Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

To say Vox put up a fight would be generous.

He bites at Alastor and sent sparks shooting out of his antenna as Alastor snatches him from the floor, yes, but the effectiveness of his efforts was… debatable.

He snaps at empty air, teeth clacking against one another as he gives startled yells while the electricity jumping from his body sends small tingles down Alastor’s spine at most.

Vox’s wires eventually attempt to make a desperate grab at him, but Alastor’s own shadows keep them at bay. They hold them back, some tearing at them and pulling them out of Vox himself.

Although, Alastor hesitates. He pauses as he prepares to hide Vox away. He thinks and considers the Sinner in front of him. Considers what Alastor himself wants. If hiding him away would truly work in his own favour.

He eventually goes through with it at the sound of another knock on his hatch door.

“Alastor please. I just want to talk.”

But he doesn’t tuck Vox away into his shadow. He doesn’t know what stops him from going through with the idea, but he instead wraps a shadow over Vox’s mouth and slips him behind his control panel. Out of sight. Silent.

He takes a moment to readjust himself, brushing his fingers through his hair as he steps towards the tower’s hatch. Alastor can feel the Screen’s presence lingering behind him, but the sight of Vincent’s faint figure before him keeps him at ease.

Alastor opens the hatch, but the sight of Charlie makes Alastor pause. His smile wavers at her wide eyes, round and wet with unshed tears.

“Can I… come up?”

It takes a moment for her words to process, but he takes a step back. He wordlessly gives her space to enter.

He absentmindedly summons his staff, twisting it in his grip as she acquaints herself with the room around them. Alastor keeps an eye on the control panel, ready for if she steps towards it.

“So,” Charlie starts, rocking back and forth on her heel before turning her head to look at Alastor. She tries to plaster a smile onto her face, but the way it shakes is painfully obvious. “About earlier…”

Alastor’s grip on his staff tightens and he can tell that she notices. He can see the way her lips thin at the sight of it, but she doesn’t mention it. Instead she looks away, face growing tight as she steps forward.

“Look I… I’m sorry. I know how you are with… well.” She raises her hand in front of herself, eyes searching over her palm as if it hand - ha - over the words she was attempting to scrape together. “I was just… worried.”

She looks up at Alastor, finally meeting his eyes. “You spent so much time with them, and I know you think you’re OK,” Alastor’s ears flick in annoyance at that, “and I won’t push if you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m here. We’re all here.”

“I doubt Husker wishes to play bartender with me.”

“Most of us are here,” Charlie gives a weak laugh, backing up. “And I’m… sorry for pushing you earlier. I’m still trying to work on the boundaries thing.”

Alastor gives a hum, eyes drifting to Vincent as he approaches Charlie.

He doesn’t touch her, he barely steps into her bubble, but he watches. Head cocking to the side as she continues to back up until her leg hits the control panel.

Alastor flinches as she turns around to inspect it. “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry, I forgot this was here.”

She leans over the piece of machinery, hands hovering over the panel. It’s clear she wants to touch it, to figure out what each little button does, but she doesn’t. Instead she lets her eyes scan over it, body leaning this way and that in an attempt to get a better view of what stood before her.

“Oh wow, is this what you use for your broadcasts?” She leans in closer, and Alastor finally finds it in himself to move. To rush over to her as she leans closer and closer towards the edge of the panel. Closer to looking at what lays behind it. 

And he can feel Vox reacting. He can feel the way his speakers vibrate underneath his power, struggling to get a word out against Alastor’s shadows.

“I’ve never been up here before, I didn’t know it’d be so complex-“

“Yes well, I fear technology wasn’t quite as advanced as it is now when I arrived in Hell,” Alastor says, his shadows engulfing him. He reappears beside Charlie within the blink of an eye, but he doesn’t let himself be amused by the way she flinches at the action. Not with Vox’s struggles growing stronger and stronger against his shadows, sparks of electricity emanating from him and causing Alastor’s shadows to shift against its light.

Alastor places his hand on Charlie’s upper arm, gently turning her away from the panel. She pouts at the action and glances back at it, but doesn’t resist. Charlie lets Alastor lead her back to the tower’s hatch, her face growing tighter and tighter with each step taken.

“I was being serious, you know,” Charlie says, looking up at Alastor as the two stop before the door. “About being sorry.”

“I’m sure you are, Charlie.”

“It’s just…” And there she goes. “I’m worried.”

“And there really is no need for that.” Alastor’s grip on the head of his staff tightens, eyes narrowing. Another spark shoots out of Vox, and he does his best not to wince as his shadows shift to accommodate. “I’m as fit as a fiddle, wouldn’t you say?”

“Well, yeah visually, but-”

“Then that’s all you need to know, my dear.”

Charlie doesn’t look convinced, her hands clasped together and held close to her chest, but she doesn’t prod any further. Her black lips glue shut as she gives a nod. But her curiosity isn’t pulled away from the tower just yet.

Alastor tenses as he feels his shadows momentarily disperse around Vox, gone for a mere moment, but that moment is all Vox needs to shout out. To let his speakers emit an ear screeching noise before the shadows envelop him once more.

Charlie jolts out the sound, eyes widening as they dart around the room. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” Alastor’s eyes unwillingly dart back towards the panel, breath hitching at the sight of the Screen standing where Vox was hidden. It stares at him in silence, but it doesn’t need to utter a word to make Alastor want to run. To escape its sight.

“Just… a malfunction in my panel,” Alastor eventually manages to choke out, eyes darting away. “As I said, it's quite old. Perhaps it's about time to find a new model.”

He doesn’t look to Charlie, but his hands find her once more, rushing her closer towards the hatch.

“You?” Charlie starts. “Get newer technology?”

“Yes, well. What choice do I have if my panel is letting out those ghastly noises?” A laugh track bleeds out of Alastor’s staff, weak and distorted. “No, I’m sure you have plenty of other matters to attend to. My panel malfunctions are my own problem to bear.”

A shadow sprouts from Alastor, latching onto the hatch’s handle and thrusting it open.

Charlie doesn’t resist when he urges her forward, but her lips thin with worry. She keeps her eyes on him as she begins to descend, eyes glowing amidst the shadow the hatch casts upon her before clicking shut.

Alastor finally turns his attention back to Vox, shadows throwing him back out into the open and sending him clattering across the floor.

“Fucking hell!” Vox exclaims, groaning as he forces himself back onto the flat bottom of his screen. But he doesn’t get a chance to keep complaining.

Alastor yanks him off the floor, thumbs pressing into Vox’s screen. “You are not to try that again.”

Vox’s eyes narrow at that, black swirls encompassing his eye. “Since when were you the one giving orders?”

But Alastor shifts his hand before it can take hold, his palm shifting and pressing over Vox’s screen and earning another curse in response.

“This entire interaction, were you not paying attention?” Alastor hisses, but he feels his shoulders ease at the feeling of Vincent’s hand placing itself on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Vincent’s voice is soft, wrapping around Alastor like a blanket. “The princess didn’t see anything. You’re fine.” A wire wraps around Alastor’s wrist, giving it a squeeze as Vincent steps into his view. “We’re fine.”

