Chapter Text
The sound of flesh peeling off of the bone was the only thing that registered in Alastor's ears. His red eyes were narrowed down in deep concentration as he calculatingly took care of the body before him.
His viewers no doubt got a sick satisfaction out of his show tonight, after all, Alastor spared no expense in allowing himself to indulge in a rather animalistic manner. Usually his shows were prepared with a sort of well-mannered itinerary, making sure he was poise and elegant in his work, keeping his professionalism while maintaining a dark streak of bloodlust and of course entertaining his viewers with his wonderful commentary. However, tonight was different.
Tonight he was out for blood, out to cause pure pain and torture.
Something that somehow made him all the more frightening.
“Well this fellow didn’t last very long!” he tsked, narrating to his audience, “Which is funny considering the sordid details he was sharing earlier about his more…lascivious skills,” He crooned, voice taking on a darker edge as he oversaw his victim. He hummed softly, picking and prodding at the now dead mutt who had moments before been clinging to whatever sorry life they had left. Alastor couldn’t help but grimace as he took a step back. His work was sloppy tonight, a jumbled disgrace of just wanting to destroy and kill. He was furious. He was frustrated. And unable to cope with the raging storm headed his way, he decided to dump that same emotional toll onto a poor sinner. And not just any sinner, he mused, eyes lighting with malignant joy, his smile growing with hunger as he took in the mangled face of the dog demon. He took delight in his screams tonight, reveled in the pleasures that flooded his undead veins as he ripped at everything he could. First to go had been the tongue, it seemed the poor fellow hadn’t known a decent word so Alastor took care of his speaking problem altogether. Then he decided to get rid of those wandering eyes that had looked his doe over without permission by thrusting the sharp end of his clawed finger into the mutt’s eye and ripping it from his skull, grinning sadistically at the broken mix of a sob and scream that left the demon’s mouth before proceeding with the other.
“Jeepers creepers…” He sung softly to himself as he looked over the brown eyes stuck on his fingers, “My oh my where did you get those eyes?” He cackled as he tossed them aside and began to slice at his stomach in a sort of manic trance, his eyes darkening and antlers growing, behind him he was sure his shadow was no doubt reflecting the wendigo beast in him begging to be released.
A chill came over the tower, no doubt sending dark radio waves through the electronics-old and new- for all of Hell to feel and fear and know that the Radio Demon would spare no mercy on this Hell night. He took joy in the screams, prying for more and more and more all the while cutting in so deep into the loathsome creature’s sternum and curling his fingers in tight fists so that when he pulled them back up the demon’s intestines came with it. It was grotesque and horrifying in every way, so much so, that Alastor was sure that he could picture Lucifer's own aghast face in his mind's eye. He raised the flesh to his lips, golden teeth parting and his mouth watering as he eagerly took a bite and ripped it apart, chewing hungrily and going for a second despite the taste being a bit sour.
He chuckled darkly as he swallowed the chunk of meat, “Just as distasteful as you were alive, you’re even more so in death,” he snickered.
Any other given night Alastor would’ve been revolted by lack of organization and cleanliness, but he didn't care. He didn't care about any of it this evening; the mess, the blood and flesh splattering his tower's walls and his clothing. He raised his hand and licked at the side of his palm, nerves calming at the bitter and sweet tangy taste on his taste buds, he briefly wondered how Angel's might taste-but he ended the thought before it had the chance to grow. He finally took a look at the demon on his metal table and nodded. The poor sap below was unrecognizable, beyond anything more than a mushy and blended pile of grey, white, and whatever else he was made of. Serves him right, the beast growled and Alastor agreed.
He sighed deeply and felt the tension in his shoulders disperse, he was glad for this moment of solace. To be able to bask in his quietness as his thoughts finally settled.
"Well folks, that's all for tonight,” he addressed his audience, “Pleasant dreams," he chuckled before cutting the transmission entirely. There was no other noise to be had except for the steady drip of blood dropping from the furniture in the room and walls. It was calming really but he knew he’d have to call in Nifty soon for a deep clean otherwise it’d stain his home horribly. But for now, he just basked in his solace and didn't dare waste a moment of it.
Who knew when the next would be?
_ _ _
Angel sighed against the cool countertop he was currently resting his aching forehead on. He held a small glass of reddish-brown liquor in his hand, too depressed to even care about it and hardly even feeling like drinking it. He almost wanted to laugh at that. How ironic that the one time he desperately wanted to get wasted and drunk he couldn't even muster the strength to do so.
He only had one person to blame for his lack of sin too: Alastor.
