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The eggs were wrong.
The eggs were never wrong. That just didn’t happen. Charlie had spent a lot of time in the hotel’s kitchen with Alastor, observing and learning from him. She knew for certain that he never screwed up eggs.
She looked down at the slightly watery portion of eggs in front of her. He must have seasoned them before putting them in the pan. He’d always told her never to do that.
What was going on?
“Alastor,” Charlie finally looked up at the red-haired man who was gliding through the kitchen with grace.
He turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of her, “Yes, Charlie?” He sounded like he wasn’t even aware of his mistake.
“Are you feeling alright?” She asked. That must be it. For him to make such a simple mistake, he must be feeling under the weather.
But he looked fine. He tilted his head before looking away from her and going back to what he was doing, “I feel wonderful, my dear! Splendid even! Why, I feel more energized this morning than I did yesterday!”
Charlie nodded slowly, “Okay. That’s good, I guess.” She looked back down at her eggs. Maybe it really was just a mistake. He could have been moving too fast and not realized he messed up.
She scrunched up her face a bit, digging into the eggs. They still tasted amazing. It was just odd that Alastor—of all people—would make a mistake while cooking.
Charlie couldn’t find her coffee mug. She looked everywhere for it, opening and closing all the cabinets, checking the sink, even looking under the sink. It was nowhere to be found.
She huffed. It seems she wasn’t having coffee this morning.
Disappointed, she made her way out to the second-story balcony . A quaint, cozy seating area, cafe-style, had been set up there. Sh e could at least sit there and enjoy the sunrise in relative peace.
Opening the glass doors that led onto the balcony, she spotted Alastor sitting at one of the wrought iron tables. He was always up here for the sunrise. Sometimes she joined him, and sometimes she just let him be. Today, however, she felt like a good morning chat would help her wake up without her coffee.
She walked over, clearing her throat to alert him. Alastor’s ear twitched back but he didn’t move his head. She pulled out the other seat at the table and sat down across from him.
“Good morning, Al,” she greeted, smiling warmly.
“A lovely morning, indeed,” he commented, taking a sip of his coffee.
She paused.
He set down his mug. Her mug.
“Al...” She mumbled. He finally looked at her. She pointed at her mug in his hands. His eyes followed her finger and he stiffened.
He stared blankly at the mug for a long moment before his eyes refocused, meeting hers with a sly grin, “I hope you do pardon my use of your mug, Charlie. You see, I was getting rather bored of using my own. A change of pace was far overdue, ha ha!”
“Oh!” Charlie blinked, “Y-yeah, that’s fine! Can I use your cup today, then?”
“But of course!” Alastor lifted her mug a bit in a parting cheer as she got up to go make her dearly missed coffee.
Charlie made her way back into the kitchen, still a little caught off guard. Yesterday it was the eggs, and today he seemed kind of surprised he had her mug. She was starting to feel like he was lying about feeling alright. Her worry was beginning to mount.
Holy shit, it was hot.
Charlie fanned herself with a piece of paper. The Air Conditioning unit was on the fritz, again. Now all of Hell’s overwhelming heat was seeping into the hotel’s usually comfortable interior.
“Alastooooor,” Charlie began with a groan.
“I’m on it, dear!” Alastor assured her, manifesting a toolbox with a flick of his wrist . She was so thankful he liked to play the repairman role. He was an excellent mechanic and he liked showcasin g his practical problem-solving skil ls whenever he got the chance. Though, she supposed it might be beneficial if she learned some basic mechanics herself. She might need them one day.
“I’m coming with you!” She offered, setting down her piece of paper.
“Do keep up!” Alastor called to her, heading outside.
They found the AC unit on the side of the building, sparking and whirring strangely. Alastor took one look at it and hummed, setting his tools down and motioning her to stand back.
She took a few paces back as he sent off a shadow to cut the power from the hotel so he would work without being electrocuted. Once the power was cut, he dipped down and began tinkering.
“Charlie, would you hand me the hammer?” He asked holding out one hand while the other held onto something inside the unit, all while looking inside the bowels of the machine.
“Oh, yeah! Sure!” She ducked down to the toolbox, easily finding the hammer, and placing it in his awaiting hands.
He grasped the item, then paused. His attention turned from the machine and to the hammer he held. He looked up at her, his grin changing to a closed-mouth smile.