The wire continues to snake up Alastor’s arm, but he doesn’t mind. His eyes are fixed on Vincent’s hardening gaze. “But we need to keep moving. We can’t just keep him laying around here, can we?”

Alastor’s eyes find the window. “No, we shouldn’t.”

His grip tightens around Vox as he squirms in his grasp. Alastor looks back to him, smile twitching.

“Vox.” The struggling stops, and the lone eye exposed squints up at him. “How would you make yourself more… portable?”

“Oh fuck no.”

The squirming continues, and all Alastor does is heave a sigh before looking to Vincent. Alastor is met with a nod and a gesture towards Alastor. An invitation as another wire drags itself over Alastor’s shoulders.

And Vox notices the shift before it happens. Whether it’s the change in Alastor’s grip or the sudden surge in power Alastor doesn’t know for sure, but he can see the way Vox’s eyes widen. He can see the way his mouth flies open in an attempt to protest.

He’s swallowed by a shadow before he gets the chance.

The tower is quiet with Vox gone. There’s no crackle of static or a faint whirl of his fans. And Alastor can’t help the small pang of regret that shoots through him, piercing through him like an arrow.

Vincent’s touch helps ease him, his wires pulling him towards the tower’s hatch.

But Alastor freezes as he kneels down to open it. Blue tipped shoes standing on the other side of the wooden door. He finds himself slowly looking up, the Screen watching him with wide eyes.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Alastor’s grip on the hatchet’s handle tightens at its words.

“You’ll lose him eventually.”

“Vox isn’t going anywhere,” Alastor hisses.

“He’ll slip through your fingers.” The Screen steps towards him, feet planting on top of the hatchet itself. “Gone before you know it.”

There’s a small shove at Alastor’s shoulders, and he looks back to Vincent.

“Keep going,” Vincent whispers in his ear.

But when Alastor looks back he’s met with the Screen crouching before him, smile sharp and wide.

“Ignore it all you want, but I’ll be here. Ready to remind you.”

And it's gone within a blink of Alastor’s eye. The room in front of him empty as he fumbles with the hatch door and rushes through.

The halls of the hotel are vacant as Alastor steps through them, staff materializing into his hands. It thumps against the ground as he walks, eyes jumping from side to side within the hall with every noise it makes.

Although, the Screen is nowhere to be found. It doesn’t linger like Vincent does. It doesn’t utter a sound.

But something else does.

There’s yelling in the hotel. Alastor can’t pinpoint where, he’s too deep into the building, but he does his best to follow the ruckus. He sees some sinners out and about, investigating the noise, but they duck away at the sight of Alastor, slipping back into their rooms with a yelp.

It’s only once he begins to approach the stairs leading to the lobby that Alastor picks up on the argument unfolding below.

“I told you he’s not here.”

Alastor’s ears flick as he steps closer to the noise. He can hear sinners muttering amongst themselves, gasps and ‘boo’s drifting through the air.

But Alastor flinches as he catches sight of who has entered the hotel, slipping away into a shadow without a second thought. His first instinct is to run, to give in to the wire Vincent automatically had wrapped around his arm and follow the way it tugs at it, but he doesn’t. Instead Alastor uses his shadow to slink forward.

He can feel Vox lingering within his shadows, burrowed deep into its abyss, but he tries to ignore it. Tries to pay attention to the issue at hand as he darts through the crowd. But doesn’t surface as he nears the hotel’s entrance.

No, he doubted Velvette and Valentino would want to see him right now.

Especially not with Vaggi standing before them, wings out and spear pointing directly at them..

“And we told you that he wouldn’t run off anywhere else,” hisses Valentino, a hand on his hip as he glares down at Vaggi’s spear. “What, you think he’d run off to Imp city?”

He can feel Vox stir at the voice, struggling and yelling up at Alastor. But he’s too far away to comprehend his words. Too far to listen.

“I think he’d much rather be over there than be stuck here.”

“Oh, but his favourite playmate is here,” coos Velvette, and Alastor feels himself prickle at her words. “He’d just love to get to spend more quality time with him.”

Vaggi’s grip on her spear tightens. “I don’t know what you think about Alastor, but he’s got nothing to do with this.”

Velvette scoffs. “Oh come off it, you don’t know that old geezer like we do.”

“I know enough to understand that he hates your little freak.”

Alastor can see a flash of light from the corner of his eye, sparks of electricity jumping from Vincent’s form. He feels a clawed hand rest on his arm, but he doesn’t shrug it off.

Valentino doesn’t seem to appreciate those words either, wings thrusting up into the air and sending puffs of red smoke around them. He narrows his eyes, red and gold fangs baring at Vaggi.

“Oh you bitch-”

“Hey!”

Charlie pushes herself through the crowd, tone sharp as a knife as she glares up at Valentino. Her eyes have shifted, yellow sclera replaced by red as horns threaten to burst out of her forehead.

“You can’t just force your way in here after last week,” Charlie growls.

Velvette clicks her tongue. “Aw, did you change your open door policy?”

“We both know you’re not here for redemption.”

“They’re here for Alastor,” Vaggi says, leaning into Charlie’s space yet not letting her eye leave the two Vees before them.

“Oh we are not doing this again.” Alastor can see the way her eyes glow brighter at her words, white irises standing out against a pool of red. “He got out of whatever fucked up deal you forced him into, he is not going back.”

A screech of static tears through the space on Alastor’s other side, and he flinches. His eyes don’t leave the scene before them, but he doesn’t need to look to feel the Screen’s presence hanging over him.

Valentino gives a bark of laughter. “Forced? The red bitch practically offered himself to Vox on a silver platter!”

There’s a brief moment where Charlie falters, where her shoulders slack and her eyes widen, but Alastor has to commend her for how quickly she readjusts herself. How quickly she puffs out her chest and raises her chin.

“Whatever the situation was, he’s back here now.”

“Fine, whatever, we don’t want him or his shitty bob back in the tower anyway,” Velvette says with a roll of his eyes. “We just need to know what he did to Vox.”

Alastor’s first instinct is to push Vox deeper into the shadows. To hide him away somewhere only he could find. But he doesn’t. He instead keeps his eyes fixed before him, doing his best to ignore Vox’s struggles below.

“He isn’t here.” Vaggi thrusts her spear towards them again, blade inches from Valentino’s face who is clearly doing his best not to flinch.

The clawed hand’s grip tightens.

“Al, we should go,” Vincent whispers in his ear, but Alastor doesn’t move. 

“If you’re so sure of that, why not let us walk around? Snoop around for the man who clearly isn’t here?” Velvette raises an eyebrow, smile strained yet wide as Charlie and Vaggi look to one another.

The hand shakes his arm, grip tighter with each jut of Alastor’s body. “Alastor.”

The two women are quiet for what Alastor personally feels like is too long. Too long to be settling on simply kicking the two Vees out. The two Vees that wanted to tear Vox away, right as Alastor had found a solution to his transportability.

“You’ll be in and out?” Vaggi asks, voice rough and low.

Valentino juts one of his hips to the side for a hand to rest on it. “Please, do you think we want to be here?”

Alastor watches as Charlie and Vaggi look to each other one more time. His ear flicks as he hears the next few words leave their lips.

“You’ll be allowed to search the hotel under supervision,” Charlie says after a moment, and Alastor tries not to scream. “My supervision. Just so you don’t try anything.”