Angel already knew that he was stupid to attempt to pursue the other as a possible candidate for sex, but he never considered himself a fucking idiot for romance. He had learned his lesson on that subject years ago and that was before he had decided to join the land of the dead, and even now he reminded himself that he didn't need it, didn't want it, and sure as hell didn't deserve it. His personal mantra only magnified and reigned true when he spent his whole life alone and miserable, only capable of living out fantasies and pseudo love with randos and strangers he met on the streets. Angel knew his place and he knew his worth was a hell of a lot less than what Charlie would have him believe.
It sucked that Alastor had to remind him too.
Truth be told, the spider had no idea what he was doing when he even decided to start that shit show with him. It was only meant to get a rile out of the Radio Demon, to get him out of his comfort zone and actually fucking notice him. Since his arrival, Angel had spared no expense in trying to bed the deer, originally thinking to take him for all his money's worth and pay back his debt to Val so he could finally get that freedom he craved so badly for. But this was Hell and Angel had been a gotdamn fool for thinking he'd be granted this small mercy. It rang loudly in his mind at his failed attempts at trying to seduce the Radio Demon, reminding him that there weren't any shortcuts to happily ever after when his offer didn't work. And when the Strawberry Overlord refused to give him the time of day, he simply resorted to other sneakier matters; making snide and suggestive comments, puffing his chest and arching his back to show off his curves that he knew no demon could resist. But even that proved difficult as it seemed that Alastor was much too clever and smart for his own good, always hiding behind the guise of being a proper and pristine gentleman. However, Angel had been able to snare him at that one moment when he shared his popsicle. In a stroke of sheer dumb luck, he had figured that the demon would get a kick out of trying a cherry flavored sweet-seeing that it was a color that fit in with his whole shtick-and if it meant that Angel could sneak a small peck of his lips, then what the hell! He was already dead and since he was staying at the hotel as a patron, he was off limits from the other causing actual harm to him.
In the end, Angel wished he hadn't even attempted. He may have been stupid at times, but it didn't take a genius to realize that he had unintentionally started a game with the other. And though Angel would've been happy to keep up pretenses and charades, a part of him didn't want to. The poor Spider had always been easily swayed by sweet words and actions. Call him a freak, but after seeing how respectful and gentleman-like Alastor had been to him, a small fraction of Angel craved that attention he was being given and wanted more and that whole jealousy display certainly didn't do any favors to still his dead beating heart. His heart probably wasn't the only one to skip a beat from having his hand cleaned so carefully and gently by someone who held no sexual desire for him. Probably. Of course, he also had the nasty habit of reading way too much into a situation and assumed the opposite, which is apparently what he did here.
He had wrongfully assumed that Alastor on some level was attracted to him, after all, why else would the Overlord have kissed him so strongly and not sleep with him? Of course, he also had horribly assumed that there was something more than just a one-night romp lying between them and had even dangerously played with the idea that perhaps the other would want to be more.
But yesterday's events had proved each hypothesis incorrect when he had looked at Alastor with the eyes of a lovesick fool wanting to risk it all. His heart had started singing and beating for the other, wanting his full attention and interest to lay solely in him. But then he had seen the fear in Alastor's eyes and saw how the deer seemed to stumble and fight for words only to settle on the one that would cease any progression between them.
No.
A two-letter word that had successfully tore down Angel's hopes within a single snap, reminding him of the reality he lived and just who and what exactly he was. The Spider couldn't remember ever feeling that horrible and like he had been punched mercilessly in the stomach. The wind had left him and so had the bubble of hope. He was a fool for thinking he was worthy of anyone's affection and an idiot for believing and even thinking that Alastor would be happy to give it. Hadn't the other made it apparent back in the hallway three weeks ago? Hadn't he used Angel for his personal amusement and left him alone with his thoughts? Yes, he had. But the Spider was made of wishful thinking and had decided that he was simply playing hard to get. And Angel knew all of the tricks for that!
But, oh how well that little scenario had panned out. And now he was here, miserably thinking of where he tripped and misread and how to fix it.
"Are you gonna fucking drink that or just sit there and sigh?" Husk's deep voice brought him out of his thoughts and forced Angel to raise his head. The spider winced and his head felt like he had just had it split open. He was sure that his eyes were bloodshot from his crying and his makeup no doubt was smudged and ruined. He hadn't bothered to fix it and hadn't bothered to move. He regretted it briefly because his back hurt horribly from having been held in that stiff position for so long, but he had no desire to linger on it and only chalked it up to his list of "zero fucks given".
"Wassit to ya," he slurred, groggy and upset. He looked at the dark liquid in the glass and sighed again. Husk rolled his eyes.
"You've been here all day and haven't even touched that glass with your mouth."
"Isn't that a good thing?" He scoffed, Charlie would think so, his mind glumly supplied. Husk rolled his eyes again and got to work at wiping down the bar counter.
