood at her feet in his final, pathetic moments.

Look on the bright side, at least it’ll be quick, a peppy voice (sounding suspiciously like Charlie’s) piped up at the back of his mind.

He’d take as much of Lute as he could with him into the abyss.

Just as he was about to plunge the blade into her thigh, Lute gave a startled squawk, dropping him and staggering backward. He caught himself on the hand not holding the knife.

Something fell from above immediately after. Alastor reflexively reached for it, missing it by a mile. A battered cell phone clattered to the ground, its screen shattering on impact.

What the fuck?

Someone grabbed his arm, hauling him back into a seated position. His head spun at the sudden movement and he was distantly aware of the fact he was now being dragged backward.

“Fuck! Fuck! Uh…it’s okay Mr. Doré, I got you!”

“Louis, this is the opposite of getting out of here,” he slurred in answer as he struggled to regain his bearings.

Lute face contorted with rage as she lunged after them. She swung her sword at Louis and Alastor’s heart lurched into his throat. He shoved himself back into the other man’s knees, knocking him off balance.

The tip of the sword passed mere centimeters from Louis’s chest as he stumbled back and fell hard on his ass. Lute’s eyes burned into Alastor’s as she immediately coursecorrected, shifting her weight and bringing her sword down in an all too familiar arc.

There was no surge of power inside him now to throw her back or to protect Louis like he had Angel.

There was no way he could move in time to avoid the blow either.

Alastor threw his arm up, as if the angelic steel wouldn’t slice right through it.

As if it wouldn’t then pass just as easily through his neck.

He hoped Louis wouldn’t freeze up again. It should be painfully obvious there would be no saving him once his head was no longer attached.

His only regret was he wouldn’t be around after to ensure Louis made it back to Helene alive and unharmed.

Alastor sent up a silent prayer to his ancestors, asking them to protect Louis in his stead.

To not let Helene’s grandson die because of him.

His eyes slid closed as he made peace with his fate.

He wouldn’t give Lute the satisfaction of seeing him as anything but calm.

At least this time he would die with some dignity.

A sudden rush of air accompanied by the loud clang of metal on metal made him snap his eyes open again. He stared disbelievingly up at Calliope’s back.

Her wings were out. She used their momentum to force Lute away from them.

“Lute! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” she demanded.

Calliope gave a small flap of her wings, sending her closer to him and Louis before she tucked them away and landed on her feet. She twirled her angelic spear in one hand, catching it in the opposite and sinking into a defensive crouch. “Our orders are to bring him back! Alive!”

Alastor pressed his lips firmly together to stifle the borderline hysterical cackle that tried to bubble up. Oh, the irony of the Radio Demon suddenly having gained a guardian angel…

If this was his ancestors’ doing, they may have more of a sense of humor than he thought.

While he sincerely appreciated not being decapitated,

he didn’t know if he could stand at present, and now there was not one, but two angels to contend with. Just because Calliope had saved his life didn’t mean he was about to willingly waltz back up to Heaven with her.

He tightened his hand around the hilt of his knife, only to find it empty. His brow furrowed in confusion as he stared down at it.

Perhaps he’d hit his head harder than he thought…

Louis pulled Alastor’s arm over his shoulders and wrapped his own around his waist, trying to help him to his feet. His ankle immediately gave out and he would’ve crumpled back to the floor if the other man wasn’t keeping him upright.

Calliope cut off mid sentence (had she and Lute been speaking?) and was at his side in an instant, her eyes frantically assessing him. Alastor offered her a lopsided smile as he struggled to bring her face into focus.

“I think I may have broken my brain,” he offered.

“I think you may have too,” she agreed, turning her attention to Louis. “I won’t let her hurt him. You need to leave.”

“I’m not gonna just stand by an’ let y’all take him to a second location! ‘Sides, he’s already hurt. Look at him!” Louis protested, tightening his arm around him.

“I’m taking him to someone who can heal him,” Calliope said as a portal shimmered to life on the wall beside her.