And Alastor can feel Vox reaching within himself, searching for power that could send him bursting out of Alastor’s shadows. But he can’t dwell on him. Not when his partners were eyeing each other upon Charlie’s proposal.

And not when Velvette gives a huff and says, “Whatever you say, princess.”

Alastor can feel Vincent’s claws digging into him through his sleeves.

“You need to get on making him portable now. Stay away from them.”

Vincent’s filter is heavier, weighing down his words.

Alastor moves to get a better look at him, to ease any of his distress, but freezes when he feels the heat of the Screen’s face at the nape of his neck.

“Just run away. Run away and leave others to clean up your mess.”

Alastor doesn’t move. He can’t. Not with the Screen behind him, wires inching out and reaching to Alastor. Wrapping around his neck.

“Let me go back to the Vees. Let me forget about you.”

Alastor barely comprehends the lights flickering throughout the room as he rushes away.

He darts through the halls of the hotel, the Screen’s static buzzing in his ear as he does. No words are uttered but he can hear the mockery in the way it fluctuates, growing louder then soft. Louder then soft.

Alastor finds himself surfacing in his room what couldn’t be more than a few minutes later, a shadow whipping out behind him to stretch across his door.

Vincent steps before Alastor before his pacing can properly begin. He raises his hands, antenna drooping. “I know this complicates things-”

“I want them out!” Alastor hisses, lights flickering above.

Alastor’s eyes land on the Screen across the room, flickering into existence alongside the lights above. A closed lip smile has spread across its face, but no triumphant spiel has escaped it. Not even a static filled laugh.

But Alastor is brought back to the present as Vincent’s hands come to rest on Alastor’s shoulders. His eyes snap back to the other man, whose eyebrows furrow together. “I do too. But you can’t just kick them out. You’d make things worse.”

“I think things would be significantly better if they weren’t here.”

“You’d look guilty.”

Alastor scoffs and looks away, ears pressing back. “I suppose.”

A soft laugh escapes Vincent, barely audible against the tin of his filter. “We can’t let them slow us down, but we also can’t let them find us.”

“Clearly.”

“But we need to find something for our little issue without them finding out.”

“And what can I use? How do I find something you’ll like?” Alastor asks.

Vincent winces at the question. “I’m sorry, but there’s not much I can help you with there,” Vincent says, voice low. His hands slide off Alastor as he raises a claw to his own lips. Alastor has to hold back a whine of disappointment at the loss of contact. “I’m just as out of the loop as you are.”

Alastor’s eyes briefly flick to the Screen. It lingers by Alastor’s vanity, eyes wide and bright against the rest of it’s dead yet slick screen.

It certainly looked new, a replica of Vox’s own head, but its eyes narrow the longer Alastor looks to it. The longer he considers asking it for advice.

But Alastor knows better than to prod. He knows better than to test his chances.

“We’ll just have to do some investigating,” Vincent suggests. “I’m sure there’s somebody around here that can help. Charlie?”

“She’s already suspicious,” Alastor grumbles.

“What’s her name… Bomb girl?”

“She hardly knows me as is.”

“Which makes her a good candidate?”

Alastor furrows his brow at that. “No… She doesn’t know me but I she knows of my image. She may ask just as many questions, just not to me.”

“So we need somebody who won’t ask questions.”

“And not one that will speak in… tongues like Niffty might.” He could already hear her rattling away, explaining the specifics of the technological advancements Alastor had missed over the years. Yelling about words he couldn’t for the life of him understand.

Besides, her rambles may draw unwanted attention, and no matter how deeply Alastor appreciates her assistance he would much rather avoid pursuing it this one time. 

Alastor’s ear flicks and he looks towards his door. He couldn’t turn to Niffty and he couldn’t rely on any of the staff to ask any questions. But perhaps.

Alastor slips into his shadow, his form slipping through the crack beneath his door and bolting through the halls. He listens as he moves. Cautious for any familiar voices. For anybody who may pull him away from his mission.

It doesn’t take long before Alastor’s found his prey, eyes scanning the hotel’s lobby before stepping out into the open. He keeps his ears angled towards the stairs, ready for any uninvited guests as he approaches the one person he could rely on to not ask questions. To not turn to Vaggi or the princess. Whether he wanted to or not.

“Husker!” Alastor starts, turning around and strolling up to the bar. He ignores the way Husk curses under his breath at his arrival, letting his arm rest on the bar’s counter as his smile widens at the other man. “I need your advice.”

“If it's on how to avoid the idiots walking around the hotel looking for you I think you’ve already been doing a pretty good job.”

“Oh, nonsense. We both know I don’t need help with that,” Alastor waves him off with a laugh. “It’s more of… modern advice.”

Husk stills at that, eyes squinting as he slowly turns to Alastor. “In what way?”

“Oh just the basics. While any advice is appreciated…” No it wasn’t. “...I do have a specific interest in small pieces of technology.”

“Uh huh…” Husk rests the bottle he had been holding onto the counter. “And you’re suddenly interested in this because…”

“Why, whether I like it or not I’m a media demon!” Alastor places a hand to his chest. “And I’ve realized I must acquaint myself with these new little devices people use to listen to my show.”

“And what caused this realization?”

A hiss of static leaves Vincent’s speakers, but Alastor doesn’t flinch at Husk’s question.

“Oh nothing in particular,” he says, waving Husk off with a laugh. “Merely want to stay ahead. Keep viewers engaged.”

“You sound like Vox.”

And that earns a reaction.

Husk’s words send a jolt through Alastor, the lights flickering overhead but Husk maintains his eye contact. He doesn’t even blink until the room around them calms.

“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about,” Alastor says, voice strained.

“Right.” Husk’s voice is levelled, but Alastor can hear the suspicion in his tone. “And why not ask Niffty about this? You and I both know she’s better with this kinda thing.”

“You were the first person I came across. And besides, she speaks in too much technical jargon for me to possibly keep up with.” Laughs ring out from Alastor’s staff, and Husk eyes it.

“Sure…” Husk doesn’t continue for a moment, placing a hand on the bar’s counter before sighing. “Look, if you want to know the specifics, people listen to podcasts on their phones nowadays. You know, the thing everybody except you has.”

Alastor nods along, smile thinning at the comment.

“But for Radio? Don’t really see too many people with one around their homes anymore unless they really like your show. Not that they really need one since you just hijack most sound systems in the area anyway.”

“And are phones… hard to get acquainted with?”

Husk gives a snort of laughter. “For you? Definitely.” Husk looks to the side as Alastor scowls. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if you were able to get an older model working. Or maybe you could make a rotary work…”

“Thank you, Husker, your help is greatly appreciated.” Alastor pushes himself off the counter, taking a few steps back and sneering at the other man before him. “You are not to utter a word of this conversation to anyone.”

Husk’s ears press back. “That ain’t too reassuring, Alastor. What’s-”

“I’m upholding my image,” Alastor snaps. “What would the public think of the Radio Demon suddenly indulging in technology?”

“They’d think he finally lost it.”

A sharp screech escapes Alastor’s staff, and Alastor barely takes note of the Screen flickering into view beside Husk. He barely looks to the smile overtaking its face as his neck snaps in Husk’s direction, gaze meeting Husk’s own.