“What?” She asked.
“I asked for the wrench,” he informed her.
“Uh, no?” She tilted her head but reached for the wrench anyway. “You asked if I could hand you the hammer.”
Alastor watched as Charlie exchanged the hammer for the wrench, his eyes narrowing, “Hmm? Did I say that?” There was an almost mocking tone to his voice, but Charlie could hear the confusion behind it.
“Ah, well!” He concluded, turning his attention back to the unit.
Charlie stayed squatted by the toolbox. Alastor never misspoke like that. He was a talented wordsmith and always said exactly what he meant. She watched him as he began to repair the unit. There was something wrong with him, she was almost certain of this now. She decided to keep a closer eye on him.
It was early in the morning and Charlie was starving. She held her stomach and groaned as she stumbled toward the kitchen. She wanted to get to the kitchen early before Alastor had finished cooking, so she could watch him work
Given the recent string of oddities with him, she worried he may need to take it easy. He’d never admit to this though. Alastor was much too prideful to tell anyone he wasn’t in tip-top shape.
Opening the kitchen doors, expecting to see Alastor waltzing around the kitchen with a million things going on the stoves, she paused when she instead saw him standing unnaturally still.
He was at the stove, holding the handle of a pan with a pancake in it. But his attention was clearly elsewhere: He was gazing off to the side, staring at the sink.
The faucet dripped slowly.
His eyes were glued to it.
The pan went up in flames.
“AH! Watch out!” Charlie yelled, diving toward the stove and pushing Alastor away from the fire before the flame reached his arm.
She wobbled a bit, her body not having caught up with her mind. Alastor grabbed her, helping her steady herself, “Goodness, Charlie!”
Charlie looked at his arm, resisting the urge to hold it to examine it closer, “Are you hurt?!”
Alastor pulled his arm from her view, shaking his head, “No, no! Not at all!”
Charlie sighed with relief, then geared up again, “Alastor! You never burn food! What’s going on?!”
Alastor smiled innocently, “Merely a lapse in attention! I assure you nothing is ‘going on’, my dear! Though, I do apologize for making you worry.” His eyebrows were furrowed slightly. She could tell he was thinking as he spoke, but not about what he was saying.
Charlie frowned. She knew something was definitely wrong now.
Alastor’s eyes widened a tad and he turned off the stove. “Do excuse me,” he insisted, dropping into his shadows before Charlie could even reply.
She watched his inky form dart underneath the kitchen doors, leaving her alone.
“And then he just took off!” Charlie threw her arms up in the air, venting to Vaggie. Vaggie was trying to quiet her down because they were in the lobby and Husk was staring at them from the bar.
Vaggie put her hands on Charlie’s shoulders, “Deep breaths.”
Charlie inhaled, exhaled, then groaned, “Vaggie! There’s something wrong with him!”
“Or he’s just planning something,” Vaggie replied skeptically.
“Come on,” Charlie frowned, “Take this seriously.”
Vaggie frowned back, “I am taking this seriously, and I seriously think that he’s cooking up a scheme of some kind.”
Charlie shook her head vigorously, “No! Really, Vaggie! I think he’s sick! He keeps mixing things up and making mistakes! It’s not like him at all!”
“Uh oh,” Charlie heard Husk mumble. Her attention turned to him, sliding out of Vaggie’s hold.
“'Uh oh’ is right! If he’s sick, he needs to rest! Not go around cooking meals and fixing AC units!” She agreed.
“Uh.... yeah,” Husk looked away, wiping down the bar counter.
Vaggie sighed, “I’m sure he’s fine, hun.”
Charlie put a hand to her cheek, “Oh no! What if he thinks he can’t rest because he has too much work to do?!”
Vaggie’s eyelids drooped incredulously, “I doubt Alastor would run himself ragged to help the hotel.”
Charlie wasn’t convinced. She tugged at her hair in thought. Maybe he wouldn’t do it for the hotel, but Alastor liked to prove he was capable. Maybe being sick meant he would do more just to prove to himself he wasn’t weighed down by his illness? Or what if he thought she thought he was sick, so he was trying to prove he wasn’t?! Or what if--
Vaggie grabbed her hands, “Charlie!” Their eyes met and Vaggie smiled reassuringly up at her, “He’ll be okay.”