“Then I’ll go with you!”

“I would appreciate it if the two of you would stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Alastor cut in as darkness crept into the corners of his vision.

“We don’t have time for this!” Calliope snapped. She slapped a hand over Alastor’s glasses and he reflexively closed his eyes. He caught the edges of what must have been a blinding flash of light through his eyelids regardless.

Louis dropped him, staggering back with a shout.

Alastor’s eyes snapped open again as he began to fall.

Calliope caught him, hauling him through the portal just as another opened opposite them. He thought he saw a brief glimpse of Lucifer’s panicked face before Lute followed, blocking his view. The portal abruptly closed behind the three of them.

Alastor couldn’t tell if there were sirens going off nearby or if it was just the ringing in his ears.

“What’d you do to Louis?” he demanded as his legs gave out and he slumped against Calliope.

“I did the whole ‘be not afraid schtick,” she answered as she sat him down on what felt suspiciously like concrete. “He’ll be fine. It was only for a second. I didn’t even open all of my eyes. Now shut up and hold still so Viola can fix your broken brain.”

He wanted to lob a witty retort back at her, but he was finding it increasingly difficult to stay awake, let alone form coherent thoughts.

Tambourine and Viola knelt on either side of him, easing him onto his back. He winced as his head came to rest against something soft.

Calliope shifted to stand once more between him and Lute. He thought they might be talking again, but he couldn’t make out their words.

Alastor tried to pull away as Viola leaned closer, but Tambourine pressed a hand to his shoulder, easily keeping him down.

“Let us help you,” she insisted. “You’re hurt.”

A garish pastel rainbow of power flowed from Viola’s hands across his body, an annoyingly pleasant warmth settling just behind his sternum. Alastor’s eyes drooped closed only to sluggishly open again when Tambourine jostled him.

“You’re staying awake until she’s sure you’re fixed,” she ordered with a concerned frown.

Alastor’s mind gradually began to clear, his ever present exhaustion finally easing up along with the pain in his head. The pain in his ankle vanished last.

Tambourine helped him back into a sitting position while his brain effectively rebooted, immediately withdrawing her hands after.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, studying him.

“Like I’ve been kidnapped for the thousandth time this week.”

She rolled her eyes. “Forgive me for being worried on your behalf.”

Viola snorted softly. “I’d say he’s feeling better. What happened? How were you so badly injured?”

Tambourine’s gaze shifted to Lute at the question, a faint furrow appearing between her brows.

“You can thank your fearless leader for that,” Alastor answered as he took stock of their surroundings.

They weren’t in Heaven, much to his surprise. Unless, of course, it had been paved over in the few short hours since his escape.

Interesting. Why weren’t they in Heaven?

Viola’s eyes were wide when he returned his attention to her. “...Lute did that?”

“Everything but the ankle, my dear! Though she certainly didn’t make that any better!”

Alastor climbed to his feet, relieved to find his ankle supported his weight without so much as a twinge. He must’ve been in a bad state to warrant such a thorough healing, seeing as he’d been left to deal with his exhaustion the last time to ensure his complaisance.

He subtly confirmed his knives were gone before taking stock of the rest of himself. The clothes Emily gave him had seen better days between his jaunt in the bayou and his fight with Lute. He gingerly pressed his hand to the back of his head, grimacing when it came away tacky with blood.

He must look an absolute mess.

Now that his ears were no longer ringing, he realized he did hear sirens in the distance, which hopefully meant they weren’t far from the school and the others were nearby.

Never in his second life or first death did he think he’d be happy to see Lucifer or Calliope, but he supposed there was a first time for everything.

Unfortunately, even fully healed, he doubted he would make it far if he tried to run. Not with four angels, complete with wings, surrounding him. And especially not while he was still infuriatingly human.

Now that the memories of his second childhood had begun to trickle back, he knew he’d been able to tap into his demonic and (horror of horrors) angelic sides. He tried to access both again with no luck whatsoever. Whatever was blocking his power refused to cooperate.