Even if Alastor hadn’t heard the small yowl that had left Husk, the tremble in his lips would be enough to tell Alastor that he regretted his words. That he wanted to reach out and grab them out of the air. But what's done is done.

Husk’s chain snaps around his neck, Alastor’s long fingers yanking at it and sending him slamming into the bar before him. He’s trembling as Alastor looms over him, as he grows and his limbs snap and creak. As Alastor’s shadows leak out around him as the lights flicker above.

“Alastor,” he hears Vincent hiss, and his smile tightens, stitches tugging at his lips to keep them shut.

Husk whimpers under him, a sound Alastor’s hardly ever blessed with hearing, but he barely calms himself. He barely moves.

He can feel his teeth glow as he speaks, his face remaining still.

“Not. A. Word.”

“Right,” Husk mutters, voice raspy.

Neither move for a moment, air thick with fear and anger.

“Oi!”

Alastor releases his grip, Husk’s chain disappearing within a blink of an eye as his gaze snaps up to the hotel’s staircase.

Cherri Bomb slides down the railing, eye narrowed at Alastor as she rushes to a gasping Husk. 

“The fuck was that about?” she exclaims, hopping over the bar to stand beside the other man.

All Alastor does is dust off his suit, limbs snapping back into place. “I was merely reminding him of his place. Nothing you should concern yourself with.”

“Like hell I won’t!” She places a hand against Husk’s back, his breathing slowing as his hand rubs at his neck. His eyes are wide, pupils as thin as needles. “Jesus, you’re just like Valentino, aren’t you?”

Alastor scoffs, hands gripping at his staff as a staticky snicker leaks into the air. The Screen’s shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. “Please, the moth doesn’t possess half the poise I do. This was merely a correction that was overdue.”

“But-”

Husk’s other hand finds her shoulder, his head giving a small shake. She looks like she wants to protest, to keep stabbing at Alastor until something hits, but she snaps her mouth shut.

Alastor’s smile widens. “Well, if that’s all I best be on my way. I’m a very busy man after all.” He gives a bow. “Thank you for your time, Husker.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before he slips away into his shadows once more, bolting off before Cherri can throw another insult his way. Before she tries to compare Alastor to Valentino.

“At least he let Vox in.”

Alastor gives a yelp as he jumps out of his shadow, eyes scanning the hallway for the Screen.

But its nowhere in sight. It doesn’t linger or hover around Alastor.

“He might have let Vox in,” Alastor gives a sigh as Vincent steps into view, “but he isn’t what he needs, is he?”

“No.” It’s barely audible, but the words slip past Alastor’s lips before he can stop them.

“Valentino’s hotheaded and vain. He doesn’t work with him.” Vincent’s hands cup Alastor’s face. “But we do, don’t you think?”

Alastor doesn’t answer this time, but he lets his eyes slip shut. He lets himself sink into Vincent’s touch.

“Now let’s go find that phone.”

Alastor’s back on the move before he can even think about it.

“We need to find something nobody will think to look for,” Vincent says, his voice drifting around Alastor. “A phone nobody wants anymore…”

But as Vincent thinks, Alastor can’t help but let his mind wander. His thoughts flit back to Husker. To his suspicion and his words. To Cherri Bomb and her accusations, flung around as if she barely understood them herself.

Alastor was everything Valentino wanted to be. Successful, passionate about his work, powerful. He knew how to hold himself. He knew how to present to the world and not abandon Vox when he needed him most. Alastor would be there for Vox. He would be at his side. Not off who knows where, snorting a line off some sinner’s stomach-

He stops in his tracks. To be quite honest Alastor hadn’t had a goal as to where he was going.

But now he did.

Angel Dust’s old room stands before him untouched. Polaroids lamely dangle from dormant neon spiderwebs etching itself across the wood. Alastor doesn’t dwell on them, eyes skimming over his familiar glitched figure before sinking into his shadow and slipping in.

He doesn’t turn on the light as he resurfaces, not that it mattered. He’s lived in darkness long enough to be accustomed to its presence… For the most part. Alastor didn’t particularly want to know what he’d find in a well lit room that belonged to Angel Dust anyway.

He was still thankful for the sliver of light that forces its way in through the crack underneath the door, though.

He scans his eyes over his surroundings as he creeps through, his eyes adjusting to the darkness around him. Through the darkness he can see a plethora of decorations added throughout Angel’s time within the new hotel. A large vanity sat at one side of the room, posters scattered around the wall behind it.

But as Alastor steps closer, as he squints against the darkness, he can see pictures stuck onto the vanity’s mirror. None of Angel on his own, but of him with the other residents. Of Husk, Cherri, and Charlie. All smiling and laughing at one thing or another, some scenes being one of Charlie’s redemption activities and others merely being drinks shared amongst one another.

Alastor sees Vincent step up beside him, a hand grazing against one of Angel and Husk downing shots together, the other residents cheering them on.

“We should get another drink together once this is all sorted out,” Vincent says, a soft smile spreading across his face. “Properly catch up.”

And while Alastor doesn’t reply, he can’t help but feel a pang at the suggestion. At the thought of him and Vox back at the bar, drinking and laughing like Angel and the other residents were in the pictures before them.

So he turns away, and Vincent doesn’t prod. Instead, he joins Alastor in scanning the room, head turning as Alastor takes in as much as he can.

But just as Alastor’s about to start moving again, a clawed hand rests on his shoulder.

“What about in there?” Vincent asks and Alastor pauses, following Vincent’s gaze and looking to Angel Dust’s bedside drawer.

“No.” Alastor tries to keep moving, but Vincent steps in his way. His wires shoot out from behind his back, wrapping around Alastor and spinning him around.

“Come on, Al. We can’t leave a single stone unturned.”

“I can certainly leave this one.”

“Don’t you want to keep us by your side?”

Alastor stills at that, eyes flicking from Vincent to the drawer.

“Please, Al. It’ll just take a second.”

Alastor’s smile shrinks as Vincent steps in close, eyes blown wide as if he were a pleading puppy.

So Alastor huffs and takes a step towards the drawer, letting Vincent’s wires slide off him as he does.

Alastor reaches his hand out towards the drawer, smile twisting into a grimace as it meets the feeling of wood. He prepares himself for what he may find, and he is quick to slam the first slot shut as he is met with a plethora of… colourful items.

He can hear Vincent snickering at his side, and Alastor emits a screech of static in response before he shifts his attention to the other shelves within the drawer.

“Wonderful observation, Vincent. Thrilled at your contributions to this search,” Alastor hisses, slamming the last drawer shut and cursing under his breath at finding a large amount of nothing within any of the drawers. “Extraordinary use of our time.”

Vincent shrugs, smile wide. “Hey, best not to leave any stone unturned.”

A roll of Alastor’s eyes is all Vincent is met with as Alastor stands, and the other man coos. “Aw, are you mad at me, Al?”

He’s at Alastor’s side within a moment, hands back on his shoulders and the side of his CRT pressing into Alastor’s cheek. It’s cool against Alastor’s skin, and he can’t help but sigh at the feeling.

“I was just trying to help.”