Charlie squeezed her girlfriend’s hands, “You’re right. I’ll just... leave him alone today. I’ll check on him tomorrow.”
And that she did. It was really hard not to go up to Alastor’s room to see if he was alright, but she managed to go a whole day without even passing by his room. She was impressed with herself.
The next day, however, she found herself stood in front of his door, holding his mug filled with hot tea—perfect for getting over an illness. She took a deep breath, then knocked on the door.
No answer.
She knocked again.
There was a shuffling sound. She expected Alastor to come and open the door like he would always do, but several moments went by and the door didn’t budge.
“Alastor? I’ve got some tea for you,” she called out, hoping that would draw him out.
More shuffling, but the door still didn’t open.
Maybe he felt like he didn’t look enough for her to see him? Alastor took great pride in his appearance, and if he was sick he probably felt like he looked crummy too.
“I’ll just leave the tea here on the floor for you. You can come out and get it whenever you want,” she offered, slowly placing the mug of tea by the door.
More shuffling. What was he doing in there?
“Okay.... I’m leaving now,” she announced, then hesitantly walked away. She made an effort to not look behind her as she left, in case he opened it to make sure she was leaving.
Charlie woke up suddenly with a pain in her bladder. She crept out of bed to take care of business.
As she washed her hands, her mind—as it often did—wandered to her worries. One of her biggest worries at the present being Alastor. As she dried her hands, she decided to check on him again. Sure, it was the middle of the night, but... maybe he was awake? Did Alastor even sleep anyway?
Completely unconvinced by herself but desperate to have some alleviation to her concern, she tiptoed down the hall anyway, making her way to Alastor’s room. It was dark, and a little difficult to see.
Clink
What the? She looked down and squinted, hoping to see better. It was Alastor’s mug. She’d tripped over it and spilled the cold tea all over the hallway carpet.
“Dammit,” she mumbled, stooping down to pick up the cup. She’d have to get into some light to see if it was broken.
So, he had never come out to get the tea she left him? She frowned, worry filling her gut even more. But maybe he just hadn’t heard her.... Or maybe he was too sick to get out of bed and come get the tea? She bit her lip and stood up.
Placing her hand against the door, she jumped when the door slowly creaked open.
Cautiously, she peered inside, eyes first falling toward the bed. It was vacant. Her stomach churned. He should be in bed if he wasn’t feeling well. Her eyes scanned the room further, seeing no sign of him. She held his cup securely in her hand.
Maybe he had gone downstairs for water? No one likes cold tea. She tried not to think about the fact that she had his mug.
Oh shit... If he was sick, maybe he had a fever? Knowing Alastor, he probably wouldn’t think twice about going downstairs even if he was unwell. But if his temperature was high, he could stumble, or get confused, or maybe even get hurt!
Charlie turned quickly and bolted toward the staircase that led down to the lobby.
Reaching the top of the staircase, she could already see him. Alastor was standing in the center of the lobby, looking off into the distance at the front doors. His head was tilted slightly, one ear appearing alert and the other oddly pinned against his skull.
Charlie, figuring he had heard her loudly arrive at the staircase, wasted no time in descending the stairs and joining him on the lobby floor. “Al?” She asked, concern in her voice. She reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, but before her hand could make contact with him, he spun around.
Charlie jumped at his sudden movement, but the surprise only amplified when she saw his face. Alastor’s eyes were glazed over, and his expression was vacant. He looked past her like he didn’t even notice she was there.
“Alastor?” Charlie tried again, this time actually touching his shoulder. Alastor’s ears twitched at the gesture, but beyond that, he barely seemed to notice. Charlie frowned, waving her other hand in front of his face.
He didn’t react.
She sighed with an ounce of relief. He must be sleepwalking. She’d heard before that people who were overworked or sick could sleepwalk. This event only confirmed her theory that Alastor was unwell in some capacity.
Moving her hand from his shoulder, she took him by his elbow and began guiding him back toward the grand staircase. She placed a hand on his back to help keep him moving once they began ascending the stairs.
She had to be careful with him. Somehow, he had made his way all the way down to the lobby from his room, but she wasn’t sure how well he could manage the way back. Or, well... How well coordinated he was on the way to the lobby in the first place. She glanced up and down his body for any scuffles in his clothes that indicated he might have fallen.