He needed to stall.

“Can we go back now?” Tambourine asked, expression hopeful as she looked to Lute.

“While that may be possible for four of us, my dear, I’m afraid the fifth might find it a struggle!”

All eyes were on Alastor now and he grinned at Lute, all teeth.

Well, this would either work or get him wiped from existence after all!

Calliope kept herself between him and Lute, though she shot him an annoyed look over her shoulder. She knew exactly what he was doing.

“Or are all angels capable of being injured by regular old steel now?”

“Unbelievable!” Calliope hissed. “You would really rather die than go back to Heaven?”

He shrugged. Meanwhile, Lute’s hand hovered just above the wound he’d given her.

“I could be mistaken,” he said, feigning contrition. “Perhaps the knives I borrowed here were somehow angelic steel after all! If so, you all may want to consider the possibility someone is making quite a tidy sum on the side!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lute spat. “It’s probably just something to do with the human disguise.”

Alastor tilted his head, widening his eyes and furrowing his brow. “Oh, bless your heart! Do you truly believe that?”

“I’m about five seconds away from gagging you for your own safety,” Calliope growled in warning.

Despite her consideration for his bodily autonomy before, Viola seemed inclined to agree judging by the set of her jaw.

That would be less than ideal…

Lute remained ominously silent, murder in her eyes as she glared at him over Calliope’s head.

Alastor grinned back at her, all teeth. “Apologies, my dear! Having briefly experienced redemption myself, I can only imagine what poor Lute is going through! Especially given her opinion of Sinners! And now it seems as though she’s gone and squandered her divinity! She must be hurting. After all, if someone like myself could achieve redemption, then what does that say about her?”

“Alastor!” Calliope snarled as Lute lunged forward with her sword.

Calliope parried her attack with her spear.

Tambourine and Viola glanced anxiously back and forth between their superiors and Alastor.

“Get him out of here!” Calliope commanded.

His heart sank, but when a portal didn’t immediately open, it soared.

That must mean Calliope and Lute were the only ones capable of manifesting one. Instead the angels tried to corral him toward the white panel van a few spots away.

“If someone offers ya a radio if ya get into their white windowless van, the answer is no.”

He bit back a laugh at the memory.

Alastor held up both hands in a placating gesture. “I’m more than happy to come along quietly this time,” he said with a reassuring smile.

Their relief was palpable as he turned and began walking to the van.

“Don’t you fucking do it!” Calliope yelled, just as he darted around it.

Alastor might not be able to outrun four angels, but he stood a much better chance against two of them and he wasn’t about to squander it.

He’d seen the phone number on the screen of Louis’s phone during the call. Had memorized it. If he could get away for long enough to contact Angel and if Lucifer could pull the divine energy from him, maybe this would finally all be over.

There really was something to be said for angelic healing. He felt wonderful and near to bursting with energy as he sprinted away from his captors. It wasn’t enough though, not against angelic strength and speed. A hand grabbed his upper arm and he flinched despite himself.

“Help!” he shouted, causing people in the distance to turn their way.

The hand was yanked back in an instant.

“Help!” he repeated, adding some panic to his voice for flare. “These women attacked me! Someone please call the authorities!”

He certainly looked like he’d been attacked, given the blood and the state of his clothes. Alastor hazarded a glance over his shoulder, forcing back a grin when he saw the angels had come to an abrupt halt under the weight of public scrutiny. Unlike Lute, they seemed determined to play human.

Alastor shot past a parking deck, noting a sign declaring he was still on Loyola’s campus. He continued across the street, weaving around the handful of good samaritans who tried to intercept him in the process.

Spotting another large brick building with far too many windows, he ran up the steps to its doors, noting another sign, Tulane School of Law, as he went.

There was little he could do about his disheveled appearance, but he took a moment to catch his breath and compose himself before walking inside. Noting a sign for a library on the third floor, he located the nearest stairwell and headed up.