“I’m aware, Vincent.” But Alastor doesn’t move for a moment. He doesn’t shrug Vincent off right away. He allows the two to remain in place a beat, merely existing, before he pulls his cheek away.

Alastor’s shoulders have eased by the time he returns to his search, eyes scanning over Angel Dust’s room. He’s left with a rather uneventful search, the most he’s able to find being old phone cases or touch screens too advanced for Alastor to comprehend.

It’s only once he’s upturned every corner of his room that he turns himself to the small wooden doors built into the room’s walls.

Alastor approaches Angel Dust’s closet with caution, eyeing it before reaching out, unsure of what lays within.

He slowly opens the closet doors, letting the wood creak open as he leans his head in. He squints against the darkness of the room, smile twitching as the contents within the closet have been especially shrouded in shadow.

Conceding to his own poor eyesight, Alastor sends his shadow across the room. He winces as the room around him flickers to life, neon pink encasing the area around him. Alastor winces at the colour but doesn’t dwell on it, instead turning his attention back to the closet.

He’s immediately met with fluffy cropped jackets, slim fit dresses, suits, and low cut shirts hanging from the closet’s rack, all pristine, bright, and most articles of clothing hardly touched. He draws his attention away from Angel Dust’s rack - a wording Vincent would no doubt be snickering at if Alastor had said it out loud - and looks down. There are cubbies of folded clothes and neatly sorted shoes ranging in heights and sizes, and right as Alastor is about to call it a day, right as he’s about to turn back, something else catches his eye.

A small shoebox is shoved in the corner of the closet, black in a sea of pink and white. Hiding in the shadows.

Alastor kneels down and reaches for it, pulling the light box out from its corner.

He’s prepared for the worst as he reaches for the lid, ready for whatever else he may find, but he thankfully doesn’t need to slam the box shut this time around.

Within it lays little baggies, some clearly opened and used while others seem unopened, but the box around it seems old and unused. A spider had crawled its way in, tense as it stares up at Alastor and crawls back onto the web it had spun within the darkness of the box. It hadn’t been opened in some time. Long before Angel Dust had left the hotel.

But Alastor doesn’t dwell on the bags of cocaine or whatever other concoction rested within the bags, instead he lets his eyes rest on a little device nestled in a corner. It was much different from what he sees nowadays, smaller and bulkier than modern phones, yet it's familiar. Something he had seen Vox use what must have been twenty years ago.

He gently picks it up, inspecting the device. It’s, unsurprisingly, pink, but nothing else stood out about it. No rhinestones or charms that dangled from its antenna. It was boring even when Alastor flipped it open, its buttons gray and dull against the bright light of its small screen. It didn’t look like something Angel Dust would let himself be caught dead with, which Alastor supposes explained the box.

Alastor squints down at it, fiddling with the worn out buttons as they click under his finger. The phone, for the most part, seemed rather empty. No apps, no pictures despite the camera built it. Just a plethora of contacts logged in. Some were named, others blatantly labelled as “guy with the blue meth”.

So Alastor supposes he knows what Angel had used this burner for.

And he supposes he wouldn’t miss it taking the last call had been made months before the last extermination.

Not that he was at the hotel anymore anyway.

“This will do.” Vincent nods, hands clamping around Alastor’s shoulders. “He’s going to love it.”

Alastor makes a point to ignore the static emitting from the screen behind them. He pockets the device, smile growing as he slips away.

His shadow flicks the lights off to the room as Alastor slinks through the crack in Angel Dust’s door, slipping through the feet of two guests as he bolts down the hallway. Ready to find Vox. Ready to show him that they can be together. Ready-

A bleat leaves Alastor as his form slams into a wall.

A bright magenta wall that shouldn’t be there.

“Long time no see.”

He feels something clamp onto his shadowed form, biting his tongue to hold back a yell as it glows bright and disperses the darkness shrouding him.

He materializes on the hallway’s floor, smile strained as he watches Velvette and Valentino from across the hallway.

Valentino sneers at him as Alastor raises to his feet, wings threatening to extend behind him. “Why don’t we catch up a bit, hm?”

“There’s nothing to catch up on,” Alastor hisses, struggling against the magenta magic still clamped around him. “Now, release me.”

Velvette taps her phone to her chin, lips pursing. “No, I don’t think so, babes.”

The two approach, circling Alastor. Eyes boring into him.

He tries to slip back into his shadow, but a light emits from the magic surrounding him when he does, dispersing his shadows in an instant.

“You see, a certain somebody has gone missing,” Velvette says, eyes boring into Alastor. “Want to take a guess at who?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

Valentino clicks his tongue, stepping forward. “Bullshit.”

“I don’t particularly enjoy being interrogated within my own home.”

“And I don’t particularly enjoy having my friend stolen from ours!” Valentino’s sunglasses slip down his face, wide red eyes glowing with rage.

“Perhaps he simply grew tired of your constant whining and left.”

“Excuse me?” Valentino leans down until his face is an inch from Alastor’s own. “He grew tired of me?”

Valentino is yanked back by a manicured hand, Velvette’s face firm. “Alright, enough.” Her eyes turn to Alastor. “Did you take him or did he come to you?”

“I hardly think Vox is in any place to go to anyone at the moment.”

“And whose fault is that?” Valentino hisses, and Alastor can’t help but give a bark of laughter.

“Yours from what I can remember.”

Alastor watches as Velvette has to physically restrain Valentino from lunging at Alastor, magenta magic shooting into view and blocking his path. 

The two turn their attention to one another, shouts growing louder and louder about Alastor himself. But Alastor can’t bring himself to focus on them. He can’t focus on the words that slowly meld together into a mixture of insults and desperate cries.

No, not when he notices the screen appear behind them within the blink of an eye.

Sparks jump from its antenna, screen growing fuzzy with static as it watches Alastor. He tries to not wince at the sight of it, doing his best to keep what little of his shadow lingers around at bay.

The Screen watches the two other overlords, face flat as it tenderly places a hand on Valentino’s cheek. The moth doesn’t react, and neither does Velvette as the Screen turns its attention to her and places its hand on her back. Its touch is gentle, claws merely resting atop their forms. Never digging into them.

But then its eyes lift up, meeting Alastor’s own, and all he can see is contempt lingering within. Burning bright within its flat face. 

“You took me from them,” it hisses, and Alastor feels himself stumble back as it zaps before him. “Give me back.”

Alastor has to keep himself from shaking his head. From reacting more than he already has.

But he can see Velvette and Valentino already take note of his reaction. He can see them eyeing him from over the Screen’s shoulder, but every time he tries to look away he’s always drawn back in. Drawn back to the glow of the Screen.

It’s only once Velvette speaks up that it disappears from view. Dispersing without a trace.

“Jumpy much?” she asks, her tone sweet.

“Makes you think he’s hiding something,” Valentino adds.

Alastor rolls his eyes. “The only thing I’m hiding would be my desire to return to my job.”

“Your job that includes snooping through Angel’s old room?” Valentino’s knocks on Angel Dust’s door, and Alastor feels his ears press back at the sound of it.

“He took something from me. It was only right that I took it back.”

“Took what? A rusty ass radio?” Valentino steps closer, leaning into Alastor’s space once more and ignoring Velvette’s groan. “Please, Angel wouldn’t need to steal anything from you. His standards are too high for that.”