She was relieved to see nothing appeared to be amiss, however she couldn’t be certain and that uncertainty didn’t sit well with her.
Pushing the door to Alastor’s room open, Charlie led him to his bed. She kind of expected him to wake up and get himself situated then shoo her from the room. So, when he didn’t, she was kind of at a loss for what to do. He wasn’t in his pajamas, and he looked entirely unmotivated to get himself into bed.
“Alright, Al,” Charlie nodded to herself, preparing to try to coax him into the bed. She wasn’t going to fool with his clothes. He’d be more comfortable in pajamas, but unless he was awake and asked for her help, she was going to steer clear of that ordeal. Alastor was quite a private demon after all.
She guided him until he turned around, then gently pushed him down so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. She kind of hoped he would snap out of it and lay himself down, but he didn’t, leading her to push his chest down until he was lying on his back.
Right as she was about to pick up his legs and put them on the bed, he kicked out, narrowly avoiding her face. “Ack!” She yelped, pulling back. She stared at him for a second, like he’d meant to do that. But seeing the blank look on his face reminded her that he was, indeed, not with it at all.
Trying again, she lifted his legs and turned his body at the same time. Charlie dropped his legs onto the bed with a huff, dusting her hands off. “There!” She concluded, taking in her handiwork. He looked comfortable.
Reaching over him, she took his blanket and gently tucked him in. She wanted him to close his eyes and relax, but his eyes were still fully open. His ears twitched like they were on alert again. She wondered what he was dreaming about.
She once read that you’re not supposed to wake someone who was sleepwalking, but it seemed Alastor was fully locked into his sleepwalking state. She supposed she could sit with him until it ended, but she had no idea how long that would be. She just didn’t want him getting up and going somewhere again.
Charlie hummed in thought, watching his face. His eyes were slowly scanning the room, but he didn’t appear to be truly taking anything in. She shifted a bit, wondering if she should sit down. One of his ears turned in her direction when she moved.
She paused.
Was he actually aware of what was happening around him? She leaned in closer, watching his eyes. They stopped moving around the room and he stared straight forward, just past her.
“Alastor?” She asked, “Can you hear me?” She really didn’t know much about sleepwalking. She guessed it only made sense that he’d be aware of his surroundings at least a little. He had to find his way down into the lobby somehow after all.
Alastor gave no response to her question, remaining despondent to her save for the twitches in his ears when she moved. She wanted to ask again, just to be sure, but before she could, a cold breeze wafted through the room from the bayou.
She’d almost forgotten that the bayou was even there in the wake (no pun intended) of Alastor’s sleepwalking. But it sat off on the side of the room, crickets chirping and owls hooting quietly in the distanc e. It was serene and beautiful, but cold. Very cold. S he shivered.
Looking down at Alastor, she wondered if he was cold too. He wasn’t shivering like she was, but his blanket wasn’t very thick either. Deciding he needed another blanket, she turned away from Alastor and strode across the room toward the closet. In all the guest rooms, she had stored extra blankets for the demons who got colder during the night. She hoped Alastor hadn’t moved them from his own closet.
To her luck, when she opened the closet, she found that Alastor had left everything untouched. A few blankets were stored on the middle shelf, folded neatly and still smelling like fresh laundry. She reached for one and began to unfold it as she turned around.
She had only had her back turned from Alastor for a few moments, but apparently, that had been long enough for Alastor to make a move.
She gasped in terror when she saw him standing on the balcony of his room that overlooked the city, leaning slightly over the railing and looking toward the ground below him.
“Al, no!” She shouted as she dropped the blanket and rushed to him, grabbing his sides, and pulling him back into the room. Alastor kind of flailed in her grasp, either surprised or resistant to her – she didn’t know and she didn’t care. She just wanted him away from that balcony ledge.
Guiding him back to the bed, she forced him to lay back down, before returning to the balcony and locking the doors leading to it.
Okay, that settled it. She was staying with him tonight. He was a danger to himself like this!
“Charlie?” Alastor’s voice called to her from the bed. It was soft and confused sounding. She was beside him in a second, looking down at him worriedly. His eyes were still glazed over and blindly scanning the room.
