Work Text:
He looked around at his comrades in arms, the ones that had survived anyways, content for once. Happy he met them, happy to have been given the chance to meet them despite the unpleasant circumstances that lead him to the hotel. Thankful to work on his gambling addiction in a place no one would give a shit he used to be an overlord, or the fact he was perpetually glued to a bottle. Thankful, to finally be free. No one had seen Alastor yet. He was surprised he hadn’t been able to hold his own against Adams after all. He had fought overlords as powerful as angelic beings as old as hell itself with numerous souls beneath them with ease. But Adam had somehow been too much?
He took in the sight of the chaos and destruction that laid ahead outside of the hotel, the unworked areas. So much blood remained staining the ground. A mix of angelic and demonic blood mixed and splashed against the concrete like paint. The bodies had already been carried off or been eaten off the floor by the cannibals, leaving behind only the aftermath of damage. But inside, here he was dare he say safe, with these acquaintances. No, he was lying to himself, he enjoyed them far more than the label of a casual drinking buddy. They were his friends and he should acknowledge it as such. He was safe and happy for once in a long time, including that of when he had been alive on earth. He glanced over at Angel, perhaps one day more than friends. He wasn’t one to put himself in a position to be emotionally hurt and much less by someone so well known. A star dating a has-been, it would be laughable…and still he couldn’t help but wonder and push down the flicker Angel ignited in him.
Instead he forced his ideas back to reflect on the war they had just survived and his life thus far. Fighting back against angels and killing them, befriending hell's most famous porn star, toying with the idea of getting to know him on a more personal basis, being a worker at a hotel to rehabilitate sinners, and so much more had happened to him. Things he never could have imagined would have happened or ever have gotten into given the hard turns his life had taken over the years. All the regrets seemed to be melting off of him as he felt a warmth fill him, joy, hope, excitement, and something else he couldn’t name yet as he looked back upon everyone attempting to soak it all in, allowing himself to accept the reality, that this was his new reality-
“And we’re doing it with a smile!”
The words froze him to his core, halting his breath as the smile was wiped off his face. It was like he had died all over again as he struggled to find his breathe. Alastor was back…or rather he had never left. He had just dipped out momentarily for self preservation, he hadn’t died after all. The knowing glance as they made eye contact let him know he knew exactly what Husk was thinking. The way his smile grew larger let Husk know he was reveling in the fact he had snatched back his brief glimmer of hope and snuffed it out under his hoofs.
He could almost hear him tease “You haven’t gotten rid of me that easily.”
Husk felt almost ashamed.
Of course Alastor hadn’t died, he was stupid to think so, stupid to think for one brief moment, that his contract was no longer valid. There was nothing more emasculating than this stupid agreement. All because of his stupid gambling addiction, which wouldn’t have been a problem if his luck hadn’t been so shit. If his ability to count cards had been better, if he could have been a better cheat, or less of an easy mark, if he hadn’t been such an addict, none of this would have happened. He could have kept his power, kept his status. He had respect, and now he was a constant joke on a leash for Alastor to laugh at. A reminder of Alastor superiority and power over him that made Alastor feel better about his own situation.
The hope he had held for those few brief moments post fight now felt like cruel joke from the universe. He should have known better than to have hope for anything. He should have known he would never be free from his cursed contract with the radio demon. His soul was gone and he should make peace with it before it killed him again.
It took all of his energy to muster a false air of indifference to his situation, pretending once again not to care. Pretending he wasn’t royally screwed, a prisoner of his own making. He focused his attention on working on the hotel, helping out. The physical labor taking his mind off of things enough for him to prevent an alcoholic breakdown for the time being. He could at least put it off until later on the night when everyone else had gone their own ways to sleep. He was the bartender after all…