“Well clearly you don’t understand him well enough.”

Valentino’s golden tooth gleams against the light above. “Oh, you know Angel so well don’t you? Just like you know Vox?”

“Precisely.”

A puff of smoke escapes Valentino’s mouth, the smell of strawberries and sex wafting through the air and nearly making Alastor gag. He can feel Valentino’s smoke, his power, begin to solidify around them. Thickening. But it disperses before it can latch onto Alastor’s already restrained form. Valentino’s attention snapping away.

“You two!”

Valentino’s shoulders slump at the sound of Vaggi’s voice, Velvette heaving a sigh and turning just in time to see her soaring over. 

Vaggi lands onto the floor with a thump, spear returning into her grasp and aiming at the two overlords once more. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“What we came here for.” Valentino jabs a finger into Alastor’s chest, and if it was just an inch higher Alastor would have swooped down to bite it clean off. “This bitch took Vox.”

“Vaggi, dear, I fear these two have grown delusional while picking up the pieces of their partner’s failed attempt on my life.” Vaggi’s eyes turn to him, but they don’t lose their sharpness. They linger on him, and Alastor does his best to ignore the way the Screen stalks over to her.

It circles her, much like the two Vees had with Alastor, but it doesn’t utter a word. Doesn’t release a single spark of static.

“Charlie said you could be here as long as you were supervised,” Vaggi says, turning back towards the Vees. “You can’t just slip away.”

“What? Not our fault the princessa got distracted by that bug.” Valentino’s wings flick behind him as he - as far as Alastor could tell - rolls his eyes. “We had places to be.”

“And that included harassing our staff?”

“He has Vox!” Valentino snaps, and Alastor feels the clamp around him tighten alongside Velvette’s own grip on her phone.

“With what proof?” Vaggi asks.

“Have you met him?” Valentino gestures towards Alastor once more, but yelps as Alastor snaps at his hand. He stumbles back, pressing all four of his arms towards himself. “God, Velvette muzzle him or something."

“Do not,” Vaggi hisses.

Velvette’s finger hovers over her screen as Vaggi’s grip on her spear tightens. As she steps around them.

Alastor can’t help the way his head tilts at the sight, watching as she plants herself in front of him. As she tries to protect him.

Alastor can almost feel another gag building up.

“Come on,” Valentino groans. “Don't say you aren’t a little suspicious. He kills overlords live on his show. Or turns them into little pets like his little kitten downstairs.”

Velvette’s face tightens. “Taking Vox isn’t exactly out of character.”

Vaggi glances back at Alastor, eye narrowed as it searches over him. Watching him. 

“Alastor,” Vaggi starts, voice low. “Where’s Vox?”

Alastor’s ear flicks in annoyance. “Not. Here.”

But Vaggi doesn’t move away. She doesn’t even look back to the Vees in triumph. Instead she keeps her attention fixed onto Alastor, eyes clouded with uncertainty.

And the Screen gives a distorted laugh at that, voice warping and layering on top of itself. Alastor looks away from Vaggi to watch its mouth twist into view, a wide pointed smile encompassing the Screen as its eyes squint at Alastor.

It was unusual seeing so much… excitement from it. Such thrill at what was unfolding before it.

It left Alastor’s hair on edge, clawed hands ready to lash out at his side.

“She doesn’t believe you.”

Its voice rings out at Alastor’s side, gleeful and bright, but it earns a flinch from Alastor. His eyes dart in its direction, but the Screen isn’t there. It isn’t even back where it once stood by the Vees.

“Times running out Alastor.”

Alastor’s eyes dart around him. Searching.

“Al.”

He sees Vincent approach, reaching out, but it isn’t his hand that closes around his shoulders. It’s much too soft. Too light.

Alastor does his best to keep his smile in place as Vaggi shakes him, eyes narrowing down at her.

“What’s going on?” she asks, voice wavering.

“Nothing,” is all Alastor says, shrugging her off and taking a step back.

He tries not to flinch this time as he backs into a body, but he doesn’t turn around. The static in his ear is telling enough of who he’s stepped back into..

“You should tell her,” it says with a guffaw, claws clamping onto Alastor’s shoulders but not in the same comforting way he’s found with Vincent’s touch. It’s not gentle, it’s claws digging into Alastor’s skin as it leans in closer. “Show her who’s upstairs.”

Alastor’s smile strains at that, head turning away. Desperate to avoid the glow of the Screen.

“Alastor.”

“What part of nothing do you not understand?” He hisses, groaning at the feeling of Velvette’s magic as he desperately struggles for release. As the Screen’s claws dig deeper and deeper into his skin. Burning as his speakers hiss in Alastor’s ear.

“Alastor.”

His ears press back, head turning away as the Screen leans in closer. It’s bright. Too bright.

“Show her what you’ve done.”

“Let him out.” Vaggi’s head snaps towards Velvette, who flinches as the spear is thrusted even closer towards her. “Now.”

“Holy shit, fine.”

The magic surrounding Alastor blinks out of sight, and he’s moving within an instant.

Shadows engulf his form, tearing him away from the Screen before he shoots away. He can hear Vaggi call out to him as he bolts. He can hear Valentino sling curses at him both in. But he doesn’t focus on them. Alastor can’t afford to.

Instead he searches for Vox within his shadows, digging around and latching onto his screen as they approach the hatch to Alastor’s radio tower.

Vox barely has time to yelp before Alastor flings him back into the open, shadows pinning him to Alastor’s control panel. He watches Alastor with wide eyes, his mouth opening and closing, noises coming out in short sputters, unsure of what to say. But Alastor didn’t need him to speak. Not right now.

“Get in,” Alastor says, flipping Angel Dust’s phone open and facing the screen towards Vox.

“What?”

“I said, get in.”

“Alastor that thing is ancient.”

“It's a screen, is it not? A portable one.”

“I’m not jumping into that flip phone,” Vox says with a wince. “Even if I wanted to, I don’t have the power for that.”

Alastor feels a growl rumble at the back of his throat. “Then what do you have the strength for?”

“Like I’d tell you.”

“I’m just trying to do what’s best for us,” Alastor hisses, his shadows pushing Vox towards Alastor. “For you.”

“I never asked for this, Alastor.”

“You didn’t need to.”

“What I need is for you to let me go.”

Vox’s eye pulses, but Alastor gives a yell as he ducks away. His eyes squeeze shut as he feels Vox’s eye pulse. No matter how much he longed for it. No matter how much it called to him.

“Alastor, please. Just tell them.”

He can feel his own frequency spike and whine at Vox’s request, his eyes squeezing tighter and tighter.

“You can’t leave me here.”

“You don’t know what’s good for you.”

Vox gives a laugh. “And you do?”

Alastor peaks over to him, just enough to watch him struggle against his shadows. As his antennae spark at his efforts.

But, despite being a mere screen, his form reeks of exhaustion.

His antennae droop, and his screen is dull. His eyes barely glow against the dim lighting of the tower, all of his light being gifted to the single eye in use - an eye in which Alastor still made a point to avoid.

He had been tired when Alastor had found him, exhausted from his failed efforts, but there was something different now. Something draining him with every word he utters.