“Alastor!” She exclaimed, leaning over him, “Are you okay?”
“Charlie, where are you?” He asked, eyes moving to finally meet hers.
“I’m right here!” Charlie informed him, touching his arm. “Can you see me?” She wondered if he had a fever and was hallucinating.
She touched his forehead as he spoke again, “Good morning.” He was burning up. She hissed quietly as she pulled her hand away.
“It’s still nighttime, Al. I need you to get some rest, okay?” She looked at the blankets, wondering if she should cover him up so he felt warmer or let the bayou breeze cool his temperature down . She groaned with frustration.
“What are you doing here?” He asked her, curiosity interlaced with annoyance. She couldn’t decide if he was lucid enough to even realize what was happening.
“You were sleepwalking. I brought you back to your room,” she decided he needed to cool down. So much for that extra blanket.
Alastor pressed his elbows into the bed beneath him, attempting to sit up. Charlie easily pushed him back down, “Hang on, Al. You need to go back to sleep.”
“I can do it myself,” Alastor insisted. Charlie was convinced he didn’t know what he was insisting. This was only proven when he tried again to sit up, only to be thwarted by her pushing him back down. He let out a frustrated grunt.
He rolled over and tried to push himself up with his hands. She pushed him back down into the bed, sighing. He was a stubborn man even when he was sick. Maybe more so.
Alastor laid there, hands pressed between his chest and the bed beneath him, and head turned to face her. His eyes were tired and barely focused on her at all. She almost wondered if he was still sleepwalking, only this time she knew it was brought on by a fever.
This was going to be a long night.
And that it was.
Alastor spent most of the night trying, and failing, to get back out of bed. He spoke nonsense to her, mostly about where she was or why she was there—though at one point he did ask her who the tall figure in the corner was, and that freaked her out for a little over an hour.
Charlie was exhausted by the time her morning phone alarm went off. She jumped when it started beeping, quickly turning it off and placing it on Alastor’s nightstand.
She had expected Alastor to eventually simmer down as the night went on, but to her dismay, he only got more active and resistant to her. When he wasn’t trying to get out of bed, he was rolling around on the mattress and arching his back into awkward positions. She had no idea what he was doing, and it didn’t look comfortable, but before she could do anything about it he would return to a normal position and roll back over.
“Alastor, please...” She begged, “Just lay still and try to sleep.” She didn’t even know if he was awake or asleep at this point.
Her phone rang as Vaggie’s photo popped up on the screen. She answered it with a sigh, “Hey.”
“Charlie? Where are you?” Vaggie asked, concern clear through the speaker.
“I’m in Alastor’s room,” Charlie said slowly, watching Alastor squirm against the mattress again. He reached up toward the ceiling and swatted at something that wasn’t there.
“Uh... Why?” Vaggie’s concern mounted in her voice.
“He--” She was cut off when Alastor reached up and swatted the phone from her hands.
“Charlie?!” Vaggie’s voice came through the speaker as the phone landed on the floor with a thud.
“Dammit, Alastor,” Charlie huffed, reaching down to pick the phone back up. She heard a click and looked at the screen. Vaggie had hung up.
Three...
Two...
One...
BAM!
The doors to Alastor’s room flung open with great force. Vaggie stood at the entry of the room with her spear drawn. “Charlie?!” She called, scanning the room frantically.
“Hey, Vaggie,” Charlie greeted with exhaustion. Alastor was between her and the door, arching his back strangely before collapsing back into the mattress with a groan.
Vaggie lowered her spear once she took in the sight, “What’s going on? Have you been here all night?”
Alastor tried to sit up. Charlie pushed him back down with one hand, leaving her hand on his chest to pin him down to emphasize to him that he needed to stay there, “Yeah...” She let go of him, hovering her hand in case he tried to sit up again. When he didn’t, she let her hand fall to her side, “Alastor’s really sick and confused from a fever.”
Putting her spear back on her back, Vaggie came closer, “Oh shit. He’s actually sick?” Vaggie had been fully convinced that Alastor had just been up to something. Charlie could see the shock lingering in her eyes as she watched Alastor’s head loll from side to side. He must be hearing both their voices on either side of him and was unsure what to do.