"Not when you fucking waste it!" He growled, "This is a bar kid, not a therapy office! So either drink away your problems like the rest of us or fuck off with that depressive shit elsewhere."
Angel frowned and stuck his tongue out at him, "You're such an asshole," he muttered, but at the cat's warning scowl he lifted the glass and knocked it back, swallowing with a pinched expression at the bitter taste rolling along his tongue and burning down his throat, "The fuck was that shit?!" He coughed out, glass slamming down on the bar surface as he tried to get through the coughing fits.
"Fernet," Husk said, taking a chug of his never-ending booze bottle.
Angel made a disgusted face and pushed the glass away from him, he smacked his lips a couple of times and shuddered as the bitter taste lingered, "Fucker tastes like cough syrup and mouthwash, who the hell would drink this?!" He then looked at Husk and glared with suspicion, "Why the hell would you give me this?"
The demon scoffed and gave a disinterested look, "You asked me for the bitterest drink I got on hand and this was it…and it’s a favorite of Alastor’s so talk to him about it," he said gruffly, the last part being more an afterthought. But he still had a small twinge of regret when he saw Angel’s face screw just a bit as he looked into his empty glass.
Angel looked as though he wanted to say something, but the spider promptly bit his tongue as he realized he indeed had doomed himself to this fate. He recalled having come to the bar moments after hearing Alastor's strongly disturbing radio show and requested to try something different. He had remembered how Alastor favored the bitter things and in a pathetic attempt to somehow still feel like he was connecting with the other, he rose to the challenge.
You wanted to taste the bitter, Alastor's low voice crooned in his mind and Angel wanted to prove he could handle it.
He just wished it didn't taste as disgusting as that ferret drink Husk nearly killed him with. He sighed again and the cat's right eye twitched.
"Husky ol'pal, can I ask ya somethin'?"
"Fuck no," came the sharp reply.
Angel carried on as though he didn’t hear the other’s response, "How well do ya know Alastor?"
Husk should've figured he would've gone ignored, but that didn't make him any more tolerable of this situation. If he had it his way, he'd be by himself, drinking alone, and unconscious within an hour or purposely on a break to the nearest Hell gambling center. But as fate would cruelly have it, he was stuck playing therapist since Charlie and Vaggie were nowhere to be found. Fuck being a bartender, he thought vehemently to himself, lamenting the loss of his alcohol induced naps.
"I'm not a fucking couple's doctor," Husk grumbled bitterly.
"Well good cus' were not a couple," came the weak joke and it was pathetic enough that Husk actually took a pause from raising his bottle and placed it down. He glanced over at Angel and saw how upset he was, saw the hunched over figure of a young man in love and hurting, aching for an answer but not being foolish enough to know he'd receive one. The spider's head was slightly facing downwards, but Husk could see the way his eyes glazed over and his bottom lip trembled. It was a sad scene and Husk had to force himself to not shut his eyes and drink the night away, feeling old and pesky memories beginning to poke at the poor wall holding them back. He sighed, wincing as he caught Angel not so subtlety wiping at his left eye. Now, Husk wasn't a softy and never would be, he could hardly give two shits about anything most days and preferred to stay in an oblivious state of mind and not deal with anyone’s shit problems. But in rare, and he means very rare occasions, as well as small moments of weaknesses, Husk could empathize and actually feel. Of course it would be gone within the next second, but since he was already here, he might as well share a bartender word of wisdom or whatever the fucking hell they called it.
"Listen legs, kid, er, Angel," he began, awkwardly, avoiding his eyes and scratching at the side of his scruff, "If you want my advice, I'd let sleeping dogs lie. Alastor ain't worth the trouble or losing sleep over. Trust me on that," he said. Angel looked up then and Husk forced himself not to wince at the raw hurt in his eyes.
"I guess…" the spider said, quietly, fingers idly tapping against the counter. Husk suppressed his eye roll this time out of respect and placed an unsure hand on Angel's shoulder. The spider stiffened and met Husk's gaze warily, he wasn't used to people casually touching him outside of sex.
"Alastor is a mess you don't want to drag yourself into," Husk said, eerily honest and face serious, "not that I give two shits about what you decide to do, but as a demon who works with and for the guy, I will tell you that he's way more than he seems and not in a good way," he was firm with his words and kept his eye contact with Angel, forcing his words to get through to him, "He's down here for a reason, Angel and rightly feared because of it. If I were you, consider this as a good warning to stay away and a fucking miracle in disguise."
That was all Husk got to say before Angel's phone gave a sharp ring and broke the tense silence between them. The spider jumped back and pulled his phone, eyebrows furrowing as he was being summoned by Valentino. He excused himself quickly, tucking the phone away and wiping under his eyes where his mascara had smudged. As he walked towards the doors of the hotel, Husk's words kept circulating in his head.