He didn’t run into anyone else along the way, likely because it would be evening soon. Reaching the third floor, he approached a set of glass doors trimmed in lightly colored wood. Above them, on more glass, was a sign that read Tulane Law Library. The doors were, thankfully, unlocked. He stepped inside, immediately heading to the circulation desk to the left.

The Black woman seated behind the counter looked up at him with a mixture of confusion and concern. ”Abigail” was printed on her name tag.

“My sincerest apologies, Miss Abigail,” Alastor offered upon reaching her, reluctantly dropping his Transatlantic accent. “I’m afraid I had a bicycle accident. A car hit me as I was trying to cross the street.”

Her concern began to win out over confusion. She set down her cellphone and pressed her oversized glasses back up the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, you poor thing! You don’t think it has anything to do with the incident over at Loyola, do you?”

“Incident?

“The campus is on lockdown. We don’t have many details yet, but we’ll probably be doing the same. My girlfriend works over there. She texted me to say there was someone on campus with a knife. Not in her building, thankfully.” She shuddered. “Better that than a gun, but I hope everyone’s all right regardless.”

“Ah. I’m so sorry to hear that. It’s possible. They did seem to be coming from the university and they were driving erratically…” He hesitated briefly as if pondering the supposed coincidence before asking, “If it's not too much trouble, may I please use your phone to call my boyfriend? I’m hoping he can come pick me up since my bike was ruined… I don’t have my phone on me, unfortunately. It was supposed to be a short ride.”

To his delight, she picked up her cell phone and held it out to him. He took it, thanking her as he dialed the number he’d seen on Louis’s screen.

“You don’t mind keeping it short, do you?” she asked. “I just want to make sure I can get updates from my girlfriend.”

“Of course, my dear,” he insisted as the phone rang against his ear.

“Hello?”

He’d never been so happy to hear Angel Dust’s voice.

“Anthony, darling! I’m afraid I had a bit of an accident. One of the librarians at the Tulane Law School was kind enough to lend me her cell phone. I was hoping you could come and pick me up? Apparently there’s some kind of incident going on at Loyola across the way.”

“Smiles?!” he all but shouted once he got over his apparent shock.

“Yes. Shall I meet you here then? I’m on the third floor, though I’ve been told they may go on lockdown due to whatever is going on at Loyola…”

While it might be better to leave before the building was closed up, he didn’t want to run the risk of being spotted by the roving band of angels. There were enough people present here that he hoped they would think twice before trying to abduct him.

Again.

“We’ll be there in a sec. Where’re Lute and the others?”

“Not far. If you could hurry, that would be wonderful. Perhaps I can meet you on the first floor?”

“No. Stay right where you are and don’t fuckin’ move. Don’t even think about movin’!”

Alastor rolled his eyes. “You realize I’m not—“

“Do. Not. Move.”

“Fine. But if you take too long, I make no promises. Particularly given my proximity to Loyola.”

“Did they see where ya went?”

“Possibly. Now, if you’re done lecturing me, I need to return this device to dear Abigail.”

“Who?”

Alastor handed the phone back, letting the librarian hang it up.

“You don’t happen to have a public restroom, do you?”

She nodded, pointing to the sign on his immediate right.

“Ah! If it were a snake, it would’ve bitten me! In the event an irate blond man comes looking for me while I’m in there, would you be a dear and let him know where I am?”

“No problem!” she insisted, returning her attention to her phone.

Alastor turned, thrilled to see a pair of water fountains just in front. He greedily drank his fill from one before walking the last few steps to the men’s room and heading inside.

He pursed his lips upon catching his reflection in one of the over sink mirrors. He looked even worse than he’d expected. His hair was a hopeless mess and his clothing, rumpled and dirty. Not to mention the sizable chunk missing from the back of his shirt. He hadn’t had time to shower or change his clothes before he fled from the Guimont’s home.

Alastor wet a few paper towels, doing his best to get the blood out of his hair and to mop himself up. He ran his fingers through his hair after, but it resisted his attempts to tame it.