Charlie could practically see Vaggie shift protector roles as she reached out and touched Alastor’s forehead herself. Usually, Vaggie was on high alert ready for Alastor to betray them. But at the end of the day, Alastor was one of theirs, and he needed help. No amount of distrust for him would keep Vaggie from taking her role as protector of the hotel seriously.
“Whoa...” She whistled, pulling her hand away. “I’ll go and get some fever-reducing medicine,” she pointed her thumb over her shoulder at the doors.
Charlie nodded, “I’d have gotten some myself, but...” Alastor tried to sit up, explaining her position without a word. She needed to keep him in bed, and that had become a full-time job.
Vaggie helped Charlie push Alastor back into the bed. He kicked his feet in protest, then laid still.
“I’ll be right back,” Vaggie promised, leaving the room quickly. Charlie watched the door close before looking down at Alastor. He wasn’t moving now, just starin g , expressionless, at the ceiling.
“Don’t worry, Al,” she softly tried to assure him, “We’ll take care of you.”
As if objecting to this, Alastor quickly sat up, much faster than he had before. Charlie jumped, reaching to push him back down, but before her hands could touch his chest, he turned and headbutted her in the face. His antlers rammed into her forehead and she cried out, “Ah!”
Charlie stumbled backward. Alastor took this chance to shove her away even further, scrambling out of bed, tripping and falling in the process. Charlie caught herself before she lost her balance, “Al!” Alastor pulled himself up off the ground and made a break for it, practically diving into his bayou.
“Stop!” Charlie cried, watching in horror as Alastor narrowly avoided falling into the stream that ran through the bayou. Despite feeling uneasy about the landscape, she ran onto the grass to retrieve the runaway deer.
And boy, could he run.
“Alastor, stop!” She called to him as they traveled deeper into the overgrown, swampy wilderness.
Alastor’s movements were uncoordinated and clumsy. A far cry from his usual graceful and calculated movements. This difference made it all the more horrifying when Alastor ran smack dead into a tree and fell backward into the cloudy water pooling beside the roots.
It was deeper than it appeared.
Charlie gasped in terror as Alastor’s red coat disappeared beneath the surface of the rippling, murky water. She didn’t think twice before she dove in after him.
Sounds of rushing water and the pounding of her heart roared in her head as she swam desperately downwards. With difficulty, s he opened her eyes, hurriedly looking around for her hotelier. The brackish water stung her eyes, making it hard to see as mud and debris obscured her vision.
Something grabbed her ankle and dug in with sharp , needle-like claws. She yelped, accidentally releasing her breath and taking in a gulp of water. He r lungs began to burn and she had to force herself not to cough or choke. She needed air! Fast!
Looking down to detach her ankle from whatever had ensnared it, she saw a black and red hand just barely visible, latching onto her for dear life.
She would have gasped had she had any air to gasp with. Reaching down and grabbing the hand, she yanked up the body connected to it. She could barely see Alastor as she pulled him into her chest. His body was limp, but his hands found her shoulders and held on tightly.
She kicked her feet, pushing herself to the surface of the water. As soon as the cold air hit her face she sucked in a breath and began to hack. Her ribs rattled at the force of her violent coughs, urging her to bring up the water she’d inhaled.
As she choked out the water, she looked around blearily for land that she could hoist herself and Alastor onto. She pressed Alastor into her chest, feeling his grip on her shoulders loosen with each second. His head fell forward and rested in the crook of her neck, one of his antlers catching on her cheek painfully.
Land! She had to force herself to calm down as she swam toward the dip in land, not wanting a repeat of falling beneath the water.
The moment she was close enough to the muddy slope, she tossed Alastor’ s surprisingly light body onto it. Thankfully, he didn’t resist this, and just laid there in the mud as she pulled herself out of the water.
Panting heavily, she rolled him over to check his breathing. Panic rose in her throat when she realized his chest wasn’t rising and falling.
“Al--” cough cough “-lastor!” She choked out, shaking his shoulders. He didn’t respond to her. Her eyes still stung from the muddy water, and she closed them tightly as she let out a harder series of coughs.
Her coughing drowned out the sounds around her, and when she reopened her eyes, she slumped her shoulders in relief as she noticed Alastor was now moving—coughing along with her.