He knew that everyone had their reason for being in Hell, either because they made poor choices and screwed up or because they were truly horrible people during their life. He didn't doubt that Alastor leaned more towards the latter one and he knew that he should probably be even scared and weary of that fact, especially giving the previous night’s sick inducing radio show. He had no doubt that Husk had said more than what he was supposed to and perhaps this really was a good opportunity for him to avoid a terrible fate.
Perhaps the cup he wanted to drink from was too bitter for him to handle.
But Angel didn't even know why it mattered in the first place. He knew his attraction towards the Radio Demon was probably temporary, but the more he thought it the less it made sense. His need to be close to the other seemed to run deeper than just a standard 'hey that person's attractive and I want to fuck him' and from the closely intimate moments they shared, the truth seemed to hang over Angel's head like a noose threatening to end him.
Maybe Husk is right, he thought to himself, pausing just outside the hotel. He gave a spare glance upwards and furrowed his eyebrows, maybe someone was looking out for him. He shook his head immediately, laughing at the ridiculous notion of it. No one cared enough for him to be wary of his actions. And Angel had no need for that either, he was a tough boy who could take care of himself. This thing with Alastor was temporary and it would be over before he knew it. So long as the Radio Demon didn't pull any more surprises on him, Angel was sure he could get away with miniscule damage.
He gave a side glance to the dark corner of an alleyway he passed by and stared at the shadows. He half hoped that he would make out the outline of Alastor's shadow just so he could feel special in some way and that maybe he was as hooked onto him as Angel felt. But he neither saw nor noticed anything that would've given away the appearance that he was there.
Angel tried to suppress the creeping sadness he felt.
_ _ _
"Angie cakes, what the fuck is wrong with you tonight? Daddy's had to call on you five fucking times already! Snap the fuck out of it already!"
Angel snapped back to reality at the sharp voice speaking to him and he blinked to refocus on the looming form of his pimp, Valentino. He gulped and remembered again where he was and what he was supposed to be doing.
He fumbled with the button of the Overlord's suit pants and went back to the task at hand. He apparently wasn't doing too good of a job on that because Val had suddenly shoved him away with an irritated snarl.
"I swear Angie Cakes, you're really pushing my buttons with this shit. Why the hell are you shaking like a virgin who's never given a blow job?"
Angel gulped and felt his pride take a stab at that comment. He knew he was off his game today but did Val really have to insult him like that?
"I'm sorry, Val," came the tell-tale response and Angel only realized a second too late that he had said it with some underhanded sass. His eyes widened and he barely had time to react before he saw stars fill his vision. He fell back against the floor with a cry and tried his best to stay still. Val had backhanded him hard.
"You disgusting whore," the moth hissed, "Have you forgotten your place?"
Angel forced himself to open his eyes and push through the pounding pain in his skull, he looked up at the other with fear in his eyes and shook his head, swallowing loudly, "N-no Val," he responded, "I-I'm sorry!"
"You've been running your mouth quite a lot baby cakes," the demon continued, his voice a false sugary sound, "Since you've been staying at the hotel you seem to think you've become some big shot!" He grabbed Angel's chin roughly and brought him up to his face, sneering cruelly, "You think you're something special because her majesty thinks so? Think you can talk shit because you're trying to become clean?" Angel tried to respond but Val just tightened his grip making his cheeks hurt as they were pressed harder against the sides of his teeth.
"You ain't nothing special, Angel," the moth spat, "Living at that goody-goody shit hole hotel won't change the fact of what you are, a used up little slut. You think you can just wipe away those years of screwing Johns off ya? Think you can just go back to being clean like nothing happened?" The Overlord gave a cruel laugh and shook his head, "No, no. You are what you are, Angie cakes. Ain't no force alive or in Hell that can wipe away the filth and fluids you've accumulated over the years." He laughed loudly in the Spider's face, taking joy in the tearful sight of his cash cow. How he loved bringing others down to their lowest, cruelly reminding them of what and who they really are. Valentino let the Spider go at that point, watching as he sunk down to his knees. He rolled his eyes at the pathetic display and turned on his heel back to his desk.
He waited only for a moment when he heard the other sniffle before facing him again with a dark expression, "Daddy hasn't enjoyed our time today, Angel," he said, and watched how the Spider tensed. Everyone knew that when Valentino called you by name, you were in deep shit, "Since you arrived today, you've been distracted and disrespectful. Now why's that?"
Angel said nothing, simply staring at the pimp as though words would suddenly sprout into thin air. What could he tell him? Angel couldn't flat out tell him that he was acting so off today because of Alastor. He couldn't share his emotions with his pimp for fear of the retaliation he'd be given. When his silence continued, Valentino let out an annoyed sigh.
