Chapter Text
Over time, the hotel had been gaining more patrons, but Angel had definitely shown incredible progress. Not in the way that Charlie had claimed at first, in which he had immediately joined a turf war afterward. Although he still had a way to go with making better choices for himself, he had begun to display genuine empathy. Charlie took pride in this progress, and although the rest of the staff was less open, they didn’t doubt that he was beginning to emulate her vision. Of course, he hadn’t lost his overall manner of speaking, but who could be denied access to heaven simply for having a potty mouth? It didn’t stop there, however. His lust, although not at an all-time high, hadn’t diminished entirely.
He was still spouting sex jokes, much to Alastor’s dismay, and desired a few sex toys now and again, but Charlie figured she could deal with it later. For now, she’d been interested in developing his interpersonal skills, and what a win that was! Even Vaggie had found his presence to be more than tolerable and thought that her girlfriend’s dreams were finally beginning to take flight. Husk could still go without the “sexual shit”, though. Eh, he’d be alright if he had booze. If Angel kept up with his progress at the rate he has, he’d be alright too, in regards of redemption.
At the bar, currently, Angel pushed the straw back as far as it could go down his throat. He winked at Husk, who returned a look of disgust. The cat shook it off, going back to his normal gruff exterior.
“Listen, I normally wouldn’t give a fuck what you do alone, but this one little shit in the room next to ya won’t stop bothering me about those vibrations from your room they can fucking feel,” Husk groaned, handling an entire bottle of alcohol, “Cut that shit out until we can get him into a different room.”
Angel sat in thought, considering how Husk would be moving the guest instead of forcing him to quit his vibrator cold turkey. All he’d have to do was hold out for a while so Husk wouldn’t be bothered by the guest any longer. Angel graciously agreed, a toothy smile plastered onto his face. Finishing his mocktail, he blew a kiss goodbye to Husk, before taking the elevator up to his floor.
Walking down the corridors of the hotel, Angel noticed Niffty adamantly dusting the framed pictures upon the wall. The two previously haven’t had many interactions, but as soon as he had discovered her passion for writing fanfiction, he provided suggestions on what to add to make her smut spicier. They ended up eventually collaborating on one together. This added to the small list of positive relationships he’d made in Hell. But now, he noticed the girl of small stature was having trouble reaching one frame, a significantly harder one to reach from the stool she stood upon.
After a few unsuccessful hops, Angel spoke up.
“Ya need some help with that, Niffty?”
Niffty turned her one huge eye to the spider demon.
“Nope! Don’t you worry! This woman’s got the cleaning down.” She had learned of his actual gender once they discussed his sexual experiences for fanfiction. Ever since then, she believed that he wasn’t obligated to do a lick of housework, but of course, growing up in the ’40s will condition a young woman to think so.
‘Well, you sure are down, I can tell you that,” Angel grinned, marking her height with one of his hands. Then, he immediately lifted her up to give her access to the top of the frame, “Come on, it’s easier this way.”
In a flash, the top of the frame had been dusted and Angel sat her down. Niffty thanked him with a creepy smile, then continued dusting down the hall. Before disappearing behind his own door, he caught a glimpse of a white ring at the window. A second glance had shown that it was gone, so he waved it off as his imagination. Maybe it was withdrawal from the PCP, who the hell knows.
Once he was in the room, he plopped down onto the bed, staring at the ceiling of a rainbow pattern Charlie painted. Already feeling boredom set in, he retrieved his vibrator from within his pillowcase, always turning to pleasure in boring times. A moment of realization caused him to remind himself of what he promised Husk. He sighed, grabbing his hellphone and decided he would just watch another movie made by that anti-semite fucker who landed in Hell a few years after Angel did. He chose Cinderella cause, damn, he would’ve wanted to be treated romantically by a handsome fella who’d wine and dine him, take him out dancing away from the work inflicted by his evil-stepmother-ass pimp, but… the work of a whore always seemed to find him.
The thought occurred to him that if he really didn’t want his porn star reputation to follow him, he’d have to start renouncing his publicized sexuality. He shot up excitedly, thinking of how great it would be for everyone, how happy it would make Charlie, how comfortable the guys and Vaggie would become, and how… hard it would be to stop voicing his desires. For a little, he contemplated about whether it’d be too difficult for him to carry through with it while slumping down. He slammed a fist beside him, determined to cool it for the sake of the people who like him when there isn’t anything to like.
The window shot open and the curtains billowed. What caused it, Angel didn’t see, but it knocked him over and his lights were out in a flash. He was forced off his bed and onto the floor, with a sharp pain shooting through his back, derived from an outside force. Not that Angel could feel it very well, being unconscious. He wouldn’t wake up for the next few hours.
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Charlie knocked on Angel’s door, Alastor only a few paces behind, to tell him to come down for dinner. A few knocks with no answer tempted her to enter, but she stopped herself out of fear of invading his privacy. In the blink of an eye, Alastor burst the door open, having no problem with anyone’s privacy being invaded. Perhaps, he even wanted to see something. Before any words could be spoken, all they saw was Angel fallen flat on the floor, with his face down.
“OH SHIT,” Charlie exclaimed, falling to Angel’s side. She held out her hands in search of an answer, not knowing what to do, “What happened to him?”
“My dear, perhaps the wound on his back could answer that question,” Alastor pointed out. Upon first seeing this, his smile hadn’t lessened, but his eyes did widen a bit in shock. This slight change in demeanor went unnoticed by Charlie. She identified the wound, concluding that it could only belong to the weapon of an angel. An actual angel.
Charlie gasped tearfully and enveloped the spider demon in her arms.
“I don’t understand,” Charlie sniffled, the pain of losing her first patron and good friend settling in, “I thought there was still a few months before the next extermination…”
“I shall go notify Niffty!” Alastor spun around on his heel, “So that she may assist us in cleaning this mess, and to help find a nice ditch to toss him into!”
Charlie turned watery red demon eyes to the towering man, pissed that he would even suggest such a thing.
“We are not doing that,” Charlie barked, looping Angel’s arm around her shoulders, and lifting him onto the bed. His body was adjusted into a comfortable position, so that he may rest peacefully, “First, we’re gonna tell his family, and then we’re… gonna bury him out back!”
Charlie, too broken up to speak any longer, rushed out of the room to tell her girlfriend the bad news, leaving Alastor to look upon Angel’s seemingly lifeless body.
“A shame, really,” Alastor spoke to himself, “He was doing exceedingly well.”
Alastor stayed in the room with Angel, to give him some company, until the two girls came burst back into the room. Unbeknownst to everyone was that within his suit, stemming from the wound, his fur was deteriorating and left behind only human skin.