But Alastor doesn’t get a chance to voice his observation. Not as a knock wrings out from the tower’s hatch, low and hesitant.

“Alastor!” Charlie’s muffled voice calls out from his hatch. “Alastor, look I know they might not bring the best memories, but they agreed to be civil about-”

“Move, bitch!”

There’s a yelp and a bang, and Alastor’s head whips around with a crack. His grip tightens around Vox’s screen at the sight of Valentino’s arms throwing the door open. He raises through the hatch’s threshold, head scanning the tower before settling on Alastor and Vox.

The three are frozen in place, Alastor’s eyes refusing to leave Valentino’s as Vox rests in his grasp.

It’s only once Velvette pokes her head up through the hatch, her arms pushing her up, that they all snap out of their stupor.

She points an accusatory finger at Alastor, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. “We fucking knew it!”

It’s then that Valentino wastes no time in fully throwing the door open, letting it slam behind him as he forces his way into the room.

“Oh, you obsessive freak!”

Alastor brings Vox closer into himself, earning a small yelp from the man. “I don’t believe you’re in any place to talk with the way you’ve been tracking me down all day.”

“You stole Vox!”

“I liberated him.”

“You kidnapped me.” Alastor’s ear twitches, and he does his best not to look to Vox. Although, Valentino’s form softens at his voice.

“He hasn’t hurt you, has he Voxxie?”

“Vox isn’t the one who needs to worry about being hurt,” Alastor hisses, his shadows raising Vox into the air.

“Oh that's rich coming from you.”

Alastor’s shadows bubble underneath him, green light emitting from his form, but he doesn’t launch an attack. Not when another voice returns into the equation.

“Oh, dear Satan,” Charlie mutters, Vaggi carrying her into the tower. The two stare at Alastor with wide eyes. “Alastor, what the hell were you thinking?”

“I don’t think he was, look princess-”

“I did what was best for him,” Alastor cuts Vox off, his posture straightening with his words.

“This is what’s best for him?” Valentino asks, motioning towards Vox. “He looks worse than ever!”

“A necessary road bump.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“Alastor, listen.” He turns his gaze to Charlie who winces under his attention. “I don’t know what you think this is, but this isn’t healthy.”

The Screen flickers into view behind Charlie, but it doesn’t linger.

Another growl rumbles at the back of Alastor’s throat. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No! No, Alastor you’re struggling. You’re clearly trying to cope with-“

“Oh, please.” Valentino rolls his eyes as Velvette fiddles with her hands, gaze never leaving Alastor. “Cut the bullshit. He just wants to fuck with our lives more than he already has.”

“No! Clearly he’s hurting-“

“Holy shit, lets just get this over with already!”

Alastor notices Velvette’s magic before it’s even casted, stepping out of the way of its clutches but he’s just a moment too slow.

It knocks against his hand, blowing the phone that had rested in his grasp clattering to the ground. Alastor scrambles for it, hand extending out to it, but he’s too late.

A heeled boot stomps down on it, the crack of the phone’s plastic piercing the air as its screen flickers off. Dead to the world.

“Oops.”

Slowly, Alastor’s eyes drag up Valentino’s form. Taking in his posture, satisfaction coming off of him in waves, before his eyes settle on his face. On his smug smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Did you need that?”

Alastor’s shadows launch out before Valentino finishes his sentence, the moth giving a cry as he jumps out of the way of the attack.

He can hear the others within the room call out, their own weapons raising and magic charging up, but Alastor throws up his own magic before they can. Alastor encases the room in shadow, a wall similar to that of which he used against the exorcists, before properly launching himself at Valentino.

Alastor catches Valentino before he can pull out a gun, shadows pulling at his wrist and tugging him down. But Valentino’s quick to react, his wings expanding and flapping. Clouds of pink smoke fill the air, wrapping around Alastor once more and filling his nostrils.

He stumbles over himself, doing his best not to hack and cough around his sickeningly sweet smoke, but Valentino is moving before he can recompose himself.

Alastor hears the rapid clicks of Valentino’s boots before he sees the muzzle of his gun tear through the smoke. He ducks before Valentino’s bullet can escape its barrel, its shot ringing through the air as a shadow shoots out from below.

Valentino gives a yell as the shadow cuts into his side. Vox gives a yell behind Alastor, but he doesn’t spare him a glance. His eyes lock onto one of his hands as it grasps at his wound, red leaking through his fingers.

But Valentino doesn’t stay stagnant for long, his gun swinging around to face Alastor.

Shot after shit fires at Alastor, each bullet whizzing past him as he ducks around Valentino. Although he can’t help but wince every time a bullet makes contact with his shadows. As he feels his powers wavering. 

He feels his wall weakening more and more, cracks growing larger as the assailants on the other end throw blow after blow against it. Alastor can’t afford to have it shatter. Alastor can’t afford to have the others interfere.

His shadow latches onto Valentino’s torso, a yelp of pain escaping him as it tightens against Valentino’s wound. Alastor pulls him closer, his hand latching onto the moth’s neck as his claws dig into his skin.

He takes advantage of the way Valentino sputters under his grip, taking his gap in movement to slam Valentino into the floor. Alastor snarls as his grip around the moth’s throat tightens. He can feel Valentino flailing underneath him, arms thrashing in an attempt to make contact with Alastor only for his shadows to hold him down.

“Alastor!” Charlie calls out, but he lets a shadow jut out from the ground, doing his best to cut her off as he leans forward, baring his teeth and letting his jaw open. He didn’t have a preference for where he’d tear his next meal from, as long as he’d get to hear his screams he didn’t care.

Valentino tried to take Vox away. He tried to separate them. Cut them off from one another.

Alastor couldn’t allow that. He couldn’t allow Valentino to waltz wherever he wanted and take what was Alastor’s. He didn’t have the right. Valentino didn’t deserve Vox’s partnership. He didn’t deserve to even be in his presence. And Alastor was going to make sure he remembered that. He was going to make it hurt. He was going to-

“Alastor, stop!”

There’s a flash of light, electricity travelling across the room, and Alastor looks up at Vincent’s voice. His form falters, easing at the thought of him.

But it isn’t Vincent.

There’s no tin to the voice that had zapped over to their side.

Vox looms over him, his wires extending from behind his screen and lifting him upright. His screen brightens, but that isn’t what catches Alastor’s attention. That isn’t what keeps him engaged.

Vox’s eyes swirl with power, and Alastor feels himself slipping. Feels his grip tightening and shadows retreating. Melting away and letting the room lighten.

Alastor lets it envelope him. He lets himself sink in.

He can hear Vincent calling out to him, but he’s distant. Muffled as if the red of Vox’s eye was a thick sheet draped over Vincent’s speakers.

“Holy shit,” Alastor hears somebody say, but he can’t tell who it comes from. He doesn’t care about who it comes from. Maybe it’s whoever lays underneath him. Maybe it’s one of the many figures across the room.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care.

Not with Vox before him.

“Get off of him,” Vox says, and who is Alastor to object.

His limbs feel like jelly as he feels himself slide off of whoever had been underneath him, barely registering the sound of somebody scrambling away as he sinks further and further into the red of Vox’s eye.

It’s as alluring as ever, calling to him. Keeping him safe.