"Hurry and spit it out, whore," he growled, "If you won't tell me what's going on, I'll have no choice but to have to break you in again. We wouldn't want that, now would we?" He asked.
"No," Angel said quickly. His anxiety had spiked up the moment Valentino even said it. He knew what he meant by breaking him in and Angel became afraid. The Overlord fiddled with a key around his neck and Angel gulped. That key was reserved for the pimp's favorite room in the studio: The Smokescreen Room. It was a place that earned its name because of how disarming the room appeared to be, but as soon as the door closed and the lock clicked into place, it became a place of horrors. It was where workers at the studio relived the horrors of being 'broken in' in order to realign themselves with Val's twisted way of thinking. It served as a reminder of who they now were and why they were there. Angel hated it with a passion but could do nothing more than cower to avoid it.
He took in a deep shaky breath and figured the best option would be to give the other something. It was best to endure Val's ridicule than have to endure the pain promised if he refused.
"I…" he began, "I was distracted today because of a... John," he settled with, holding his breath as he waited for Valentino to speak again.
The pimp raised a single eyebrow, "A John?" He repeated, amused, "Now that's a first. You're much too fueled by sex and drugs to be distracted by anything else. What was so important about him, Angie?"
The Spider let out a slow and quiet breath of relief. He was in the clear again if Val was using pet names, "He was a big buck daddy," he cautiously ventured forward, wincing at the double meaning, "He uh...said things," Angel said lamely, "And did things that made me feel…" wanted.
"Special?" The pimp supplied, uncaring and nonchalant as he opened his robe and pulled out his packs of cigarettes. Angel could only nod, bracing himself for the horrible stench of those Hell sticks to reach his nose as Val lit one.
Valentino stared at him with a calculating gaze as he sucked in the smoke and then blowing it slowly and steadily, eyeing his pet closely to look for any signs of deceit. He seemed satisfied by what he saw and let out an almost disappointed sigh as he took another drag, "Angel,” and his voice made the spider’s heart drop, “don't tell me you're catching feelings," he began, eyeing him with curiosity. Angel didn't know how to respond, too focused on trying not to wrinkle his face at the unpleasant scent wafting in the air.
"Because you know that nobody will ever see anything like that in you, right?"
The wall that Angel was slowly building up immediately came crashing down. He had heard these words said to him a million times, by himself, by Johns, by family, and hell even Val has told him on the occasional bad day to make himself feel better. But hearing it now for some reason had done him in. Perhaps because he was still a little raw from the blatant rejection Alastor had given him?
Maybe that's why the Radio Demon only stayed around long enough to toy with him before disappearing, maybe that's why he had denied Angel. People only see what they wanted to see. And it seemed like that went double for demons. They only saw Angel as a money horse and a toy for them to use when they wanted, an object to be claimed when they saw fit, then left to rot and wait for them to pick him up again. Angel was an object to be picked up, looked at, discarded, and destroyed. He was there for the pleasure of others, to give falsified adoration to suckers yearning for it and reap them for a debt he couldn't ever pay. Happiness and love wasn't his to take, the desire to be seen as an actual individual was too big of a thing to ask of for someone as ruined as him.
He gave a resigned sigh and looked down at the floor, "I know," he admitted quietly, and he knew. Deep down in his heart, Angel was sure he always knew.
Val stared down at his trophy whore and felt for the faintest, and briefest, time of his dead life, a small fraction of compassion. It was only because Valentino knew how emotionally driven the Spider was. He had spent enough time with him to gain an in-depth idea of the other. Angel Dust was a being of passion and great emotion, it was why he was number one and at the top of charts. His acting went far more than just acting and was more like a snapshot of real life. And Valentino knew just how much his audience craved for something real. There was nothing fake about what the Spider did, whether for fear of his own ass being kicked out and killed or because he actually enjoyed basking in the attention, Angel Dust always put more effort into his shows. But it was one of his follies because the Spider could never do anything half-assed. Even when it came to his own damn emotions, it was always with his heart worn on his sleeves.
He sighed again and rubbed at his temples, "Oh, Angie cakes," he responded, "The shit you get yourself into…" he muttered, but something about the way he said had Angel looking up curiously. Valentino had been facing away from him, seeming to stare out of his grandeur windows, inhaling and exhaling the cigarette he held, to Angel it almost looked like he was contemplating something, something that had him on edge. Valentino then made a motion to turn, to which Angel quickly ducked his head down, evening out his breathing and attempting to look like he hadn’t been staring.
Valentino walked to the Spider and motioned for him to stand as he walked towards the door, "Whatever this John told you, forget it," he hissed, eyes narrowing in on him from behind his heart shaped sunglasses, "I'm not running the risk of losing my golden goose because of unchecked emotions. That's a dangerous path and I won't warn you again."