The moment she gained control over her coughing, she lunged forward and grabbed Alastor into a hug, “Dammit, Alastor! Don’t do that!” Alastor continued to cough up water, weakly trying to push her away. She refused to let go though, instead, choosing to hold onto his arms and stand, guiding him to his feet. There was no way she was letting him go an inch deeper into this place.
She pulled him along as his coughing slowe d. Fortunately, h e wasn’t resisting her anymore. She wondered if the cold water had lowered his fever just enough for him to gain some semblance of sanity again.
Reaching the point where the bayou met the hotel room , she spotted a n arm chair placed just where the floorboards began, and swampland ended . Her plan was to make him sit in it while she got him some dry clothes, but Alastor had other plans. He yanked his arms away from her the moment she let her guard down and spun around, heading back into the bayou.
Charlie, covered in mud and dripping wet, nearly slipped on the dewy grass as she quickly turned back to him. She reached out for him just as he grabbed onto the tree bark of a gnarly-looking tree and rammed his head into it just like he had headbutted her earlier.
Charlie tried to pull him away from the tree, only to realize his antlers wer e lodged in the tree bark. Alastor tried to pull away too, and when that failed, he rammed his head into the tree harder, causing a crack to form in the tree where his antlers dug in.
Reaching up to his head, Charlie attempted to untangle his antlers from the thread-li ke lenticels of the tree. Alastor rammed his head into the tree again, almost crushing her fingers between the tree and his skull. She had just barely managed to slip her fingers out of the way in time. The crack widened.
Charlie cringed at the pain this must be causing him. She needed to get him unstuck before he gave himself a concussion!
Alastor rammed his head again, sending another split up the tree bark. The moment his skull inched away from the bark, she gripped his head and pushed, hoping the added force would break the tangle.
It worked, and Alastor fell backward, not bothering to catch himself. Charlie dove after him, grabbing him by his muddy coat and yanking him onto his side to prevent him from hitting his head. She landed on the ground beside him.
“Charlie?! Alastor?!” Vaggie’s voice called from outside of the bayou.
Charlie looked up to see Vaggie rushing toward them, Lucifer, Angel, Niffty, and Husk on her heels. She slowly sat up, looking back down at the now completely still hotelier beside her.
Vaggie helped her stand, her wide eye taking in the situation, “What the fuck happened to you two?!”
Charlie could still feel water stuck in her ear, so she tilted her head and tried to get the water to pour out, “Oh you know... Just went for a dip.” The water trickled out of her ear with a gross warm sensation.
Her attention went back to Alastor, who was still lying on the ground. She was beginning to fear that he had managed to hit his h ead enough to cause real damage . But before she could check on him, Lucifer and Husk were already moving to sit him up. His head fell onto Lucifer’s shoulder for support. Lucifer was feigning being disgruntled, but Charlie could see he was genuinely worried about whatever was going on.
Everyone could tell something was seriously wrong.
Husk and Lucifer tried to pull Alastor up, but Alastor made no effort to help them. Angel rushed to pull one of the chairs in the room closer, making it easier for Lucifer and Husk to set Alastor down. Alastor’s eyes were wide but glossy, vision focusing on nothing and everything at the same time.
If Charlie wasn’t also covered head to toe in mud she might have avoided stepping in the trail of mud left behind from dragging Alastor out of the bayou and into his chair. Instead, she ignored the mess they were making and went to his side. “Al?” She asked, putting a hand on his forehead again. Hot. Really hot. She frowned.
“I’ve got medicine for his fever,” Vaggie informed he r, carefully stepping o ver the mud trail instead of through it as she retrieved the bottle she must have dropped on her way in.
“He’s sick?” Angel eyes widened, now examining Alastor like he hadn’t realized Alastor could even get sick.
Charlie nodded, not taking her eyes off Alastor’s vacant expression. He didn’t even look tired: He was alert, confused, and his ears were twitching toward every sound they made.
Vaggie approached with the bottle of medicine, popping open the cap and dumping a few capsules into her palm. Charlie lifted her hand up to receive the pills – already wondering how they were going to make him swallow them, when Husk put his hand in between them, stopping the exchange.
“It won’t help,” he said slowly.
Vaggie scowled, “Move, Husk.” She lifted her hand to give Charlie the pills anyway. Charlie took them, but paused, staring at Husk, “What do you mean?”