“Alastor,” he hears somebody say. They’re close, lingering behind him, but they sound distant. As if they were actually miles away. “Vox, let him go.”

“Look, princess.” Vox’s voice is so much clearer. Practically speaking his words into Alastor’s ear. “If I do, we're just right back at square one.”

“Then make it stop, V!” Another voice, accented and further away.

“Don’t you think I would’ve by now if I could? I don’t know what the fuck is up with him, but it’s out of my hands.”

“Bullshit, it’s your power.” A new voice, gruffer than the others.

“And it’s his mind. You think anybody knows what’s going on in there?”

Vox’s pupils shift to the side, and Alastor feels himself leaning to follow them.

“Well you better fix it.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried!” Vox cries, tearing his screen away from Alastor.

Alastor feels the connection snap, disconnecting them, and the world comes back into focus. He sees everyone watching Vox, voice overlapping with one another as he yells about his powers.

“Oh but you’d just love to have him around your stupid little finger, wouldn’t you?” hisses Valentino, and Alastor’s eyes drag over to him from where he now stands behind Vox. His pink sunglasses reflect Vox’s glowing screen, rectangular reflections obscuring his eyes.

But Alastor doesn’t need to see his eyes to know when Valentino notices Alastor. He sees it in the way Valentino’s eyebrows raise and mouth falls open. Valentino begins to move, rushing towards Vox, but Vincent speaks before Valentino can. Soft yet stern in Alastor’s ear.

“Go.”

Alastor moves without much thought, his footsteps thudding onto the floor as he races towards Vox. His shadows boost him forward, desperate to reach Vox before Valentino can properly step in the way.

The moth gives a yell, incomprehensible but enough to make Vox whip around in time to see Alastor’s hands reach for him. Alastor’s shadows bubble at his feet, waiting to take him and a squirming Vox away.

But he hesitates.

Alastor’s eye catches Charlie’s as she calls out. “Alastor we can help. Just… Just put Vox down.”

And a small and ridiculous part of him wants to agree. It wants to rid himself of the man in his grasp and his freakish associates.

But he doesn’t need to see Vincent to be reminded of his mission. Of the calm that came with Vox.

His grip tightens as he hears the shuffle of feet and the flapping of wings. Power wafting through the air as the other overlords prepare another grab for their own.

But Alastor doesn’t allow them the chance.

Alastor doesn’t look to any of them before he slips away.

His shadows swallow the two of them whole, disappearing from sight as he holds Vox close to his chest.

Vox struggles against Alastor’s grip, his own mismatched antenna sparking and hitting Alastor with static shocks, but they’re not strong enough to dispel the shadows. They create small gaps, but nothing that could disperse it.

The Screen yells in protest at his side, voice incomprehensible with the static overlaying its words, but he can’t help but wince at every screech and cry. At the way it zaps in front of him, screen flashing and distorting.

But Vincent keeps Alastor’s eyes forward. He doesn’t let him stray off their path. 

The air is humid when the two emerge, grass and mud nearly causing Alastor to slip onto the floor below, but he’s able to catch himself. His hand juts out at his side, grip loosening around Vox as he’s met with a wooden pillar.

Vincent doesn’t say a word as he stands at Alastor’s side, but the way his thumb rubs small circles on his back put him at ease. Alastor heaves in a breath, letting his racing heart ease before stepping off the muddy floor of his bayou and onto a deck. Vincent’s hand leaves his back, but he doesn’t stray far, eyes watching as Alastor opens the door to his cabin.

“Alastor, where are we?” Vox hisses. His voice is even, but the way his antenna droop is more than enough proof of his worry.

He stops in his doorway, flipping Vox around to face him. Vox tries to wince back, the line of his mouth growing thinner as Alastor’s eyes scan over him, but Alastor’s grip is too tight.

He sees Vox’s eyes widen, the rings of his eye beginning to pulse, but for once Alastor is able to act before Vox’s eye can take hold. He shifts his hand, smashing it against Vox’s screen in a fit of panic. His palm feels wet as Vox lets out a cry, but he doesn’t dwell on it. Doesn’t dwell on the way Vox’s screen feels uneven under his touch.

Instead Alastor presses Vox against his torso, turning the two around to face the bayou before them as Alastor readjusts his grip.

Alastor’s little subspace that he would retreat into when the time called for it. Whenever he needed to unwind away from the chaos of the hotel.

Alastor watches the slow stream of the bayou before them, water glistening under the glow of stray fireflies. The grass and trees rustle with a soft breeze, and Alastor’s smile softens at the sound.

Although, Vox doesn’t seem to be as calm. He takes Alastor’s slackened grip as his chance to squirm, to try to wriggle free, but Alastor’s grip tightens without much thought. His claws continue to dig into his screen.

This used to only be Alastor’s, but it didn’t need to just be his own. It could be theirs. Together.

“This is home,” Alastor finds himself muttering. He can feel Vincent behind him. Standing at the cabin’s doorway. His wires slink around Alastor’s frame and give a light tug.

“Alastor, no,” he hears Vox say, but he merely hums in response. “I can’t stay here.”

He feels another tug, but not from Vincent.

The Screen stands in front of him, its own wires extended and wrapping around Alastor. It tries to tug him forward, demanding Vox step into the bayou. To leave. But he doesn’t budge.

He stands his ground. He lets his smile widen as he watches the Screen falter.

Its screen flicks off, form curling into itself as it sits on the cabin’s staircase.

And Alastor watches its movement. Watches as it hunches over itself and lets out a weak burst of static.

He can feel Vox’s own wires begin to wrap around Alastor, weak and hesitant.

“Alastor,” Vox says once more, but his voice is quieter this time. A plea just as present as Vox’s wires barely grazing Alastor’s skin.

He feels another tug from Vincent, and Alastor follows. He takes step after step back into his cabin. Step after step away from the world outside. Slipping away as he feels one of Vincent’s wires caress his cheek. As another tightens around his neck in a way that makes him almost purr.

The door closes once Alastor is inside, but whether that was his own doing or Vincent's, Alastor couldn’t say. Frankly, he didn’t care.

All he cares about is the man before him and the screen in his hands, the monstrosity from before nowhere in sight.

The cabin is dark yet warm, swallowing the three up within itself. Embracing them into its hold.

“Alastor, please.”

But he isn’t listening.

Instead he finds himself resting his back against the wooden door and lets himself slide down.

He curls in on the two of them, hugging Vox against his chest as he pulls his knees in towards himself. Alastor lets his frequency reach out, prodding at Vox’s own, but he doesn’t earn a response. He barely earns a spark of static in surprise.

Alastor’s met with a wall standing firmly in place between them, and while he feels his ear flick in annoyance, the sight of a bright yellow sweater puts him at ease. He doesn’t need to see Vincent’s blue claws or flat face to know it's him. Alastor can sense him just fine.

And Vincent didn’t need Alastor to utter a word to know he had his attention. He didn’t need Alastor’s red eyes on him to know he had the sinner’s attention.

The two could put the other at ease with a mere flick of the wrist. And soon, Alastor would like to think Vox would fall into that routine too. That he would once again find peace in the quiet shared between them.

He merely needed time to grow accustomed to it.

He needed time to get used to them.

And Alastor was willing to wait.

No matter how long it takes.