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Chapter Text

“Hello and welcome back to 666 News!” The anchor beamed and placed a hand on her shallow chest, “I am your host Katie Killjoy and…” she pointed at the gas faced man beside her, “And this moron is Tom Trench.” Katie Killjoy clasped her fingers, beaming her terrifyingly sharp teeth at the screen. “In approximately five minutes, the King of Hell will be adding a new variable to our life in Hell. The ability to find our soulmates.” Her face was still staring and then an evil smirk crossed her face. “HA!” She guffawed. “Soulmates in Hell? Old Lucifer is losing his fucking marbles.”

Lucifer growled as he watched the stupid talking television, “You know I try to do something nice for Hell!” He threw up his hands and jabbed a finger at the screen, “And this my thanks!”

Everyone was gathered around the TV in the lobby. Charlie and Vaggie were snuggled up to each other on the little loveseat. Lucifer was close by in an armchair. Angel Dust was sprawled on the couch next to a very disinterested Husker and an enthusiastic Nifty. Alastor stood back, standing behind the crowd with his eyes narrowed.

This was ridiculous. Soulmates? Alastor scoffed. 

Nifty’s one eye raked over the entire room, and she started giggling, manically. Oh god. She swooned to herself, started kicking her tiny feet and said, “My soulmate better be the baddest boy ever.” Her smile turned inward, almost psychotic as her veins popped in her eye. “ Hehe , and he’ll find out what happens to bad boys when they misbehave…” Her laugh sounded like a deranged scream.

Husk sighed to himself as he downed another drink of cheap booze, “Jesus Christ, Nifty,” he added after he swallowed down the foul liquor. “Godspeed to whoever gets stuck with…” he gave Niffty a wary look, “with that .”

Angel Dust grinned, sat up and smoothed back his floppy white hair, “Hey Daddy Whiskers,” he said in that sultry voice of his. “You got the claws. I got the legs ,” He kicked up his legs, crossing them delicately and leaning in close to Husk’s ear. “And we got the chemistry, baby.” Angel Dust let out a loud sigh, puffing out his fluffy chest and giving Husk a seductive side glance, “We’re bound to be soulmates, Husky.”

Husk just groaned as a reply and kept drinking, “I’m too sober for this, kid.” Angel Dust let out a long sigh before scrolling on his phone again.

Lucifer was twiddling with his fingers. A sign of nervousness, Alastor knew, he did it whenever he was around Charlie. Alastor’s spindly fingers tightened on his cane as his gaze swept over the little blonde head in front of him. Tangles of loose blonde strands tucked away in loose hair bands. Alastor didn't let his smile drop even as he mused: Charlie is too forgiving of him .

“Say…” Angel’s obnoxious voice said above the chatter of the stupid screen box. The adult film star’s mismatched eyes glimmered with mischief as he looked upon Alastor. What was this effeminate fellow going to do now? Angel Dust glanced around the room and continued, “Lucifer, is Mr. Smiles here gonna have a soulmate?” He motioned to the stoic Radio Demon. Everyone turned to Lucifer, glances switching between the two powerful forces.

“Well, um…” Lucifer threw a wary glimpse over his shoulder at the smirking Radio Demon. The King shrugged, “I guess so.”

“Ha.” Alastor said, extremely unamused. He studied his nails and twirled his microphone between his slender hands. “I have no need for such trivial things.” Alastor waved a dismissive hand, “I’ll just dispose of them if that sorry fool attempts to court me.”

“Such a charmer,” Husk grumbled under his breath.

Alastor didn’t let that flicker of anger show and instead went on in that cheery sleek radio voice, “Of course I am, Husker. You would know all about that wouldn’t you?” He said innocently. Husk growled under his breath without throwing the Radio Demon a glance. He propped his elbows atop Lucifer’s chair and said in a mock apologetic voice, “It is such a pleasant gift, my worship. However, I have much more…” His teeth shined in the light, his smile wide and toothy, “...grand montres planned.” The Radio Demon resumed his stance behind Charlie’s loveseat.

Vaggie threw a needless glare over her shoulder. Alastor simply arched a brow. What a curious little thing Vaggie is. Always clinging onto Charlie’s arm. Always watching him. He let a small scoff escape. She distrusted him, rightfully so. Yet…if he wanted them dead, they already would be. Well, just Vaggie. Charlie was…he wouldn’t touch her. And he wouldn’t let anyone else raise a hand against her either.

“Do you think we’ll be soulmates?” A private whisper amongst the chatter of Angel Dust, Husk, and Niffty. Alastor’s ears perked up when he located the sound: right in front of him. Vaggie leaned in close to Charlie’s ear, too close. Something frantic was in her eyes.

Charlie let out a laugh, a laugh denying anything other than a yes. “Yeah, of course, Vaggie!” She flung her arms around her girlfriend and pecked Vaggie on the cheek. Vaggie’s face was red, so flustered, so in love with Charlie.

Alastor wanted to let loose a sigh. A soulmate? What the hell was he supposed to do with that? It was a heavy word. A word that would weigh down on a heart and shatter it. What did it even mean?

He had heard it plenty of times. Stories of long ago lead him down a road in New Orleans. Smell of the sea, lights of the night, and the bustling city. She had told stories in her little quint kitchen above the din outside. Sitting at his kitchen table, he would listen as she dished and placed a simmering bowl in front of him. 

Soulmates. She had used the word once one clear summer night when the crickets sang, and the people danced. The story had long ago been lost in the tangle of carnage that was his life. So little happy moments, moments that were usually with her. The smell of her perfume, the jambalaya, and that smile. 

Yes, soulmates. A person who understands you. A person who loves you completely and unconditionally, flaws and scars and all. A person who feels you have loved for ages, lived and died with for ages. A person you are destined to be with. 

She had spoken of a soulmate. A man long ago that he didn’t know. A man who had treated her kindly even when she was Creole, even when she was hated and despised for the color of skin. He hadn’t cared, he had held her and loved her like any other woman. That man had been Alastor’s father.

His mother had called his father her soulmate. A man who Alastor remembered as anything but. A man who drank away his days and beat his wife at night. And she stayed and she stayed, and she stayed. Even when Alastor had begged her, begged her on his knees she refused to leave her soulmate . Refused to leave the man who would draw screams from her as Alastor sat in another room, cowering and softly crying. He dared not speak out of turn, lest he suffer the same fate. And even when he didn’t his father would leave black and blue marks on his face. 

Soulmate . What a bitter foolish thing. How foolish. How stupid. She should have left. She should have listened. Listened before he beat her too hard, before he had drawn too much blood and there was nothing to do. Pools of blood, a sobbing pathetic man on his knees cradling his damned soulmate . Soulmate. Soulmate. Soulmate. She was too kind for this world. She was too kind to him . 

Alastor didn’t realize his knuckles had turned white as he gripped his microphone. He remembered peeking through the door, not daring to make a sound. A whisper that should have been a scream, “She’s in a better place now.” A better place than this damned house. A damned house he had lived in for God knows how long. Short but too long.

Silence had cradled him in those long nights. Trips to the fridge, another beer and another to the pathetic man on the worn-out sofa. Don’t say a thing and he won’t do a thing. Walking silently in halls, turning on facets at the lowest and dare not say a thing. Get out. Go out at dawn and return at dusk. Retreat to his room and perhaps it would be enough. He wouldn’t be enough of an irritant to deserve his rage.

And even then, he would find himself in the bathroom, nursing wounds in the tub and pressing stinging ice to his skin. Alastor had learned in that house the rules changed every day. And every day would be his own personal hell. Little had he known than that that was true Hell. Hell, itself could never compare to life itself.  

He had remembered taking his first sip of beer and that first smoke. That first wave of ecstasy and warmth rushed over him. Another sip and he was full of life. Another puff and the pain had drained. Smoke curling around his fingers and alcohol on his breath, it was disgusting yet invigorating. He would crawl out his window, sit on the shingles and watch the bayou with a cigarette burning between his fingers. Twinkling fireflies lit up the bayou, a beacon in the darkness, a bit of light in his home of New Orleans. Once, only once he thought she was amongst them, dancing away along the waters, her smile so bright without that wretched man striking it off. 

All this pain for her soulmate.

Alastor managed to inhale a shaky breath. The timer ticked away in the corner of the chattering screen. Ten…nine…eight. The word hit him like a fist to the gut. Soulmates . Soulmates in Hell? What kind of cruel joke is this that Lucifer had brewed up? He gave the King of Hell a sidelong loathing glance. Soulmates? What a sad word. Yes, he would kill them. No matter who they were. 

A person he was destined to be with. Stuck with. The one and done. He didn’t allow any part of his body to twitch or fidget as the annoying broken necked anchor rambled away the countdown. “Three. Two. ONE! And…” Katie Killjoy said in that faux pleasant voice, “SOULMATES!”

A few things happened all at once. First: Chaos.

Chains of varying hues sprang out across the room and there was a collective scream. Something clasped itself around his left ring finger, something warm. A warmth that comes from a hearth on a cold winter night. His eyes drifted down to it: a chain of red wisps, clinging to his finger, chaining him to…his soulmate. 

A crackling screech filled up the room, louder than the whole lot: Katie Killjoy. Specifically, Katie Killjoy with a pink chain curled around her ring finger and connected to Tom Trench’s ring finger. She threw a hot crimson stare in his direction before screaming, “YOU’RE MY SOULMATE, YOU! YOU FUCKING MORON!” Tom Trench threw up his hands and yelled.

While that went on, Angel connected Husk’s finger with a small violet chain. “Well look at that, Husky,” Angel puffed out his chest, dragging a finger along the chain. He arched a brow, “We’re connected in soul. How about in body next, darling?”

Husk stared down at the chain and threw a stare up at Angel, “Well…” he swallowed, “I…”

“Cat’s got his tongue caught, hm?” Angel leaned in close to Husk’s twitching ears and dragged a gentle hand through the cat demon’s fur. 

Second: Horror.

Niffty let out a long maniacal laugh as a golden chain looped around her finger. “OOOH! HAHAHA! SHINY! CLEAN!” she exclaimed in that terrifying voice of hers. Her fingers traced the long chain until she yanked it, hard . 

Lucifer jerked forward out of his chair and landed face first on the floor. A muffled, “What the fuck?” escaped his mouth. Then he lifted his head, the brim of his hat and then stared. Stared for quite a while at the chain looped around his finger. “Oh fuck.”

Niffty’s one eye went wide as her eyes darted to her finger and Lucifer’s. They were connected. She threw her gleaming pink hair back and let out a mind splitting cackle that made everyone wince. “The baddest boy in Hell is…my soulmate. Ehehehehe.” Niffty scrambled up to Lucifer, taking his chin in her hands. “You are mine ,” she said, leaning in close, hot breath on Lucifer’s flushed face.

“Oh fuck. No,” Lucifer yanked her hand off his chin and scrambled to his feet. “Uh…Niffty I think this is a mistake,” he said carefully.

“Mine,” Niffty said softly. 

“What?” Lucifer cocked his head.

“ MINE! ” Niffty screeched as she dived forward and clung onto Lucifer’s leg. He screamed. And she cackled. Everyone watched as he shook his foot and tried to pry her off in some sort of bizarre dance. It looked like a bird mating dance if it was a wingless seagull.

Finally, he shook her off. He huffed and he puffed, staring wide eyed at the grinning sinner. Her one eye gleamed, veins bulging, and a knife in her hand, somehow. Alastor didn’t want to ask how she had procured that. “ YOU ARE MINE, MY BAD BOY! ” She screamed and that sent Lucifer tearing down the hall. 

“HELP! HELP! CHARLIE! HELP!” Lucifer yelled. Niffty’s laughter followed. No one bothered to get up. 

And the Third: Charlie

Alastor’s gaze turned to Charlie who was… staring at him. Vaggie too, stared down at Alastor’s chain. “What?” Alastor said. He tilted his head, and his ears were slightly back. Good God. That look was never good. Especially from both of them.

Charlie was still not running to her father’s rescue oddly enough. What was she—

“Alastor,” Charlie said softly. That made Alastor perk up. He let a passive and unreadable smile cross his face. 

“What, Charlie, dear?” he said in that nonchalant voice of his. That soft tone of voice was never good, especially when she was staring with a red face. She looked charming, if he didn’t despise those little film boxes he might’ve snapped a picture. He didn’t. He stood at attention waiting for the little demoness to spit out her thoughts. “Well, out with it?” an edge was in his voice.

“Uh…” Charlie stuttered. Her eyes flickered away from his hard gaze, and she simply raised her hand. A hand which was–no…Alastor glanced down at his hand and then hers. A long spindly chain of wispy red…connected them. 

Alastor’s eyes widened. Oh dear .

Chapter Text

No, no, this was a mistake. The chain seemed to tighten around her finger, a reminder. A reminder that–no this wasn’t happening. This was impossible! Yet somehow, he was standing in front of her with a chain connected to her own. That unreadable smile was on his face. That face which hid everything underneath. Was he amused? Was he happy? Was he disappointed?

His eyes narrowed at her. Oh, yeah, he said he was going to kill his soulmate…which was her. She could feel Vaggie’s shaky breaths beside her. The type of deep inhales Vaggie had before they had charged into battle against the First Man himself. 

“Charlie…” Vaggie said her name so quietly. Such a defeated whisper amongst the silence. Then Charlie turned slowly to see everyone, every strange eye fixed on her. And worse, the familiar crimson eyes looked at her: her father.

Dad was the first to stand. No. No! His eyes teemed with hellfire threatening to burn her soulmate down where he stood. 

Alastor. The name bounced around in her head. A name which marred and scratched away what little sanity she had left. It was a name she had admired. And now a name she was destined to love. 

Vaggie and Alastor. What the hell was she supposed to do?

Dad huffed, taking in that deep inhale and said in a voice he rarely used. A voice that made her hair stand on end. “This is a mistake, Alastor,” Her father said while taking a stance with his cane.

“Is it?” Alastor’s smile twisted. That bastard. Her chest flared with rageful heat. He spat, “I didn’t know the King of Hell made mistakes, hm?”

Vaggie leaned forward with brows furrowed and stood up. Her fist shook at her side. Charlie reached out a futile hand to push her away. Vaggie said in a sharp voice, “This is a mistake, Alastor,” Alastor tilted his head at that remark. “She’s my girlfriend.” Her sharp finger pointed at Charlie who cringed away. 

“Uh…guys—” Charlie tried and failed.

“What’s that then, dear Vaggie?” Alastor asked, pointing down to Vaggie’s ring finger. Charlie almost gasped but slammed a hand to her mouth. Wisps of pink were hooked around Vaggie’s ring finger leading out the front door to the beyond. 

Vaggie sputtered, throwing up her hands, “I don’t care if we’re soulmates or not. WE ARE TOGETHER!” Charlie’s girlfriend jabbed a finger at Alastor’s chest. The Radio Demon didn’t even flinch at her futile action.

He simply smiled that horrible, malefic smile of his. Alastor let loose a dramatic sigh, as if Vaggie was throwing a fit, “Well…” his gaze turned to the shell-shocked Charlie. “Why don’t we ask Charlie what she thinks?” 

Charlie gulped. Crimson and gold stared at her, equally entrancing. Blood red eyes that she could drown in if she looked long enough. Gold eyes like the sun she had never seen, warm yet fiery. They both stared, stared, and stared. Too intense. Alastor’s chained hand curled around his microphone as he tilted his head, ears perked as he awaited her. Vaggie had procured her angelic spear and watched Charlie with horrible desperation in her eyes.

She wanted to sink into the ground. Crawl into one of those massive holes in the doomsday district and cry. No, she straightened her back and stared at them. Her father glared at Alastor from behind the intense duo of Alastor and Vaggie. 

No, but that feeling tugged at her to run. To think. To stop. What the hell was happening? Was there any possible solution? Alastor was her supposed soulmate??? It was the most bizarre thing ever but not truly, he had been helpful with the construction of the hotel, protected the hotel and had always stood by her side. Vaggie was her loyal, reliable girlfriend who would also stand beside her in the face of a powerful force. Yet that was something Alastor did as well.

Her heart screamed to run, and her mind screamed to stay. To face the danger, no not the danger, the complicated situation head on. She hadn’t been a coward when Adam attacked, she couldn’t start being one now. 

Angel Dust whispered to Husk behind her, “Damn, this is getting spicy.” 

Her Dad let out a scoff. His face was heated, flushed and his eyes were gleaming an almost full red. Horns were just peeking out in the mess of his blonde hair. No, no. This was bad. The last thing she needed was her father getting into a brawl with Alastor. She needed to defuse this quickly. 

Charlie clasped her hands and looked everywhere but at Alastor, Vaggie and her father. “Uh…this is awkward,” she said, stating the obvious. 

“Quite,” Alastor agreed. Alastor threw Lucifer a sidelong glance before leaning forward on his microphone towards the flustered Charlie. In that lovely Transatlantic accent he drawled, “Well Charlie darling—”

“DON’T YOU FUCKING CALL HER DARLING YOU TACKY PIECE OF SHIT!” Her father roared. Claws made of fiery rage sprang forward. And the King of Hell lunged at the Radio Demon. 

Alastor smiled, no grinned manically as he slunk away into the shadows. He appeared beside the King and tapped his shoulder, “I’m not tacky, my King, I’m quite classy.” His gaze lingered on Charlie for a moment. “And I’m sure your daughter appreciates it.”

Her father lunged for Alastor again. Arms outstretched, claws ready to shred through Alastor’s pretty suit. “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” her father raged.

“DAD! DAD! STOP!” Charlie yelled. She tried to jump in front of them, but Vaggie pushed Charlie away. Actually, pushed Charlie enough to make her almost topple. 

No, no. Fuck Alastor. She seethed, staring at the Radio Demon. This bastard was using this to his advantage: this whole soulmate bullshit. Just to annoy her father, just to get a rise out of him. Charlie glared, “ALASTOR!” Charlie yelled above the shenanigans, “STOP THIS!”

He didn’t. If anything, he encouraged it. Vaggie joined in and brandished her angelic spear that Charlie seriously hoped she wouldn’t use on Alastor. Her eyes were sharp as she held in firmly in her tightly gripped hands

“I know what’s best for her asshole,” Vaggie seethed.

“This is a mistake, and you know it, Alastor. She’s no soulmate of yours!”

“Ah, but this is a system of your own design, Lucifer?” Alastor smirked. “You have no one to blame but yourself for this.”

Charlie’s Dad growled and finally grabbed the Radio Demon’s shirt and picked up the snappy sinner with ease. He held him by the front, wings flapped behind him and glaring at the Radio Demon eye to eye. “This is a mistake, you asshole. She belongs with Vaggie.”

Alastor arched a brow, “And yet Vaggie belongs with someone else.” Everyone’s eyes lingered on the chain on Vaggie’s finger, clearly not connected to Charlie’s. 

And the arguing began again. A chorus of chaos and things leading to nowhere.

“You’re no good for her, Alastor.” Dad fumed, “SHE IS NOT YOUR SOULMATE! I declare it as the King of Hell!”

“Hmm.” Alastor hummed, “Well, the chains are still here,” He brandied his little chain and smirked. “Seems you are not so powerful after all.”

“How dare you talk to our King like that!” Vaggie yelled and pointed her spear at Alastor’s chest.

“She is not your soulmate.”

“Actually, incorrect.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole. You know I knew you were trouble when you first started poking around this hotel.” Vaggie threw up her arms and imitated him, “Oh, I want to help. Let me help you, Charlie…”

Charlie crouched on the floor and covered her ears. She couldn’t take it. No, no, NO! Stop. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t hear anything except them arguing, arguing, arguing. Getting nowhere and dragging this place to nothingness. It had to stop. 

Goddamn it! Her eyes darted up to the fiery argument unfolding before her. They were asking everyone but her what she wanted. 

“You tell him, Vaggie!” Dad grumbled.

“You just wanted to steal her all along, didn’t you? This is some sort of scheme of yours–” Vaggie seethed, pressing the spear to Alastor’s chest. The Radio Demon retained an amused smirk on his face. 

“STOP!” Charlie screamed above the yelling. Everyone turned slowly to see the Princess of Hell’s eyes were a hellish red. Her demon tail swished behind her, her hair was tousled and her horns sparkling a demon red in the light. Her shallow chest heaved as her crimson glare raked over everyone in the room. Then it lingered on the troublesome trio that had started all of this.

Her heart was clenching and beating a mile a minute. She wasn’t sure how much she could take. But finally…finally there was silence. Peaceful and forced silence. 

Charlie jabbed a shaky finger to Alastor, her father, and Vaggie, “You. You three.” she hissed with a deadly promise. “How about you let me decide what I want, huh? LET ME FUCKING THINK!” She clenched her fist tight enough to draw that dirty hellborn blood of hers. Charlie started striding towards the stairs, “Now…until then don’t kill each other.

“Honey…” Her Dad said softly, taking a step towards her.

“Babe…” Vaggie ran to the landing as Charlie ascended the steps. “Can we–?”

Charlie threw out a hand, not bothering to grace Vaggie with a glance. “Not now.” And she kept climbing up the stairs.

“Well…” Everyone turned to see Angel Dust snacking on some popcorn. “You guys fucked up big time!”

Charlie let out a groan as she fell face first into bed. Then she crawled under the sheets and let her weary body sink into the comforter. At least it was warm, at least it didn’t argue senselessly and drive her crazy. Pentagon City was bustling in the distance, yet she didn’t gaze upon it in wonder as she usually did. Instead, she buddled herself up in the sheets and let out a sigh. She buried her head in the pillow and let silent sobs rack her.

Charlie so dearly hoped they couldn’t hear her.

It was midnight when there was a knock. Tap, tap, tap. Charlie groaned, sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. Her hand groped for Vaggie beside her to wake her–no, she turned to the cold side of her bed. Oh. Vaggie. Yes, of course she wouldn’t be here. 

Tap, tap, tap. Again. A little harder, more insistent this time. She yawned as she threw the covers off her and dragged herself out of bed. Her hair was tousled, and her red-black pajamas wrinkled. She didn’t care enough. “One minute,” she yelled. Charlie gripped the doorknob and swung it open. 

Red suit, black bowtie, crimson eyes, and a grin greeted her at the door. The name popped into her head: Alastor.

He started, “Hel–” She slammed the door in his face. 

Alastor. ALASTOR WAS AT HER DOOR? Her hands went to her hair, and she futilely tried to comb the unkempt hair. No, no, no! Not at this hour. Midnight? What could he want?

Her eyes darted down to the chain on her ring finger. Oh. Yeah, that soulmate thing. SOULMATES! She dug her hands into her scalp and paced. She had slept the whole day away, more a stressful sleep and she had no plan, at all. 

No, she had to answer. She was already taking too long. Her gaze snapped to the door, unusually silent on the other end. He was just standing there. Maybe he had already left. No, no, they had to deal with this whole soulmate thing.

Her teeth gritted. Alastor had pulled that stupid stunt with her father. Dear God, she just couldn’t wait to face that in the morning. Face Vaggie in the morning.  However…for now, all she had to do was face Alastor. At least it wasn’t the whole troublesome trio at once. 

Charlie closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath before opening the door. 

He stared down at her with a hand raised and his eyebrows even higher. Alastor said in that nonchalant voice, “--lo.” he paused, a breath. “May I speak now, darling?”

She hissed, “Don’t call me darling.” Just as he slipped away into his shadows disappearing into the floor she continued, “Just because you’re my soulmate, it doesn’t grant you a pet name pass.”

Claws landed on her shoulders from behind. She jumped. “Yes, that is precisely what I wanted to talk about, Charlie dear.” His breath grazed the shell of her ear. It sent a small tingle down her back. Charlie crossed her arms and spun around; frown evident on her face. He let out an exhale, giving her a lazy glance, “Soulmates, ugh.”

Charlie let out a small snort, “You know I’m not exactly pleased to be “soulmates” with you either.” she mumbled, “Whatever the hell that means…” 

The chain glowed in the dark, linking them. It kept hissing at her to get closer, yet she remained standing in the light of the door. Alastor’s crimson eyes and their chain so bright in the dark of midnight. 

Alastor studied his nails, stretching his claws and then glancing over at Charlie, “Well, I have a proposition, my radio belle.” A frown tugged at Charlie’s lips. “Why, don’t we simply ignore this for now until we find a solution.”

“A solution? Ignore it?” Charlie arched a brow and rolled her eyes, “You didn’t seem like you wanted to ignore this little bond down there!” She pointed to the stairs down the hall and her eyes burned. “What the hell was that, Alastor?”

Alastor shrugged and nonchalantly said, “I just wanted to have a little fun.” He leaned in close with his teeth shining in the gold light. “Your father loathes the idea of you, his precious little daughter being the soulmate of the Radio Demon.”

Charlie scoffed. Even with his face so close she didn’t lean away. She said calmly, “Yeah, I noticed. And yet now you want to ignore it.” Charlie said and stepped out of his intense gaze. She closed the door softly before flipping on a light switch. With that Morningstar moxie she lowered herself down in a plush crimson armchair, crossed her legs and clasped her hands. Alastor neared, towering over her with his microphone standing straight before him. Charlie said quietly, “What are you playing at, Alastor?” She tried to restrain her bubbliness and tried to mimic that regalness her father always told her to retain. It was…difficult. 

“The name of the game doesn’t matter, dear.” Alastor elegantly sat down at a chair across from her. With an idle hand, he flicked his fingers and the fireplace before them flickered to life. “What does is that…obviously neither of us wanted this arrangement. You have Vaggie and well, I…have my own personal matters. I propose a solution…”

“And that is?” Charlie shifted in her chair. Curiosity tugged at her and yet she was terrified of what the answer would be. She assumed it would be ignore–whatever that meant–and wait for a solution. Alastor opened his mouth. “Wait, let me guess. You want to ignore this whole weird shitty situation until we can find a way to break this bond?”

“Yes, Charlie. Good girl,” The name dropped so effortlessly from his tongue. Her skin tingled. Redness flooded her face. Her tongue was in a knot. Good God. What the hell?

“Quit the names, Alastor,” Charlie seethed despite her fluster.

“You say to quit the names and yet I see the color in your cheeks, princess,” Alastor said softly, almost firmly.

Charlie threw her hands over her face, “Jesus Christ, Alastor, I’m very overwhelmed, okay???” She wished she could just wipe the color off her cheeks. It only burned harder.

“Yes, yes, of course, Charlie,” His words were sincere, yet his smile said otherwise. The flames of the fireplace danced in his eyes, twinkling with some sort of promise. The chain connecting them glinted in the fire light, entrancing hues of red, orange and yellow.

Charlie let out a long sigh, “So…we got to destroy this…” She raised her finger to stare at the wispy red chain and glanced at Alastor’s, “this Soulmate thing. But even my dad couldn’t break it!” She threw up her hands and brought them to her face, bending over her knees. “You know if he could break it, he would’ve already!”

Alastor’s finger rolled lazily around the sphere of his microphone, “Yes…and that is precisely our problem.” His gaze snapped up to hers and he held it firmly. She wanted to look away so badly, just tear away but she couldn’t. “Until we can find a way to do that…I suggest we simply ignore this.”

Charlie just stared at him, “We’re…” she trailed off as she glared at the wispy chain and then her gaze darted up to him, “We’re just supposed to IGNORE THIS???” She threw up her chained hand. 

Alastor let out a weary sigh and gazed into the fireplace, hellfire dancing in his eyes. “Unless you have a better solution this will have to do.” He said without turning to her, “I suppose we’ll make a joint effort to end this…madness,” Her heart leapt as his eyes took in the chain looped on his finger.

“Hmm…” Charlie slouched in her chair and glared into the fireplace. Maybe if she stared long enough in the flames some sort of miracle answer would present itself! It didn’t. Who was she kidding? There wasn’t going to be an answer spelled in the smoke. “I suppose we’ll just have to ignore this.”

“Will Vaggie?” Alastor said bluntly.

Charlie’s head swiveled to him. He was already staring. “Uh, what?” she said.

“Well…” Alastor twirled his microphone between his fingers, “She left the hotel a while ago clutching that little soulmate chain of hers.” His crimson eyes glanced over at her.

Something clenched her heart, threatening to split it in two. “Vaggie…” Charlie trailed off and gulped, “Vaggie’s looking for her soulmate?”

Alastor waved a hand, “Can you blame her? Curiosity is humanity’s greatest downfall.” He threw Charlie a side look, “A soulmate is meant to be your other half. Wouldn’t you be curious?”

“I know but…” Charlie held her chest with one hand and stared into the flames. She couldn’t bear to look at him. No, no. Vaggie was just curious. It wasn’t a betrayal. This relationship was going to work. Had to work. Just because of one...no two soulmates, Charlie wasn't going to allow it to ruin their love. 

Charlie shook her head. Afterall Charlie was with her supposed soulmate: Alastor. And Vaggie was looking for her own. Charlie was with Alastor currently, seeking his comfort. She wasn't seeking Vaggie out, she wasn't comforting Vaggie, she wasn't with Vaggie. 

That was true betrayal. Alastor’s eyes were on her, she knew it. Those things, horrible little monsters were fluttering and stinging her insides. Butterflies and bees in her stomach at his look. She wanted to rip herself open, tear out her heart and the little monsters. She couldn’t be feeling this way. No, not towards Alastor. Never. 

Vaggie. That name she so adored. Why was the world so cruel? Why couldn’t she be her soulmate? The universe was against her. Now, she was stuck with–Charlie glanced at Alastor who flashed her a grin–Alastor. Good God. Alastor was her soulmate, she was chained to him, she was feeling all these strange things. And Vaggie…Vaggie was out finding her soulmate.

This was wrong. Alastor shouldn’t be in here. In her bedroom. In the place secrets only between Vaggie and her were known. In the place where she would make love to sweet Vaggie. In the place, in this sacred place where sounds only meant for her ears were uttered. He was here, in her bedroom, she might as well throw him on the bed while she was at it and whisper sweet dirty things in his ear.  

You dirty fucking traitor. Alastor’s smile shiny in the fire.  How could you do this to Vaggie? Her eyes lingered on his sharp features, those features so– She’s done everything for you, you whore. Those eyes staring at her, beautiful crimson eyes.