Regardless of what Angel wanted, he wasn’t going to stand in front of the library’s glass doors like a sitting duck in the event the angels found him first. He’d just keep an ear out and hope they either didn’t check this building or were too busy getting Lute under control to look for him.

He doubted his being in the men’s room would stop them from barging in, but he could hope.

Perhaps one of the stalls would be better…

Before he could slip into one, the bathroom door opened and he caught a very irritated Calliope’s gaze in the mirror.

She rested a hip against the doorframe, arms crossed as she glared at him. “Really?” she demanded.

“The women’s room is next door.” he answered curtly as he turned to properly face her.

“Just be grateful it’s me here and not Lute.”

“That would require me to be grateful to see you instead.”

“Ma’am, that’s the men’s restroom,” Abigail’s voice called from her vantage point at the circulation desk.

“Oh, I know! Sorry, my friend isn’t feeling well. Just checking if he needs anything!” Calliope called back over her shoulder, voice full of false concern.

She narrowed her eyes as she faced him again. “Now, why don’t you come out here and we can sit down and have a civilized conversation, Al.”

“I’d rather not.”

“I’m beyond caring what you do and don’t want at this point. If you’d prefer, I can just walk in and portal you directly into Heaven.”

He scowled back at her. Why wasn’t she? The bathroom was a private enough place to do so.

She held out a hand, palm up, to beckon him closer. Alastor lingered a moment longer before reluctantly pushing away from the sinks to follow her out the door and to the sea of empty study carrels nearby. Abigail gave them a curious look as they went.

“What do you want?” he demanded the instant they were out of earshot. He let Calliope take the seat closest to the window before taking the one next to her with a better vantage of the library’s entrance.

“I think you’re right. I think Lute is in danger of falling, if she hasn’t already,” Calliope said, keeping her voice low despite the nearest student being several rows away.

Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t that.

“A broken clock can still be right twice a day,” she said with a smirk.

Apparently he hadn’t concealed his surprise as well as he’d hoped to.

“I’ve tried contacting Sera and haven’t heard back yet,” Calliope continued.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I’ve grown fond of you after all these years?”

He snorted. “Try again.”

“Because I don’t know if she can return to Heaven or not. Either way, she’ll stop at nothing to end your miserable existence,” she drawled, resting her elbows on the wooden desk.

“That’s better.”

“There’s also the chance her killing you could turn you into an angel and I’m sure we both don’t want that.”

Alastor wrinkled his nose. “What do you want?” he repeated.

“The same thing you. I want Lute gone. Permanently.”

“That’s not very divine of you.”

She shot him a withering look. “She’s a bigger threat than Adam ever was. She’s a zealot through and through, and now she’s in command of the entire army of exorcists. The only thing keeping her in check right now is Sera, and we both know how Sera feels about redemption.”

“What do you care?”

“Because I believe in redemption. The biggest contingent against it is the exorcist army. But if their current leader falls after their prior leader was killed… Well, maybe their cause wasn’t as just and holy as they thought.”

Alastor eyed her suspiciously, hunting for any traces of subterfuge. She calmly met his gaze, her posture relaxed and expression open.

“So because Pentious was redeemed, you’re suddenly on board with Charlie’s vision?”

The corner of her mouth quirked upward. “I’ve believed in redemption for about seven years now.”

His brows shot up.

“Seeing you with your mother made me realize that there can still be good in even the worst people. I would’ve had to be blind not to see the effect she had on you. You were different by the time you went back to Hell. And then you nearly died trying to protect your new friends and that ridiculous hotel.

“You. The self-proclaimed, unrepentant Radio Demon. I did some reading up on your files too. Spoke with some of the people you saved.”

Alastor’s hands tightened in his lap and he fought to keep his expression neutral.

“You’re still a horrible person, of course. and I think you have a long path to redemption. But if something like the Hazbin Hotel is going to work, unfortunately you seem like one of the best people to be involved with it. The monster’s monster.”