"Yes, Val."
"You're under a contract with me, Angel Dust. You're mine until your debt is paid or you die during extermination." Then he gave a soft sigh and that made Angel look up at him, his curiosity piqued, "I only say these things because I care about you, sweetheart, you know that right? Daddy likes to take care of his things."
Things, a chain in disguise that Angel knew otherwise to but agreed nonetheless, "I do, Val. Thank you."
Valentino sniffed and looked away, "You're dismissed from being here," he said, "I expect your quota to exceed the mark you made today next time."
He didn't wait for Angel to respond, simply walking out of his office and off to handle some other business with a shout of, “Get me Vox on the fucking phone!”
Angel let out a much needed sigh and finally let go of the tension in his body. He hated the way he felt right now, hated how Valentino's words made his mind spin with unwanted thoughts. He craved a sweet buzz.
He left the office slowly and made his way to the elevator. He was numb to his surroundings and numb to the world. All that remained was the inner turmoil and conflicting thoughts.
Everything Val had said was nothing that Angel wasn't used to. But why was he suddenly feeling this way? Why did he feel as if he had been slapped back to what his reality really was? Had he only been fooling himself this whole time?
His surroundings moved in a blur and Angel only stopped when he registered the vending machine right in front of him, heart calming at the familiar presence of it but not remembering how he found his way there. Automatically, his eyes looked over the many drugs to choose from but his body mechanically moved to get the one he was quickly hungry for. He clicked the button, watched with eager anticipation as the small eight ounce bag dropped and he reached with trembling fingers to grab it. He held it carefully in his hands, blood already pulsing with sweet, sweet excitement as his mind sang praises to the white powder that would make everything disappear.
He could already feel the pleasure begging to be released as he walked away from the area with the small clear bag, could feel the pull of the drug he called himself by calling to him and he was eager to answer it. His body was in pain, his mind was in pain and they pleaded in synchronization for that beloved poison to rush through him and fix him because if nothing else could make him feel okay and good about himself, then he knew this would. It always did.
And then a soft thought in the back of his mind, if Alastor couldn't fix him then surely this could, right?
Unable to wait until he reached the safety of his room at the hotel, Angel rushed his way into the nearest seedy building, which happened to be a tattoo parlor. He acknowledged the workers there but simply moved on towards the bathroom without giving a reason. They didn't need one anyways, the crazed look and desperation in his eyes were enough to hint at why he was there in the first place. He practically ran inside the private bathroom and locked the door with record speed. He licked his lips as he leaned back against the dirty door and looked down at the drug in his hand.
He opened it and nearly tore into it but stopped briefly. The image of Charlie's face popped into his mind, her kind words of encouragement from their previous therapy session weeks ago and her ever constant belief in him echoed tenderly in his mind.
"You're amazing, Angel!" She had told him after he had made a favorite Italian dish for the staff of the hotel. The beaming smile and gentle warmth in her eyes had nearly made Angel want to become better.
"I think you're a lot stronger than you think," she had told him as they finished painting one of the rooms in the hotel, "I know that you're a fighter, Angel. You're more than what those drugs or people would have you believe."
The Spider gave a staggered breath as he came back from his thoughts, from the memories that seemed to argue against him. He looked at the drugs with a hesitant stare. Charlie had put so much belief in him, had given him praises and words he was undeserving of, how would she react to see him relapse after staying so clean? He felt like he was somehow betraying her if he were to do this and was almost afraid to follow through and was almost about to dump them down the toilet when suddenly a burst of static broke through.
"Aw, don't tell me you're chickening out now," a very familiar and very disappointed voice said. Angel jumped and looked up to see the Radio Demon standing a few feet away from him-which in a small bathroom wasn’t nearly far enough as he’d like- his ever present smile widening at the Spider's notice.
"What the-Al?" Angel said. Suddenly he grew fearful and felt the blood drain from his face. He looked at the drugs in his hand before looking back up at the demon and nearly screaming, "It's not what you think!" He said quickly, dropping the baggy as though he had been burned by it, "I-I-I was just feeling shitty is all a-a-and I wasn't actually going to do it! I mean I was, but, uh, then I decided not to and you caught me before seeing that I was gonna flush it and so we don't need to tell Charlie about this, right?" He said quickly, flashing an awkward and tense smile at the other, eyes imploring and pleading for Alastor to play nice with him.
Alastor tilted his head slightly to the side, assessing the other in some way as small fragments of his thoughts blipped in and out of existence as he just watched. Then he was suddenly cracking his neck back into an upright position. His eyes squinted slightly as though he were scheming something but the look was too quick for Angel to really understand. The Radio Demon took a few steps forward and reached down to pick up the bag, investigating it with interest. Angel's breath caught in his throat and he thought he should break the silence in some way.