Charlie threw her hands over her eyes. Alastor. Vaggie. Alastor. Vaggie. Alastor– The thoughts wouldn’t stop. The names of a horrible chorus screaming in her head. Vaggie is her girlfriend. Alastor is her soulmate. Her nails dug into her skin. Oh, how she wanted to scratch them out, then she couldn’t see his eyes, glaring at her. Those beautiful wretched eyes of her soulmate. 

Instead she lifted her hands from her face and said calmly, “Alastor, I think you should leave.”

Alastor’s eyes widened. A wetness was on her cheeks: tears. Soft tears so silent neither of them had realized. He stood up and reached out, “Charlie…”

Charlie shot up to her feet and jabbed a finger at the door. She yelled, “GET THE FUCK OUT NOW!”

Alastor didn’t say a word as he walked to the door. He brushed unseen dust off his dark red pants and straightened his bow tie. Charlie watched him, eyes wide and fists clenched at her sides. He didn’t even look back when the door was pulled shut silently.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Charlie fell to her knees and dug her nails into her scalp. She leaned back onto her knees and gazed into the fireplace. A wink of sleep didn’t plague her. Vaggie and Alastor were the only names on her mind. The two things that kept her awake. 

Vaggie was out looking for her soulmate. It wasn’t a betrayal. No, it was just Vaggie being curious. And Alastor was her soulmate. And Charlie…she had him in her room, she let him call her those lovely names without much resistance. Her heart fluttered at the thought. 

And she liked it. You fucking whore.

Charlie didn’t sleep a wink.

Chapter Text

“Sir?” A familiar voice squeaked. Alastor slowly opened his eyes to see an intense yellow eye staring at him: Niffty. Wait…Niffty. Her single eye was creased with worry, “Um, you fell asleep…on the couch.” She pointed to where he was sprawled, “I need to clean it, um, sir.”

Asleep? Alastor’s eyes snapped wide. He had been…ASLEEP??? Good God, no. He swallowed whatever panic arose in his insides. He wasn’t dead, he wasn't chained, no, in fact he was fine. He couldn’t sleep, no, wouldn’t sleep. Somehow he had done so. “Was anyone awake last night? To replace me?” Alastor asked as calmly as he could.

Niffty shook her head and then let an ear-splitting grin creep on her face, “The King showed me a room that hadn’t been cleaned yet when you all had your argument.” She swooned, holding the tight little duster in her hands. “I spent the whole night cleaning away…”

“So…” Alastor faltered. He shot to his feet and smoothed out his wrinkled clothes. Alastor stared down at her, “No one was patrolling?” 

Niffty tapped her finger on her chin, “Well, the princess was!” Her eye narrowed, “Kind of. She was just pacing around mostly.”

Ugh. Alastor would have to deal with this whole soulmate thing shortly. A more sincere, petty smile touched his face. He did quite enjoy annoying her with those little pet names of his. However, it was no fun with this soulmate idiocy. 

“You could ask the princess, you know!” Niffty giggled and started idly dusting away at the couch, “You’re her soulmate after all! Ehehehe.”

Alastor stiffened at that comment and switched the subject, “What of yours, Niffty, hm?”

Niffty turned slowly to face him with a wild smile on her face. Something that Alastor would guess someone would see in a horror movie. He didn’t fancy horror movies much. Niffty said sweetly, “That whole cleaning that room thing was to get rid of me!” She pouted and folded her arms, “He’s hiding from me!”

“I couldn’t imagine why,” Alastor smirked. He waved his hand and Niffty scrambled up his leg, propping herself up on his shoulders, “I will assist you, dear Niffty. I’m sure the King will be pleased with a little visit from his destined soulmate.”

“Aw, thank you, Alastor,” Niffty hugged his head, an odd thing but Alastor didn’t mind at all. He had grown used to Niffty’s antics after half a century. It brought a little warm fuzzy feeling of…friendship? No, he could hardly call it that. He owned Nifftys’ soul for crying out loud!
As Alastor walked down another winding hallway leading to the main lobby he asked, “How long did I sleep for, Niffty?” She would know, of course. It was a habit of hers to obsess over her friends.

Niffty hummed to herself, “Uh, four hours?”

Too long. Alastor grimaced. Who knows what could have slipped into the hotel during those four precious hours? The princess of Hell…Charlie was vigilant but she wasn’t used to providing protection. Alastor was sure she had been used to guards everywhere in her life in that glittering palace of Lucifer's. There were none here so he had to become one.

Why? He wasn’t sure himself. For his own safety, he was sure. For Charlie’s safety. It would be a shame if the Princess of Hell was harmed in her sleep.

Alastor reminded himself to do a sweep of the hotel after he sorted out this whole Niffty nonsense.

As Alastor neared the main lobby, hushed voices drifted down the hall. He stopped dead in his path, Niffty pulled at his hair to remind him to go forward. Alastor let a little warning growl escape him and Niffty ceased her antics. 

“Vaggie…” An Australian voice drawled, “We’re soulmates, doesn’t that mean something to you?”

Alastor creeped closer to the door and his ears tilted towards the commotion. It was no mystery who was in the lobby.

Wisps of black formed in his fingers, and he let a drip of a darkness glide to the ground. The darkness crawled up the wall, forming a wispy silhouette of Alastor’s figure. It grinned a crimson smile until it slid into the lobby. 

No surprise it was Vaggie. The surprise which made his eyebrows shoot up was: Cherri Bomb. Ugh God, Vaggie. Cherri Bomb he didn’t mind that much. Then his eyes snagged it: a twisting pink chain connected them. And worse? They were practically on top of each other on the couch. Not quite. Sitting too close to be casual. Cherri Bomb had an arm draped behind Vaggie’s back and was leaning in far too close. That usually impartial face Vaggie usually wore was in shambles, a mess of blushes. 

Vaggie’s eye darted away, “Uh…we are soulmates…” 

Alastor’s eyes tore away from the scene for a second and he glanced down at his own chain. The chain which connected to Charlie.

“So?” Cherri Bomb grinned. Her pink eye gleamed with mischief. Her draped hand dropped onto Vaggie’s thigh, drawing soft circles across the skin. Vaggie went ramrod straight, her eyes wide. Cherri Bomb went on in a sultry voice, “What’s the hold up?”
Vaggie stuttered, “Uh…I have a girlfriend. It's, um, Charlie.”  

Cherri Bomb’s eye flew open, the little white X so wide. She instantly withdrew her hand from Vaggie’s thigh, “Oh shit. I’m sorry.” Her hand raked through her hair, frantically. “Oh shit…” she said again.

Vaggie muttered, “I’m sorry.”

Cherri Bomb threw up her hands and her eye narrowed at Vaggie, “Then what’s the fucking point? Why’d you come find me?” Alastor grinned inwardly. Ah, yes, Vaggie had truly fucked up. Hm…why had she even bothered to look for Cherri Bomb if she never had any intentions of starting a relationship?

Vaggie shrugged, “I don’t know…”

Cherri Bomb stood up and folded her arms firmly across her chest. She repeated slowly, almost shocked, “I don’t know…that’s your answer?!” She spat, “Are you just playing with me?”

Vaggie threw up her hands, “No, no! Listen, Cherri!” Her hands snatched up Cherri’s, holding them close. “I just wanted…” Her eye darted away and then rose up to meet Cherri’s hot stare. “I just wanted to know…who you were. Who my soulmate was. And…” She trailed off. A soft twinkle sparked in her single eye, “And…you’re more than I could’ve ever hoped for.”

Alastor thought the whole thing looked too sickeningly sweet. His foot raised to step in the door and interrupt the beautiful moment yet he relented. Something told him to stay put. 

Cherri’s gaze softened ever so slightly, unknowingly she started to rub little circles on Vaggie’s hands. Cherri said quietly, “Goddamn it, I just want to…” She trailed off and her gaze grew sad, desperate, “But you already have a girlfriend…”

Vaggie let a small sad line cross her face, “I’m sorry, Cherri.” She said in even a quieter, more defeated voice, “Maybe in another lifetime…”

Cherri Bomb’s intertwined fingers closed hard on Vaggie’s fingers. “We only have one, Vaggie.” Vaggie still didn’t let go. Alastor had a feeling that Vaggie didn’t want to. Cherri Bomb sat down on the couch, leaning close to Vaggie, hands still intertwined, “Does…does Charlie have a soulmate?” 

Vaggie groaned, “Ugh God, yeah.” A sad smile split her face, “But we’re still going to try. I will try.”

Cherri arched her brow, “Who’s the soulmate?” 

Alastor stiffened, puffing out his chest. Why of course it was him. He was the next most powerful being next to Charlie after all. Statistically it made sense. At least he thought he was the most powerful being next to Charlie. 

“Alastor…” Vaggie said in a begrudging voice that Alastor did not particularly favor. 

“Oh…” Cherri giggled, “The guy Angel calls a strawberry pimp?”

Alastor growled. How dare they? With much effort, he pulled Niffty from his head and set her by his side, “Follow me.” He hissed. Niffty saluted him. Alastor strode in, twirling his microphone. He flashed a smile as their gazes snapped to him, “Why hello, ladies.”

“What do you want, Alastor?” Vaggie grumbled.

“Ah, it's so lovely to see a torrid affair budding right in the princess’ lobby, hm?” Alastor said shamelessly. His crimson eyes flickered between the two women. Their hands undid themselves.

Vaggie shot up to her feet and she jabbed a finger at him, “You have some fucking nerve, you know that?” She hissed, “You’re the one who was sweet talking my girlfriend last night!”

“And it seems you have procured yet another,” Alastor’s gave a pretentious nod in the direction of the sour-faced Cherri. He raised his claws, giving a little wiggle of his fingers and he said, “Salutations, Cherri Bomb!” Cherri outright scowled at him, tilting her nose up at him. How pathetic. 

Vaggie neared him, steps deliberate, and clumsy as angels usually were. Her wings untucked, rising herself up to his eye level. Her frown was so amusing. He wanted to laugh right in her face but settled on a small “hmph” of amusement. “Don’t you belittle me, you slick fucker,” she said, eye twitching. “You know damn well this is a complicated situation as it is.” Vaggie took in a breath, a breath that seemed to be drawn from the deepest part of her soul. “I love Charlie.” Cherri Bomb’s face paled. “I’m still getting used to this. I have every right to go see…” she turned slowly, flashing a smile at Cherri Bomb. Cherri Bomb’s eye was glued to the floor, seemingly fascinated in the stain dubbed “Frank” by Niffty. Niffty was at the moment ogling the stain with a strange deliriousness. “....my soulmate.” Vaggie spun back to Alastor.

“Uh huh. Well…” Alastor straightened his coat. His gaze was veiled with much doubt, “Poor Charlie was left cold in bed last night due to your…” Alastor spared a glance at Cherri Bomb and then his eyes slid back to Vaggie’s red face. “...last night's tryst.”

Vaggie’s teeth gritted. He could almost hear those porcelain teeth grinding from anger. Alastor adored the noise. Vaggie asked, carefully, “How would you–wait…” Her eyes exploded into a fiery gold. “YOU WERE IN HER ROOM?!?! WERE YOU WATCHING HER SLEEP, YOU CREEP!?!”

Alastor let out a bored sigh, “Actually no. The poor dear needed some comforting.” His grin gleamed a harsh sheen of gold in the light. “So I did what I do best: Comforting.”

“That’s such fucking bullshit,” Vaggie hissed and whipped out her angelic spear. 

Alastor went on, grin widening by the minute, “I could have offered to warm up her bed. However, I have some dignity,” His eyebrow arched. “I thought you were going to eventually return but…” His eyes flashed, “You didn’t.”

Cherri Bomb stood up, slinging her stylish pink backpack over her shoulders. The pink haired sinner let out a defeated sigh before striding away from the scene. Vaggie spun around, her eye flashing gold as she trooped beside Cherri. 

Her hand reached out, grasping the pink sinner’s arm, “Wait Cherri!” 

Cherri looked back and tugged her arm out of Vaggie’s grip. She said quietly without looking in the distraught angel’s direction, “Let me know when you’re ready.” She threw her hair over her shoulder as she threw open the front doors. Cherri spared Vaggie a glance over the shoulder, “You know where to find me.” With that, the front doors slammed shut.

Vaggie huffed and spun on her heel, “Alas—” The radio demon wasn’t grinning maniacally at her. In fact he wasn’t there at all. Vaggie’s face screwed up in rage and she screamed, “COWARD!”

The shadows settled Alastor and Niffty down in some stray hall of the Hotel. Niffty frowned and scrambled down his leg to the floor. She put her hands on her hips and pouted, “You could’ve warned me!” 

Alastor ignored her and continued in that charming voice. He spread out his arms and his crackly voice echoed down the hall, “We’re here, Niffty.” Alastor twirled his microphone between his hands as he walked along. Niffty followed, a horrible grin creasing her face. Her eyes were on the golden chain leading the way down the hall.

Spotting the King of Hell’s door wasn’t hard. It was adorned in duck stickers from top to bottom, some were peeling off by now. Niffty started fussing over the peeling stickers, plastering her sticky fingers on them so they would stick. Without bothering to knock, Alastor swung the door open and let the beast free.

Alastor sang, “Gooood morning, King Morningstar.” Niffty scrambled ahead, her pink head bobbing in the darkness. “Special delivery, from yours truly.” Alastor bowed.

Niffty surged to the windows, clinging onto the curtains and ripping them open. A hiss came from the bed. A predatory gaze came over Niffty, something Alastor realized he never wanted to see again. From the mountain of rubber ducks, pillows and comforters, a little bundle which was King lay underneath. Alastor grinned as he saw the King stir, an absolute mess and boy, did Niffty love to clean up messes.

Niffty’s veins popped out of her sclera. Dilating a horrific black as she looked upon the King. “My Bad Boy,” Niffty purred. 

Lucifer’s eyes instantly snapped open under the bundle. He let out an ear splitting scream, “Oh fuck. Fuck! Not you!” Niffty’s eye gleamed and she ran, at the King, clawing her way onto the sheets. “HEY! HEY! STOP THAT!” Lucifer screeched. 

“Mine…” she giggled deliriously and she burrowed her head in the sheets, sniffing up the bed. Oh God. Alastor realized she was sniffing Lucifer’s scent. My, how disgusting but what a treat to see! True agony for the King of Hell!  

Lucifer’s eyes shifted to the door where Alastor’s silhouette waited. Spit mingled in the King’s mouth and he jabbed a finger at the radio demon, “YOU! I’M GOING TO—-GAHH!” Niffty looped her arms around Lucifer’s duckie pajama pants.

Alastor gave the King a wave before shutting the door promptly. A string of screams and curses echoed down the hall…music to Alastor’s ears. Niffty was truly a blessing

Charlie didn’t know how the day got away from her. First she was pacing then she was walking around Pentagram City all day, stress binging a show and eating. In the middle of watching “So I Fucked Your Sister, So What?” her eyes casually glanced over at the window. 

The sky was pretty. Swirling hues of orange and red, a sign of…A SIGN OF DUSK??? Charlie shot up to her feet and threw her blanket off her. She grabbed her bedside clock. The shiny digits didn’t lie it was dusk. Holy shit. Her hands went to her hair. SHE HADN’T DONE AN ACTIVITY AT ALL TODAY!
“No, no, no, no…” She practically flung herself at her desk and riffled through her papers. Today was supposed to be about…shit! Her nails dug into the wood of her desk. She hadn’t even made a lesson plan! Her fingers took hold of the chair, pulled it back and she plopped down. 

Her fingers groped around for a pen and she began scribbling away. Good God, what activity should they do for tomorrow? A groan escaped her. How did she forget about today’s activity?!?! Well, a few thoughts popped in her mind but she pushed them out.

After a few hours of scribbling away, throwing papers in the tin can beside her, starting again and throwing out again, she heard the door creak. Charlie slowly turned, swinging her legs around. 

Vaggie. She looked so…defeated. Almost sad. Charlie hopped up to her feet and rushed to her girlfriend’s side. “Hey…Vaggie?” She tried to meet Vaggie’s eyes. For some reason Vaggie’s gaze was low, focused on the carpet. What was so interesting about the carpet? “Are you okay?” Charlie raised a hand but then withdrew it. A nasty bitter feeling was bubbling up to Charlie’s calm demeanor. She pushed it down, stifling it. 

Without warning, Vaggie’s arms flung around Charlie’s shoulders, pulling her in close. Charlie let out a gasp and then snuggled into the embrace. Her arms were oddly stiff around the angel’s body and awkward, she didn’t know where to put her arms. Vaggie held her, trying to wrap her arms in a comforting fashion. They didn’t quite fit. 

“It was a long day,” Vaggie finally said. She pulled away from the embrace, a little too quickly. Charlie stood there cold with the wind from the window leaving her bitter. 

“Oh…” Charlie said, she folded her arms around her shivering self.

Vaggie pulled her shirt over her head, shaking her loose white hair. Her brassiere clung to her cleavage. Her curves were so enchanting, fit for an angel Charlie thought. The grey skin which had all those pretty scars Charlie would trace in the night. Charlie swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped forward. 

Vaggie was rifling through the drawers mumbling about pajamas. Charlie lingered at Vaggie’s shoulder, breathing hot air onto her neck. Vaggie went stiff, turning to see Charlie staring, truly staring. 

“What?” Vaggie said and started again on her fruitless search.

Charlie said quietly, “You were looking for your soulmate.”

“Huh?” Vaggie muttered, barely listening. 

Charlie’s hand landed on Vaggie’s shoulder; the skin so warm to the touch. “I said…” Her voice was a little louder, deeper. “I said you were looking for your soulmate, right?”
Vaggie froze. Her hands clinging onto the edge of the drawer. She whispered, “Charlie…” she pivoted on her foot. “Let me explain.”

Charlie’s eyes dropped, “You don’t need to.” Her eyes lifted up to her girlfriend’s face and her hand reached up to cup Veggie’s grey cheek. “You were curious. It's not a crime…wanting to know who your soulmate is.” Each word chipped more away at her heart.

Jealousy. Horrible inane jealously gnawed at her insides. It was ripping her apart inside out. 

Vaggie’s voice dropped a degree and the room felt much colder, “Alastor was with you last night.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. It was Charlie’s turn to freeze on the spot.

Charlie wetted her lips and exhaled, “Yes, he was.” 

Vaggie’s face wanted to make her sink down and cry. Betrayal. The same as she had felt. Vaggie’s skin had turned icy cold under Charlie’s touch. You fucking whore. The thought made her eyes squeeze shut. It was haunting her. It had only been a fucking day. And this shit wasn’t even near half over.

Charlie’s other hand grasped for Vaggie’s hand. A hand which felt limp in her firm hand as she squeezed it. “Vaggie, please…listen. We…” Her eyes glanced back to the twin armrests by the fireplace. Alastor’s ghost lingered there, grinning at her, twirling his microphone. Her gaze snapped back to Vaggie’s soft, defeated face. Charlie squeezed Vaggie’s hand tighter, “We were trying to figure out how to break this soulmate bond. I swear it.” Guilt gnawed at her heart. She didn’t’ dare mention the pet names.
Vaggie considered with her face screwed up in concentration. Her eye flickered to their intertwined hands and she squeezed back. “Okay…” she breathed. Vaggie swallowed hard as if she was holding back a thousand words. “But…he did tell you about me…seeing my soulmate, right?”

Whatever scrap of Charlie’s hope crumbled away, “Yes, he did,” she admitted. Shame bubbled up in her heart. She had been so jealous, so horribly jealous. Even now it still simmered in her stomach, threatening to slip off her tongue. The desperate words locked up tight in her heart tumbled out, “We’re going to stay together, right? Are we going to try? Vaggie…we are, right?”

Vaggie looked down and then up again. A soft smile, albeit a sad one. One that looked less than half hopeful. No, Charlie straightened her back. That was her insecurities, her jealous whispering in the back of her mind. 

“Vaggie?” Charlie repeated softly.

“Yeah, yeah, of course…” Vaggie said quickly. “Of course…” she whispered a bit softly. She turned back to the pajama drawer.

Charlie didn’t know what she was doing. Perhaps it was that sheer pent up jealousy or whatever this feeling was brewing in her stomach. She dipped her head close to Vaggie’s neck, taking in her scent, that sweet floral scent. 

Vaggie was topless. A usual occurrence but it never ceased to drive Charlie mad. “Vaggie…” Charlie said against Vaggie’s glistening grey skin. Damn, she had missed Vaggie. So, fucking much. She hadn’t seen her all day. Hell, all of last night. “I missed you,” she said quietly.

Vaggie’s skin prickled under Charlie’s touch. Damn it! Charlie’s lazy fingers hooked around Vaggie’s waist, holding her close. She was so drunk on sleepless nights. Vaggie didn’t say a thing, a little breath, that little exhale Charlie loved so much. 

Charlie pressed soft kisses to Vaggie’s scalp and peppered kisses on her neck, deep kisses. Even if it had been for a single night, she missed Vaggie’s precious skin, so beautiful, so elegant. Charlie closed her eyes letting herself dive in her scent, the smell of her hair and the smell which lingered on her clothes. A cherry scent? That was new. 

“Charlie…” Vaggie murmured as Charlie guided her girlfriend to the bed. 

Charlie pushed her into the comforter with Vaggie almost sitting on the bed. Charlie just wanted to dive into Vaggie’s body. Brush every vein, make her breath those beautiful sounds and moan those delicious moans. Her fingers wandered over Vaggie’s skin, grazing the collarbone and her head dipped. She began at the nape of Vaggie’s neck, smiling wickedly as her mouth sucked and moved closer to those beautiful breasts, no doubt sculpted by Heaven itself. Heaven had good taste. And Vaggie was sprawled before her…her own little taste of Heaven. A slice that was hers, out of Heaven's reach.

“Charlie…I…” Vaggie continued yet was stifled by a soft moan which escaped her. Charlie smirked as her hands wandered to the waistband of Vaggie’s black skirt. Look, the black skirt was tasteful but it would look much better on the floor. Charlie’s fingers looped around the edges and started to pull, slowly, tantalizing as her mouth worked on Vaggie’s skin.

“Charlie…” a new hiss was in Vaggie’s voice. “STOP!” Charlie found two firm hands planted on her shoulders and then she was pushed. She let out a little gasp as she fell to the ground, flat on her ass. Her gaze flickered upwards to Vaggie. A gaze which was a hardened, cold. It was a face that fitted Vaggie well but did not fit with Charlie 

Charlie blinked once. Twice. “Vaggie?” Rejection burned in her chest. That desire searing away at her world. A need was pooling in her stomach and then it started to ebb away. At first anger screamed at her, the misery pushed through it. Rejection preferred the company of both. “Vaggie…what?”
Vaggie let out a deep sigh and tugged her shirt over her beautiful cleavage. She said silkily, “I’m not in the mood tonight.” Vaggie sat on the edge of the bed, pulling fluffy socks over her feet. 

“Oh…okay.” Charlie slowly got to her feet. It was burning in her chest. Burning her alive. Her demon horns were peeking in the mass of blonde hair yet she willed them to shrink. That jealousy, that anger, that misery struck her heart again. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to–”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” Vaggie said a little sharply. Charlie stumbled a step back towards the desk. “I’m just…you know what…” She pulled the sheets over her body, turned on her side and said, “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Charlie.”

“Oookay…” Charlie twiddled her fingers, and she pointed awkwardly back towards the desk, “I’ll just…um…” She swallowed, “I’ll just be working over here. In this corner.”

“Okay.” Vaggie said rather indifferently.

“Okay…” Charlie murmured as she pulled the desk chair back and got to work.

The bed felt cold even with Vaggie beside her. Her breaths were shallow, soft. Charlie lay on her side, facing away from Vaggie staring out to the crimson night. She wanted to so badly, roll over and pull Vaggie close to her. Take in her scent, take in her warmth, take in Vaggie. Charlie chewed the inside of her cheek.

Her mind whirled. Vaggie didn’t want…that. It wasn’t like Charlie was a horny bitch. She was just…so in love with Vaggie. Everything about her was so hot. She just wanted to hug her, kiss her, adore her, and make sweet love to her. Vaggie didn’t…hadn’t wanted that. 

Charlie sunk a little more into the sheets. Vaggie had never said no. Never before. Charlie’s eyes snapped open. Had she assaulted Vaggie? Oh God. Vaggie hadn’t wanted her advances. She threw her hands over her eyes. “Shit, shit, shit…” she whispered under her breath.

So, there they lay. Two people destined for others. Vaggie’s finger was hanging off the bed, a pink chain looped around it, leading out the door. Charlie was on the other side, a red chain leading out the window, spiraling its way up the Radio Tower a few floors above. 

Charlie sighed. The space was more evident than usual between them. A soft wetness dripped onto her pillow; silent tears rolled out her eyes. It had been a long time since she had those. Perhaps the bawling kind was better. At least she could scream. The silence was thick enough she thought she was going to be suffocated. Die under the weight of silence, under the weight of the words not said.

Charlie for yet another night didn’t sleep a wink.

Chapter Text

“So, is she skipping our trust activities again today?”

Husk let out a sigh and knocked back another bottle of whiskey, “Who fucking knows, Angel…” he mumbled. 

Angel pouted and continued scrolling on Sinsigram. All the rage was soulmates and how people were murdering their own soulmates. Charming. His mismatched eyes were cloudy with a sort of solemness as his eyes shifted to Husk. Angel ran a loving finger over their soulmate chain. So much for soulmate clicking.

“Why hello there, Husker and Angel Dust!” A blur of Alastor’s face sprouted out of nowhere right over Angel Dust.

“FUCK!” Angel screamed. His phone came crashing down on his face. “Ow…” Angel glared at the grinning Radio Demon and rubbed his wounded face. “Hey, asshole. Not cool.” 

“Hmmm…” Alastor glanced around the room seemingly ignoring Angel’s remarks. “Where’s Charlie?” he asked in a very innocent voice. 

Husk let out a laugh, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Alastor let his grin widen. Each step towards the uncaring Demon Cat made his heels click against the wood. “I’m her business partner. It's the second time she’s missed a trust activity.” A bite was in his voice.

Husk glanced warily up at the seething Radio Demon. The radio dials weren’t flickering thankfully. Without letting go of eye contact, he finished the bottle and slammed it down. “You know, you barely show up to these activities.”

Angel decided to sit up for once in his life. “Yeah…why do you now care, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Creepy?” Husk flashed the adult film star a warning glance.

Alastor spun around to face Angel, his neck craning above the adult film star. “Well…” he began, he stretched his fingernails. “If you don't stop flapping that tongue of yours, I’ll cut it out.” Alastor grinned.

Angel threw his phone to the side and stared back at the Radio Demon. He puffed out his fluffy chest, running his long fingers through his white hair and said in that iconic sultry voice of his, “Hmm…what’d you say deer daddy?” Alastor went ramrod straight. “If I don’t please you enough with my little sweet tongue, you’ll cut it out?” Husk rolled his eyes. Angel stood up slowly, inching closer and closer to the Radio Demon. He flashed his golden tooth. “Don’t worry, deer daddy, I’ll make sure it–” 

Alastor actually stumbled back a step and his eyes were wide. A deer in the headlights. Angel grinned. “That isn’t necessary, thank you,” Alastor took another step back before seating himself. Angel inched closer, waving a tantalizing finger at the Radio Demon. Alastor gritted his teeth, “One step closer and I’ll personally ensure you’re castrated for the rest of eternity.”

Angel threw up his hands, “Okay, Jesus, dude. Fine,” He plopped back on the couch. His hands covered up his crotch. The Radio Demon hummed a little tune as he twisted his hand and played with the fire in the fireplace. No one made a comment even as he made the flames stretch and thin, grow larger and smaller.

It was past 1pm when the other residents started stumbling into the main lobby. Niffty was mindlessly scurrying around taking futile stabs at nasty little insects. A few of those times, Alastor would suspend the bugs in midair and let her have at it. Vaggie came in late and brought a little book on self-defense (quite pathetic). Lucifer for a long time stayed at the top of the stairs warily staring at NIffy. Wherever she threw a glance his way, he would duck behind the banister. Alastor scoffed.

Alastor was right in the middle of sipping a lovely spearmint tea when it hit him like a thousand careening bullets. An overwhelming bubbly feeling crawled its way up his chest. A sincere smile was pulling at the corner of his lips which he immediately stifled. A floaty feeling took hold of his body, he was flying too high, he thought it was only a matter of time before he would plummet.

Good God, am I having a heart attack? No, that was impossible! Alastor was dead, very dead. What the hell was this feeling? The tea he was swallowing was working its way up his gullet. No, no, no, not here. The others hadn’t noticed, Angel was too focused on his phone, Husk on his whiskey, Lucifer on Niffty, Niffty on the bugs, Vaggie on her stupid self-help book–

There it was again. A sickening passion setting his veins on fire. His claws dug into the armrest. Ugh, God it was so horrible. This bubbly feeling. It was like something else had taken over his body, over his emotions. Something was pulling at him, seeing if it undid enough threads he would come crashing down. 

Alastor’s hand went to his chest and his other hand shakily held the mug. “HEY GUYS!” Her sweet voice rang throughout the lobby. It had been two days since he had heard her lovely, no, silence–

Everyone’s heads swiveled beside Alastor who kept his eyes trained on the fireplace. Perhaps if he lost himself in the flames enough this stupid strange emotion would burn away into the nothingness from whence it had come. To no one’s surprise, Charlie, the Princess of Hell, almost came tumbling down the steps. A stream of amateurly colored papers followed in her wake like some sort of bizarre parade. 

Alastor saw Charlie spare a glance in Vaggie’s direction. Vaggie barely looked up. His brows shot up and his heart jumped. Hm, trouble in paradise? He seriously hoped not. The last thing he wanted was Charlie turning to him to be her beloved soulmate or whatever. 

Charlie smacked her main paper on an easel set up in the lounge and stuck a thumbtack through it. “TA-DAAAA!” She kicked up one of her heels and she spread her arms. Her smile was far too blinding. These feelings intermixed with her positive demeanor was starting to become too much. Why had he come in the first place? Where had these strange foreign feelings come from anyway? Alastor didn’t dare let a grimace cross his face. 

Angel furrowed his eyes and craned his neck forward, “Uh…capture the flag?”