“Why, my dear, that almost sounded like a compliment!”

She smirked, resting her cheek on one hand. “Maybe it was. But you can’t do any of that if you’re wiped from existence. And if there’s anyone who can push Lute the rest of the way over the edge, I think it’s you.”

Alastor was silent a long moment while he turned her words over in his mind.

“You aren’t afraid of falling from consorting with a demon?” he hazarded.

“If I fall because of this, then I don’t want to be in Heaven anyway.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening.

She grinned back at him, all teeth. “You don’t own the exclusive rights to having a complicated moral code.”

“I suppose not…”

She leaned back in her seat, twisting to extend her hand. “Help me get rid of Lute once and for all, and I’ll help you with your little redemption project.”

He pursed his lips as his eyes dropped to her hand. “That’s a rather open ended agreement.”

“All right, Deal Maker. What do you propose then?”

“I will help you either kill or cause Lute to fall and, in return, you will not stop or try to stop me from regaining my power or returning to Hell. You will become a vocal proponent of the Hazbin Hotel. You and your allies will not harm or kill myself or my allies, and you keep my mother, Lilith, Angel’s grandmother, and Molly safe. In addition to releasing them from that damned prison.”

“You’re not asking for much, are you?” she prompted, arching a slender black brow. “You and your allies will not attempt to harm or kill myself and my allies either, including Tambourine and Viola. You will also wait until after Lute has been dealt with to try and regain your power and/or return to Hell.”

He sat up straighter in his chair. “What?”

“I’d prefer Lute Fall rather than be killed. I don’t want to give her army a martyr. I want to give them a warning. I’m pretty sure I’ll need you human, or close to, in order to do it.”

“You want me to be bait,” he bit out, eyes narrowing into slits.

She shrugged. “An exorcist trying to kill a demon is just doing her job. An exorcist trying to kill a human, however…”

“Oh, even better!”

“I won’t let her kill you.”

“Forgive me for not wanting to trust a promise you can’t guarantee.”

“Do you have a better plan?”

His jaw tightened at the question. He didn’t want to give the exorcists a martyr either, and what better support for the cause of redemption than having its biggest opponent be put down like the rabid dog she was? At the very least, it would make others hesitate for fear of the same happening to them…

“If I die or am permanently incapacitated in the process, you will still uphold your end of our deal. If I am injured, you will do your utmost to save my life. And, finally, you and your allies will not take me back to Heaven against my will.”

She grinned as he took her hand.

“It’s a deal,” she said, their joined hands glowing with a soft golden light as the lights overhead flickered and gentle breeze swept through the library, leaving the scent of wildflowers in its wake.

The student a few rows down briefly lifted his head, glancing around, before returning his attention to the enormous book in front of him.

Alastor felt the deal’s power settle over them just as Angel burst inside the library, making a beeline toward them.

“Ah! Right on cue!” he said as the spider’s eyes lit on their joined hands.

Chapter Text

“Are ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me?!” Angel demanded on spotting them.

To his credit, he didn’t yell it, even if he did raise his voice.

He stormed over and the pure rage on his face was almost enough to make Alastor proud.

“Why is it you was better behaved as a literal fuckin’ kid!” he hissed. “I’m gonna get one of them fuckin’ backpack leash things and weld it to ya!”

“A what now?” he asked, brow furrowing.

Calliope snickered.

“The fuck’re ya doin’ makin’ deals with her? You was the one who warned me about her in the first place!”

“The enemy of my enemy!” he offered cheerfully.

He swore he saw Angel’s eye twitch.

“C’mon,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring down at him. “We’re goin’ home.”

“Ah… About that…”

“I swear to fuckin’…” Angel hazarded a look at the ceiling before leveling him with a glare that almost left Alastor feeling contrite.

Almost.

“What. The fuck. Did ya do?”

Perhaps he should try for a little tact… Angel did seem genuinely upset…

“I’ve agreed to try to ensure Lute falls!”

Angel blinked. “What?”