"C-can I ask what you're doing here? Or how you even found me to begin with?" He asked, nervously. Alastor looked back up at him and there was the barest hint of surprise.
"I forget you can be rather stupid sometimes," he said, bluntly. Angel felt heat on his face as he blushed and gave a shout of offense.
"Aye! That was pretty fuckin' rude and uncalled for Smiles!"
"No matter though, darling! I can assure you that we can still have some fun," he grinned, the last word was said a bit differently than the others. It sounded unfiltered and deeper. Angel couldn't help the chill that ran up his spine.
"Fun?" He repeated, his face a picture of confusion. He was confused by this whole scenario really. Alastor still hadn't answered his questions. The whole arrival of the other was unsettling and off putting. How had he known where to find him? Why had he come to find him? Angel was in the seedy part of the Pentagram, a place that was much too tasteless and disgusting for the image that Alastor preferred. Not only that, but Angel knew for a fact that Husk was the only one who saw him leave. But then again, the cat could've told Charlie who relayed it over to the Radio Demon. He frowned and glanced over at the demon in question, only to jolt back in shock at the crimson red eyes looking straight into his. When had he moved closer?
"You're a little close, d-dontcha think?" He asked, his voice hushed. Alastor's smile grew a little and he stared at Angel with a half-lidded expression.
"I could be closer," the demon stated matter-of-factly, "Isn't this what you want?"
Angel shuddered, swallowing audibly and licked his lips, trying not to be too distracted as Alastor's eyes followed his movement. Fuck, the Spider thought to himself as Alastor’s lips twitched ever so slightly.
"Do you want it?" The Spider asked and watched as surprise once again acquainted itself with Alastor's face.
"So peculiar," the other said, "I can see why he's developed an interest in you," he said. Angel blinked, taken aback.
"I'm sorry did you say-,"
"Never mind that!" Alastor's sharp tone cut through, and he snapped his fingers, summoning his staff and planting it on the floor with a dull thud as he leaned forward against it, red eyes boring strangely into Angel's, "You're quite the fellow, my good fellow!" Alastor grinned and suddenly Angel got a bad feeling about this.
"I'm so confused right now," he admitted, "You are Alastor...right?"
The supposed Radio Demon said nothing, squinting his eyes and tilting his head with a jarring crack, "Perhaps you’re not as dumb as I thought,” he grinned, tucking his arms behind him as he stalked towards Angel, watching with satisfaction as the other took a step back with each of his own steps forward until he was backed into a wall, chest moving rapidly with each breath he took as his mismatched pink eyes stared back at Alastor’s dangerous ones.
“H-hey Smiles,” Angel tried, smiling nervously, “Wanna clue me in here?”
Alastor stepped closer, “No, I don’t think I do!” He laughed, suddenly evading Angel’s space and boxing him in between him and the wall. Angel gasped and shoved at him, only to watch in horror as his hands went through the demon. He yanked his arms back as though he’d been burned and stared in a mix of shock and horror at the demon, was this some sort of sick trick? Was Alastor trying to toy with him again?
“What-what the fuck…?” he managed and Alastor clicked his tongue.
“Just like you to go and ruin the fun,” he sighed, bringing a hand up and letting his index finger trail lightly along Angel’s right cheek, following his jawline and stopping at his chin, “Thought you enjoyed the tease,” the demon smirked, suddenly gripping Angel’s face tightly between his fingers and making the spider cry out. Angel watched through wincing eyes as Alastor tilted his head, “How despicable,” he sighed, turning his head this way and that as he looked him over, “There’s no way my counterpart could possibly be attracted to you. Why you’re dripping with “I’ve been used in every way imaginable”!” This Alastor cackled, tossing his head back and enjoying the way Angel’s face fell ever so slightly.
“Fuck you,” Angel spat, feeling the sting of that comment hit him hard, real Alastor or not, and the demon shook his head.
“Oh I don’t think so,” he sniffed, shoving him away non-too gently, “I prefer my doe untainted, if you will,” he mused, stepping back and twirling his microphone staff about, “Fresh and clean and ready to be claimed! Something that you’ve long Surpassed, wouldn’t you agree, dearest, what with your daily copulation? How could you expect a man of my refined taste to shoot for someone who thinks so little of themselves?” Alastor spared Angel no glance as he adjusted his cufflink, showing boredom at the Spider’s hurt expression, he sighed and tutted as he walked over to the mirror to adjust his hair and fix his bow tie, “No, no. Best to tell yourself that an Overlord like me would tear you apart and leave you for the devils. Why, I can hardly imagine the taste of you! Rotten and ruined and far too tender to ever provide-,”
Angel bit back tears and felt a rage course through him. He saw red as he summoned his Tommy guns and aimed them right at the fucking strawberry pimp and blasted his fucking ass to wherever he had emerged from. The bullets of course ran past through Alastor and towards the door, chipping away the wood while the demon merely looked bored and unsurprised. Once his bullets had been expended and he was too angry to summon more, Angel ran at Alastor and made to punch him right in his fucking smug face, only to suddenly be grabbed by the wrist and slammed straight into the wall head first, Alastor pressing him firmly and uncomfortably against the surface.