Husk groaned, “You gotta be fucking kidding me…”

Lucifer pumped his fist in the air, “Hell yeah!” Niffty’s gaze snapped to him, and he squeaked. 

Charlie waved her arms frantically. Alastor grinned. It was amusing seeing her try so desperately to gain their attention. “HEY! HEY! GUYS!” She flashed those irresistible crimson puppy eyes of hers at them. “Please…hear me out.”

Husk grumbled, “Ugh…fine.”
Charlie leaped again in the air. Alastor resisted not slumping in his chair. How could she be so full of energy? “Yay! So okay…” She shuffled through her papers, leaving a pattern of sharply colored papers on the floor. “So, rule number one…”

Alastor didn’t know when he started to tune her out. Was she seriously explaining the rules of Capture the Flag? Yes. Was it taking a solid hour? Yes. She was quite adorable, hopping around the easel, pointing at trivial little bullet points and grinning that smile of hers. 

“So, Alastor…” Alastor snapped back to the present. Her intense little crimson eyes were on him, sparkling in all their glory. “...what is rule number…um…” Charlie glanced down at the papers and started mumbling to herself. Alastor twirled the sphere of his microphone in a bored fashion. Then she finally plucked a paper from the stack. “Oh! Um let’s see! Alastor…” Charlie looked at him, “What’s rule number 394?” 

Alastor hummed a little bit and played back the radio recording in his head. It only took a moment before he crossed his legs neatly over his legs and held his head high. “Well, obviously, maiming is allowed if the opponent is in your territory.”

His static buzzing with much interest. Charlie gave him a half smile. “Ah well, good effort. No, actually it’s no maiming is allowed at all!”

Alastor let out a loud scoff, “Oh come on, what’s the fun in it then?”

Charlie’s voice took on a firmer tone, “Alastor…No. Maiming.”

Alastor waved his hand lazily at her. This whole little dance went on for a while. 

“Okay! Time to pick the teams. Hmmm…” Charlie started shuffling the slips in her father’s top hat he had so easily given up.  

Niffty stood from out of arm's reach, “Gimme…” she murmured. Lucifer was hovering above the air also out of arm’s reach. Poor Lucifer. Charlie flashed her father a supportive smile. 

“Oh, I forgot,” Angel said quickly, “Cherri Bomb is coming!” He smirked at Husk which earned another eye roll.

Vaggie said quietly, “Cherri Bomb?” 

Charlie’s eyes snapped in her direction. Was Vaggie okay? Vaggie had her arms wrapped around herself and was looking everywhere but at Charlie. Well, that was understandable. Charlie shifted a step away from Vaggie. Oh God, she almost squeezed her eyes shut. Last night was a disaster. This morning too. Vaggie hadn’t been there when she had woken up. No, no, Charlie shook her head. That was probably just Vaggie doing something important.

Soft sun rays were the days which made Charlie look forward to the next. Vaggie in her arms, breathing softly, breathing slowly, breathing like she didn’t have a care in the world. Her arms loosely wrapped around Vaggie’s waist, with her head burrowed in Vaggie’s soft white hair. Oh, how she would lovingly stroke Vaggie’s hair. “Good morning…” a soft greeting. How she—

“Charlie.” Alastor’s staticky voice sliced through her thoughts. “You seem a little lost there.” His hand was on her shoulder. The chain connecting them shining a sparkling crimson under the chandelier. A snakelike chain twisting its way through the air, so close to meeting her own hand clenched at her side.

Charlie stiffened. Her father’s eyes were daggers driving into the back of her pretty blonde head. 

Charlie gasped a breath. She didn’t realized she had been holding it, “Oh, yay! Cherri Bomb!" Charlie exclaimed and clapped her hands. The fingers on her shoulder bent ever so slightly, the claws not quite digging into her skin. Her skin prickled under his touch. 

“Uh…” A loud cough from her father made her jump. “Okay, Charlie.” He stepped into sight. He said her name, yet his crimson eyes were on Alastor, verging on Hellfire consuming his sclera. Her Dad coughed again into his hand, making a little motion with his hand, “Alastor hands off,” His voice dropped ten degrees.

“Hmmm?” Alastor tilted his head. His hand didn’t move. Vaggie glared at Alastor from above Lucifer’s shoulder. “What did you say, Lucifer?”

Lucifer’s nostrils flared, little sparks of fire sprouting forth. His devil tail swished into view. Charlie’s smile grinded into her teeth. Oh God. “I said…HANDS OFF MY DAUGHTER!” Lucifer held up a clawed hand, clenching into a fist brimming with fury.

“No–” Alastor started. His static filled up the room. The sound grated on Charlie’s ears. She almost threw her hands over her ears to shield herself. Was Alastor seriously trying to piss her dad off again? Damn it, Alastor.

Charlie quickly sidestepped Alastor and his hand fell to his side again. “Ha…” She warily glanced between Alastor and her father. She clapped her hands together. They continued to stare at each other, glaring, maybe even beyond glaring, trying to kill each other with simply their looks. Perhaps dissecting each other in their minds and boiling them in a stew made for dear Charlie. God, Charlie flashed one of her biggest smiles, yet it didn’t meet her eyes. “Let’s save the competitiveness for Capture the Flag, eh?” She swung her hand in a sad fist pump.

Her heart was tearing itself apart. The stress was eating her up, licking away at any self-control. She wanted to scream at them to “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Instead, she smiled. That would only make things worse. It most surely would.

“Okay!” Charlie gave everyone her adorable little finger guns. “So–”

“Angel!” Cherri Bomb slammed the doors open. Vaggie’s gaze lingered on Cherri Bomb, her eyes wide, almost sparkling. Charlie’s heart panged with something bitter again. Why was she staring at Cherri Bomb? Vaggie didn’t look at her all day? “I’m here bitches!” she yelled, flipping her strawberry-colored hair over her shoulder. Her single eye looked over the crowd, and it lingered on Vaggie, a bit too long for Charlie’s taste. There was a chain. That goddamn pink chain. The invisible chain leading to nowhere from Vaggie finger…led to Cherri Bomb. Cherri Bomb? What the hell did she think she was doing here? The fucking audacity. 

SNAP! 

Her Dad almost yelled, “Hey, um, Char-Char.”

“What?” She barked. Then she quickly threw on her soft demeanor and flashed her sweetest smile. The look her father was giving her didn’t show a lot of happiness like his usual self. 

Lucifer pointed a finger at his hat which was in Charlie’s hands, “Um…Charlie…you broke the brim of my hat.” He squeaked. His brows were furrowed. His voice was small like he was squeezing his own throat to stop himself from yelling at her.

Charlie’s eyes snapped down. Sure enough, the brim was limp in her hand. A heavy feeling swarmed over her heart. Shit, shit, shit. She clutched the crushed brim in her hand. She flung her arms around her dad. “Oh Dad. I’m SO SO SORRY! PLEASE–”

What the hell was this horrible burning jealousy stemming in her? No, no, not jealous. Concern! That was what it was! Vaggie’s eyes were on her. Cherri Bomb besides her girlfriend. Cherri Bomb with a soulmate chain connected to Charlie’s girlfriend. HER FUCKING GIRLFRIEND?!

“Hey, hey, it's okay, Charlie…” He patted her back. Even as she had her arms wrapped around her father, she was staring. 

Her head was burrowed in his puffy white shoulder but even then, her crimson eyes peeked over. Her soft grey hands were grazing over Cherri’s skin, a tease, a laugh. GODDAMN IT! That twinkle in her eyes was so bright, so happy, looking upon Cherri with so much love.

“CHARLIE! LET GO!” Lucifer yelled. Charlie snapped to attention. Her claws were dug deep into her dad’s back. She jumped back, her demon tail swishing behind her, curling. Her hand idly touched the top of her head where little horns poked out. Fuck. Then there was something slick, something slick touching her hair, on her fingers. She yanked her hand back and stared at it. Gold assaulted her vision. Slimy, slick gold dripped down her claws. 

“Dad…” she said. SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! WHY! Her gaze slowly met her Dad’s. He smiled then his face contorted: a wince. “Dad…fuck. I can’t–” This horrible feeling was bubbling again, threatening to spill forth from her tongue and to fuel her fists. No, no, no. Her claws were on her head, digging into her skin, scratch them out, maybe it would stop, maybe if she screamed enough Vaggie would look her way. Maybe Vaggie would care enough. 

Don’t lose your shit. Don’t lose your shit. Don’t lose your shit. Don’t lose your shit. Don’t lose your shit. Don’t lose your shit. Don’t lose your–

“It's okay. It's okay. It's okay…” Lucifer kept saying. His eyes were so wide, so sad, pitiful. No, stop. STOP THIS! Charlie wanted to push him away, throw him, throw him right at Vaggie and Cherri. Drive them apart. Drive stupid Cherri away from her girlfriend. She wanted to hug him again, her arms were outstretched yet she pulled back. Charlie had hurt him. His shiny gold blood was on her hands.

“See. See?” Charlie didn’t even look as Lucifer twirled his fingers and the hat was as good as new. “See? It's fine, Charlie.”

Cherri Bomb and Vaggie were whispering. The others too, Angel, Husk and Niffty looked concerned. Cherri Bomb looked positively terrified. A terrible smile crossed Charlie’s face. Good. Then her eyes went wide. Fuck. What the hell is she thinking? That’s…cruel. She wanted Cherri to be…terrified of her?

Alastor’s shadow fell over the King. Lucifer glared up, staring daggers at Alastor. “I don’t think you are helping the situation, your majesty,” His silky voice slivered down her spine. 

Lucifer stabbed a finger at Alastor and said with a muffled, “Shut up, strawberry. YOU’RE NOT HER DAD!” He gritted his teeth. “LET ME HANDLE THIS!”

Alastor let out a little “hmph. He bent over, leaning ever so slightly near Charlie, “No, I am not, but–” Alastor went on.

“I swear to fucking God if you say–” Lucifer hissed.

Alastor straightened himself and pulled at his bowtie, “But…I am her soulmate.” His smile gleamed in the harsh crimson light. “I believe this type of situation requires a different touch.”

Lucifer raised his fiery gaze, “You better not fucking touch her.”

Charlie finally released herself. The back of her hand quickly wiped over eyes. Little tears were threatening to spill. She did NOT need another episode like yesterday. “Hah, um, I’M FINE!!!” She made little finger guns with her hands. Poor Charlie looked like she had aged a millennium. 

“Jesus Christ…” Angel mumbled.

A few hours later…

The sun was beginning to set, and the activity had not started yet. Shit.

“Phew…” Charlie straightened out the wrinkles in her pantsuit. “OKAY! TIME TO PICK THE TEAMS!” She shouted above the din. Vaggie and Cherri Bomb were sitting together. Charlie didn’t dare look. She might actually burn down to the ground Cherri where she stood. Ha, pleasant. Holy fuck, this bitter feeling was NOT great at all. 

Charlie held out the hat with shaky hands. Her Dad's smile was thin. “Okay, so remember for this game there will be four teams so there will be four turfs. A middle area where it is neutral ground–”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, princess.” Angel plucked a little name out of the hat. He stuck his little white head close to the slip of paper, “The Cupcake Cuties?” He squinted his eyes at it and waved it in the air. “Who the fuck named these teams???”

Charlie hopped up and down, “I DID! I DID!” She stared at him with those wide crimson eyes, “Do you like it?” Lucifer glared from behind at Angel. 

“Uh…” Angel scratched the back of his head, “Yeah, toots!”

“Oh good!” Charlie beamed. She turned to Husk, “You next.”

Husk rolled his eyes and stuck his hand into the hat. He lazily drew it out of the hat and read it aloud, “The Cupcake…oh.”

Angel Dust smirked at him and propped an elbow on Husk’s shoulder, “What does it say, Whiskers?”

Husk slapped a palm to his face, “Cupcake Cuties.”

Angel Dust arched a brow, “I’ll put some frosting on your cupcake, Husker.”

Husk stared at him. Just stared at him, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Angel Dust just grinned.

“Okay! Let’s move on!” Charlie clapped her hands, “Niffty!” 

“Hehehehe,” Niffty hopped up and swiped a slip out of the hat. “Oooh…the…Sparkly Unicorns?” Niffty pouted and crossed her arms. Her eye was drooped as she looked at Charlie, “It's not a very fierce name.”

Lucifer picked next, “SPARKLY UNICORNS!!! LET’S…oh.” Niffty grinned up at him.

“EHEHEHEHEHEHE! MY BAD BOY IS WITH ME!!!!” Niffty scrambled up his leg. 

“GAHHHH! HELP! HELP!”

Eventually they were able to peel Niffty off Lucifer’s leg. For someone so small she had a grip. Niffty for the rest of the drawing was in Angel’s lap. Or rather Angel was restraining her in his lap. “Fuck, she’s frothing at the mouth!” he yelled.

“JUST HOLD HER, WILL YOU?” Lucifer cried.

A little while later…

“WHY DO THEY GET A BADASS NAME???” Angel yelled. Charlie was glaring at Cherri Bomb and Vaggie who were too positively happy to be on the same team. 

Vaggie smirked at him, “The Deadly Narwhals are just better.” That horrible feeling was working its way onto Charlie’s tongue again. She chewed the inside of her cheek, hoping it would stifle anything horrible that was threatening to spill forth.

“What are you holding back, my demon belle?” Hot breath was on her neck. Alastor’s hot breath to be specific. She smacked a hand to her head. A little something pulled at her heart. His static was right in her ear, almost a soothing—

“Fuck off Alastor…” She whispered under her breath. The last thing she wanted to do was say something stupid. Her eyes were locked on Vaggie dancing around with her little soulmate. They were fucking dancing. Practically. Whispering and smiling. Did Vaggie know? Did Vaggie know what this was doing to her? Charlie’s insides squirmed, twisted and writhed beneath her skin. 

Charlie wanted to smack herself again. This was so unlike her. This horrible intense jealousy burning away any patience and self-restraint. Cherri Bomb…she couldn’t take it anymore, but she couldn’t turn her away. She was Angel’s friend, a dear friend at that. And…Vaggie’s soulmate. FUCK!

“Hah…okay last one,” Charlie took the slip in between her fingers. “The…um…Raunchy Reindeers?” Charlie said with her brows furrowed. What the hell was this name? She waved the little slip around. Alastor’s smile was twisted in a puzzled fashion. Angel was howling with laughter. “Uh…I didn’t put this team in??? The last team was supposed to be the…oh God what was it…” She raised a finger, “Oh yeah, the Prowling Puppies!” 

Alastor folded his hands behind his back and peered over her shoulder, “Hm…yes, that’s incorrect. It’s meant to be the—”

“Radio Reindeers?” Angel shouted above Alastor. The Radio Demon shot Angel a glare which Angel didn’t seem to care about. “Yeah, fuck that…the Raunchy Reindeers are better!” What the fuck was happening?

Charlie spun around to the two of them, “You…you guys changed the names?” Her clenched hands went to her hips. “Alastor, you're not even playing.”

Alastor grinned and twirled his microphone, “Oh yes I am, princess.” He slammed his microphone into the ground. His gaze locked on Angel’s heaving body. Charlie didn’t know what was funny. Angel coughed. “Why did you change the name, Angel?”

Angel kicked his legs up and his eyes glanced between the two of them, “Hmph, well—”

Charlie threw up her hands. No, this was not happening yet. She needed to know. Had to know. What the fuck was happening. Charlie pivoted to the smirking Radio Demon. God, she hated that smile of his especially when he was looking down at her. She said firmly, “Alastor, I was going to recruit a sinner to be on my team. You can’t be on my team.”

Alastor’s eyes flashed with something she did not like. With his slender fingers, he plucked a slip from the hat. A slip which had not been there before. “Oh, but look at that,” He held the dainty slip between his fingers right before her eyes. “A slip of paper with…” He glowered, “The Raunchy Reindeers on it.”

Charlie swiped it out of his hands. “No, Alastor.”

Alastor let out a scoff, “Well I thought this was a game amongst…” he paused, sparing a glance around the room, “...friends.” His slender fingers extended towards her, “I thought we could become better business partners, Charlie. Bonding if you will, hm?”

A scoff echoed and Lucifer pushed his way in between them, “No fucking way in Hell, slick guy.” Charlie wanted to slam her head into the table over and over again. Jesus Christ, Alastor and her dad were always at each other’s throats.

Charlie decided slapping yet another spread hand to her face was the better choice. “Oh god, Dad. Please let me handle this.” She gently pushed her dad out of the way. It wasn’t hard to do.

“Charlie—”

“Dad…please.” Charlie sucked in a breath and looked up at Alastor, “Why do you want to be on my team so badly?” His eyes were so intense. Jesus, how could anyone stand to look for longer than five seconds? 

“Well, I wouldn’t say badly–”

“Cuz, he wants to suck face with you when daddy dearest isn’t looking.” Angel cut in. Redness flooded Charlie’s face. No, no, no! Not now. This could not be happening for a second time in front of Vaggie. Look if Vaggie was going to start flirting right in front of her, she shouldn’t stoop to the same level. However, she wasn’t. Angel was just being Angel.

Alastor bristled and straightened his bowtie. His ears twitched and fell flat on his hair. “That’s a preposterous thing to say. I do not—”

“Husk said the same,” Angel said rather nonchalantly. Husk stared at him, a blush also creeping up his cheeks. Angel waved a lazily hand in his soulmate's direction. “Now look where we are.” He kicked his legs onto Husk’s legs. Husk just scowled but didn’t do a thing.

Charlie just stared at Angel, Alastor, and Lucifer going back and forth. Her face was only heating up more. Outrageous comment after outrageous comment kept plummeting her. She thought the wind could topple her at this point if this went on. Angel remained amused, casual even when Alastor’s and Lucifer’s faces were beet red.

Starlight twinkled outside. Fuck, it was getting late. “Ooookay!” Charlie threw up her hands, “I think that’s enough.” She waved Alastor over. His ears perked up, yet he made a show of walking quite slowly to her side. “Okay fine, Alastor you’re on my team. Welcome to the Raunchy Reindeers” Charlie said wearily.

“The Radio Reindeers…” Alastor corrected.

Charlie put her clammy hand to her face, “Whatever…”

“WHAT???” Her Dad cried. 

“Dad…we’ve got to get this activity started. It's almost 8pm. It's final.” Charlie said firmly.

Her Dad just stared at them. His jaw was practically scraping the floor. He puffed out his cheeks like an angry chipmunk. Lucifer jabbed a finger at Alastor and declared, “Okay, fine Alastor. I’M GOING TO DESTROY YOU IN CAPTURE THE FLAG!”

“YAY!” Niffty cheered.

Alastor just stared, “I’m on the same team as your daughter.”

Lucifer paused for a minute, lost in thought. He gave Charlie a weak smile, “Sorry Charlie.” before his anger switched right back on at the sight of Alastor, “I’M STILL GONNA FUCKING DESTORY YOU!”

“Great…” Charlie dragged herself to a large cardboard box she had placed off to the side. She beamed at them as she withdrew an obscene uniform, “Here’s the clothes for Capture the Flag!”

With one snap of Lucife's fingers, the field was set, and all the flags were waving in the distance. Five large squares were placed in the “backyard” of the Hazbin Hotel. A violet, pink, gold, and red flag snapped in the Hell breeze. “Alright…” Lucifer mashed his fists together. The gold uniform fit him well despite it being embroidered shirts and shorts. 

The group stood atop the Hazbin Hotel roof specifically a flat area overlooking the game field in all its glory. It was quite a splendid sight. A bit dramatic to be standing atop the roof, clothes billowing in the wind, wooden weapons held high. The breeze whipped at Alastor's face and ran ghostly claws through his fluffy hair. 

Alastor huffed as he pulled at his ridiculous outfit. It was too casual, too unprofessional. He looked like one of those pathetic track runners in the 21st century. He was quite acutely aware of everyone in his company staring at skinny legs and arms. No less if it were any more humiliating that his limbs were covered in fur. Ugh, he had hated his skinny figure in life and now the fur in death. It truly was Hell. Alastor kept it trimmed but there was no denying it was fur no matter how many times he tried to pass it off as hair. This fur nonsense was a reason why he wore long pants even in the blistering heat.

He wished he insisted on wearing the suit. No matter how impractical it was.

How the hell had Charlie convinced him to wear this silly outfit? Charlie was hopping up and down beside him in a similar get-up. A sporty crimson dress with a little deer, no reindeer embroidered on the pocket. The dress was much like her battle dress during the whole fight with Adam. It was quite adorable—

Stop. Alastor shook his head and glared at the King of Hell.

Charlie held up a little whistle and started the countdown. Magic swirled in the King’s hands. She yelled, “Three, two, one, and LET THE GAMES BEGIN!” 

A whoosh of gold magic encircled Alastor and Charlie. It moved in wisps, a snake clothed in this glittery gold snapped at him from the gold veil. Alastor flinched. The King giggled. Fuck him.

Then they were somewhere else. Thunk. Alastor’s face was pressed against the ground, his cheek squished against the wilting green grass. Lucifer just couldn’t help it could he? He sighed and looked up. 

Her golden hair haloed her pale face in the beautiful hues of dusk. Her lovely hand was outstretched to him. Alastor took it and mumbled, “Your father is charming.”

She let go just as quickly. Charlie bounced on her feet, “Yeah.” She held up a hand to him. Alastor’s brows furrowed. Oh yes of course. They high fived. How trivial. “You ready, Alastor?” Her smile glimmered in the crimson light. 

“Of course, dear,” Alastor plastered on a grin.

“Okay, Raunchy Reindeers CHARGE!” She shouted. A few devilish birds squawked and she sprinted headfirst into the forest of neutral territory.

“The Radio Reindeers,” Alastor corrected. His eyes wandered to the crimson flag lying beside him, “Charlie, dear?”

“What?” She spun on her heel, brandishing a foolhardy wooden weapon. 

“The flag,” Alastor deadpanned, “We must hide it.”

“Oh yeah, of course!” Charlie exclaimed. She twirled her wooden pitchfork in her hands, grinning. By golly, she looked so happy. A little stressed with dark purple bags under her eyes but happy. 

A little true smile touched his lips. How the hell had he gotten himself into this?

Chapter Text

The Hazbin Hotel’s lights twinkled in the distance despite being devoid of life. Life thrived behind it, in the twisting forest of her father’s game. The crimson moon washed the grassy knoll red. It was beautiful grazing its moonbeams along the leaves dancing with crimson, the animals skittering around with it as their guide and most of all the two who stood in the clearing. 

The Raunchy Reindeers stood, one glowering and one eternally smiling up at a gnarled tree. “Hmm…here is perfect,” Charlie said as she twirled the crimson flag in her hands.

“No, it's far too obvious,” Alastor remarked. A certain cold calculation was in his eyes as he raked over the clearing. 

A sigh slipped out of Charlie, and she spun around in her game dress to Alastor. She glared up at him, “You’ve said no to every spot I have picked.”

Alastor peered up at the tree, running his long fingers on the withering bark. “Well,” he gave her a sharp look, “All of your choices have not been…to put it plainly… not satisfactory thus far.”

She threw her hands on her cheeks and dragged them down. Her bloodshot eyes wearily looked at Alastor, “Alastor, the grace period is going to be over in like A MINUTE!” Charlie took a step towards him, “We need to pick a spot. NOW!”

“My, oh my, is the princess taking this game seriously?” Alastor tilted his head and grinned at her. 

Charlie folded her arms firmly, grumbled and turned her back to him, “Yeah.”

A snap rang out behind her. Shadows wreathed around the clearing. Charlie yelped and stumbled back into something firm. She spun around. Alastor stared down at her, crimson eyes glistening in the Hellish night. Charlie stumbled away again and murmured, “Sorry.”

Walls sprang up around her, ceilings weaved across the ceiling and floors slithered across the withering ground. They were…inside? Had Alastor transported her somewhere? It was quite grand with a dome ceiling and a large swirling staircase ahead. The place was donned with hues of red and black. The building seemed like an odd but satisfying mix of a gothic style and a Disney princess castle. The ceiling was gilded with some foreign images from long ago: earth paintings perhaps? Music drifted from somewhere within the building, a somber ghost wandering through the halls. Wow, this place was huge.

She pivoted to the grinning Radio Demon, “What did you do?”

Alastor simply glanced around at the marvelous building, no castle, damn it could be called a palace. “Hmph…it's our fortress.”

Charlie just stared at him. A few moments went by where she just stared and him and he just stared back. She spun around in her dress, “Alastor, look I love it but we’re not playing Disney princesses, are we?” Charlie definitely noted that she would have to return her if it still remained after the game. Then she paused in her trek as she scanned the room, “Wait… Alastor,” Charlie turned back to him, “I don’t think this is legal in this game…”

Alastor let out a long sigh, “Actually it is Charlie.” He waved a hand at the room, “Half of those rules were about “no maiming. Well, nowhere did it say that erecting wondrous palaces was not allowed.” 

Charlie grumbled. Damn it, she hadn’t thought about that. She gave him a puzzled look, “Then…why?”

Alastor sauntered to her, his hands tight behind his back, “Obviously, to distract them. And to hide the flag, of course.” he let out a little scoff as he drew near, “I’m sure at least Angel, Lucifer, and Niffty will be enchanted long enough to draw them away…from their true goal.”

“Hmm…well I should probably go hide the flag now,” Charlie’s eyes narrowed as she tried to pinpoint a good location. The swirling staircase led to the upper floors. Three large arched doorways led down three separate lovely lit halls. Charlie took a step.

“Before that,” Alastor’s hand caught her own, slipping so easily into her grasp. He said, “Would you care for a dance?” Alastor's eyes glinted with a certain air that made her pause. 

A shiver ran down her back. The music drifting down the hall was nothing compared to the slight hum of his staticky voice. A voice that was smooth, charming. Heat rushed to her cheeks. Alastor was asking her to dance?

Vaggie. But it was just a dance? He was looking at her, awaiting her reply. Alastor’s hands were firm, warm, hands that she wouldn’t mind guiding her. Step after step. Perhaps a few laughs after she stepped on his toes. Maybe not. Vaggie. That voice nagged, screamed. 

She uttered, “Uh…” Charlie slipped out of his loose grip. “Another time! Let’s go hide the flag!” She threw him her best smile, a nervous one at that, and sprinted up the twisting staircase. 

Alastor gave her a curt nod before falling in step with her hurried footsteps.

“MHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”

“Are you done, my bad boy?” Nifty pouted from beside him. Lucifer stood before his creation. His creation. Damn it might’ve been more spectacular than Eden. Well, mostly because that blasted Radio Demon was playing house with his little girl in the distance. He wanted to ensure it was going to be a royal pain in the ass. Lucifer scowled at the castle, fortress, or fucking monstrosity in the distance. Its long limbs for towers craned over and scratched the sky with its pointed towers. It looked like it was going to topple over any minute.

Yes, of course, he had first assumed his talented daughter had built it but no. No, no, no. Only Alastor had the audacity to smack a fat ass red deer in the biggest stained-glass window. Its crimson eyes glared at Lucifer. Charlie had more class than that. 

“Yes,” Then Lucifer swiveled. “And can you please stop calling me that?”

Niffty grinned up at him and grasped his leg, “No!” she said lovingly. Niffty nuzzled in his leg. Good God, this soulmate thing was becoming exhausting. Maybe this was a bad idea. 

Lucifer sighed and waved his fingers, “Okay, one more touch to this,” The King motioned to his creation, “and we’re off you little frothing psycho.”

“Yay!” Niffty giggled. 

With his grayish hands, he let the gold magic whirl from his fingers. It zipped through the air, lightning fast before encircling his loving creation before him. Then it zoomed up, spread itself thin and the most wonderful thing (at least for Lucifer) ever appeared. 

Its quack rumbled through the arena. Lucifer smiled up at it and spread its hands before it. It was mighty and yellow in all its glory. His beloved creature’s beady eyes slid to him, and it flapped its futile wings. Lucifer took a stance, stabbing his cane into the ground and turned. 

With a finger, he jabbed it to the forest, the nightmares which waited beyond. Lucifer turned to the mighty monster duck and commanded, “Be brave Sir Quackelewaddldon. GO FORTH AND SPREAD CHAOS!” And the duck did so.

Then something sharp sunk into his leg. He screamed, then he looked and then he screamed again. Niffty was attached to his leg, drawing away from a hole in his knee. A mouthful of cloth was in her jaws.

“DID YOU JUST FUCKING BITE ME???” Lucifer screamed. He shook his leg, but it did nothing to deter the tenacious little sinner.

Her eye dreamily looked up at Lucifer, “I love men…” She sunk in her sharp teeth again.

Charlie squinted into the distance as she stepped over a gnarled root. She just stared, “What. Is. That?” 

“Whatever it is darling, it is certainly your father’s creation,” Alastor said from behind her.

Charlie sighed, not even caring to glance over her shoulder at him. The Raunchy Reindeers were in the thick of the neutral zone. A forest that seemed more like a jungle with its twisting vines and semi coherent winding path. She thumbed the map crinkled up in her fingers. It was quite crude with wild lines drawn over the place. She had drawn it up with Alastor a few minutes ago back in their…no, the palace. 

Charlie threw a look over her shoulder back to their base. Alastor was behind her moving seamlessly amongst the roots and brush. She could see Alastor’s little shadow helpers standing at attention. Her heart clenched and she said turning back to the path, “They’re not going to maim anyone, right, Alastor?”

Alastor scoffed, “They’re not meant for maiming. They’re meant for restraining, darling.”

Charlie clung onto a tree as she swung her body over a steep bog. She groaned and said, “Could you stop calling me, darling, please?”

Alastor hopped over the bog easily with his long limbs, “Hmph…” he tapped his chin. “No.” He grinned at her, ear to ear. Damn it, he was the worst. Well maybe not the worst to be on a team. However, he was being a real pain. 

As she cut through the thick brush with her pitchfork, her eyes lingered on the little red chain connecting them. Soulmate. The word brushed its fingers against her, against every part of her body. What a heavy word. Not a word, a person. A person who was behind her. Alastor. A chill coursed through her body, not the cold type nor the scared, the one full of excitement. 

Stop.

Charlie cursed as she tripped over a root. The staticky hum behind her spiked and then settled when she regained her balance. She threw a dirty glare in Alastor’s direction; he remained forever grinning at her. “More accustomed to palace life, I assume?” He sidled up right beside her, twirling a wooden ax in his hand. The ease of his fingers moving so deftly around the handle, barely nicking himself with the blade made her stomach turn. He seemed so used to the feel of it. 