Alastor’s gaze drifted back toward the library’s main doors as Vaggie, Lucifer, Charlie, and Louis hurried inside. The frantic looks on their faces abated only to return in full force on seeing Calliope.

“Perhaps we should take this somewhere more private?” he offered as they approached.

“Ya can take it straight to Hell,” Angel snapped.

Alastor had enough time to brace himself before Charlie threw her arms around him, tears pouring from her eyes. She did her best to respect the quiet of the library, but it was a losing battle.

He swore his ribcage began to ominously creak from how tightly she held him. It took both Vaggie and Lucifer to pry her off. He didn’t manage another full breath until they did.

“You look a hell of a lot better,” Louis offered, the relief in his voice palpable.

Alastor gave him a quick once over, tension he didn’t realize he’d been holding easing from his shoulders. He was all right and in one piece.

Thank fuck.

“Quite a bit has happened since I saw you all last.”

“It’s barely been an hour!” Vaggie protested.

Horror slowly dawned on Charlie’s face, her eyes going wide. “Angel was right, he does only need seconds…”

She and Vaggie shared a look Alastor didn’t care for. Like they’d made some silent vow regarding him. What on earth had Angel told them?

Before he could ask, Louis’s phone went off and he dug it out of his pocket, wincing. “Sorry, y’all, it’s my sister. She’s been callin’ me nonstop for the past little bit.”

“You should go home, Louis,” Alastor insisted. Where he, hopefully, wouldn’t get up to any more trouble. Goodness, some people were just magnets for it!

“You sure you don’t need me here?”

He nodded, an odd fondness sweeping through him and making his heart swell. “I’m right as rain, thanks to you. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. So please, go home. Helene must be worried sick.”

Louis held his gaze a long moment before nodding. To Alastor’s surprise, he stepped forward, wrapping his arms tightly around him. He surprised himself by returning his embrace with equal fervor.

“Thank you, Mr. Doré. For bein’ there for my granny when nobody else was.”

”Of course,” he murmured, patting him on the back. “And if you ever need something once this is all sorted out, I’m just a summoning circle away.”

Louis leaned back, eyes overbright. “Yeah? I might just take you up on that.” He offered the rest of them a nod and a smile, and another hug for Angel, before he turned to leave the library, lifting his phone to his ear as he went.

Vaggie immediately narrowed her eyes at Calliope once the innocent bystander was no longer present. The angel gave her a wide smile in return.

Lucifer gestured between Calliope and Alastor with a firm shake of his head. “Whatever this is, I don’t like it.”

”Would it help to know neither of us are happy with it either?” Alastor asked.

The resounding chorus of ‘no’s’ was excessive. He also didn’t appreciate the fact Charlie and Angel hadn’t taken their eyes off of him since they arrived. Charlie seemed to be committing his every human pore to memory while Angel was apparently convinced if he looked away for so much as a second, Alastor would vanish again.

“You look so different like this, but also the same,” Charlie said, inching closer.

He eyed her warily, stepping further away. He gestured to Angel, “I’m sure he’d be much more appreciative of your intense scrutiny, my dear.”

“His is just a human disguise! You’re actually human right now!”

“I believe I have been for quite some time now.” Much to his dismay.

“But it’s different now! It’s so much more obvious that it’s you than when you were little!”

“And Angel’s similarities aren’t?”

Vaggie snorted softly. “Angel doesn’t go out of his way to be creepy as fuck, unlike you.”

Charlie shot her a look. “What Vaggie means is you look…softer!”

He had to force himself not to grimace at the accusation. Before he could defend himself, Vaggie surprisingly came to his aid.

“Babe, he killed twenty-nine people!”

The student a few rows away didn’t even glance up despite her raised voice. Alastor did, however, see Abigail’s head poke around the corner. He offered her a smile and a wave. She waved back before disappearing again.

”I believe it would be best to have this conversation somewhere more private,” he repeated, hoping to steer the conversation away from his bout of humanity and in a more productive direction.