“You done yet?” Alastor asked, unamused.
Angel squirmed against his hold, “Hardly,” he hissed, and he hated the way he felt his skin tingle as Alastor’s mouth came closer to his ear, his breathing ticking the side of his face and causing his body to stir to life.
“You’ve caused quite enough of a stir today, Angel,” Alastor crooned cruelly into his ear, “When will you recognize that all you do is make a mess of everything?”
And then the weight was gone.
Angel whirled around quickly, ready to strike again but he was alone in the bathroom again.
“Hey!” A disgruntled voice called out, “The fuck do you think you’re doing?!”
Angel turned to realize that the door to the bathroom was nothing more than splinters and he had a very angry shop owner glaring at him. He stepped shakily away from the counter he had been pressed again, still trying to digest and process what had just happened. The owner had started yelling again, but Angel tuned him out for the moment. He gave a grunt as he stepped over the remaining shards of wood on the ground, holding onto his sore arm that Alastor-or whatever the fuck that thing was-had pulled harshly.
The store owner continued to shout out and yell after him, “Stupid fucking crack whores! Also tweaking out and causing a mess!”
Angel’s heart twisted and he paused right outside the bathroom door, biting his bottom lip to keep it from trembling. He wasn’t exactly sure what just happened, his mind was racing and he was still trying to reel himself back in from what had just transpired. That wasn’t Alastor, right? He thought to himself, that couldn’t have been…but as he looked back to the restroom, he saw the figure posing as Alastor standing in there again, giving him a wicked grin, almost as though daring him to speak out and prove he was crazy. He was brought out of his thoughts as he was being shoved away from the bathroom by the resentful owner.
“You druggies are all the same! Getting high off your ass and breaking anything you find!” The owner snarled, viciously, grabbing Angel’s wrists and continuing to drag him away from the bathroom and towards the front of the store. Angel sputtered as he tried to explain himself, tried to point out Alastor who was still smiling that eerie smile and waving at him with an unknown sort of mischievousness and Angel couldn’t bite back the urge this time to speak up.
“Aren’t you going to yell at him too!” Angel shouted, almost crazily, yanking his arm back from the owner and pointing accusingly at where Alastor was still standing, feigning a look of surprise as though he had been caught. The owner followed his finger before meeting his gaze again, this time even angrier than before.
“Fucking schizo!” He snapped, “Ain’t nobody there! Now get your high ass outta here and don’t come back!” Angel stilled as he looked back at Alastor’s form, the radio demon’s smile seeming to grow as he lifted his arms up and gave a oops, cat’s out of the bag expression and then Angel watched in horror as the demon faded away.
“The fuck…” he whispered, stepping back, “H-he was just…what the fuck?”
“Out!” The demon cried, pushing Angel towards the door, “Out! Out! Out!”
“Yeah, yeah I’m goin’!” The spider snapped, beginning to walk and heading out the door. He was pretty sure that he hadn’t had any of his drugs, so how come he had seen Alastor there when apparently he wasn’t? Was he imagining things now? Was he going fucking crazy? He hugged himself tightly and shuddered, had he taken the drugs and his high was giving him hallucinations based around Alastor now? But Angel was sure that he hadn’t touched a drop of that stuff, he clearly remembered dropping it and Alastor-or well, not Alastor had tempted him but he hadn’t snorted any before that.
“Fuck, Angel, get it togetha,” he whispered to himself as he began to make his way back to the hotel, maybe he was tired. He had hardly been getting any sleep since Val had increased his quota, much to his chagrin, it was punishment for joining Charlie in the extermination and not focusing on making more films and earning more money. Perhaps he was starting to hallucinate because of that, and coupled with Alastor’s apparent wishy-washy attitude, his mind was just having a small breakdown. Maybe he was having a mental breakdown.
Oh, Lucifer, Angel thought as he ducked into an alleyway, the same alleyway near the hotel that had previously hoped Alastor would be in. He sank to his knees and tucked his head in between them, wrapped his arms around him as though to shield and hide him away from the world.
Was he really losing his mind because his crush had rejected him? He thought to himself, fuck, how much lower can I sink?