Her eyes snapped back to the path before her, watching the jutting roots in the path. The duo took a sharp turn to the left and marched on to their destination. She warily peeked at him. His eyes remained ahead, eyes moving at every snap within the forest. “And what would you know about forest life, huh?” Charlie asked.

A little old tune drifted from his radio. Alastor hummed along to it, swinging his ax at an upcoming branch. “A thing or two,” he said nonchalantly. The old tune was only interrupted by the rush of water.

Charlie arched a brow as she studied the upcoming creek ahead on the scrawled map. “Then you can’t exactly judge me, can you?” 

Alastor spared a glance at her and said, “Ah hmm…well I can.” Charlie looked up at him, staring back into those intense crimson eyes of his. She gulped, she thought she would sink and drown in them if she looked too long. He twirled the ax in his hand and his gaze became distant, pensive. “I used to hunt them in woods just like this…” His eyes turned away from her, lingering on the scenery. 

Oh, God. Charlie let loose a nervous laugh. He better not be talking about his victims. Oh yes, he probably was.

In a blink of an eye, he twirled the ax seamlessly between his fingers, took aim and it soared, landing squarely in the bark of a tree. She flinched, her eyes darting between him and the tree. “Ah the thrill!” With ease, he pulled the handle from the tree, walking on beside Charlie like nothing had occurred. He studied the ax in his claws, “A crude weapon. A rifle would do better…” Alastor turned to her, “Don’t you think, Charlie?”

Another nervous laugh rocked Charlie, “Ha…uh…fuck no.” She threw up her hands, pitchfork in one and her other hand clenched. “No offense.”

Alastor grinned at her, “None taken, Charlie.” His shoes squished underneath as they approached the muddy stream. Alastor mused as he used the blade to look at himself, “I’ll make do with this.”

Charlie sighed and looked up at him, “Remember Alastor. No. Maiming!” She grimaced at the thought of the Radio Demon going batshit crazy maiming on one of the residents. She pinched the bridge of her nose and looked to the river, “Okay…” She pulled out the map again. “The Cutie Cupcakes base is that way.” Charlie pointed across the river ignoring the Radio Demon at her shoulder.

Charlie looked down cautiously at the rushing creek. Bits of smoldering wood drifted down the river like lost souls. It was a strange mix of Earthly and Hellish elements. The creek was an opaque surface of green with rocks jutting out of its veil. 

“Is something troubling you, princess?” His velvety voice rang out behind her. His static hissing above the crashing of water. “If you would like I can carry you across?” A snideness. A tease. 

Charlie groaned, turned and put her hands on her hips. She said sternly, “No, I do not need your help.”

Alastor shrugged, “If you say so.” His body collapsed into a dark shadow with an ethereal emerald smile before gliding across the waters. Without a drop of water, he sprouted up from his shadow at the other side of the creek, hands folded behind his back. “Your turn, princess,” he smirked.

Charlie scowled at him before proudly waddling across the creek with all her might. When a current smashed into her, she held onto a sturdy rock determined to stare Alastor down all the way through the treacherous journey. Various pebbles collided with her ankles leaving little purple marks. The chill burned all the way down to her bones. 

That stuck up idiot thought he could tease her, taunt her like this. She didn’t need his insufferable help. 

Charlie finally, with much effort, crawled her way out the stream and collapsed. God this was embarrassing. How was she able to go head-to-head with Adam but not cross a stupid stream? Wetness clung to her, everywhere, clinging onto her skin and body. The dress hugged her curves, her socks and shoes soaked to the bone and her hair a royal mess.

“My, you look awful,” Alastor remarked from behind her. She whipped around, a spray of water hitting his shoes. Charlie desperately ran a hand through her soaked hair. 

She spat, “Well you know that’s impossible because I’m your soulmate,” Charlie glared at him. “It’s impossible for me to look awful.” She blinked and red hit her cheeks like a train in the doomsday district. 

A record scratch screeched through the forest for a brief moment. Alastor squinted his eyes at her, “Well, you do,” His voice wavered ever so slightly. Alastor’s smile gritted as he held out a hand to her, he avoided her eyes. “That was a terrible retort,” he muttered.

Charlie huffed and took his hand pulling herself up. The awkwardness hung thickly in the air like an old wet stringy mop in a basement. She twirled her slick fingers, closing her eyes and imagining warmth. No, dryness. Blissful freedom from the nasty water clinging to her skin. Her eyes snapped open only to feel the hollow cold still holding onto her pale skin for dear life.

“What?” She twirled her fingers again. Even tried a few snaps. Nope, nothing. The Radio Demon stared at her all the while an amused smile played on his lips. Well, he was always wearing a stupid smile. “Shit…” she uttered and looked in the direction of her dad’s base. Damn! He must have veiled the area with a magic blockage charm. Just now. “Ugh…”

“What’s the matter, darling?” Alastor asked. A small laugh escaped his wall of shiny gold teeth. Charlie’s neck snapped in his direction. Her eyes narrowed. Alastor offered a lazy smirk and said, “It seems like my dear princess was a little reigned on,” Then he burst out laughing. He was laughing. Throwing his head back now, hand over his stomach, laughing. The nerve! 

“What?” Charlie glared, “That doesn’t even make any sense?! I’m just…” she stared down at her soaked dress. “I’m just wet.” she jabbed a finger at the creek, but he wasn’t even listening. “FROM THE CREEK!”

Alastor’s gaze shifted to her. For a moment the laughter ceased. For a moment she thought he was going to take her seriously. Then his mouth opened, “Well, wet’s get on with it!” Another fit of laughter overtook him. Was he fucking high? He was losing it. This side of him…was so strange. Puns? Really? That was his favorite humor? It seemed so.

Her smile was gone. Her teeth grinded into her pearly whites. Without a flicker of a thought, her hands gripped his forearms. His eyes stared back into her, for a split second his eyes were wide like a deer in the headlights. She would’ve thought he was cute if he wasn’t being such an ass. Charlie twisted her boot and with all her might hurled him into the creek.

Alastor just smirked halfway through the throw and motioned his hands. His eyes blinked again. He did it again. Charlie smirked at him, “No tentacles to save you, Al.” The other half of the split second was spent on a strangled cry as he plunged headfirst into the icy cold water. 

She leaned over, looking into the opaque surface of the creek, she grinned into it. “Water you up to, hm?” Charlie giggled at her little pun. Served him right after all his stupid bullshit. Something red surged out of the water, swiping at her ankles. A very soaked Radio Demon wadded through the water, glaring daggers at Charlie. His red hair was matted against his head, fluffy ears wet, and his radio dials swirling in his eyes. 

“YOU!” Alastor hissed, taking another swipe at her ankles and then he launched onto the shore, crawling his way to standing. When he looked up, Charlie was already ten steps ahead of him. “I’m going to–” he spat. 

Charlie laughed, “You have to catch me first!” And she took off. The undignified soaked Radio Demon chased after her.

Angel kicked up his legs onto Husk’s legs. The soulmates lay pleasantly on a picnic blanket, nursing whiskey and listening to a distant bird’s song. Both of them seemed very unbothered by their lack of participation with capture the flag. Angel leaned in close to Husk’s ear and draped his spare arm over his soulmate’s shoulder.

“Say, Husky?” Angel’s mismatched eyes raked over the pleasant field before them. “Wanna make some love in the green grass?” His hand rubbed smooth circles on Husk’s back, slowly making its way south.

Husk’s eyes perked up and then he threw a wary glance over his shoulder, “Uh…Angel I don’t know. I think we should at least try to go along with Charlie’s game,” Husk thumbed the inside of his glass nervously.

Angel took a deep gulp, leaning in close to Husk. The alcohol was on his breath. “A little quickie. Come on,” Angel huffed. His hand moved up the Cat Demon’s shoulder, drawing lazy circles over the fur.

Husk frowned at him, “The last thing I need is boss walking in on me fucking on the job.” He shifted on the blanket. His eyes fell on a little ant crawling along the blanket, scuttling away to its destination, unseen. 

“You’re off the job, whiskers,” Angel deadpanned, dropping his hand off Husk’s shoulder, letting it lay behind Husk. His hand scrunched up the picnic blanket. Husk stared onwards barely acknowledging Angel’s gaze on him. “It’s capture the flag for Christ’s sake!” Angel threw up his four arms. “The rest of them know we’re not taking it seriously. How likely is it that Alastor is gonna come barreling in here in the next five minutes?”

Husk grumbled, “We’re drunk.” His soft arms wrapped around himself. He spared a glance at Angel’s awaiting gaze. “I don’t feel all that great having sex with you…drunk.” 

Angel let out a sigh and ran a hand through his fluffy white hair, “I have sex all the time drunk.” he grinned at the pouting Husk. “What’s the difference now?”

Husk huffed, “The difference is that we’re soulmates. That’s a lot different than just a bang.” His claws dug into his skin. “And…and you’re meant to be my other half—”

Angel chewed his cheek and snapped his neck to Husk, “There’s always something, Husk.” He threw up his hands, giving Husk a stern glance. He leaned in close, jabbing a finger, hot breath on hot breath. “You know every time I’ve offered you’ve said no. Is there something wrong with me? For fucks sake, we’re soulmates! Isn’t that supposed to be like the best fucking of your life?” 

“Angel…” Husk said, “What about a fucking date, huh? Ever heard of that?”

“Of course I have!” Angel’s eye twitched. “Don’t you fucking insult me. What the hell does a date have to do with any of this?”
Husk pinched the bridge of his nose, “I just…Angel…I just wanna get to know you. Like I want to have candlelight dinners. I want to stargaze.” He clenched his claws hands and looked up at Angel. “I want that.”

Angel snorted, “So did those late nights spent together mean anything to you??? Sitting on the roof, stargazing? Look it may not have been your fancy smancy pretty little dinners. BUT IT WAS FUCKING SOMETHING, HUSK!” Angel jabbed a finger. “Those weren’t dates? You sure acted like they were…”

“Angel…look, those were special times…”

“But not dates?”

“Look, Angel you’re not listening—”

Charlie came bolting through the field, rolling and tumbling all the way through. Alastor tore after her. Angel just stared at them, the conversation at hand temporarily paused. “Uh…” he pointed at the two with his thumb, “What the fuck are they doing?” Husk shrugged.

“Alastor!” Charlie shouted at the red-faced Radio Demon seemingly soaked from head to toe. “We’ve got to find the flag! Cut this bullshit, now! We’re at their base.” Angel and Husk didn’t bother to stop them and watched the pair run circles around the field. 

Angel poured himself another drink and laid down on his elbows. Charlie found the flag without much trouble, plucking the flag from a noticeable hiding place. If one could call it a hiding place. The place it had been left originally forgotten, in the middle of the field. Charlie stopped mid-step, stared at the flag, at the Cupcake Cuties and then at the flag. Alastor didn’t notice her stop and slammed right into her from behind. The two toppled into the green grass.

Angel frowned and threw an outstretched hand in their direction, “Husk! We could have been doing that if you hadn’t been so…” Angel paused mid-sentence, looking at Husk. The Cat Demon was staring ahead lost in thought. Their soulmate chain was so close, it was almost touching. 

“GAH! GET OFF!” Charlie yelled at Alastor. Angel just let out a deep sigh as he watched the two tousles in the grass. He wasn’t worried. Charlie was the Princess of Hell after all. Alastor was nothing compared to her. 

This stupid, self-centered idiot wasn’t even trying to hit her, they were just rolling around in the grass like two whiny children. The green grass was warm under the sun’s touch and a forgiving battleground. The two of them were a tangle of limbs, not quite sure of the goal of this whole tussle. The red chain connecting them was intertwining, glimmering under the golden sun.

What was Alastor’s goal in all of this? She wasn’t quite sure. Charlie blinked once, twice as the tussle paused. The sun was in her eyes, running its fingers through the halo of red hair. A few lingering drops in his mess of hair glinted in the sunlight. His hands were on either side of her, claws curling into the swaying grass. “I have you now,” Alastor grinned at her. “What shall I do with you?” The words fell so effortlessly off his tongue.

Heat rushed to her face at those words. That charming Transatlantic accent of his left her trembling under him. They were so close. His hair was almost brushing her face. Charlie’s hands clenched tightly around his wrists. Her heart hammered. So close. His lips were in reach of her own.

Fuck. She couldn’t stay this way a moment longer. No, she couldn’t. Her fingers were dangerous, her lips too. No, too close, far too close. Charlie couldn't dare to stay like this a second longer. Swaying grass, warm sun, a day screaming… Vaggie. 

“Holy fuck, guys, I’ll make my way out if I’m interrupting something,” Angel teased from behind, his voice suggestive. Charlie’s heart clenched around those words. Alastor let out a scoff like this wasn’t one of the most intimate positions in history. 

With swift hands, she pushed him off. A laugh, more like a nervous laugh slipped, “Ha…that’s enough Alastor.” The Radio Demon sat back on his knees and then stood up. He offered her a hand, but she didn’t take it and she rose to her feet on her own. Charlie turned her gaze away from him. This overwhelming feeling was pooling in her stomach, she couldn’t bear to look at him for another minute.

She frowned at Angel and Husk, saying disapprovingly, “Are you guys even taking this game seriously?” Charlie picked up the poorly drawn cupcake flag and waved it in their faces.

“Nope,” Husk said and took another swig of his drink. Angel grinned at the Cat Demon before doing likewise. 

Charlie sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, “Come on, guys! You can at least try to make an effort!” She placed her hands on her hips giving them the sternest look she could muster. By the looks on their faces, they could care less.

“Well—” Angel started.

A hand grabbed Charlie and started dragging her along. “Charlie,” Alastor said quickly, concern creasing his brow. 

“Alastor! What now?” She tried to pull out his grip.

Alastor’s gaze turned stone cold, “We’ve been invaded. My minions are reporting that…” His face contorted into one that Charlie could guess was annoyance. The smile was really throwing off her emotion reading game. “...Good God, we better get moving.”

Charlie rolled her eyes and pulled her arm out of his grip, trotting beside him out the clearing. She still looked over her shoulder and waved merrily at Husk and Angel despite her disappointment. Charlie frowned, she hoped they were at least bonding or something of the like. She glanced up at Alastor, “Alastor you know this is Capture the Flag? It doesn’t have to be serious—”

“I take all my games seriously,” Alastor said in a dead serious voice. “Now quick!” The pair ran through the forest, homing in on their invaded base.

Chapter Text

“What the hell is this piece of shit?” Cherri Bomb remarked as the Deadly Narwhals stared up at the monstrosity of a structure in the Raunchy Reindeers base. She squinted at it and put her hands on her hips, “I’m pretty sure this is illegal…the Hell zoning board is gonna have a field day if this stays up for too long.” 

Vaggie let out a laugh, “Well, I would think it's illegal even in the game but apparently not. Charlie would’ve said something…” The pair crouched in the tree line, vines swaying overhead. A glint was in Cherri Bomb’s eye. Vaggie gave her a nervous smile, “Well, we’ve got to come up with a plan–”

“Nah!” The pink haired demon effortlessly linked hands with Vaggie. The ex-angel’s eye went wide, and she stumbled after Cherri. “Let’s just go for it, Vaggie!” she chirped. 

“Cherri! Wait!” Vaggie eye went wide. Oh God, what the hell were they doing. Cherri seamlessly pulled a bomb out of her pocket. How did it even fit in there? “Hey, hey…uh, Cherri!” Vaggie tugged on her hand that seemed to fit so well in her own. “This doesn’t seem safe! Let’s go back.” She squeaked. Vaggie’s acute angel sense zoned in on a blur of black at the far side of the field. Actually, multiple blurs of black. DAMN IT! She jabbed a finger to the shadows across the field, staring at them, “Shit. Shit. Shit. Those are Alastor’s minions. Cherri, goddamn it, they’ll be here any minute!”

“Let them come…” Cherri said and then giggled, still holding onto Vaggie as they pranced across the field. Vaggie rolled her eyes. Cherri might actually be worse than Angel Dust. Just so irritating, spontaneous and just…Cherri. “Can you pick up the pace, Vag?” Cherri teased, turning her eye to the red faced Vaggie. The double doors were within sight, at least twenty steps away. And shit, the Alastor’s shadows were about forty steps away. 

Vaggie huffed, “We wouldn’t have to run if we had planned it out!” The shadows were thirty steps away. Shit. Shit. Shit. Cherri had been a delight until this point. “We’re not gonna make it, Cherri!” The door was so close. So close. But the shadows were much closer than either of them would like.

Oh God, did Charlie set ground rules about the shadows? Like of course, the no maiming rules. However, Alastor wasn’t exactly the best rule follower. Vaggie’s eyes darted to Cherri Bomb. They were running but they would never be fast enough. 

“Hold on!” Cherri Bomb shouted. With her other hand, she fumbled with a bomb. Vaggie’s hand was warm, warmer than usual against Cherri Bomb’s soft pink skin. Cherri flashed Vaggie a snide smirk of hers before she let the bomb soar. There was a Boom and then pink smoke coiled around them.

“Shit. Now we can’t see!” Vaggie sighed, trying to wave her hand through the thick curling smoke. A scream, Cherri’s scream rang out beside her. Vaggie was yanked forward, yelling as they tumbled. 

“FUCK! IT'S GOT ME!” Cherri Bomb yelled. A maniacal cackle rang out through the clearing. Those blasted shadow henchmen. Claw latched around her leg trying to pull her down to the ground. Digging hard, terribly hard, sharp teeth would be next if she didn’t do a damn thing.

“GET OFF!” Vaggie shouted to the relentless shadows. The pink smoke was not helping things at all. The little black beady eyes could be seen through the veil of smoke. She twisted her leg, shaking as hard as she could until she heard the devilish squeal, and the beast lost its grip.

Damn, Alastor. That little deer demon wanted her to suffer through this. Today was not the day she was going to be put in Capture the Flag jail. If the two were thrown in, then it would be the last straw for the Deadly Narwhals. Alastor stupid smile gleamed at her from the smoke, a shadow always watching. And that stupid patronizing radio voice. She swore she could hear his static crackling from the depths of the veil. Her hands clenched up, her grip tight on Cherri Bomb’s hand. 

Vaggie did the only thing she could do. She sucked in a breath. Time to woman up, Vaggie. Her single eye closed as she willed her blessing and her bane to reveal itself. The fluttery feathery things called angel wings unfurled from her back, delicate and fierce things forged by Heaven itself. 

The duo was surrounded by Alastor’s loathsome minions. A heavy pink smoke veiled the area thanks to Cherri. And a distressed Cherri Bomb clung to her hand. 

Vaggie turned ever so slightly, “Do you trust me?”

Cherri Bomb’s eye blinked in the pink and she said, “Uh…why?”

Vaggie rolled her eyes and smirked, “No time to explain. You’re gonna have to.” she hollered. “Hold on, buttercup,” Vaggie’s hands snaked around the pink demon’s waist. 

“Wait what? AAAHHHH FUCK WHAT IS HAPPENING!” Cherri Bomb yell turned into a scream as Vaggie’s wings propelled them upwards. Vaggie seamlessly tucked Cherri Bomb against her body, hands looped under the pinkish knees. One of Alastor’s shadow minions clung onto Cherri Bomb, grinning like a maniac. 

The wind whistled in her ear, a scream rivaling Cherri’s. Claws sunk deep into Vaggie’s shin, she hissed and her gaze dove down to the source. Somehow that little shadow fucker was holding on for dear life. Its teeth eerily reminded her of the Radio Demon’s: yellow, stark, and sharp. The shadow grinned at her. 

“Don’t you dare, you little creep,” Vaggie gritted out. She started kicking her leg, trying to shake the damned thing off. It was tenacious, digging in even deeper. 

“Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck….” Cherri Bomb kept whispering into Vaggie’s shoulder.  For a moment, a mere moment, she could acutely feel the woman’s body against her own. Warmth. A body fitting just right in her arms…a puzzle piece needing to complete her. Fuck. Vaggie shook her head. Thinking like that would get her nowhere. 

But she was so warm. 

Something warm, slick trickled down her shin. Something she knew well. A feeling on her grey skin that was a lover’s phantom touch. Her gaze drifted downwards. Pain shot up her leg, little needle pricks of teeth burrowed in her skin. She screamed. So much for the “no maiming”. It was still grinning despite having its teeth inches deep into her leg, gold blood dribbling down her leg. 

In the red blur, a pink hand reached out, tearing the shadow minion from her leg. Vaggie screeched, her knees buckling. She wouldn’t be able to fly for much longer. The little beast squirmed in the grip of the pink hand and another hand shoved a beautiful pink bomb down its gullet. Her eyes drifted to the woman in her arms, eye narrowed in pure fury, a vicious smirk on her face. “Eat my dick, fuckhead,” Cherri Bomb hissed.

Vaggie smiled. And red streaked across her vision. She gasped. Shit. The wound was gaping, spilling forth with her blood. The red sky was raining gold and this joke of an angel was cradling an explosive obsessed demon. How strange. “Vaggie…”

“I want to kiss you.”

Two figures stood in the large abomination deer castle as Lucifer would like to call it. His fingers were thumbing through the drawers of some random bedroom in search of the Flag. Lucifer blinked once then twice. The voice had come from above. His eyes slowly drifted up until he saw one large orange cyclops eye ogling him from over the brim of his hat. “GAHHHH!” he screeched. In one swift motion, he ripped his hat off his hat and threw it like a frisbee across the oddly vintage room. “What did you just say to me???” he stumbled over his words.

Niffty still clung to the hat, cradling it and she stared up at it. “Ooooh…” she giggled. Her eyes flicking up and down his figure. Lucifer gulped. The gaze was quite similar to the first time he approached Eve with a glistening apple in his palm. It seemed he was the apple to this crazed maid, unfortunately. The King ran his fingers through his blonde hair nervously. “I wonder what it's like to fist my fingers in those blonde locks of yours, my bad boy…” she simpered, clutching her mighty hand into a fist.

Lucifer squeaked, “Eep.” He hopped on a plush chair as she crept towards him on all fours. “Uhhhh, Niffty, we’re trying to win.” Lucifer pointed a shaky finger towards the window. “Sir Quackelewaddledon is awaiting our signal. He’s plundering the other bases and we…well, we got to prepare.”

Niffty nodded her head slowly, entranced with his face. His already round cheeks grew a shade redder. “I want to touch you,” Her pupil grew wide, and her nails scraped against the wood of the chair. 

“Oh…” He let out a mouse-like noise. His yellow sclera grew wide, his little red irises pinpoints among the sea of yellow. A heavy, breathy laugh escaped him, and he coughed. She grinned at him. The room was stifling. Unseen flames licking away at his skin. Was it hot in here? He tugged at his bowtie, gulping hard on the lump in his throat. “Oh really? Haha. Cool? Ha, no. Nah,” he rambled.

Niffty pouted and crossed her arms. She stuck out her bottom lip and sighed, “We’re soulmates, my bad boy.” Then her eyes lit with wildfire. “We’re meant to be together. Ehehehe…” 

Then Niffty scrambled up the chair, earning a well-earned scream from Lucifer. Before she could get a firm grip on him, he leapt over to the bed. His claws sank deep into the covers, desperately clinging onto anything to shield him. 

“Don’t run, my bad boy…!” And he stopped dead in his tracks. That sing-songy voice had come from behind him. He twisted his head slowly to see her head poking over the edge of the bed, climbing up onto the bed like a steep mountain. This woman was willing to move mountains to get to him. Lucifer gulped.

“Uh oh…” The poor King flipped onto his back as she successfully climbed up. She was staring. Staring right at him. An idle hand tugged at his collar, sweat beading down his forehead. Lucifer scrambled back on his fours only to feel the wood of the headboard against his back.  

She was tiny! This was laughable! He almost wanted to laugh but he couldn’t not with that crazed look in her eye. What could she possibly do? A nervous giggle escaped his lips, and he clasped his hand over them a little too late. What could she not do to him? 

Niffty giggled as she settled her small body on his chest, staring up at him. Lucifer wanted to scream, to do something! Yet he was frozen, staring right back into that orange pupil of hers. So wide, almost adorable if he wasn’t considering the situation. 

“You’re such a good boy, you know that?” One of her small digits tapped on his nose. Red blossomed under her touch. For a minute, stars danced above him at those words. And his head went careening into the headboard.

“FUCK!” he yelled, and his grey hand went to the back of his head. A small stupid little bump was starting to form. “Ow…” he let out a small moan of pain.

Niffty giggled, “I like it…when you make that sound…”

Something started crawling around in his insides at those words. Somehow his already red cheeks grew a shade redder, threatening to split his cheeks open. His face twisted into one of pure shock, eyes shot up high above his hairline. “Wha…what did you just say to me?”

“Let me help you,” Niffty reached out a hand to grasp his blonde hair. Her somewhat mischievousness remained but it grew softer.

“Fuck…” he whispered as her fingers grazed over the spot. Lucifer winced a bit then her nails dug in accidentally.  “NIFFTY! AAAH!” 

Light flooded into the room from an open door. “Uh, Dad?” 

At that voice Lucifer snapped straight up in the bed with Niffty curled against his chest. “Hey, hey, Char-Char. No! No! This is NOT what it looks like!” Shit. Shit. Shit. CHARLIE! Two silhouettes stood in the door; one had the familiar glowing red eyes of his daughter who simply stared in complete befuddlement. 

“Uh…” Charlie held out a finger as if she was going to say something. Her gaze shifted between her father and Niffty. “What are you doing, Dad?”

Lucifer quickly shoved the little bug demoness off him and leapt up to his feet. “See? Clothes on!” he proclaimed proudly even doing a full 360. His face felt like it was melting under his daughter’s gaze, dripping little pieces of white skin onto the floor. He proudly said with a firm hand on his heart. “I did NOT in fact have sex with Niffty! No sex at all! No penises swinging around at all! Promise!”

Charlie shook her head and put up a hand, “Dad. Dad. I get the picture. Please.” 

Niffty giggled, “Not yet at least.”

Lucifer let out a loud sigh and spun on his heel to the demoness who was hopping around the room excitedly. “You are not helping!” 

Alastor tutted and extended a hand forward, “Well, dear Charlie, are we going to just stand here or are we going to capture them?”

Lucifer’s eyes were blown wide, “Haha! FUCK! SHIT!” He looked frantically around the room and spotted her, “NIFFY!” With one arm he scooped up the feral little pink demoness and bolted towards the windows.  

However just as he reached them, multiple pairs of tentacles slammed the windows back down. “I don’t think so, my dear King.” He heard the drawling voice of Alastor behind him. 

Lucifer stopped short and spun around with a giggling Niffy kicking her feet in his arms. Alastor stood smirking with a gentle hand on Charlie’s shoulder. Almost like it belonged there, slotting his fingers in between her shoulder blaze and her neck like a puzzle piece. 

His eye twitched. He could evidently hear the fantasized sound of each wretched knuckle in the Radio Demon’s hand cracking for every second it spent on her shoulder. 

Charlie laughed, “Yeah, well, we got you, Dad!” A laugh from her father cornered like an alley cat. 

Lucifer hissed, “I don’t think so…” Alastor leaped forward a little too late as Lucifer snapped his fingers. Sparkles danced on the edge of his fingers, a little show before the true one would waltz in. Lucifer smirked at the everlasting grin on Alastor’s face and said proudly, “Sir Quackelewaddledon…SIC!” 

“Oh fuck, what the hell is that?” Angel remarked as he nursed another beer. The adult film star leaned back to stare at the monstrosity that could be seen over the trees. 

Husk threw an idle glance in the direction of the chaos and simply rolled his eyes. “Who fucking knows…” Angel’s mismatched eyes slid over to Husk. A pang of guilt washed over him; a feeling that wasn’t alien in his veins. He gulped, watching the handsome demon drink away. What the fuck were they doing? Drinking in the middle of the damned day like a bunch of losers? Silently?

Angel fiddled with his fingers. The silence had been broken for a brief moment, but it had piled on again as it always did. Like stones, as every minute ticking by, another one would be added, and another, and another until they would die under the weight of words not said. 

Angel closed his eyes, the sun running its soothing fingers along his fur. The ruffle of the wind through his hair. A little tug on his finger and Angel winked one eye open. Husk’s gaze was on him. Warm orange eyes gazing into pink ones. That little insistent violet chain urged him, begged him forward. Slowly his eyes flickered down to the Cat Demon’s lips.  

And Angel realized he wanted to kiss him. Not in that hungry way in the studio. No, no. Not in the way he would lift his eyes to some actor, run his tongue along his member and suck. Not in the way, he would desperately pepper kisses up alien thighs. No, not in the way he would bite and suck and claw in some lustful way at a man he barely knew. Not in the way, he would let a man bruise, hit, and still love so tenderly. The whiplash leaving him in shambles, a mess of limbs and feelings. 

No, Angel wanted to lean forward and press a small gentle kiss to his lips. Then he would draw away, run his eyes over him, seeing if his eyes were wide, narrowed, confused, content. And without another word, he would scoot an inch forward. Run his hands lovingly down the man’s fuzzy shoulders and wrists. Cup a soft hand against his cheek and press a deeper kiss. 

A deeper, more passionate kiss that would burst his heart into a thousand fireworks. And his hands would move to the man’s waist, hold it close as he gasped between breaths. Drowning in their kisses, kisses he lost the count of. Lips that he could get dive into, eyes he could get lost in and he wouldn’t mind. 

Close so close, hands digging into his shoulder. A soft rumble of his laugh would jolt his body. That comforting baritone voice coursing through his system. Rolling in the grass, soft swaying grass that would flatten under them. A sea of green spread around them, only them in a sea of green. No grotesque song of fucking playing over the speakers. No, the song of birds, a gentle song. 

Then they would stop before it went too far. “Take it slow.”, “Wait” and “Cherish it”. Not just another fuck. A love. His words echoed in his head, “...not just another bang.” 

Soulmates. What a heavy word. A word in love stories and fairytales coming to life. Rather, the afterlife. His other half. The one he was destined to be with. To love, to cherish, and most importantly to care for. Care? Love? Cherish? Words so alien to Angel. In a world full of desperate one-night stands and senseless fucking…Hell, no less. Hell was no place for this sort of love. 