Calliope nodded. “If you don’t want Lute to find him any time soon, I’d have to agree with Alastor, with the caveat it can’t be Hell. Per our deal, he’s currently unable to return there.”

“What?” Vaggie hissed, hand contracting as if to clutch at her missing spear.

Lucifer studied his and Calliope’s faces before scowling and turning to lead the way out of the library. Alastor immediately started after him, rolling his eyes when Vaggie, Charlie, and Angel flanked him from all sides. Their overprotectiveness (or was it concern he was a flight risk?) was beginning to rankle.

Abigail glanced up as they passed the circulation desk. “Be safe out there!”

“You and yours too, my dear!” he said as he followed the others into the stairwell. Once the door closed behind them, Lucifer waved his hand and a portal appeared on the wall.

“Dad! What about the cameras?” Charlie hissed.

“Taken care of,” he said, making a finger gun in the direction of the nearest security camera before motioning for them all to go through.

The portal opened into what looked suspiciously like a penthouse suite. While Alastor didn’t care for the modern furniture, he did appreciate the dark, top-grain leather adorning it.

“What is this place?” Angel asked as he made a tour around the room.

“It’s one of Ozzie’s places. He has a few scattered around the Living World for succubi and incubi to use. Especially in party cities like this one,” Lucifer answered.

Vaggie warily eyed one of the couches in the enormous living room.

“Everything’s regularly deep cleaned,” Lucifer said as he took a seat on it. His voice dropped to his lower register and his eyes flashed red as he then demanded, “So, what the actual fuck is going on?”

“Dad, maybe we should give Alastor a chance to clean up and change first?” Charlie protested.

He snapped his fingers again. Alastor felt the Devil’s magic wash over him, removing sweat, grime, and blood while also repairing and cleaning his clothes. The curl in his hair abruptly became more pronounced as Lucifer apparently removed the product from it along with everything else. He felt like a dog fresh from the groomers and made a mental note to pay the bastard back tenfold for the indignity of it all.

An odd weight settled in his jacket pocket, redirecting his focus. He reached into it, eye twitching as he pulled out a goddamned cellphone.

“I will literally fuse that thing to your hand if you try to go anywhere without it, bellhop.”

Scratch that. A hundredfold.

“It’s only for while we’re all in the Living World,” Charlie insisted. “Just in case we get separated!”

Angel held out his hand and Alastor dropped the phone into it, relieved to be rid of the thing. The spider fiddled with the device before (unfortunately) returning it to him, a video now playing on its screen. Alastor made to foist it back onto him only to do a double take.

Was that a Hammarlund? An HQ-120 by the looks of it.

He’d been itching to get his hands on one prior to his death and had set money aside whenever he could afford to. The newer model had been far cheaper than the Super-Pro from 1936, but he certainly hadn’t had $129 just laying around.

His eyes widened as he took in the other equipment surrounding the male host. He brought the screen closer to his face, trying to get a better look at it all. Angel eased the phone back, undeterred by the annoyed glance Alastor sent him over it. He had the gall to smile back at him, his expression inexplicably fond, as he plucked the device from his hand and paused the video.

“What was that?” Alastor demanded.

“Video of a guy restorin’ an old tube radio. Folks in his comments section say he’s a pro. An’ he goes into some serious detail.”

Alastor’s eyes lingered on the now black screen.

“Video’s over two and a half hours long,” Angel continued. “Folks say he knows his stuff. It ain’t the only video out there either. That guy’s got almost three hundred videos alone. Dunno if all of ‘em are about radios, but I’m bettin’ a bunch are.”

“I see…”

Angel handed the phone back and he reluctantly pocketed it.

“I can show ya the ropes after we deal with the rest of this shit.”

While he knew the basics about how smart phones worked, he had very little actual hands-on experience with them. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to learn a little more…

He returned his attention to the others who were all staring at Angel in awe for some bizarre reason.

“So, what the actual fuck is going on?” Lucifer repeated after a beat.