Yet even then, Angel wanted to rest his head on Husk’s shoulder. Listen to his deep breaths, feel the rise and fall of his chest. Wanted to feel alive. Not some machine in some porn factory. A machine destined to fuck and pleasure and nothing else. No, he wanted to be more than that. 

He wanted Husk.

“Are you alright there, Angel?” A hand was resting on Angel’s shoulder. His hand. Husk’s hand. 

Angel blinked. His eyes landed on the soft claw slightly digging into his shoulder and then it flickered back to the Cat Demon’s face. Angel gulped and it felt like he was swallowing a handful of glass shards. 

Angel twiddled with his many thumbs, not daring to look Husk in the eye, “I…well, I’ve been thinking…”

Husk’s soft voice made Angel glance up, “Well, go on…” Angel always knew what his eyes looked like. They were the eyes which he imagined every night looking upon him softly, gently…like how they were now. And now he knew why he loved them so much. Eyes akin to a warm sun, the nights long and hard yet when the sun rose, he would find himself…at peace, in the warmth. Husk’s warmth.

“I’ve been thinking…” Angel sighed, “...about what you said.” That sly iconic Husk smile crossed his face, yet he didn’t say a thing. “Well! Fuck it!” Angel said quickly and he smirked back at Husk. “You probably need it, don’t you? All you do is sulk at bars all the damn time.”

Husk just rolled his eyes playfully, “For Christ’s sake, Angel, get to the point.”

Angel let out an amused sigh and poked a finger in the Cat Demon’s chest. “I’m gonna take you out to the town, Ol’ Pentagram City! You need it anyway!” Angel waved a disinterested hand. “How about we go out to Bloody Mary’s tomorrow? 7pm?”

Husk let out a laugh. A warmth rushed over Angel, and he smiled, a genuine one. Husk gave him a look, “So…you’re asking me out on a date, huh?”

Angel shrugged, “Yeah, I guess so.” 

Husk shook his head playfully, “Sure!”
The Spider Demon narrowed his eyes and glanced up and down at Husk’s outfit, “Also…Husky, I’m gonna be judging what you’re wearing.” Angel winked at him, “You do know how to dress up, don’t you?”

Husk gave Angel a smile and snapped back the straps of his suspenders, “Of course I do! The question is do you?” 

Angel just stared at him dumbfounded and Husk started laughing. “Are you seriously laughing at your own joke, Whiskers?” Angel asked with a very deadpanned look on his face. “I’m a fucking model, of course I do.”
“I’m just pulling at your many legs.”

“I only have two.”

“Then your arms…”

“How fucking drunk are you?”

Husk stared at the surprisingly few beers at his side, “I don’t get drunk easily anymore…though I can’t think quite straight” His orange eyes flickered up to the Spider Demon. “I guess I’m drunk on something else…”

A blush creeped up on Angel’s cheeks, he crossed his arms and mumbled, “Sweet talker…”

“That I am…” Husk said coyly, his lips upturning ever so slightly as he took another sip of his beer. “So what now?” he glanced at the Spider Demon who sat across from him.

Angel let out a loud yawn before settling his head on the crook of Husk’s shoulder. “I don’t know…” he shifted his body a little closer to Husk, nuzzling against the Cat Demon’s neck. “Let’s just stay here a little longer…” he said.

“I’M GOING TO FUCKING END YOU!” 

Charlie found herself standing in a sea of hellfire, licking away at her figure. The ceiling was the floor and the floor the ceiling. Anything that was left of the bedroom before was mere pieces of wood. The words mingled among the chaos…her ears unsure whose voice called out.

Sir Quackelewaddledon raged in the distance. Its yellow ruffled feathers were flaming with hellfire and tipped with deadly spikes, futile tentacles attempting to seize the beast by the middle. Its great jaw revealed a maw of gleaming sharp teeth, big enough to swallow the small figure fighting it off with ease. 

Her father sat proudly on the top of the ruffled head of the monstrosity of a duck egging it on. Her hands were curled into fist, her eye twitched, her sclera bordering on a shade of red. She stood in the gaping hole of the palace, shards of glass littered at her feet and wood hanging near her head. 

She should’ve known. She should’ve known they would take it too far. Both of them. Alastor and her father. It had started with a petty battle between them within at least ten minutes of her father visiting the hotel. It had continued with Alastor complaining about the Sunday pancakes her father would make. Her father complaining about the early hours Alastor would wake him up at. Alastor complaining about how her father was distracting her from her hotelier duties. Her father complaining about Alastor being a terrible influence and a terrible business partner. 

And she was always caught in the middle of it. A rope in tug of war between two petulant puppies. Two rather annoying puppies that would shit all over her good work when the time called for it. Two puppies constantly begging for her attention. Breaking, mauling, and destroying just for her attention. Two puppies constantly needing her, constantly depending on her. Two puppies constantly warring for her.

Puppies? Charlie shook her head. Was she truly comparing them to puppies? Children would make more sense. Two stupid children tugging at her arms until they would be ripped from her sockets. She didn’t realize until she pulled her hands away from her hair that she had pulled two hefty chunks of her thick blonde hair. 

She had to be calm. Yet angry brewed, shredding her insides with its long spindly fingers and clawing its way up her throat. Clawing, scratching its way up her fleshy throat until it would dance on her tongue and finally exploding into a bellow, “STOP THIS!” 

Three heads swiveled to her. First Lucifer’s then the duck’s then Alastor. Only Lucifer’s face turned back to look at the distracted Alastor. His flaming eyes unusually soft looking upon the princess. And a grin spread across her father’s face. A grin which made her face drop. Pride. The sin of pride. A love for himself and his abilities overlooking anything else within his vicinity then certain victory.

Fuck. 

Too late. Far too late. She had no time to scream. A warning. However, she knew it was inevitable. Alastor was playing with the fire of pride, and he was going to get burned, badly. The ruffled yellow duck’s wing raised up, burning brightly with hell fire, golden spikes gleaming under the Hell skyscape. 

Thwamp. 

The Radio Demon was a blur of red as he went flying. The small blur smacked into the side of the palace. Charlie’s feet slipped underneath her at the force. Holy fuck. How hard did her dad hit him? A panel landed right next to her foot. And the defeated blur of red slumped down onto the floor.

“ALASTOR!” Charlie screamed. There was no reply. Nothing at all. The little blur didn’t move. Didn’t say a thing. Her father’s eyes were on her…wide. “What have you done…” She hissed, flaming little horns peeking in her hairline.

“I don’t want to fucking hear it, Dad.”

Charlie was kneeling by Alastor’s side. He was slumped against the wall, eyes closed, his smile ever so wide and bright under the gleaming Hell night. Her father stood behind her, a few appropriate steps away. Sir Quackelewaddledon peered over his King’s shoulder, peering curiously at the unconscious Radio Demon. 

“Charlie, I didn’t mean to—” Her father began.

Charlie shot up to her feet, “Yes, you did!” She shouted, her breath spitting hellfire. “You know for a fact he is weaker than you. You knew what would happen if you two fought. And you still went ahead and did it. You practically, went for it.” Charlie spat, gesturing a wild hand in Alastor’s direction.

“Charlie…” Her father started off soft then his voice hardened, “He’s horrible. You know that right? He started it!”

“He’s my friend and my business partner.” Charlie took a deep gulp. Her nails dug into her hand drawing her gold blood, it pooled into her palm, dripping onto the dark ground. 

“And your soulmate,” he grumbled. 

Charlie took a step towards her father and jabbed a finger in his chest, emphasizing with each poke, “You are acting like a child!” She threw up her hands, “He was my business partner long before you started this whole soulmate bullshit.”

“I never meant for this to happen!” Her father gritted out behind his clenched teeth. He stabbed his cane into the ground making Sir Quackelewaddledon behind him flinch. Her father motioned towards Alastor with his slender grey fingers, “You think I wanted this cheesy talk show piece of shit being my daughter’s soulmate? I thought you were going to be with Vaggie!”

Charlie hissed, “He’s hurt and now you’re bringing up the whole soulmate thing???” She stood a little taller, towering over her father, “I didn’t ask for all these complications. You decided to shove them onto me. Now…” Charlie turned back to the wounded Alastor, and she threw a desperate glance in her father’s direction. “Help me.”

Her father looked at her for a moment and then his gaze shifted to Alastor. A little light in his eyes made her heart flare up with hope. Then he gritted his teeth, narrowing his eyes at the Radio Demon and he took a step back. Every muscle in Charlie’s body clenched at that simple, menial action. His eyes told her everything, pure absolute pettiness was all that reflected back at her.

“Fine…” Charlie spat. With ease she bent down on a knee, carefully snaking her hands behind Alastor’s back and under his slender legs, scooping him up in her arms. Her father’s eye twitched at the act yet he still remained standing, silent. 

Charlie steeled herself, willing herself not to collapse. No, not from the weight of Alastor…that was easy, no, under the weight of her father’s gaze, boring into her back. Each step snapped off a small piece of her as she trudged away with Alastor in her arms.

His inhales were soft, uneven. Charlie’s eyes raked over his face. It was surprisingly peaceful, she had never seen him unconscious, asleep, she supposed she could call it. A silent thrumming sound echoed from deep within his shallow rib cage. A heartbeat? Charlie wished she had one. It was a soft thu, thump. Something easy, rhythmic almost like the beat of a song she would hear drifting through a sleepy town. Charlie held him a little closer and walked on.

An excited voice shouted out, “I got their flag! I got their flag!” Niffty looked up at the King, her face flushed with absolute joy as she waved a ragged flag depicting a terribly drawn reindeer. 

Lucifer’s face was blank, impassive, and he didn’t dare tear his gaze from his daughter’s retreating figure. He let out a long sigh, “Now isn’t the time, Niffty.”

Niffty tilted her head and followed his gaze to see Charlie’s figure disappearing into the thick of the trees, heading back to the Hotel. The little maid spun back to him, her eyebrows furrowed, and she said, “What? But we won?”

Lucifer bit the inside of his cheek and spared a glance down to the excited demoness. His lips lifted into a small smile and his eyes grew wider when he saw the flag he beheld in her hand. Lucifer pumped his fist in the air, “FUCK YEAH! WE STUCK IT TO…” His gaze wandered back to where Charlie had disappeared off to. “...to…Alastor.” The King then collapsed, falling into a heap, and sitting cross legged in the muddy swamp. He tugged at the brim of his hat, pulling it over his eyes before he shouted, “FUCK!”

Chapter Text

Pain. Liquid fire streaking up his veins and spreading to every crevice of his body. Perhaps this was all a dream and true Hell was simply fire. A whiplash of chills and fire sparking on his skin kept his eyes squeezed shut. He hoped he would melt or freeze to death then perhaps he’d finally have peace. 

Someone was speaking. He wasn’t quite sure who. And he didn’t quite honestly care anymore. 

He wanted to scream. Say anything at all but all he could feel was blinding fire and lightning sparking from his chest. A dull thud was rhythmically bashing into the back of his head. A music piece that he tried to focus on, tried to tap his foot yet his body remained immobile. His fingers flying across piano keys, humming a small tune to himself, playing along to that loathsome music thumping against his nerves.

“ Al…? ” a voice said from the world beyond his body. If only he could reach out, touch the throat which spoke such a familiar name.  

He had heard of a place beyond Hell. A place where a soul would transcend to after they had been “killed” again. A void, a place so wicked and dark that angels and all that is holy would cower at the thought of the name. A dark endless void where souls would wander alone for all eternity. 

Was he there? In a place where he was trapped with the most loathsome person in the world: Himself. A world where all the senses would disappear. A plane where memories of the life he had lived before would die. A void where everything becomes so distant his own touch would become alien. 

A place that Sinners would deny the existence of in fear. 

Perhaps he had died again. Perhaps he was there. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so terrible. He’d simply fade into nothingness, a husk of himself doomed to wander an endless darkness. If he was in a place where pain was nonexistent, a place where everything was erased then why were his nerves still on fire?

“ALASTOR!” Nails were digging into his shoulders and his body was shaking violently. Christ, couldn’t they let him die in peace? Fuck. Die? Die in peace? What was he thinking? Where was he? 

That voice. His eyes snapped open to look upon a rather crinkled and worried pair of crimson eyes. “Charlie?” the words slipped off his tongue before he could stop himself. 

“Alastor!” Even with the splotches of black on the corners of his vision, he could see her fling herself onto him. Her arms snaked around him, that voice filled with worry only moments ago filled with relief. A hug? Alastor blinked and pain streaked up his body at her touch. A wince threatened to escape his mouth, and he bit down on his tongue. 

If she held on a second longer, he thought his steel would split in two. His shoulders tense enough to crack under the weight of her. He didn’t mind it, and he knew he should. The pain was crawling up, screaming in his ear to push her off. And even then, with his body in a mess of bruised and bloody limbs, he couldn’t. What was wrong with him? Perhaps a loss of blood. 

Loss of blood? Lucifer. The memories lapped against the dam of his mind, holding them back from drowning him. Her daughter was clinging onto him, a halo of her hair spread upon his bloodied dress shirt. Then finally his steel buckled and that wince he had been holding back for what felt like years fell from his lips. 

She drew away, that warmth that had settled in his chest snatched away from him. Her gaze swept over him, studying his eternally smiling mask. She grimaced and looked over at him, “Sorry. I got carried away. I just thought…”

“That I had died?” A laugh effortlessly sailed from his mouth, and he gasped as his chest screamed in pain. Fuck. He whispered internally yet he continued with a good-mannered smile, “It’s going to take far more than your father to kill me, dear!” 

Charlie’s fingers fiddled with each other, and she looked up at him, her gaze hooded under her lidded eyes. A handful of heartbeats passed. She sucked in a breath. Alastor knew that look, that manner, she was nervous. The words still came, slowly, evenly from her lips, “Why did you let it fester?”

Alastor blinked slowly. Recognition flickered across his gaze, yet he feigned ignorance. She couldn’t know. His clawed hand rested on his abdomen only to feel skin. Skin? He blinked again, his gaze falling to his chest. What little decency he had was gone. His vest and shirt had been cut in two . Despite the pain, his hands flung on his chest where it shimmered nastily underneath, and he tried to pull the fabric together. A desperate attempt to hide.

“What is that ?” Seriousness was thick within the princess’ eyes as she jabbed a finger at his chest. 

Alastor almost sputtered yet held himself back, lifting ever so slightly from the soft surface. A bed? That was beside the point. He threw a question back in her rather rigid face, “Why is my shirt cut open? Hm?” 

Charlie slammed a hand to her cheek and dragged it down until it fell down into her lap. She was being rather dramatic. “It was an emergency. I didn’t have any time to, you know, do the whole thing. And I didn’t want to hurt you anymore than you already are.” Her palm dug into the comforter as she asked, “Now, stop dodging the question. What. Is. That?”

“It's nothing,” Alastor waved it off and then winced as he shifted against the mass of pillows behind him. 

Charlie let out a long, angered sigh. My, that devilish side of her was really showing. Well, simply a temper, he shouldn’t get too ahead of himself. “That is not nothing,” Her hand flew in its direction, and she stared at him. Glared at him and he wanted to sink into the sheets, never to be found again. “That is a wound inflicted by an angelic weapon and you let it fester. And now…” Charlie clenched her hands. “It’s reopened and it looks really bad, Al.”

Now it was Alastor’s turn to sigh. Why did she suddenly care? It was her father’s fault they had ended up in this mess. Yes, had it let it fester a bit? Had he wrapped it up and tried to keep the whole mess under wraps ? Yes. What was truly his crime? “Well, what am I supposed to do, Charlie? It’s a wound. It’ll heal…eventually.” He slumped down into the pillows, the sensation of softness tickling the back of his neck. “No thanks to your father, it will take much longer now.”

“What are you supposed to do…?” Charlie said slowly, turning to Alastor, bits of red in her vision. She shot up to her feet in a flash and spat, “YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO ASK FOR HELP!” Alastor didn’t even flinch, his hands rested behind his head as he studied her. “And…and now…” Charlie stuttered, hands flying to her curls and bunching her hair into little tufts. “Because you didn’t do that… God only knows what it's done to you.”

Alastor tilted his head at the sight of the rather rattled princess. Why did she care? Well, she was caring even for the Princess of Hell. A role one would assume would be taken up by a bratty tyrannical daughter except that wasn’t her. His claws reached to his chest. With a few clawed fingers he dipped his fingers into the wound. Pain streaked up his spine as he drew away, blood and pus coating his fingertips. That wasn’t as bad as he expected. Alastor laughed, invoking another handful of painful sparks around his chest, “It’s fine, dear. I’ll simply wrap it up and it’ll be fine.”

“DO YOU EVEN HEAR YOURSELF? DO YOU SEE THIS???” Charlie yelled, her voice sending shocks through his bones. Her hair was a mess, her eyes narrowed, and little devilish horns peeked from her hairline. “DO YOU EVEN CARE ABOUT YOURSELF?”

Alastor rolled his eyes and let out another sigh. It appeared he had an endless supply of them tucked in his back pocket. “Darling, all I’m hearing is lecturing. If you have nothing nice to say I might as well be on my way.” Alastor slowly lifted himself off the pillows despite the pain screaming for him to stay in place. He was about to swing his legs over the side when something pushed him back into the covers.

Not something. A hand . And not simply a hand but Charlie’s hand. Pinning his head between two strange plush pillows with cat faces. Wait. Was this Charlie's bed? 

A burning anger was starting to brew in his chest. She was restraining him. She was trying to control his actions. “Let go, Charlie…” Alastor gritted out behind an eternal smile. 

“No,” Charlie said firmly, evenly. That anger began to pick up speed, turning into an all-consuming whirlwind in his heart. No? “I’m not going to let this go on. You’re only hurting yourself. I’m going to heal you.” The determination burning in her eyes bored into the back of his skull. Then her hands wandered south to that red hot and nasty mess of a wound sitting squarely in the middle of his chest. 

She ripped back what little fabric was there presenting the wound to the world and untucked the disinfectant rag she had used to plug the wound until she could heal it. It was disgusting, vile, a thing not fit for the place which inflicted it upon him. Gold tinged at its edges framing the abomination within. Pinkish flesh slathered in blood and oozing with a rather nasty white pus was what it was. It was certainly something meant to be covered by skin. The bumpy flesh usually hidden underneath layers of skin, was bare to the world, bare to pests of the microscopic world to infest. 

Charlie didn’t recoil at the sight, instead she placed her hand firmly over the jagged area spanning quite a length across his chest. A soft glow emitted from her fingertips, a light upon the fleshy, oozing mass. 

She was doing this against his will. He didn’t want this. No, he was the Radio Demon. He had survived a month with this nasty wound sucking at the little bits of his power. No. It was a request that she had belayed. 

Alastor needed to do something. Wanted to do something. Anything to get her hands off him. He was the Radio Demon. He wasn’t weak. He didn’t need her help.

Just as the edges of the wound began to dissipate, a force shoved her back, sending her toppling off the bed and onto the floor. Alastor blinked, his arms extended, will took over his body. He had just pushed her. Charlie off the bed. Well, what was done was done. She blinked and as realization dawned a fiery anger began to simmer. 

Even as that damned soul chain pulled him toward her. Begged him to get her help. Alastor won. He always did. Just as Charlie’s mouth opened, he said, “I said no. I don’t want your help and nor do I need it.” With his last words, he sneered, “You may be the princess of Hell but even you should know you have no right to force your will upon me.”

With his last ounce of power despite all the pain, despite everything that was screaming for him to stay, one snap and he disappeared into the shadows. 

A soft hand was cupping her face when she slowly blinked her eyes open. “You know, you don’t look so angry when you’re sleeping.” Vaggie heard the familiar giggle of Cherri Bomb.

Vaggie groans as she tries to sit up and she mumbles, “Fuck you.” 

“Nuh uh,” A rough hand pushed her down onto the bed and Vaggie let out an indignant sound. “You’re not getting up for a while, Vags. That little bastard did a number to that leg of yours.”

“What?” Vaggie stared down to see her leg had been wrapped up tightly with long white bandages. Oh, that little thing Alastor had sicced on her. Fuck. Wow, that hurt like a bitch. It was dull now, a light throbbing in her calf but damn. Her eye twitched at the thought of Alastor, the second she saw him again she vowed to wring his stupid long neck.

Then her hands flew to her wrapped up leg. Did she do it right? “I did it right. Promise,” Cherri grinned down at Vaggie, patting her handiwork with the bandages affectionately. “I’ve had my fair share of bites. Don’t ask why.”

Vaggie rolled her eyes. Jesus, this girl was a piece of work. She rolled back her shoulders and leaned against the pillow. A small smirk crossed her face, “So, you’re just going to sit there until I get better like some weeping wife?” Fuck. She regretted the words as soon as she said them. Wife? That wasn’t flirting, was it?

Cherri let out a laugh and tossed back a stray of pink hair over her shoulder. Her single cyclops eye looked fondly down at the fallen angel sprawled on the bed. “Well, I did the whole hurt/comfort shit. Might as well.” Cherri leaned down in her chair, propping her elbows on the comforter and setting her chin in her hands. 

Vaggie blinked and she found herself glancing down at the very short soulmate chain connecting her to Cherri. A frown pulled at her lips, yet she held it back as she looked up at Cherri. Fuck, she was screwed, wasn’t she? “Thanks, Cherri. For you know… this ,” Vaggie motioned with an awkward hand to her wrapped leg and smiled sheepishly at Cherri.

Cherri returned the smile with vigor, “And here I was thinking my thank you would never come!” She sat up in her chair, elbowing Vaggie in the side which earned a glare. “It was no sweat, trust me. And you know, you’re cute when you frown.” Another annoyed gesture earned this time an eye roll. “Come off it, Vags, you know–”

Cherri and Vaggie both jumped just as the door burst open and a frenzied Charlie came crashing in. There was a wild deranged look in her eyes that made Cherri inch a few feet away from Vaggie, a respectful distance. The door slammed shut behind her, sharp black fingernails digging into her blonde hair and then she looked up at the sight.

Her hands drew away slowly and she stared for a few seconds. Vaggie wanted to die under her gaze. Vaggie’s eyes shifted from Cherri who was sitting next to her to her girlfriend who looked like she was going to crack any minute. Oh fuck. Charlie’s tempers were scarce but when they happened, they happened and there was nothing Vaggie could do to stop it.

Charlie’s eye twitched as she glared at Cherri and she said, slowly, evenly, “What the fuck are you doing with my girlfriend?” 

Uh oh. Oh God, Charlie. No, no, no—

Cherri instantly shot up to her feet taking a hint, hands up and stepped away from the bed like there was a gun pointed straight between her eyes. “It’s alright, Charlie,” She nodded over in Vaggie’s direction. “I was just helping her out. She got bit by one of Alastor’s shadow things—” Cherri tried to explain.

“ Alastor… ” Charlie hissed under her breath and then sucked in a breath. Vaggie blinked. This wasn’t Charlie. Something had happened. But what? Crimson was bleeding into her sclera. “I don’t care. Get the fuck out now ,” Charlie gritted out. Cherri looked over at Vaggie and Vaggie almost screamed at her. Get out. Get out. “What did I tell you, Cherri? Out.” Charlie raised a rigid finger up towards the door.

Cherri narrowed her cyclops eye at the fiery princess and said calmly, “Look, I don’t know what’s got you all out of sorts, but I was really just helping. Honest.” Cherri said slowly and motioned over at Vaggie. Charlie wasn’t listening. No, she never listened once she was this deep within her anger. 

“Cherri. Go…” Vaggie said quietly from behind, her fingers digging into the sheets.

“Charlie, hey, just—” Cherri tried again but it was futile.

In a flash, Charlie had stalked across the room and was standing before Cherri. Her eyes fully red in all their demonic glory. Nose to nose, she hissed behind jagged teeth. “She’s, my girlfriend. Hands off, bitch,” Charlie said so calmly, the calm before the storm. The words falling from her mouth were so unlike hers. So, alien in her mouth. 

Cherri’s calm demeanor faded just as quickly. Fighting words. That’s what they were. There was no question. “You seem to be cozying up with Mr. Tall, Dark and Creepy just fine,” Cherri snapped. Her eye staring back into those demonic eyes without mercy.

Charlie squeezed her eyes shut and jabbed a finger at Cherri. “You…just shut the fuck up! You know nothing. Nothing at all. ”

Cherri arched a brow at her and raised her ring finger. No. The soulmate chain leading all the way back to Vaggie’s finger. A loathsome promise yet to be accepted. “Well, I know one thing. Vaggie and I are soul–”

Fuck. Vaggie was just sitting here watching this unfold like some stupid kid egging on a fight. And she was the focus of it. Devilish horns were peeking from the mass of Charlie’s head and her powerful fist shaking at her side, rising slowly. She had to do something. Now. Now before now would be regretted. 

Before another thought had crossed her mind, she found herself ripping off the covers and leaping in between the two, arms spread wide in front of Cherri. Charlie’s gaze suddenly softened, crimson seeping back into the demonic place it had been nestled away for so long. Vaggie wasn’t looking at Cherri, she was gazing at Charlie, but she still said, “Cherri. Please leave…”

Footsteps receded and Cherri’s bobbing head trailed behind Charlie, shoulders slumped. Even as she looked upon Charlie, a mixture of emotions overcoming each of them, her eye lingered on Cherri in her peripheral vision. A single glance from Cherri made her heart clench as the door slammed shut. Her pupil, which was always an X, seemed to burn with both rage and acid sadness. 

The adrenaline melted within her veins, and she found her knees buckling underneath her. As always Charlie’s swift arms caught her, and the pair hobbled over to the bed. Charlie helped ease Vaggie down and then sat down beside her. 

Her hands were still bunched in fists and crimson still flushed her cheeks. Anger, pure seething anger. “What happened?” Charlie asked softly. That voice Vaggie had fallen in love with those years ago asked. Not that voice, not the voice which had scarred her throat all but three seconds ago. 

“Cherri told you,” Vaggie mumbled softly, and Charlie’s shoulders tensed. “Just…” Vaggie single eye looked up to the princess. “Charlie, what happened? Why are you…”

“That doesn’t matter.” Charlie said crisply, laying a hand on Charlie’s hand. “All that matters is that I’m gonna take care of you.” Charlie smiled softly down at Vaggie. And Vaggie wanted to melt. Not in a good way. Just simply melt away into the Hell heat.

“Cherri already did that,” Vaggie insisted. Her hand patting Cherri’ handiwork on her leg, the bandages so neatly wrapped around the wound. 

“Can we stop talking about Cherri?” Charlie pressed, an edge seeping into her voice.

“Can you tell me what happened to you know…” Vaggie looked Charlie up and down, “...make you so angry?”

Charlie leaned in a bit closer, her fingernails digging painfully into the back of Vaggie’s palm. Vaggie stifled a wince and stared back into Charlie’s eyes, determined to find whatever scrap of an answer. “Can you let me take care of you?” Charlie insisted, firmly. 

Vaggie let out a little defeated sigh. Charlie was stubborn. She knew it and she was stubborn too. However, this wasn’t a battle she was going to win. Once Charlie had an idea stuck in her head, it would never get unstuck. “Sure,” Vaggie smiled weakly.

It had been a day since the whole ordeal had occurred. Alastor was nowhere to be seen. Charlie was insisting on being by Vaggie’s side every minute. Lucifer and Cherri were avoiding Charlie for vastly different reasons. Niffty was bothering Lucifer when she wasn’t cleaning. It’s funny how everyone in the hotel knows all about it and yet tiptoes around it, pretending it doesn’t exist. The Hotel was too quiet and even the foundation seemed to sway a bit at the lack of grounding chaos. 

However, Husk and Angel had mostly been spared by the dramatics of yesterday. 

The sight was rather mellow, Angel was lounging at the bar with Husk, taking small sips from surprisingly a rather light brew. “So, are we the only ones that aren’t sulking?” Angel kicked his long legs up onto the stool beside him and looked over at Husk who was shining off glasses. “I mean Niffty’s fine but everyone else? Down in the dumps.”

Husk arched his brow at Angel Dust and simply shook his head, “I’m not getting involved. And neither should you.” He set down a glass wearily on the shelf and picked up another, glancing over at Angel he continued. “I’ve had more than my fill on rants and vents and all that shit last night.”

Angel took a small swig from his drink and set it down with an exhale, “Look, I love Charlie but I’m on Cherri’s side about this. I mean why’d she lost her shit like that?” Angel leaned back in his stool. “I think it’s no fair but who the fuck cares about my opinion.”

Husk smacked a free hand to his forehead and gave Angel a weary look. “Don’t you have anything better to talk about, Angel?”

Angel swirled a digit around his glass while his other pair of arms were firmly crossed on his chest. Then he looked up at the Cat Demon, “You got any details? 

Husk furiously shined off the glass, working at a nasty spot and rolled his eyes. “Even if I knew, I’m sure as hell not telling you. That’s private.”

“Oh, come on!” Angel complained loudly, banging a fist into the table.

“Angel. No.” Then Husk went on, “Can we talk about literally anything else?”

Angel grinned at the Cat Demon, puffing out his fluffy chest, “You ready for our date tonight, whiskers?” 

Husk spared Angel a glance and a big stupid grin crossed his lips. “Yes, I am, Angel. Now…” Husk leaned on the counter, “Are you?”

“Pfft.” Angel waved a hand, “Of course, I am. I’m a professional, aren’t I?”

“In dating?” Husk arched a brow at him.

Angel frowned, “Fuck yeah!” He propped his elbow up on the table and jabbed a finger at him. “You have no idea what my four sleeves got in store for you, ha!”

Something practically stumbled over to a bar stool and shook the whole bar counter as it collapsed its head onto the counter. A weary voice croaked, “I need a drink.” 

That something was Lucifer Morningstar in nothing but a hastily buttoned dress shirt and a mess of unkempt hair on his scalp. Husk let out a long sigh and rolled his eyes, “Fuck no. You’re banned,” Husk grumbled out as he slung the rag over his shoulder.

Lucifer’s head snapped up and he glared, “What?” Then he straightened himself on the bar stool, jabbing a finger at the nonchalant Cat Demon. “You can’t just ban me! I’m the King of Hell.”

“King of Hell or not. I am not serving you another drink. You’re gonna burst a kidney if you keep at it.” Husk laid his forearms on the table, explaining calmly to the King. “Look, drinking is nice and all, but it isn’t gonna solve your problems, Lucifer.”

“Okay. FINE!” Lucifer declared and got up from his bar stool indignantly. “Fuck you! The beer here is shitty anyways.” The King stalked off and Angel gawked at the sight. 

Husk seemed rather indifferent despite the King of Hell just cursing him out. Husk called out to him, “You should talk to her, you know.” That caused the King to stop in his trek, yet he didn’t turn around. “Wallowing in self-loathing and drinking isn’t gonna do shit.”

Lucifer frowned and spun on his heel. “Well, you don’t know shit , bartender. I’ve been around for God knows how long. A billion years! I know how to handle my own kid.” With that, the King of Hell stomped out of the front doors of the Hotel, slamming the front door hard enough to shake the whole room.

Husk shrugged at that answer and Angel said, “You’re gonna let him talk to you like that?”

Husk looked up Angel, “Look, I can’t make any of them do anything. If they wanna change, they have to choose to. All I can do is suggest things.” The words were teeming with wisdom far too beyond anyone’s years.

Angel pondered that for a moment, flipping the words over in his head until he admitted, “I suppose so.” The two enjoyed their moment of silence both excited for their upcoming date but neither admitting it.

Lucifer had always loved to fly. In Heaven a bit more but he knew it would only hurt more to miss something he could never return to again. Even when he mourned the calm breeze, the warm sun and the undulating grass swaying under his feet. An eternal paradise with blue cloudless skies everyday he would never trade his family for it ever again.

He’d left home for them. For Lilith. For Charlie. And even if he had to do it over again a million times, he would choose them every time. Not them anymore…there was no them . No mother, father and daughter no longer. Simply Charlie and him. 

It was all for Charlie and she was all he had left. So, here he was, harsh breeze stinging his face, smoldering skies roiling above him with thunder and the filth of humanity under him, for her. Hell was her home, but it was never his.

He couldn’t fail her and yet he had. Alastor . Fuck that bastard. But Charlie loved that bastard, unfortunately. Cared for him somehow. And she had chosen him . That good for nothing smiling piece of shit over her father. 

Soulmates. What a harmless thing and now he was stuck with Niffty. And those implications were really starting to set in with the way she would sleep outside his door every night, curled up against the doorframe. It wasn’t great.

How was he supposed to anticipate that he had single handedly sabotaged himself? Soulmates . What a stupid fucking idea to create in Hell. Hell always screwed things up and why would something as pure be any different? Vaggie and Charlie were soulmate-ed to different problematic people, doomed to break up. It was only a matter of time.

And to think he was dreaming of a big white wedding only a week ago. A world where he would hook arms with Charlie leading her down the aisle to a beaming wife-to-be: Vaggie. Vaggie was perfect. One very compelling reason was she hated Alastor as well. And also, she made Charlie happy.

But were they happy now? No. No, they were not. How could you be when you’re in a relationship and suddenly you’re being pulled apart by fate? 

He had fucked up. The soulmate thing and now Alastor ? And that stupid prick was worrying Charlie sick with that whole disappearing act. Information that he had somewhat acquired from Husk during the last night drinking session. Lucifer had pounded more drinks that night than he had in the last five years (which was a short amount of time). The last thing he needed was to dip back into his old, nasty, self-destructive habits. It was certainly not what Charlie needed…if she ever needed or wanted to be around him again.

In one smooth motion he dove down, wings fluffing out behind him in an almost but not quite angelic form. The stinging wind whistled in his ears as he finally set himself down on the roof of a rundown building. Shots and screams echoed in the distance yet he paid them no mind. The sounds of violence had simply become crickets to him after all these centuries. 

Lucifer tucked his wings behind him and sat down on the edge of the rooftop, legs swinging. Stupid Alastor. Giving Charlie so much woe. He did wonder where that stupid deer demon had wandered off to. The Pride Ring wasn’t spacious which was lucky at this moment but not great in the long run accounting for the exterminations. How many places could a demon of such stature flee to?

Then he heard it: soft, echoing jazz playing just off north. Lucifer’s eyes darted up to see the newly made Hazbin Hotel’s lights winking away in the distance. For a being of such high stature and of course, heightened senses it wasn’t hard to pick out the noise from the hubbub. It was coming from the old Hazbin Hotel or what was left in its smoldering ruins. 

Jazz. Look, while Lucifer wasn’t a big fan of this radio asshole, he had picked up a few things about him along the way. If there was one thing Alastor loved it was jazz and it was no coincidence surely. Just as his eyes shifted to the ruins, the remains of the old Radio tower’s red lights were blinking to life like it was calling to him.

Fuck. Alastor was there, wasn’t he? Lucifer supposed the deer demon wasn’t as clever with hiding himself, was he? Or did he want Charlie to find him? Knowing Alastor was for the dramatics, it was a likely conclusion.

Something tugged at him to follow that music all the way to that dingy tower. And something else screamed for him to stay planted, unmoving. Lucifer knew where Alastor was, and Alastor had no idea that Lucifer knew where he was.

See the Radio Demon’s annoying ass or go back to the Hotel? The question wasn’t that hard to answer. Despite the guilt tugging at him, his wings unfurled, and he took off. As he sailed through the air, sharp cutting crimson clouds grazing his shoulders, he glanced down to the Radio tower where Alastor was surely cowering.

He could go there, drag Alastor by tooth and nail back to the hotel. Make Charlie relieved again and not worry. Or…he could simply leave, and no one would know the difference. The Radio Demon would make it back on his own terms surely? And worse comes to worse, the soulmate chain will appear again once Charlie goes near that area…if she ever does. It will cease to be invisible. 

Fuck Alastor. Lucifer frowned down at the sight and continued flying on towards the Hotel without a care in the world.

Chapter Text

“ Some day, when I'm awfully low …” the words slip off his tongue, a lilt to his strained voice. His clawed fingers fly across the ivory keys painted in his own blood. The crimson lights flicker every few seconds. He could almost believe it wasn’t blood on the keyboard but he knows better. 

“ When the world is cold …” he sings. His lungs scream for air and that gaping hole in his chest twinges. Without hesitation, he continues, anything to stave off any feelings. He can almost feel her hands on his chest again, those eyes on him again. His fingers slip and he hits a nasty chord. The walls of his old radio tower seemingly shake under the tone. 

“I will feel a glow just thinking of you…” His shoulders tense under the sound. Fluffy ears flat against his head twitch. The wound aches, sending sparks throughout his body. Hands still shaking and voice trembling, he continues. Anything not to think. Anything not to focus on what he has become. 

A pathetic coward. The sentence makes him want to slam the covering for the piano into his knuckles. He resists the urge. What good would mangled hands be? He’s broken enough.

“ And the way you look tonight …” Tonight. For a moment, he looks up from the dusty keys and up to the sky. The world above is dark and lonely, bleak and crimson as usual. Sometimes, he wonders what is the point in looking up. For a brief moment, the sky behind his human eyes flits by and he shoves it out of his mind. 

He’s dead. Been dead for a long time. And he hopes…will be dead for a long time more. His fingers wander away from the keyboard and to the split threads of his shirt. Gingerly, he peels his fraying shirt off his body. The makeshift bandages wrapped around his midsection have bleed through. Scars of the past are branded on his skin, weathered and older scars. He lets out a groan, the newest one is sure to leave a nasty one behind…if he survives it. 

And Charlie could have healed it. The thought strikes him unpleasantly but he lets it brew for once. She could have helped him easily . She still could. A little desperate voice whispers. No. Crawl all the way back to the Hotel after storming off? Still licking his wounds? 

That was out of the question. In front of Charlie? Her wretched father? In front of the rest of the Hotel and possibly word getting out the population? The last thing he needed to do was make a fool of himself in front of the princess of Hell again. 

Then that nagging little crimson chain tugged at his ring finger. He wanted to frown down at it but the stitches in his face held him back. 

With a new found rage, he crinkles his ruined shirt into a ball and tosses it into a far corner of his tower. A mountain of dust unsettles but he doesn’t care, no longer. Nor has he cared about this ghost of a radio tower in a long time. Yet he finds himself sitting here in what once was. His fingers slid across the keyboard once more. His nerves scream out once more in pain and he begins again.

“ Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm… ” he drowns any feelings, any pain, any thoughts in the cacophony of sound. The voice of a loyal piano singing alongside his crackly, strained voice. The lyrics tear him back to a place not too long ago, where satin sheets were wrinkling under his grasp. That soft sweet smile beaming back into his cracked face, light leaking into his bleak world. He almost wished he could reach out to run a thumb over the tears that followed after. 

“ And your cheeks so soft… ” the sky reminds him of the rose of her cheeks. My, how he did love to pinch her cheeks. She would frown up at him under her long eyelashes. And how could he resist a face like that? Well, he did. He left even when she begged him to stay. For more his sake than her’s. 

“ There is nothing for me but to love you… ” Nothing. Was there truly nothing in this world? He wants to rush through the song, have it over with. However, he needs to finish it. He cannot leave the audience of forgotten books and dust disappointed with his lack of a performance. 

Love? What a common word. A common word that somehow meant so much if said the right way. The shimmer of the soulmate chain caught his eye and he slowly traced the links. What a silly thing to be promised. Love? Soulmates? What a silly silly thing. A laughable thing that everyone seeks and everyone sings about. 

He bows his head, preparing to sing the last very sentence of the verse. The notes ringing in his head and hands guiding him to hit the right notes. His lip part and a voice stops him short. 

“ And the way you look tonight… ” a playful, far too familiar voice says from behind. All the hairs on the back of his next stand on end. His stomach dropping into his knees and if he didn’t know better…the stomach being be a bloody mess on the floor. 

His fingers still hover over the keys, in stasis as if he were a deer in the headlights.

“Eh, old boy, don’t stop on my behalf!” the voice taunts. The clicks of her boots landing cleanly on the floor, treading heavily towards him. “You got one hell of a voice. Too bad you don’t use it enough, Al.” A sharp finger flicks his ear. Heat rushes to his face, his eyes narrowing. 

“What do you want,” Alastor asks, an edge in his usually charming voice. He clenches his hands into fists, knuckles turning white. In one clean motion, he spins around on his bench, legs on either side. “Roo?” 

Roo’s slitted eyes glance up from her razer black nails. His gaze shifted away from those unforgiving white irises swimming in a sea of crimson sclera. With a drink swirling with a burgundy liquid, she crossed the room. Each step sent a shiver up Alastor’s spine. “What do I want?” she recalls, tapping her chin mockingly with a singular digit. Her grin splits from ear to ear as she continues, “I’ve got it all, Allie.”

“Then why are you here?” Alastor inches away from her, swinging his legs over the bench and facing towards the piano. He tucked his hands under his elbows. The chill of the room setting in quite suddenly, goosebumps rising along his bare arms. 

“Scooch,” Roo commanded. Alastor followed with little pleasure, sitting now on the edge of the piano bench. The demoness set herself down with an undignified plop, taking a loud slurp from her drink. With a cheery voice, she slings an arm around Alastor’s tense shoulder. “You know, it’s almost like you don’t like me,” teased him but not in a way that would make him laugh. 

He wants to mutter under his breath, “ I wonder why ,” but keeps his mouth clamped shut. A loose tongue would be unwise around Roo. “Why are you here?” Alastor repeats the question, firmer. Surely, treading a line. 

Roo, without any decency, sits her colorful drink atop the priceless ivory keyboards. It takes everything in Alastor to keep himself from lunging at it and slashing the drink into her pale, smirking face. “Just a little check in.” Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see her take in the state of him. To be specific, the wound. “You did a number on yourself.” She inhales deeply as though she had just entered a perfume shop. “I can just smell the pain from here,” her laugh erupts deeply from her chest.

Alastor gulps and crosses his arms over the wound. “Cut the pleasantries, Roo.” The laugh instantly stops, her gaze fixedly staring at him. Those wide dull, soulless eyes staring into a rather terrified, shaking soul. “Tell me what you require and then leave me in peace.”

“Someone’s moody,” Roo says matter of factly. Why wouldn’t he be? Before he can even react, a sharp spiked elbow jabs into his side eliciting a shriek. His nerves scream and set fire to his already taut, blood drained skin. 

“Fuck!” he shouts, doubling over. The weight of the bench lifts and Roo sweeps away, running her hands over the top of the piano.

With a vindictive smirk, she taunts, “You know your whore of a mother would’ve washed out your mouth if she heard you. That cunt is so lucky she’s rid of you. Must be a fucking delight.” Roughly, Roo snatches his jaw, claws sinking into his skin. Whatever cacophony of emotions scream, Alastor pushes it down, far, far, down. “Remember, you little bastard, I chose you. Your mummy had to squeeze your ungrateful ass out of her pussy without much choice.” She spits and lets go of his chin. Alastor’s head drops and he unconsciously rubs his chin with a trembling hand. 

Those words burn. More than any ridiculous wound caused by Lucifer could. Anger is rising in his gut, threatening to spill out of his mouth. However, he knows how that will end. Roo knows right where to hit him and it’s taking everything to not shove her as hard as he can into the piano. 

A flood of memories pushes at the watergates. The same ones eating away at his tear ducts. He wants to shove her into that piano, curl up his fist and smash his fist into her face until she can’t breathe. He wants to hold that disgusting flea head of hers under water until her limbs become limp. He wants to set fire to her skin and watch as she frantically screams, skin melting off her bones. 

Instead, he sits there. “How’s your little job with the princess going?” her tone instantly flips in a second. Typical Roo. Alastor is about to open his mouth when she interrupts him. “Actually, I know. I watch your sorry ass everyday. But my, my, my…that was a twist wasn’t it?”

Alastor’s eyes snap up to her. Her clawed fingers are holding the top of her coffee cup, swirling the liquid around. He swears he can see morphed strange faces screaming in her drink, swirling around in a maelstrom of sin. “What was the twist?” he asks innocently. 

Roo throws up her hands and beams, “Why, your little soulmate bond with the princess, eh?” Alastor tries to swallow but his throat is paper dry. Whatever words that were going to follow die on his lips. “It’s cute, I gotta say,” Her clawed fingers ghost over the almost translucent crimson chain leading to the outside world…to Charlie. Her gaze diverts to her hands and a razor sharp edge slips into her voice, “But I don’t think any chain can compare to this .”

Alastor grunts, his body dragged to the floor. His knees burn as they hit the hardwood floor. His wide eyed stare drifts up to see her fingers toying with a chain… his chain. The heavy soul chain gleaming with a sickening bile like green coils around his neck and hands. 

In the dark room, her loyal yet unwilling servant kneels before her. A mess of what the great Radio Demon once was. Her wide brim hat cloaks her face in shadow, her grip on the chain reeling in Alastor. With no pleasure, he complies, knees dragging on the floor and body as heavy as lead. The pain is all numb compared to the absolute hopelessness which settles in his chest, drowning out all anger and sadness. 

Roo leans in close, the chain rubbing against his windpipe, “Now, why don’t you tell me what our darling Charlie thinks of you?”

The date had gone quite swell if Angel Dust thought so himself. The pair were walking arm in arm down a street in Hell. Where anywhere else on Earth it may look romantic but of course, some guy was having his arm ripped off across the street. 

“Jeez! Can’t people just take a break and quit sometimes?” Angel Dust remarks, one of his spare three hands motioning towards the gruesome sight. The shark demon who had ripped the arm off was now tearing through the skin and bone right before the victim’s eyes. 

“That’s what I said when I was gonna quit smoking,” Husk mutters out, grinning up at the Spider Demon beside him. Angel Dust laughs. He’s not surprised. If you’re drinking, you’re probably smoking too. But hey, anything for a little high and a bunch of lows, right?

“Hah! Guess that never happened!” Angel snickers. The couple take a turn past the dump and start the long trek up the hill to the hotel. The sign sparkles in the distance: Home. No, not home. A place. A place to crash rentfree, Angel reminds himself. 

“Nope,” Husk smiles wistfully. 

Then Angel smacks a hand against his forehead. “SHIT!” 

Husk’s eyes widened and he glanced at Angel, “What?”
Angel momentarily undos their linked arms and shakes Husk’s shoulders. “Charlie’s not gonna make us quit smoking is she???” 

Husk shrugs, “I dunno. Hope not. She might.” he dodges over a broken beer bottle on the sidewalk. “It’s not like we’re gonna die of lung cancer, now are we?”
Angel smirks, “I guess that’s one good thing about being dead.”

Husk avoids Angel’s gaze, “So, uh, maybe wanna do a smoke break later?” 

“Hell yeah!” Angel pumps a fist and then he looks over at Husk. “Did you think I was gonna say no?”

A little flutter makes Husk’s old heart soar, “Nah. You’re just as fucked over with addiction as me.” 

“Ey!” Angel stops dead in his tracks. “I mean…actually yeah,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “But like do I wanna be? No! It’s a money sink not gonna lie. And you know, it sucks but…it ain’t gonna kill me no more.”

Husk sighs softly, leaning across the metal fence. He fumbles with his pocket, pulling out a rusted lighter and a pack of cigarettes. Angel eyes it out of the corner of his eyes. The couple sink to the dirtied street. The Hell sun casting their glum faces in shadow. “It’s gonna kill you on the inside. Eat you inside out,” Husk says. 

Angel rolls his eyes. It was not the first time he had heard that. “How about you give me a cig, alright, Mr. Doom and Gloom.” He dangles out his forefinger and long finger anticipating a cigarette to be neatly placed there.

He parts his lips about to say something else when a cigarette is shoved in his mouth. Angel sputters and watches as Husk grins dumbly at him. “Hey!”

“I gave you your cigarette, didn’t I?” Husk says, igniting the lighter. The gold washes Husk’s grey face in a soft light. 

“Ugh. Just light it for crying out loud,” Angel gets out, the cigarette sandwiched between his teeth. Husk cups the flame, holding it up to Angel’s cigarette and light blooms on the butt. The Spider Demon takes a puff, plucks it from his mouth and lets out a relieved sigh. “Hits the spot.”

“It’s in its nature to do that, you know?” Husk snaps the lighter close, taking a puff of his own as well. The smoke coils in the thick sultry air, swirling and disappearing into the dark sky. 

The pair smoked for a while. Thoughts turned over in Angel’s head, new thoughts for once. The date was nice, slow, and sweet. The butterflies in his stomach were dormant but made an occasional flutter while beside Husk. For a moment, he almost felt like a human again, not a sex crazed porn demon. It was…refreshing. 

And Angel was fine with it. Sharing a milkshake with two straws, casual light hearted jokes batted back and forth in a diner somewhere in the country. He wanted to get used to it. He didn’t want it to be strange and scary. Decades ago, it would have been normal, maybe not between two men but he’d see it wherever he went. And he wished, oh how he so dearly wished back then that could be him. 

Yet again, he found himself drifting off into his mindscape with this charming, grouchy Cat Demon beside him. Without meaning to, a soft rare smile touched his lips, wrinkling his nose. No kisses, no hugs, no sex. It was nice for once. And yeah, to anyone else they’d probably hate it. But no, he wanted to take it slow. That’s what Husk wanted too, yeah?

Slow. Romantic. Sweet. An occasional touch of hands after a few dates, an embrace after a few more. And then a snuggle by the fireplace with coffee warming their hands. His hands tangled in Husk’s fur, combing it out to be just right. The pair picking out matching suits for a dinner party. Soft kisses under the moonlight or jamming it out on a dance floor. 

Fuck, now he was starting to sound like a 50s housewife. Domestic? Since when did Angel Dust want that? The best bottom in all of Hell? The sexiest demon for the third year in a row?

His thoughts were interrupted by Husk. “Do you ever wanna quit?”

Angel’s gaze snapped to the Cat Demon who was staring attentively at him, orange eyes soft. “Quit what?” Angel blurted out. 

“This…” Husk nodded to the cigarette in between his fingers. “Actually, scratch that. I heard that’s extra hard.” Angel wiggled his eyebrows and Husk let out an annoyed side. “For fuck’s sake.”

“Whaaat? I didn’t say anything, whiskers!”

“I’m trying to say something serious!” Husk huffed out and then went on, “How about we try to quit drinking?” he looked over at Angel. “Together?” 

“Uhhh…” Angel Dust’s brain short circuited. “I don’t know. I’ve never…you know, tried for that.”

“Well, how about we try now?” Husk offered. 

Angel arched a brow, “And how exactly in Fuck’s name are we gonna do now?”

“Ever heard of AA?” 

Angel slumped back into the fence, banging his head on the metal. “Oh, brother. You don’t mean what I think you mean, do you?” The last thing he needed to join was another religious cult, yeah? 

“Oh yeah, I do, kid. Buckle up,” Husk smirked. “Alcoholic Anonymous.” But he flipped his hand around in the air. “But I’m only doing it if you do it, alright? No forcing though. If you don’t wanna do it, we won’t.”

Angel threw out his hands, the short cigarette burning in between his fingertips. “You think they’re just gonna have an AA in Hell? That’s even less likely than a Chick-Fil A here!” 

Husk rubbed his chin. Judging by the way his red eyebrows were furrowed, unfortunately, a brilliant idea must have struck him. “Then how about we make one?”

“Make one?” Angel Dust leapt up to his feet and he wildly waved his hands. “Nuh uh. I’m not cut out for that organization OCD shit.” He raised the cigarette to his lips, taking in a deep puff. The smoke burning his nostrils. 

Husk rests his arm over his knee, cigarette still burning. He glances up to Angel and says quietly, coyly almost “Charlie would love it, I bet.”

Angel frowns down at Husk and crosses his arms. “Charlie loves anything involving self improvement.”

“I think she’d really appreciate it. She may really see that you’re trying to improve,” Husk tries to persuade the stubborn Spider Demon. 

Angel’s eye twinged. Husk really knew how to push his buttons. The right ones and the wrong ones too. “I don’t care what Charlie thinks.” he idly kicked a rock into the road, avoiding Husk’s eyes. 

Husk titled his head, raising both of his brows, “You sure about that?” 

“Yeah…” Angel trailed off. “I mean it's a free bed! Free food! Free beer! What else could I want?” 

Husk dropped the cigarette onto the ground, crushing it with his foot. “Look, I know we all laugh about her dream…but you know, it’s the most selfless thing I’ve ever seen all my life. And we live in Hell.” The Cat Demon leans back against the wall, leaning his chin up to watch a rat scurry across the street. “And maybe, just maybe this’ll all look. She caused a stir up in Heaven. Who’s to say it’s gonna fail?”

Angel chewed the inside of his cheek and mutters out, “Literally everyone.”

Husk waves a dismissive hand, “I mean people who matter.” he swallows and goes on, “The only people that matter to me are the people in that Hotel. And we see Charlie do all this shit and no one ever helps. For once, maybe for the first time in my life, I wanna do a little something in return.” Husk shrugs, “And yeah, this AA shit may be a failure but at least we tried. And at best, it may just become a little fucked up friend group. Who knows?”

Husk jumps up to his feet, looking over at Angel. “How about we both give it a try?”

Angel stays silent for a long moment and then says, “But we already got a fucked up friend group.”

“That’s a fucked up family. Not a friend group. And at least we can kick the AA kids out whenever we want.” Husk smiles softly at Angel, “We’re kinda stuck with our bunch.”

Angel lets out a loud groan, “Alright. FINE! FINE! I’m probably gonna regret this but whatever, fuck it. Let’s do your AA thing!” 

Husk grins at Angel and links arms with him once again. The pair bicker all the way up the hill about how to manage it. However, otherwise, that sweet little feeling settling in each of their hearts never seems to go out. And as the couple marches up the hill exchanging laughs, and glances and jokes. 

Angel hopes, thinks a word he hasn’t thought it a long, long time. A word he hasn’t thought about ever since he was a stark struck teen. Maybe this’ll last. Forever. He hopes, he prays, and then he remembers…that little chain. And goddamn, he so dearly wishes that it stays…that pink delicate little chain. 

There’s a knock at the door that makes Vaggie jump. Her singular eye twitches, hands fumbling for her angelic spear as she crosses the room to the front door. For a while, for too long she has been alone with her thoughts. That stinging pain in her calf is all but a memory. Her heart seems to ache more. 

A traitorous soulmate chain bound to her finger. She almost wants to cut off her own finger… almost . A shiver runs down her back, the ghosts of Charlie’s hands running over here. Only a few days ago, she would have leaned into that touch, would have smiled fondly. But now, it was anything but that. Cherri stalking out of their bedroom still burns in the back of her mind, a reminder. 

Vaggie rips open the door, the wood creaking at the sudden touch. The Hellscape sky is stark against the pair of white tunnellike eyes staring back into her soul. Then her gaze drops to the heap of…Alastor in a wheelbarrow??? Even she wrinkles her nose at the nasty sight before herself. An urge tugs at her to slap the door in both of their faces. 

“Found your little hotelier, wandering about town. Thought I’d drop him home,” The strange woman tips her hat. And without invitation, she marches on in. Alastor in tow with about three minions toddling in after her. A horrible stench fills up the room and it takes everything in Vaggie not to cover her nose. No doubt it must be this woman or…Alastor, but it’s unlikely. Before Vaggie can even blink, a lavious but horrendously smelling coat is thrust into her arms. Vaggie narrows her eyes at the woman who is now marveling at the Hotel’s interior decoration. “Wowee, fancy place you got here!” 

“And, uh, who are you?” Vaggie asks with an edge of accusation, tossing the coat onto a nearby hook. 

The woman spins on her heel, sweeping off her hat and making a dramatic bow. “A family friend,” she winks at Vaggie. Then she sidles up next to the indignant angel with a flamboyancy that sets off a nagging feeling in Vaggie’s chest. “So, where’s the princess? I’m sure she’s been worried sick!” the demoness laments, pressing the heel of her pale hand against her forehead. 

More than she’d ever be about me. Vaggie quickly pushes that thought out of her head. A fleeting grin flits across the demoness' face but disappears just as soon. “Yeah, she has been. But…” Vaggie’s eyes shift to Alastor who seems very out of it. “...I’ll tell her you dropped him off.” The little demons that had accompanied the woman are poking and prodding at the fireplace, giggling manically as they do so. Vaggie restrains herself from saying a thing. 

“Why don’t I tell her myself, eh?” The demoness elbowed Vaggie in the side earning a glare. Who does this woman think she is? Coming into Vaggie’s hotel and acting as though she owns the place? And no better, dragging in the source of Vaggie’s continuous headache. Well, that and her Cherri…fuck, Cherri Bomb. 

“How about–” Vaggie begins.

“Oh!” Vaggie’s shoulders tense at the sound of the voice. “Who’s this, Vaggie?” Charlie calls from atop the stairs. Fuck. Vaggie’s mouth dropped open. Something was off. Something was strange however Charlie was already charging down the stairs.

A person! An actual new person in the Hotel! Charlie ran up to the demoness without shame only to stop dead in her tracks when her eyes fell upon Alastor. Her attention instantly snapped to him. And he was in a wheelbarrow? “Uh…” Charlie uttered. What? 

Vaggie pointed half-heartedly with her thumb at the demoness, “She dropped him off,” she explained with little enthusiasm. Charlie didn’t quite know what was going on but it was a bit strange.  

Charlie nodded and then scooped Alastor up into her arms, lowering the Radio Demon onto a nearby couch. “Uh, thank you…” she trailed off. Fuck. She hadn’t introduced herself nor asked for the stranger’s name. 

“You can call me Roo,” The stranger or now known as Roo offered. In a blink of an eye, the woman called Roo was cozied up against Charlie, hand on the princess’ shoulder. Charlie blinked, a brief feeling of unease shooting up her shoulder. 

“Nice to meet you, Roo,” Charlie said politely, smiling sweetly at the woman. My, she had met quite a lot of sinners during her lief but man, nothing compared to Roo . There was something a bit unsettling about those eyes, as if she could see through every wall Charlie put up. 

Vaggie cleared her throat and said, “Didn’t you say you were family friends?” Judging by the tone of Vaggie’s voice, Charlie could detect doubt. Her fingers flexing on her angelic spear. 

Family friends? Charlie’s gaze snapped back to Roo who was beaming back without a worry in the world. “Yeah, family friends. Your Pa knows me.” The gloved hand had now snaked around her shoulder. The lines of Vaggie’s face were taut and suspicion etched in her face. Charlie tried to give her a reassuring smile but then let it drop. There was no point. The fight from before was still simmering in the air. 

Charlie’s thoughts turned back to Roo and she asked, “My Dad knows you? He’s never mentioned a Roo .” Now, that was true. Nor had she ever seen anyone like Roo at all. 

Roo let out a hearty laugh, throwing back her head. Her long raven locks bouncing in the air. “Why, I knew you when you were wee tall,” she crouched over, hand hovering around her knee. “Cute little kid. Still one now,” Her fingers darted up to Charlie’s cheek and pinched it.

Something twisted in Charlie’s gut and she took an unsteady step back. “Hah, that’s, um, great,” she muttered out.

“I do gotta say, you really pulled this little Hazbin Hotel together,” Roo clicked her tongue, motioning around to the very dashing parlor. Charlie’s cheeks colored. The flattery was sweet she must say. Wait, she knew what this place was?
Charlie’s eyes sparkled, “You know the Hazbin Hotel?” 

“Pfft, of course. I’m a fan, you know,” Roo winked, propping up an elbow on the mantel piece. Her minions began to crowd around her. Terrible little things with a trash can for a hat, another with a banana peel atop its and clothed in tattered rags. Charlie had been kind enough not to mention anything. This. This could be possibly good. Roo somehow had connections with her father if she was telling the truth. And…she was a… fan ???

“You don’t think this is all just a waste of time?” the words blurted out of her mouth before she could smack a hand over her lips. God, how pathetic was she? 

“Nah!” Roo threw up her hands. Idly, she patted one of her minions on the head which earned a purr from the shadowy creature. “Trust me, I’ve been sitting around doing a whole lot of nothing for a while and this sure as fuck doesn’t look like a waste of time!” Roo assured the princess which elicited a soft smile. 

Vaggie pursed her lips and finally spoke, “Do you have anything else you need before you go on your merry way?” Charlie’s teeth instantly snapped together, grinding into each other. 

“Vaggie!” she scolded quietly. Vaggie stared unforgivingly back at Roo and then at Charlie. 

“I guess that’s my cue, princess,” Roo admitted, straighting out her checkered tank top. With one swift motion, she snatched up her trench coat and slipped her arms into the sleeves. “Do keep in touch though. Lemme know if you need anything, dove.” Roo flipped her fingers, a small key soaring through th air and into Charlie’s open palmed hand. The door slammed shut, minions trailing behind before Charlie could get another word out.

“Roo!” Charlie called, wrenching open the door only to find an empty porch. The whistle of the wind and a swirl of dead leaves is all that answered. With a sigh, she closed the door gently, lifting her eyes up to catch Vaggie looking at her before turning away. “Vaggie…can we—?”
“Alastor needs your attention,” Vaggie said coldly, fingers thumbing her spear. A quiet groan could be heard from the couch. Pathetically, Charlie reached out a hand as though that would coerce Vaggie back into her arms but Vaggie walked off. Charlie’s gaze remained pinned on her girlfriend’s back until she disappeared into the darkness of the hall. 

A chill that hadn’t been there had settled. Charlie had to admit…she’d fucked up badly. But now, wasn’t the time…was there ever a time? “One crisis. One crisis at a time,” Charlie reminded herself. All that she dearly hoped was that Alastor wouldn’t run off again. So, when she scooped him up into her arms for the second time in about two days, she held him close. 

And for a moment, even for a moment that chill seemed to stave off but a little. 

She knew she shouldn’t…she knew it was wrong but when she set him on the bed, she couldn’t help it. He was in even worse shape than before. His breathing was labored, blood seeping through the messily done bandages. Was this wrong or was this right? 

As she set her glowing hand upon his gaping wound, she reminded herself: this was a good thing. He’d been healed. And unlike last time, there would be no whining, there would be no outright self-sabotage occuring before her eyes. Yes, did that anger of rejection still simmer within her? Why couldn’t he have accepted her help? 

So, here she was, filling up her heart with as much thoughtful, healing thoughts as she could. Her light leaking out of her fingertips, driving deep into the cracks of the wound and filling it up with a soft heavenly light. Slowly but surely, skin began to regrow and sickly flesh became pink once again. 

Oh, Alastor, why did everything have to be so…difficult? The bond between them was heavy on her finger and the weight of what it brought even heavier. And now, the man she was destined to be was in her bed, shirtless and bleeding out. However, no longer. Once the healing ceased, his breath was steadier. She smiled softly down at him.

The path would be tough but at least it was healed. By golly, he was a stubborn ass and he’d surely be back at it again soon enough…but for now, he was quiet. And most importantly: alive. Charlie hadn’t even realized her cheeks were pinker, her trembling fingers steadied and she felt…lighter. As though a thousand weights had been lifted from her shoulders. 

Her fingers were smooth and slowly moved to his face. Gently, she rubbed a loving thumb over his cheek. And she didn't know what or why it possessed her but she leaned over. With her other hand, she brushed his bangs out of the way and placed a sweet warm kiss on his forehead. As she drew away, a sort of tranquility settled in her stomach…a stomach that had been turning violently for the past few days. 

“You’re such an asshole,” she whispered aloud, plopping herself beside him. She propped an elbow to her head and gazed at him. Exhaustion pulled at her eyelids and within a few minutes, her eyes fluttered shut. For the first time, in perhaps a while, she felt…calm, relaxed. 

And perhaps a nap once in a while, wasn’t so bad…right next the Radio Demon.

Chapter Text

There was a bitch in his bed. Adam wasn’t sure who it was and frankly, didn’t care. He leaned over to his bedside table snatching up a lighter and a half burnt cigarette. Lighting it, he lazily looked over the woman beside him: blonde, white wings and plain. She had protectively cocooned herself in a flurry of feathers that sprouted from her back. 

It had been a long night. The band was really cranking out those songs. The lights, the stage…it had all been a wonderful blur of euphoria. He must’ve picked up this chick on the way home for a good fuck. Adam inhaled the smoke through his nostrils and sank back into the white comforter. If there was one good thing that had come from his balls, it was certainly whoever made the first cigarette.

“ADAM!” A harsh knock on the door and a familiar grouchy voice. Adam rolled his eyes, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray and climbed out of bed. 

With the ferocity of an immature teenager, he took hold of the blankets and ripped them off. “Wakey! Wakey, sunshine! Get the fuck up!” 

The woman whipped her head around and gripped the blankets. “HEY!” She yelled. Dear God, why do they always get offended? Babe, you had your time. 

“What?” Adam stared dumbly at the angry blonde clutching at the sheets. “Babe, my girl is here! Shoo!” He waved a dismissive hand in the direction of a nearby door. 

“You’re unbelievable,” the woman turned a snooty nose up at the comment. Adam let out a groan and sauntered off without any shame completely butt naked. 

He stepped into the bathroom and snagged his bathrobe off the hook. Adam gave a glance over it. A glob of toothpaste was clinging onto the sink and a heap of stinking laundry lay on the floor. Damn, what a dump. Whatever. 

“I’ll be there in a minute, Lute!” Adam called, yet he still heard another angry knock. What could be so important? He shoved a toothbrush into his mouth and with his other hand combed his hair. Adam peeked back into the room, only to see the woman furiously texting one of her bitchy girlfriends. He could already hear it now: Oh my god, he’s such a douche and he’s kicking me out of his bed! 

“Babe!” he said in an exasperated voice. “Could you please fucking leave? The sex was good and all but GET OUT!” With a mouthful of minty toothpaste, he shooed her away. “I’m the DICKMASTER. I got important shit to do.”

“What about aftercare, you slime?” 

“Aftercare? What is this a fucking nursing home? Shoo!”

The woman stomped off, clutching her purse and half dressed. She grabbed the doorknob, opened it and screamed, “FUCK YOU!” And the door slammed.

“Yeesh.” Adam waddled over to the door, weariness still pulling at his eyes as he ripped it open. “What’s up, Lute?” He rubbed his eye idly. 

Her golden eyes pierced his soul and she had that look on her face. Usually, she was dead serious, even deader than he was and she was an angel. At the moment, her expression was fixed in a way that made him sweat a bit. “That seemed to be a commotion,” she said, in an almost bored tone. 

“Just get off my back will you,” he squeezed his eyes shut and leaned heavily on the doorframe. “So, spit it out. I had to deal with kicking out another stupid bitch. It better be worth it.”

Lute rolled her eyes, “Maybe you should stop fucking stupid bitches.” 

“Unfortunately that’s the only thing around here,” Adam said dully, his gaze wandering off. A sour look crossed Lute’s face but she quickly clamped her mouth shut. 

“You have a visitor.”

“Will you cut the ominous shit, Lute? WHO?” 

Lute gritted her teeth, bowed out of the way and extended a hand. In the grand living room decked with the finest of wood panelling and furniture stood an abomination lounging on his couch. Adam’s hands tightened into fists at his side at the sight of it. 

“I have a favor to ask,” Lucifer tapped his cane on a golden sculpture of an apple and glanced over at the fuming Adam. 

Lucifer. The name was fire on his tongue. A horrible twisted name. What in God’s name possessed him? He was in Heaven. In his home. The audacity of this demon was unbelievable. 

Adam’s jaw clenched. The sight of Lucifer: relaxed, smug, perfectly at home on his couch. It dredged up something thick and sour in his throat. A memory he didn’t want, a favor he hadn’t agreed to yet, and that voice he’d never stop hearing in his dreams.

“Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me.” 

~*~

Down below the sparkling city of Heaven, a far too enthusiastic princess and a Porn Star stood together in the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel. A hotel of redemption and ideas, and a certain dream was being brought to life. 

“Are you kidding me? No, Angel! This is a great idea!” Charlie hopped up and down on her heels making the planks of the lobby groan. A squeal made Angel’s eardrums almost burst. “Oh God, this might just work out!” Her heart was bursting with joy and her face was not big enough to contain her smile. 

“Hm?” Angel tilted his head at that. “What might work out?” He tried to snatch the clipboard of his ideas back but it was too late. The Princess was prancing around the room, clutching the clipboard to her chest and zapping little fireworks into the sky.

“The hotel!” Charlie splayed her arms out as if a ringleader of a circus. She skipped across the lobby towards Angel, throwing her arms around him and nuzzling her head into his middle. 

A small smile tugged at Angel’s confused frown and he affectionately patted her head.  “I hope so, Toots.” He admitted with a lingering voice of hope. 

A harsh crackling made them both jump. The radio came very literally to life as a sharp voice pierced through the soundwaves. “Stop it. Don’t you know what you’re doing to me?” 

Charlie hesitantly moved towards it, running her finger along the polished mahogany. “What?” 

“Charlie, stop it.” 

And then the radio went dead. 

Her eyes widened at that. 

She blinked furiously at the radio and turned back to Angel. Charlie asked. “What’s up with him?” 

Settling himself in a comfy armrest, he crossed his long legs over each other. He reached into his blazer’s pocket for a pack of cigarettes and then at the last second withdrew. His thoughts drew back to her rules before he had stepped foot into this hotel. Wide eyed and blissful, was the way her big red eyes looked up at him. 

Raw hope, the kind he wished he could cherish and cup in his hands. 

She still had it…even if it had slightly dimmed. And the stress of that red bastard wasn’t making it any easier. 

Angel just shrugged his shoulders, “Hasn’t he been all standoffish ever since you saved his ungrateful ass?” 

Charlie frowned, “I wouldn’t say he’s ungrateful.”

“Nope, I would say he is.” Angel flicked lint off his blazer. 

The princess crossed her arms over her chest. The little black buttons on her dress shirt glinted under the golden light. Charlie took her place on the loveseat, picking at a thread which had gotten loose. “Soooo…when do you start?” Angel understood the feeling too well. To dance around the obvious, change the subject and avoid it all. She leaned forward, her legs swinging back and forth. “Do you need help with posters? Flyers? Soliciting? I would love to help!” Her mind was whirling ten miles an hour. Her brain: a carousel about to spin off its track. 

Angel gently cut in, “Look, I love your enthusiasm, Charlie but I think this is somethin’ me and Husk gotta handle on our own.” A crestfallen look crossed her face, her usually wide eyes falling to the floor. 

Red tinged her ears. “Of course!” Charlie said too fast, she fiddled with her hands. Did they not think that she would understand? Charlie looked up at Angel’s expectant gaze. How could they think that? Hadn’t she been welcoming? Accepting flaws? Hesitantly, she crossed the room and handed the clipboard to Angel. “Um…so…in Alcoholic Anonymous how does that exactly work?” 

Angel Dust let out a long sigh, “Well to put it simply, toots, it’s really just a place to vent and encourage each other to get better. Or that’s the jist of it anyway. We read books and shit about addiction.” He rubbed his chin, trying to pull at any more concepts at the back of his head. In all honesty, he had no clue what he was doing. Or how the Hell this would work out. Hopefully Husk knew something about AA meetings. Angel never got the chance. Death caught him first. 

“Okay,” Charlie left it at that, gathering up her things. “I hope it goes well.” Charlie beamed a smile at him. It was a bit too big to be sincere however…she was trying. 

Angel Dust just frowned at her, propping his hands on his hips, “And where are you off to?” The Spider Demon arched a brow at her and lazily used his thumb to point into another hall. “I gotta plan with Husk. Trust me it's no treat.” An annoyed sigh escaped his lips. He wanted to do it…but there was a funny feeling tugging at his chest. It was as though his ribcage was going to snap and his heart would come tumbling out any second.

Charlie returned a sigh, “Just planning the promotion party.” She swept up more pieces of paper from the table and grabbed her lucky red pen. 

“Don’t tell me you’re doing that alone?” 

She straightened the papers on the table and spared a glance at Angel Dust. “Well, Vaggie’s out and Alastor…he’s up in his room.” 

Angel Dust rolled his eyes. Jesus Christ, could any of the staff get their shit together? “So, your staff is just gone ?” 

“Not… gone . Just busy. Vaggie’s off getting supplies and…” Charlie’s voice trailed off and Angel Dust’s teeth fixed into a gritted line. And Alastor was off being a dramatic teenager in his room. Typical of the radio edge lord. However, for someone so fierce, his ego was wounded so easily. It was almost funny… almost . It would be if it didn’t hurt her . If he didn’t see the poor Princess of Hell standing before him now: dark bags under her eyes, blonde bedhead and a weary longing look. It was…not fitting for someone as hopeful as her.

“How are you and Vaggie doing?” Angel Dust said before he thought. And as the words lingered in the air he wished he could jam them back down his throat. But…it was far too late. Those hurt eyes glanced up at him, the weight of love and lost swimming in the depths. 

“Fine…absolutely fine.” Charlie sniffed and dismissively shoved her papers into her bag. She didn’t look up at him. Not even once. 

“Charlie, come on. I’m not stupid,” Angel Dust tried. The words were tumbling out and he couldn’t stop them. He could see it and she couldn’t deny it. Their whole entire fucking relationship was falling apart at the seams. All because the stupid King of Hell wanted to spice things up in Hell. The chain on all their fingers promised love…but destruction to all within its path. “Have you talked to her?”

“Angel…I don’t want to talk about this,” Charlie said coldly. 

“Dollface—”

“Angel!” The papers within her hands burst into flames. Her eyes were pinned on Angel and for a moment, a brief moment, his stomach dropped into his knees. “I told you…I don’t want to talk about it.” She said firmly. The air crisp with the smoke. 

 Angel stared at her, his mismatched eyes as wide as saucers. However, the young princess had moved on, tearing at her hair and sweeping up a stack of papers on the coffee table. “Charlie…” Angel said softly. “I just wanna let you know you’re not alone, okay?” It was a voice he rarely used. And the last time he could remember was when his sister was crouched in the corner crying her eyes out. A long time ago…back when he only had two arms. 

“WELL, I AM ALONE!” Charlie screamed and Angel jumped back, stumbling out of her way as she stormed past him. As she brushed past him, he swore he could see heat rising out of her forearms. It was as if her blood was boiling…and he wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Charlie whipped around, digging her delicate black nails into her palms, enough for gold blood to trickle down her arm. “I AM SO UTTERLY ALONE!” 

“Vaggie’s got Cherri. Dad has Niffty. Even fucking Katie Killjoy has Tom Trench,” Charlie carded a bleeding hand through her disheveled hair. Angel gulped, and it felt like he was swallowing glass. “AND YOU!” Charlie stomped on the floor, jabbing a finger at the baffled Spider Demon. A flare of fire exploding from her fingertips. “YOU GOT ALL YOU WANTED.” After a long huff, she collapsed, falling to her knees. “And I…and I….” Quietly she said, “All of you did.” 

“You got a shitty, messy breakup?” 

“WE ARE NOT BROKEN UP!” Her lower lip trembled. 

His silence and her heavy breath lingered. 

Charlie swiped a hand through the air and Angel jumped out of the way of her melting touch. A small, sympathetic smile crossed Angel’s face, not out of joy but something worse. Something far deeper. He knew that feeling all too well–the one swarming Charlie’s thoughts. A rather obnoxious yet true word that would drive him mad when people accused him of it. 

Out of respect or…fear, he didn’t quite know which he stopped all together. Angel Dust simply clamped his mouth shut and settled himself down into a chair. Limbs stiff and his smile even stiffer as the twisted face of Charlie Morningstar glared at him. 

“Fine. Just sit there. See if I care,” Charlie said rather bitterly. It stung. He wouldn’t admit it and a balled up paper hit the side of his face. Not enough power to hurt though he knew she was capable but it was enough…to make his heart sink. His gaze followed her stalking figure as she stormed up the stairs and he shook his head.

Gingerly, he plucked the crisped paper from the floor and unfolded it. He knew the glitter. Knew what it would be. 

A childish picture, a trademark of Charlie’s drawings, with the hotel in the background. A bright bubbling stick figure with blonde hair stood at the center of it all with her staff at her side…Alastor and Vaggie. Under a wide, hopeful rainbow, the trio held hands and smiled.

A sob escaped him, before he could even stop it. He didn’t mean to sob. But he did–a silent choke on his words. His trembling fingers held the paper, spreading the drawing out for the whole hotel to see. 

“Goddamn it, Charlie…” he whispered quietly. 

Chapter Text

“ALASTOR! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!” Her fist struck the door with a boom , making it shiver on its hinges. Then her eyes softened, staring at the wooden door, shame curling in her chest—a dreadful knot. Her jaw clenched. 

Why am I angry? 

Why am I here?

Of all the people in the world…she was running to him: Alastor. 

This is a mistake. 

Charlie stepped back, clutching her chest. Her thoughts stuttered, tripping over themselves as she tried to wade through the muddy waters of her mind. A storm of emotions roared in her chest, rattled her ribs, shaking the cage around her heart. 

The princess waited with bated breath, but the silence only thickened. Her fist curled even tighter against the wood. 

No answer. 

Softer this time she called again, “Alastor? Can I come in?” 

It had been a week since he was dropped off by the elusive Roo. One week where he had been holed up in his bedroom and Vaggie was…God knows where. Perhaps fraternizing with that woman: Cherri Bomb. 

A sickening thought slithered into her mind: a cherry. Sweet, ripe and temporary. A fruit as beautiful as the rest but one which would rot away if left unscathed. If not, then devoured. The only purpose of such things was waste . 

Her left eye twitched. 

Negative thoughts. 

Her eyes flickered to the chain on her finger, glistening under the light, mocking her. She had stared at it a million times, wondering if she could just sever it. Erase all the damage. 

But now, they were all in too deep. 

Charlie was very literally drowning in fate and love. 

How ironic. 

With more bite, her voice sharpened, “Alastor! We need to talk!” She sighed, slumping against the door with her temple pressed to the wood. The anger inside chipped away at her thin walls. Dear God, she just wanted someone to talk to her. 

Anyone. 

Vaggie. Alastor. 

Angel’s words battered the back of her skull, a cruel reminder that she had pushed him away. 

Squeezing her eyes shut, she inhaled. This was a bad idea. Maybe the worst in a long time. What possessed her to come here? To Alastor? Of all people? The very source of her misery? 

Lonely. 

The word pounded at her. What a miserable word. 

She had left Angel’s arms in a moment of spite, only to run into the waiting silence of her soulmate. What the hell was she thinking? Questions clawed their way to the front of her mind. Charlie pushed them down, stuffing them deep into her ribcage where it pulsed with a vengeance. Her eyes locked on the wood separating her from Alastor’s room. A bitter part of herself wanted to tear off its hinges and barge in. 

Her hand clenched even tighter, knuckles white. The wound there—which had stitched itself up with her mystic powers—was open. It bled golden, a fading token of Heaven and her divine lineage. Angel. She remembered not too long ago when she’d sunk her claws into her hands. It hurt but everything did. 

She had already violated Alastor enough. Crossed too many lines and this…bursting into his room would certainly be the final one if she dared. Boundaries. It led her to another train of thought. Memories from not too long ago. 

What was she thinking about falling asleep next to him? Any sane person would have deposited him in his own bed, healed him and left without looking back. 

She didn’t. 

“Alastor?” His name was soft on her tongue. Sacred and spilling from her mouth like a promise. Her clenched hand hovered over the rusty doorknob and it rested there for a beat. She was caught between ripping the door open and leaving. She was frozen in place. 

Whether it was that bitter sting of loneliness or the negative thoughts pulsing in her chest, she twisted the knob. 

Creak— an announcement of her arrival, ever so unbidden and loud. 

The room was dark. The blinds drawn and the welcoming crimson of Hell’s sky was hidden. As the door creaked open, slivers of the hallway’s light washed over the room. Craning her head into the room, she peeked in. 

It was a mess. Stacks of books were teetering on their shelves, papers strewn across the floor and knick knacks scattered in chaos. If not from the lit fireplace, she would have assumed it was abandoned. It burned ever so brightly and its muted hues graced some of the room’s dark corners with light. 

A voice echoed from the dark, “Charlie, you shouldn’t be here.” The usual lilt in his voice was gone. 

She blinked. 

Her ring finger was tingling. Almost stinging. Her eyes drawn back to her finger where the burden clung, glowing a traitorous crimson in the dark. Her gaze followed its glow across the room, to the dark back of a chair. A familiar tinge of red hair peeked over it. 

I shouldn’t be here? 

I own this hotel! 

Anger flared in her chest. She bit out, “Where have you been?” The door slammed behind her. His ears flicked up and then pressed down on his head. “You’ve been holed up in here for a week! You’re my partner! You’re better than this.”

A sigh escaped his lips. Oh how little Charlie truly knew. “That’s not what you’re actually upset about, are you, Charlie?” Quiet but challenged her all the same. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. His words curled in the air, soft but sharp beneath its sweetness. 

Her eye twitched and she crossed her arms protectively over her chest. She kept herself a respectful distance away. “Why are you avoiding me?” The question tumbled from her lips. 

He didn’t speak. Just raising his ring finger—slow, lazy, damning. The soulmate curse. It is what she had been calling it lately, with a bitter tone. It made sense. For all her father’s grand dreams, they tended to crumple under their own weight. LuLu World? A palace of fun for her enjoyment only . It was that sort of Pride that was the downfall of him. And perhaps herself, which she did not like to admit. The same pride that made him think he had the right to meddle in anyone’s love. 

“That’s all you’d like to say?” 

“Say? Darling, I didn’t say a thing.” The retort hit its mark. Her gaze fixed on the back of his chair. Stubbornly, he refused to look her in the eye. 

Why? Why? Goddamn it, can no one dare to look at me? 

“So, the soulmate craziness. That’s not news. I…” Charlie clamped her mouth shut, shutting down another thought. She stood placidly, hands folded neatly in front of her and watching ever so intently. It was a habit she had learned during her years in the Morningstar Manor.

She didn’t miss it. 

“Well, if you’re going to keep prodding me with questions…why don’t I ask one of my own?” The Radio Demon proposed. The shift in the air was tangible, palpable. Her gaze sharpened, awaiting the query. 

“You act…” the words were lost in the haze of his mind. “Why do you tease? Why do you act as if there’s something more? ” The magnitude behind his words made her shiver. He had said it aloud. Then there was a crack in his voice. Small, but one which sliced through the air. “But…you pretend . Pretend to be loyal and trustworthy. Cling onto your darling dearest until I stride into a room. Your loyalty is all but shattered. You pretend that it will all last. Why do you? Why do you deny your nature ?”

Charlie flinched. Her gaze frozen on the dark unmoving shape of his chair. 

For a moment, Charlie could hardly speak. Her thoughts had vanished in thin air, ideas too far to reach and grasp. Pretend. The word battered the back of her brain. Pretend. It pulsed through her every being as steadily as a heart beat.

Pretend. 

How could he say things like that? To her face? About Vaggie. About her . About her deviation. Her nature. Oh, she knew goddamn well what he meant by her nature. That devilish, fiendish side which the name of Princess of Hell promised. 

Slow blood rushed to the face: embarrassment, shame, anger. She wasn’t quite sure which. Seeping into her curled fingers, the blood invigorated her. And she wanted to bash his face into his desk. The clean, orderly desk that he obnoxiously bragged about. “You think I'm pretending?” Is all she could muster in that red rage. A tremble palpable in her voice. “At least I try . All you do is mock me from above and degrade me.”

“What on Earth are you talking about, my dear?” His chair finally swiveled around, his palms flat on his thighs and his crimson eyes wide. Tilting his head, he propped his chin into his hand. “I have done no such thing!” 

Charlie stomped forward, “Yes, you did! Don’t you remember? You remember, how can you not?” The princess struck out her hand, power curling in her blood. “That was the day you squeezed a deal out of me when I was at my lowest.” At my weakest —she didn’t say. Then she stood properly, holding her head high with elegance and mocked him, “ Now, now is that any way to act after picking a fight with all of Heaven and dooming everyone you love? Hmph. Asshole,” Charlie turned her head and crossed her arms. 

Her mind was spinning with far too many things. She was stumbling through a whirlwind of emotions, some too quick to grab and ones that lashed her with its claws. There was a pause. A silence that lay thick over the room. It made Charlie’s skin crawl. It was as if the silence itself was prodding at her goosebumps. 

How could she be so stupid? Be so blind? Be so cordial with such an asshole? Friendly? Trusting. 

The walls of her thoughts were slathered in red, nothing but that wretched color.. Her heart was beating, faster than normal. A constant thump against her eyes and the roar of raw anger beating against her chest. It was a sort of primal rage that had been building up. After all this shit. After being tugged back and forth between different points, until her limbs were nothing but string…she was done. She was so sick of it all. So sick of it. So sick of Alastor. Her father. Vaggie. So sick of…herself. 

A groan of the chair and she heard the clicks of his shoes against the wood. “Don’t pretend that you’re naive. You knew exactly what you were letting in, didn’t you, Charlotte?” Alastor spat. She didn’t turn but she knew where he was. At her shoulder, where he loved to stand. At her beck and call as her father loved to tease in no good nature. She could hear his faint breaths and the almost unnoticeable shift in the air. Her heels dug into the carpet at that accusation. Eyes narrowed at the door staring back at her, promising asylum from this argument.  

Why did he have to call her that? 

“I’m not naive,” she said firmly. “I just expected better from a friend.” 

The soulmate curse glimmered on her finger.

“What is this really about, Charlie? Let’s cut the games.” 

“I don’t play games,” Charlie replied, quietly. Her fingers fiddled with her cuff. “I’m just… angry .” Her fingernails dug into her cuffs, splitting the fabric in two. 

“Why?”

Charlie whirled around, “Because of you .” Her finger jabbed the center of his chest. All he did was cock his head, glaring down at her. He seemed so unbothered by it all. It made her seethe internally. That grin widened just a tad. “I just want everything to go back as it was.”

“Well, I’m afraid it's too late for that, my dear,” A single talon raised up and tucked a hair behind her ear. “We’re doomed, Charlie. Don’t you understand?” He drew his finger away from her face, ghosting over her skin. A shiver ran up her back. The chain was clasped on his digit. A red beacon in the dark, glowing. It twirled and curled until it dug into her own finger, not far from his own.

“Do we have to be?” The question came out small, quiet in this large room. Her voice was swallowed up by the weight of everything. “Can’t we fight it? We talked about that…a long time ago.” 

Alastor scoffed, “Well, a little birdy told me your father went to do just that.” His hand returned to his side and he strutted across the room, settling himself in a chair. My father? She hadn’t talked to him in the longest time. Not since…Capture the Flag at least. And my, so much had happened between then and now. 

“Do what.” It was a demand, not a question.

Alastor studied his nails, pretending to be bored of her probing, “Gone off to Heaven I heard. What a dutiful father.” His golden smile gleamed in the dark, a bit too bright for her. “He’s gone to rid the beautiful princess of a curse: being betrothed to a beast.” He laughed. 

Her cheeks flushed and she rubbed her eye. “That’s not funny, Al. I…you’re not a monster.”

“Hm?” Alastor’s fingers clattered against the bulb, “Wasn’t it you who said I degraded you?” His crimson eyes slid over to her, “It seems we’re finally getting to the meat of this little talk.” Delighted, he patted the spot next to him on the couch. On his perch, he had a beautiful view of the burning fireplace. “Come join me, my dear.”

Charlie stubbornly stood, glaring at him. “What meat are you talking about?”

“What you are actually angry at.” There was a finality in those words. The absolute certainty coiled unpleasantly in her stomach. In all her days of knowing him, he’d always been so sure . It was a cockiness she knew well. One that she was warned of. He knew what she was angry at? How could he possibly know? How in the world could he know? 

“I’ve already told you,” Firm, she stood a few steps away from him. Her arm crossed her chest, digging into her exposed elbow. She hadn’t even realized she had rolled up her sleeves. Was she preparing for a fist fight? The notion was ridiculous. 

“And you’re wrong,” he said, plainly. His idle hand picked at the loose strings in the couch. The words ticked something off in her. Wrong? He was the primary source of her misery. She was so tired of hearing that word. 

“ You’re wrong. ” It was the same mantra echoing over and over again throughout her life. 

A phrase that hit her like a whip, dragging her backwards in time to a balcony some odd years ago. Seven years old, bright eyed and ever so eager to learn. The dark room with her grinning soulmate fell away to reveal a bleak red sky. An age of better times and worse depending on who told the story. For now, it was simply a young daughter and a father sitting on a balcony. 

“ Why can’t sinners go to Heaven? ” She remembered saying. Her voice was lighter, a little less heavy. Her father was watching her, his eyes crinkled in distaste. She was still at the age where questions didn’t stop her. Where her mind didn’t quite think things through.

She was sitting with her father, gazing out over a recent extermination. Perched up on the balcony, far above the chaos, watching the little ants running around. Many on fire, others mourning and others crumbled on the bloodstained pavement. Her parents kept her inside when such things happened. The only witness to it were the terrorized sinners from below. 

She didn’t know the pain then. No, her father had never hit her nor her mother. She didn’t understand. 

“ They did bad things, honey. That’s why the exterminations happen, ” Her father said quietly. His hand soothingly combed through her golden hair. He loved her. He had told her a thousand times, maybe even more.

“ Mommy says you let them happen. ”

Fragments of shouting pushed at a dam in her mind. The fights got worse over the years. “ Mommy is wrong. Daddy was forced to. I want to protect you and Mommy,” 

“What about them?” Charlie’s big round eyes turned to the crowds below. “Why do they have to hurt? I don’t like it. It’s a bad thing. Can’t they change? Mommy says they deserve that” 

“ No, honey. Sinners can’t change. Don’t think like that, baby. It’s wrong. Mommy’s wrong. ” Her father had pulled her close, pressing her against his chest Little Charlie snuggled up against him, her face turned away from the horrors below. 

It was so warm. Warm. She wasn’t sure if people felt warm if they were on fire. Or just pain. Or nothing at all–the nerves seared away down to the bone.  

“ Daddy’s going to make sure everything will be okay. ”

You’re wrong. You’re wrong. You’re wrong. 

The crackle of the flames—in Alastor’s fireplace—roared in her ears. 

Wrong. 

It was a phrase that prodded at her skin and clawed its way down her throat. It was a phrase jammed too many times into unwilling ears. She had heard it in passing whispers from her girlfriend, velvet halls, and hushed arguments. She had heard it from the various sinners laughing at her from afar. She had heard it from her trusted friends, Angel and Husk, gently cutting into her dreams. And she had heard it from Alastor, the one who had been outright, upfront and somehow…she still felt betrayed. 

Her breath was scattered, not coming in fast enough. Her emotions were a lump in her throat and tears–a betrayal of her strength—squeezed at her eyes. Why was she unraveled so easily? Why did he get that privilege? 

Why am I so weak? 

Wiping her nose, she said in a shaky voice, “Wrong. You want to talk about wrong ?” Her eyes flashed. “This…” She raised a trembling hand, the soulmate curse glowing under the candlelight, crimson and gleaming. A bold, proud color. “...this is wrong. All of this. Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I want to be chained to you? It's a curse. It’s the universe's sick idea of a joke. I am a joke.” Charlie stepped closer, the strands of her hair sparked by anger, swirling in the air. “I’m wrong. I’m always wrong. You think that’s new? All you do is sit and mock me. Smirk. Smug. Bastard.” Rambling, she was losing track. A spiral of words spinning out of control. 

“ I’ve always hated people like you. People who think they’re better. On top of the world.” Her knees were heavy like lead. She wanted to collapse. It was painful, her eyes stinging from the dam being held back. “This hotel is stupid. And I’m wrong. I’m wrong. I’m wrong.” Her hands were shaky, blurring under the light. Suddenly the dark was too bright. 

Exposed. Vulnerable. A shaking mess. She must’ve fallen to her knees at one point. Hysteria. “I’m wrong. I’m wrong. I’m wrong.” A prayer. A curse. A phrase which had been etched in her mind. Her skin was burning. She wanted to tear it off. Shaking, insane, her father…called her a hysterical mess. Well, she better prove him right then? Pick away at the pretty white skin until she was nothing but pearly bones, the blood dripping quietly on the floorboards. 

Would he criticize her then when she was torn up on the floor? Would those nasty thoughts still pummel at her double visioned life? Would she still be wrong? Would anyone hold her when she was nothing but dust? 

Everything was wrong. Everything. Everything. Vaggie was a stranger. Angel had been pushed away. The very man who mocked her dream was destined to her. 

She heard the creak of the chair—Alastor adjusting in his seat. She had almost forgotten he was there. Was he watching? Her breath came out uneven. Fingers trembling uncontrollably and she tried to clench them. It failed. Twitching and wrong, her body was. 

Sweat dripped off her temples. A pulsing in her eye. Her heart in her throat. It was horrible. 

Was she still standing? It was cold below her. Warmth blowing into her face. Her skin was too hot. It was suffocating. The urge to rip off her skin screamed in her head. Her finger. That wretched curse. The thing that had thrown her into a loop again…just as things were settling. Just as she was starting to feel…like she belonged. 

Could she cut it off? Her mind whirled. Would she be rid of it? Certainly. 

Where was she? Was there a knife? Something? Anything would do. Her limbs were numb. Her vision started to focus, blurry shapes sharpened in her vision. The fire burned in front of her, ever so warm and comforting. 

Fire.

Burning flesh, she could smell it all over again. Her mother would scream at her when she tried to catch ashflakes. She remembered her mother’s hands clutching her waist, pulling her away from the outside, scolding. Ashflakes were not the same as snowflakes. It happened after the exterminations. What a morbid child she was. 

Burn. 

Her mind was blank. Hollow. Her chest was an empty cavity, void of heart and soul. She’d been told she was never born with one. A blessing of the Heavens. Angels didn’t have them. Nor demons. Only the wretched things which wandered Earth. 

Burn it off. 

Limp but an ever moving force, curled against the hardwood, she stirred. The fire crackled. Another sound from behind: Alastor. She didn’t look. She didn’t care. She would be rid of him, his curse. This blasted thing destroying her life. Finger or not, she had to get rid of it. Scooting, she moved mindlessly, steadily towards the roaring flames. Someone else’s hands moved towards the open grate, pale and nails painted black. The fire danced just for her and beckoned her into its embrace. 

The heat licked at her skin now. Her cursed hand reached out, trembling over the flames. The fire danced, eager. Welcoming.

“ Charlotte! ” A voice cracked—panicked. Arms circled her, clutching her waist. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t resist. The arms carried her away, dragging her far from the fire’s clutches. A snap, distant, echoed through the air. Why was everything so far away? The flames collapsed on themselves with a flash of green and gave one last hiss before disappearing into the coals. “What were you thinking?” Familiar . It was a familiar voice. A note of worry. Odd. 

Someone was grabbing her shoulders, a bit too tight. Her eyelids were heavy. Then there was a shaking. Her body swung back and forth, hinged to her waist. It was the only thing keeping her together. A few bones here and there. “Charlie!” The voice was more desperate. She knew that tone well. Hesitating it said, “You’re scaring me!” A weight in the words, she could feel it in the air. Touch it. “Listen to me. Wake up!” 

Chapter Text

Slowly, slowly, slowly…things were less wrong. The fire wasn’t there. It didn’t burn and beckon. It was less bright. The blood was flowing through her veins. She couldn’t speak. Ash in her mouth. Heavy and bitter, something she shouldn’t swallow. 

Trembling hands were on her shoulders still, squeezing too tight. She was gone. A ghost floating between her body and the world within. Tears dried on her face, hair a frenzy, and clothing crumpled. Then she saw it: a flash of gold. A smile. “Alastor?” a croak. Sucking a shaky breath down her throat, she turned her glazed gaze. 

The Radio Demon was kneeling in front of her, his smile fixed and strained. His eyes were blown wide. That usual smug crinkle in his brow was gone. Shock replacing it. His ears were flat on his head and his coat discarded on the floor. His hands were still anchored to her shoulders as if it was the only thing grounding her, keeping her from floating away. 

Hollow . She felt hollow

Hollow until she felt an unfamiliar feeling. Something that she saw ebbing in Alastor’s expression: fear. It was an unpleasant feeling. One that clutched at your throat . He was staring at her. Eyes fixed on her. In any other world, she would shy away from his gaze but she didn’t. There was nothing to feel. No shame. No embarrassment. It had all melted  in the fire. 

His hands drew away carefully as if she would shatter. She watched him passively, without a twitch in her cheek. Dead. Cold. It was so unbearably quiet in her mind. The voices were gone. The Wrong. “I thought…I should’ve…” his words were lost in their mingled breaths. “What happened?”

Mind blank, she stared. And said, lips moving with a rigidness, a lack of life, “I was wrong.” Her words hung in the air. His eyes betrayed something else. Something else she had never seen before. A crinkle in his eye–not one of sarcasm or threat–something more gut wrenching. Silently, he rose to his feet and crossed the room. 

Charlie sat very still, the carpet pricking her knees like needles and her back leaning against the chair. It wasn’t exactly comfortable. But nothing was. Even her skin felt heavy. Her heart too. If one could even call it that. The heat had faded but her skin still crawled. 

Alastor returned, a pep in his voice that wasn’t there before. His more usual self it seemed. “Would you like some coffee and biscuits, my dear…with extra sugar?” His voice cracked on the “s”, just slightly. 

Charlie stared coldly at the floor, barely raising her eyes to catch that charismatic smile that was proudly etched on his face. It was as if another Alastor had taken his place. The one that usually lingered by her side. 

Gently, he pulled her hands out of her lap and hoisted her up off the floor. She was all but a marionette in his hands, moving where he commanded and where he guided. She felt wobbly on her feet as if she were to topple over any minute. Her knees clattered together like a fish out of water. 

Then he deposited her in a twin armchair. With another hand, he blew on a cup of something and gave it to her carefully. Warm. But it was the type of warmth which seeped into your fingers. A tan creamy drink looked up at her, cupped in her trembling hands. “Coffee?” she asked. 

“And biscuits,” Alastor said, sliding a plate onto the nearby end table, his voice flat. They looked delicious. Something that she would snack on when she could. Alastor’s cooking and baking was legendary. But now…she didn’t feel hungry. That hollow feeling screamed inside her again. 

Something soft fell onto her shoulders and gentle hands tucked her around it. Even with a hazy head, she knew what it was: his coat. She could see the stripped tattered blazer in all its glory. The smell of whiskey and smoke curled into her airway. It smelled…comforting. She didn’t dare snuggle into it.  

It was quiet…for a long time. Slowly but surely, she drained her cup. And my, it did have a lot of sugar, cream and milk. Any other day, Alastor would have teased her. He loved to do that. Especially when criticizing that it truly isn’t coffee if it isn’t straight black. 

He didn’t today.

Uncharacteristically, he was quiet. Alastor was sitting in his armchair, one hair draped over his lap and the other tightly holding a book. Charlie…mildly interested in what he was reading glanced over: The Picture of Dorian Grey . Curious. She hadn’t heard of it. He was on page 128.

He didn’t look at her. Not once. And more than anything, she wanted to scream. All for the sake of having his eyes on her. To say that she was here. 

The silence dragged on. Slowly, her consciousness was picking up the little pieces. The things that set her off: 

Wro–

The word didn’t fully form in her head. And the very first letters made her shiver. 

Wron–

Stop. 

Charlie didn’t need to say it. She knew what the word was. Each letter was like a line in her hand. It was branded to her skin. A hot and angry word. 

The memories were beginning to blur. She was angry. Yes, she was very angry. She was told…that she wasn’t right. It all wasn’t coming back to her. A jumbled mess of words and pictures peeked in the corners of her consciousness. 

Burn. 

The fire. Her eyes darted down to the blasted soulmate chain, clinging onto her finger. Her gaze shifted to Alastor. He adjusted his monocle and squinted at the words. Still on page 128. It had been at least 10 minutes. 

She wanted to cut it off. 

Charlie tucked Alastor’s blazer even tighter around herself and looked over to him, “Why did you stop me?” 

A pause. The only sound was that of a page turning. A red singular talon finally moving off the yellowed page of 128. The hum of a fan in the corner. 

His ear twitched. He heard her. But her question was left unanswered. 

Sinking back into the armrest, she studied Alastor. He must’ve known her eyes were on him but he didn’t look up. Not once. Quiet—it wasn’t like him. It unsettled her. A sleepiness tugging at her eyes. It was all too comfy with his blazer wrapped around her. She tucked her feet underneath herself and gazed until her eyes fluttered shut.  

Chapter Text

The world was bedazzled. A swirling world of crimson hues and golden tones. Her eyes struggled against the light, the back of her irises burning, stinging. Heels clattered all around her in a synchronous harmony of clicks. Her hands were clutched to her chest, the pads of her fingertips tugging at the fabric of her gown. 

It felt too hot, too stuffy. 

She was suffocating. 

Finally, the sting wore off, her eyes adjusting to the lights. She blinked a few times, appalled. It wasn’t this soon was it? It…hadn’t happened yet. She was planning for it but it never came to fruition. Puzzled, she stared at the hundreds upon hundreds of sinners mingling in the crowd, donned with masks and dancing as if there was no tomorrow. 

The ball…it was simply an idea. Yet here it was: sinners. Sinners in her hotel. Sinners that were laughing away the night and exchanging whispers. It was unbelievable. She stepped forward onto the dance floor, a bit dazed. 

This isn’t possible. Her gaze turned to a fish demon and an obscure sinner dressed in a daisy yellow beside her, dancing as if tomorrow would come. There were so many… people. How? It was always such a pain to even drag sinners to her hotel. But here they were: happy. In fact she could say some were delighted. 

Then her thoughts turned inward… where are my friends? Standing on her tiptoes she looked over what felt like a trillion shimmering heads to no avail. 

Curious, she hadn’t realized what she was wearing. She looked down, tugging at the thick and prestigious fabric. She gawked. At her bust, dark red flowers bloomed across her collarbone and trailed down her stomach. And below the red flowers flowed against an almost galaxy like material, a hue as dark as the sky. Long waves of black fabric pooled around her legs. Her hands were covered with dark sequined gloves, traveling all the way to her elbow. 

Charlie pushed forward. It was as if something was tugging her further and further onto the dancefloor. She wasn’t quite sure what it was but it was electric . Like she needed to be near it. Couldn’t breathe without it. Her hands bunched up her skirts, hiking them only scarcely above the ankles. 

Stumbling through once more, her feet were tired. The party roared on. A constant din pounded against her ears. It was louder than rushing blood. The noise seemed to press at her at all angles, feeling its way up her curves, choking her. No one seemed to care about her even as her breath became heavy. The dress weighed down her arms and legs. 

Everything was heavier. 

The weight of the air whistled down her throat in large gulps. 

Drowning in the air—it was a feeling she hadn’t felt before.

The lights were too bright. 

All at once, it felt like too much. As if she were to collapse. One more step and she’d topple over into the waves of dancers until she’d be trampled to death. 

Then in a sea of greens, blues, pinks, and yellows…she saw red . 

Alastor was standing at the center of the everlasting dance, a solitary statue amongst the kinetic energy. He was dressed with a sharp black dress jacket, a deep crimson dress shirt and to top it off he had a rose in his breastpocket. His eyes were trained on her, fixed and unmoving. His wide toothy smile gleaming ever so brightly under the chandelier light. In the sea of people, his eyes remained on her only as if his gaze would ensnare her, trap her in his mind’s eye forever. 

In a blink of an eye, it all went dark. 

It was empty. 

The whole room was void of people. 

The lights had gone out and the moonlight was their only guide. The floor was dark, reminding her of Earth’s sea when looking out at night, murky blackness. Apart from moonlight, the stark light of their soulmate chain burned in the night. 

Only Alastor stood at the center, a hand extended as he said ever so politely, “May I have this dance, sweetheart?” 

Charlie accepted it wordlessly placing her own hand in his. Alastor’s red tipped fingers gently wrapped around hers. Somewhere an invisible orchestra began to sing—the violin a warbling voice in the dark. Sucking in a breath, she placed a hand on his shoulder and he likewise placed one on her waist. 

And they danced. 

It reminded her of the first time he appeared on her doorstep. Except it was less jerky and energetic. A slow dance is what they did in the here and now. They were two ghosts gliding across the floor, hand and hand. The moonlight as her guiding star, she stepped carefully and deliberately. Yet her eyes never drew away from his face, not even to check her footing. She watched the crinkle of his eyes, the way his gaze was almost soft and how his mouth twitched. 

Close. 

He was closer than she would’ve ever been comfortable with. However, here she was. Hand and hand, hand on his shoulder and a hand on her waist. Then he twirled her, the fabric of her skirt swishing under the moonlight and the sequins glimmering like stars. His hand curved into her own. It all felt so smooth, so naturally. As if they fit each other, the way her body curved, the way he moved around her. 

It was uncanny.

“Charlie,” Alastor spoke, breathlessly after moments or minutes or hours of silence, she didn’t know. The whole ordeal had blended into a blissful, peaceful eternity. “...why do you resist?” he asked, his hand flexing the bitter red chain clasped to his ring finger. 

“Resist?” Charlie asked, misstepping, wobbling on her feet. “When have I ever resisted? Anything ?” She stared at him knowing what he meant but she didn’t dare say it aloud. If she said it would be real–as tangible as the skirts swishing around her legs. 

“This.” Alastor said firmly, raising his ring finger where it burned. Red dribbled from his mouth, down his chin. Loud splashes of blood dripped to the floor. Far too loud. A terrible drip drip drip . A sound that pounded at her ears. “What we have.” 

“We have nothing,” Charlie whispered to the ghosts of the room. 

Alastor stepped towards her and his heels clicked on the floorboards. Slowly, his gloved hands wrapped around her wrists, softly. It was a trap but one she willingly fell into. “We have each other,” his crimson eyes flickered up to her, a desperate glint swimming in the red. “Don’t you understand what we have?”

“A curse.” 

“A blessing,” Alastor said quietly, a secret only for them. 

Charlie’s fingers curled in his hands and she said, hidden fire gathering in her core. “It’s done nothing good for us. You realize that, right? It’s torn us apart from everyone we love.” 

Again, his soft look pierced any of her defenses. A red taloned finger rose through the hair and tucked a strand of gold behind her ear. “To make way for something better…” 

For a moment time froze when those words spilled from his lips.

The violin for a split second became a howling screech, echoing off the walls and curdling her blood. 

Tear down everything just for us? Destroy everyone just for us? 

Confusion first riddled her senses then anger. Raw pure anger bubbling in her chest. It was a feeling she knew too well. “For you and me? What about everyone else?” 

“What about them, my dear?” he said with such a devastating sense of casual cruelty. Alastor was mesmerized, his eyes fixed on her face as if he were to look away she’d evaporate. 

What about them? 

The question played over and over again in her head. 

What about them? What about Vaggie? Angel? Dad? Husk? Niffty? All the names flowed to the front of her mind like a dam about to break. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Charlie spat, clutching at his suit jacket. “You’re not making sense.” 

“Don’t you get it, Charlie?” Alastor said, patronizing. A tantalizing voice. “They don’t matter, sweetheart. Only you do” 

Charlie’s blood ran cold. 

Only I do? 

What in God’s name did that mean? 

“They do matter…” Charlie whispered. 

They did. They do. 

If they didn’t matter then she didn’t either. Oh, what did it mean to matter ? Matter—a word that meant taking up space. 

Was that what it is? To matter was to take up space in her life? To be used as tools to carve her way to her dream? 

“They matter to me.” Charlie said firmly, glaring back into the steely eyes of Alastor’s. 

Then Alastor roughly grabbed at her waist, sweeping into a dance once more. Her pace fell into step, not out of willingness but a sense of fate. Even if her thoughts were her own, her body did not oblige to the mind. Her limbs were a separate entity in this world, this memory, this strange place. 

A puppet on a string. 

“Charlie,” His talons dug into her skin, through the fabric. It hurt. A stinging numbness in her side. Her fingers in turn scraped against his shoulder, not daring to sink her nails in. “We have something no one else has and you’re resisting it. A thing that only you and I can understand.” 

Charlie arched a brow, allowing herself to be pulled against his body and spun out again. “A soulmate bond? A forced one?” The heat in his digits made her insides curl into a knot. Despite the searing grip of his fingers on her waist, he was so gentle when he held her hand. It was an odd thing. “It only means we’re ideal partners.”

“It means that we belong together…” And within one fluid motion, he had dipped her. 

His arms cradled her back and he gazed into her eyes. It was a sort of gaze she never wanted to see again. Even as her heart battered against her ribcage, it was not out of excitement…something far more primal. The sort of feeling one feels when a predator is creeping up on them. Trapped in his embrace, she had no choice but to look up. Forced to mingle breaths and stare. 

One taloned hand raised up, cupping her cheek. She could see what he was going to do. Alastor was panting and beheld a wide eyed stare on his face. 

No. No. NO!

“No!” her arms shot out and pushed him off her. The Radio Demon stumbled back caught off guard and she fell flat on her ass. Her nerves shot up her backside like a lash on her back. Wincing, she dragged herself away. Her skirts pooled around her legs like blood. 

Alastor was breathing— hard . Her throat felt too tight, suddenly, looking at him. She wanted to say something. Anything. A pathetic croak of pain escaped her throat. In the small sliver of moonlight she could see him, hands braced on the floor and ears straight up, alert. For a moment, he stared, a solid and cold look glazed over his gaze. 

Scrap. A soft and subtle noise on the pristine woodboards. Her eyes darted to the source. His long rid tipped fingernails dug into the wood, mauling it beyond repair. Even the jagged scars on the floor had a silver touch. Then a crack . His neck—it craned, lengthened, and extended. The sharp antlers on his head were sprouting like thorns. 

Run. 

And she ran. Kicking off her heels, she took off faster than a doe. Her socks slipped and slid on the shiny floor but it didn’t stop her. Even when she could hear him tearing after her. A wild beast. She didn’t dare look back. 

Fuck, door. Where’s the door? 

Her eyes frantically scanned the room. Spying the telltale shining doorknob, she bolted for it. 

“Charlie~” he sang, dragging each letter like a knife through skin. 

It was too far. No, she wasn’t going to make it. Hot on her heels, she could hear him. A bloodthirsty animal scratching up the floor and gulping down monstrous breaths. 

Sweaty she grabbed the doorknob swinging open the door and slamming it promptly in his face. Her trembling and clammy hands fumbled around for the lock. Finally, it slid in, the chain clinking soundly. 

It was temporary, of course, as all things were. 

“Charlie!” Alastor screamed. In bits, the door was coming down. Wood was flying this way and that. Gulping, she didn’t want to think about what would happen if he got a hold of her. “Mine. Mine. Mine.” The babbling of a mad man. “You’re mine, Charlie! Goddamn it!” 

Frantically, she scanned the room. Fuck. Dead end. Five things her rapidly working mind spotted. A vent, two spare chairs, a candlestick, a screwdriver, and a closet. 

A plan was formed. Not a great plan but a plan. Closing her eyes, she tried to call up the fire in her heart: her powers. Charlie desperately wanted to blow the vent to bits and crawl away to safety. Away from him so that she may not hurt him or…he may hurt her on the off chance. 

The fire didn’t come. With less patience, she tried again yet the fire didn’t surge to her fingers. It remained dormant, in hibernation. 

What the fuck? 

A world that was getting stranger and stranger. It was unbelievable. 

She grabbed the screwdriver, squatted down in front of the vent and worked her way through each screw. 

It was painful. Painfully slow. And the trembling hands did not help at all. Her body was in shambles. Her stomach was in a knot, her hair fell in clumps over her face, her cheeks flushed, and her palms clammy. 

“Charlie! You’re fucking mine. Come out of here, now .” Another piece of wood went flying across the room marring a lovely painting of a manor on a lakeside. 

One . 

She breathed as the screw fell down and her hand moved to the next one.

Two. 

A demonic scream battered her eardrums as it came clattering down. 

Three . 

A horrible scraping of wood against wood echoed through again. 

Four. 

It came clattering down and she threw the vent against the wall. 

However, her gaze darted back to the door where a clawed hand was groping for the lock. Instead, she leapt to her feet, dashed into the closet and closed the door quietly. In her hand, she clutched the candlestick—a fruitless attempt to defend but a way she could. 

Creak. 

The door. 

She breathed. It was too loud. Way too loud. Her hand clenched into a fist around the candlestick. Wack him over the head? Was that truly her plan? 

Creak. Another but it wasn’t the door. It was a step. A step as delicate as a feather. 

Charlie squeezed her eyes shut. 

Tight. 

Tighter . 

It wasn’t enough. The air was too hot yet it felt like she was choking on chunks of ice. 

She couldn’t breathe. 

She didn’t dare breathe. 

Her mouth was dry. The air was hot in the closet. The walls were too close, claustrophobic. And the thought of murder was not on her mind. No, no, no. Something far worse. Something she didn’t ever expect herself to think. 

Is he going to rape me? 

It was an intrusive thought. An unwelcomed thought. 

Alastor. 

No, this wasn’t Alastor. Alastor wouldn’t rape her. Alastor wouldn’t hurt her. He would never hurt a woman. 

This couldn’t be Alastor. He wore his skin and used his voice but no, it wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. 

“Charlie, sweetheart?” The voice slapped her back into reality. “Avoidant, are we?” Then she heard it, retreating footsteps. Charlie dared to open her eyes to the blankness of the world. Creak. The door. And then a slam! 

Gone? He was gone? Just like that? 

Charlie waited a moment perhaps even an hour before she dared to breathe. Then she sighed, taking in a deep breath. It felt as if she had emerged from underwater…after minutes of drowning. 

Her hand gently pushed the door open, her skirts catching on the door and she adjusted it. Then she stepped out. 

Gone. 

Red. 

It was an all consuming color and it was staring right back at her. “Found you!” Alastor shrieked in delight. His hands roughly grabbed her wrist, squeezing her until the candlestick dropped to the floor. 

“No, no, no. Stop! Stop!” Charlie screamed. 

Stop. 

“Stop,” Charlie mumbled. 

Her hand had fisted the sheets and she tossed over, blinking at the light streaming through the windows. Her body was coiled in warmth. A heavy blanket had been tucked around her like a cocoon. Faintly she smelt whiskey and a hint of smoke. It wasn’t a terrible smell. If anything it was familiar, comforting. 

Startled, she saw a pair of tufted red ears peeking over the couch facing away. 

Alastor. 

Her heart hammered in her chest just by looking at him. Then she stared around. 

Alastor? 

There was a deer head mounted on the wall, crocodile skinned books stacked on a shelf, and a radio on the bedside. 

This was Alastor’s room. 

And if she was in Alastor’s room. Then… she was in Alastor’s bed. 

Charlie naturally gasped, her breath too rattled for a scream. A deer ear twitched and the eyes which had looked so cruelly upon her were soft again. Adjusting the monocle on his eye, he asked, quite casually, “Well, how did you sleep, my dear?” 

A dream. 

That’s what it was. A dream. A horrifying terrible dream but a dream. Or should she say a nightmare? God, she hadn’t had those in a while. Not since she was seven…back when she realized what the exorcist cleanse truly was. And yesterday…the memories were faint but flooded back. 

Fire. Tears. Guilt. 

Her hands flew to her neck, feeling for sequin and petals but all she felt was sweat and skin. Slowly, her hands came to rest at her sides, bunching the sheets into a fist she stared down at the patterned covers. 

Alastor looked away, obviously slightly perplexed. It was a strange look to see on his face. It was so unlike him. His brows were furrowed. She could see he had a book spread on his lap. Did he sleep at all? “What…happened yesterday?” Alastor asked hesitantly, giving her a concerned look. 

Charlie shrugged, turning her gaze away. “I don’t know.” Her golden hair fell messily on her shoulders and shrouded her face. 

She had an…idea. Even with her many hours of research, she knew but she didn’t want to say it. What would it look like if the rehabilitation specialist had that ??? Not good would be one thing. 

Quietly she probed, “Did you tell anyone?” 

He hesitated and she turned her head looking him dead in the eye. Adjusting his monocle once more, he cleared his throat, “I asked for Vaggie’s assistance.” 

Vaggie. 

Her name neither inspired joy or anger. Indifference. A dull thud of familiarity. Yesterday, she remembered roaring about her disloyalty. A thing that Alastor had pointed out. 

Her gaze darkened. 

Alastor. 

The pinnacle of her problems. 

“You had no right to tell her,” Charlie’s eyes flicked up from the sheets, boring into the back of Alastor’s head. He flipped another page as if they were talking about the weather. 

For a moment, she wasn’t sure if he would respond. Would he ignore her? Ignore her for as long as he did when she…

Broke down? Had a breakdown? Is that what it was? No, no, no. 

“I didn’t tell her about your little fit, if you were wondering,” Alastor waved an idle hand.

Ouch! Her right eye twitched at that statement.  

His words stung. How could he be so casually cruel? Especially in the face of suffering? 

Charlie knew what Vaggie or her father would say instantly: It’s in his nature, don’t you know? How can you be so blind? 

“My little fit?” Charlie repeated, dumbly and frankly shocked. “Alastor. You can’t just say that.” And how stupid that was. Or at least the saying. What didn’t Alastor say? What didn’t he hold back? Perhaps with women she noticed he was more tolerable but her?

Probably everyone’s just sick of me. I’m sick of me. He’s sick of me.

“Well, what am I supposed to call it?” 

Charlie supposed that was a fair question. A fair question that made her shoulders tense and pinpricks of light fly off her fingertips. Her eyes darted to a small spark that had risen up on the sheet and quickly patted it out.  

“An emotional breakdown would be kinder,” Charlie said with a bit of snide, hopping off the bed. She stepped over a pair of fuzzy slippers. They must have been Alastor’s. Curious. 

“Emotional breakdown?” Alastor scoffed. Charlie stared at him. Within her turmoil mind, she couldn’t decide if she was offended or whether she wanted to strangle him on the spot. “A fit is more fitting .” Alastor’s shoulders bristled and he let out a humorless laugh, that kind that made the hair on the back of Charlie’s neck prickle. “You could’ve hurt yourself… badly. It’s a miracle I snapped you out of it before it went too far.” 

“A miracle? You’re the reason for this, you know,” Charlie pointed at him, her finger trembling. In her rumpled clothes and with her ragged hair she looked as if she had escaped an asylum. 

“Me? You’re blaming me?” Alastor’s gaze snapped over to her. He set down his book on the end table and gracefully placed his eyeglasses atop them. “If there’s anyone you should blame it’s your father.”

Dad. 

Flashes of a man dressed in the finest silk and top hat flicked through her mind like an old tape. Static buzzed in her ears and that smile she waited for hours or days as a child—sitting by the window and watching for his limousine to pull up to the Morningstar Mansion—was nothing but a blur.

Wrong. 

Charlie squeezed her eyes shut. 

Alastor went on, “I don’t know exactly what happened…” Charlie opened her eyes, frankly surprised at the sight before her. Alastor’s eyes were downcast and his hands in his lap. An unusually vulnerable position. “...but you truly scared me, Charlie, and I need you to promise me,” His eyes flicked to her. “That you will never do that again.” A moment later he added on, a bit too quickly, “It was...inconvenient Can’t have the hotel owner in a mess like that can we?”   

Charlie sucked in a shaky deep breath. Squeezing her fist into a small ball, she slowly released along with her sigh. 

Deep breaths. DEEP BREATHS. 

If she couldn’t handle her own emotions, how could she be expected to redeem this ragtag group? Even when reading the Guide to Redeeming the Damned written by Jonathan Swift before starting the hotel…she was truly lost. 

“Okay…okay. I won’t,” Charlie palmed a hand to her temple. There was a painful pulsing behind her brow. 

How much longer could this go for? She felt as though she was in romantic limbo? Or even worse…a limbo of fate. In the sky she could see it: the vision of fate. Her arms were pulled by forces of the cosmos. Blood and silver bones littered the sky. And soon she was nothing but ash, nothing but grinded up meat gobbled up by fate. 

She shivered. 

“Alastor,” Charlie stood straighter. Her hair fell in a messy wave over her shoulder as she leaned down near the couch. With two feet on the ground and her hand steadying on the back of the couch, she glowered at the wide eyed Radio Demon. “We need to decide.”

“Decide what?” He cocked his head. 

Staring him right in the eyes, she took his hands in her own. They were warm and sharp, as expected. In that gaze of red, she couldn’t discern what lay beyond. “We need to decide our own fate.” Charlie said finally, squeezing his hands. 

The chain glistened blood red.