Husk’s eyes settled on Alastor, particularly his eyes, “He’s too far gone.”
Niffty looked up at Alastor, putting a finger to her chin in thought. After a moment she nodded her head, “Yup! Too far gone!”
Cradling the pills in her hand, Charlie looked between the two of them, dread filling her gut. Vaggie took control of the conversation for her, “The fuck do you mean, he’s ‘too far gone’?” Her eye narrowed on the two demons in front of her.
Husk looked at Niffty, and Niffty smiled widely, “Oh! Can I tell them?! Can I? Can I?!” Husk rolled his eyes and skulked back toward Lucifer, “Knock yourself out, Niff.”
Niffty squeed with an excitement that made Charlie’s skin crawl, “Mister Alastor is going to die!”
The tension in the room shattered into a cacophony of gasps. Charlie felt her stomach drop, “What?!”
Lucifer coughed a few times, having choked in surprise. Vaggie was stunned, and Angel was annoyed. The spider glared at Niffty for a second then looked back to Husk pointedly, “Are you going to translate?!”
Husk put a hand to his face and rubbed his temple, “There’s nothing to translate. He’s going to die.”
Charlie couldn’t stop her hand from finding Alastor’s shoulder and gripping onto it like holding him tightly would make everything better, “No, he’s just sick and confused! He’s not going to die!”
Vaggie, having found her words again (and probably amped up due to Charlie’s distress), pointed at Husk, “You! Explain what the fuck is going on! Now!”
Husk crossed his arms and looked to the side, grumbling, “It’s his mess. Don’t see why I have to be the one to clean it up again.” Before anyone could get out another word, the old cat met Charlie’s eyes and frowned as deep as his frown could go.
Charlie began to tremble as Husk sighed deeply, then spoke, “This happens sometimes.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder at the bayou, “Those deer he eats? Some of them are sic k. It infects his brain. M akes him lose his mind until he either ends up killing himself, or the disease kills him slowly.” He muttered, “Usually easier if he kills himself.”
“Wh-Are you fucking serious?!” Angel’s voice felt distant as Charlie looked down at Alasto r , her heart breaking . S he could still hear what was being said but the words lost their meaning as she stared into Alastor’s glazed-over eyes. No...
She stooped down to be eye level with him, gently waving a shaking hand in front of his face. His eyes lazily tracked the motion as froth began to build in the corner of his mouth. No...
No...
This wasn’t happening.
Husk’s voice just barely made it through her train of thoughts, “He always comes back. But he has to die first.”
She whirled her head around and looked the old drunk in the eyes, “Isn’t there something we can do?! He shouldn’t have to die at all!”
Husk’s eyes reflected a bit of guilt, probably for not finding a more graceful way to explain this situation to them all. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, “No? Not that I know of, anyway. I don’t think there’s a cure.”
Charlie’s knees wobbled, threatening to give out. Vaggie must have noticed because she grabbed Charlie’s arm to steady her. Her sight fell on Alastor again. She wondered if he was listening to them. Understanding them. Unable to respond. Or if his mind was just t oo far gone to process their words.
His back suddenly arched, causing everyone in the room to jump at his movement. He leaned his head back into the chair and sprawled out his fingers, straining them at awkward angles. Froth bubbled from his mouth and down his chin. He looked like he was in so much pain.
Charlie felt a sob creeping up her throat. She swallowed it down. “W-we need to make him more comfortable,” she settled on, pulling away from Vaggie.
Vaggie sighed, “What we need to do is clean you both up.” Charlie looked down at herself, having forgotten the state she and Alastor were both in. “Stay here,” Vaggie instructed her as she made her way toward the doors, “I’ll get you some clean clothes.” She looked at Angel, but the spider demon was already moving toward Alastor’s wardrobe to get him some clean pajamas.
Charlie just watched as the group began to move around her, beginning the task of cleaning up the mud. Her eyes were stuck on Alastor. He writhed in the chair, looking rabid. She cleared her throat to push that sob further down.
Before she realized what was happening, Niffty began to shoo her away from Alastor and toward the bedroom doors. Charlie was about to protest when she realized Lucifer, Angel, and Husk were working together to change Alastor out of his muddy clothes.
She quickly turned around and faced the doors, looking down at her own muddy clothing again. She’d love a bath. She hoped Alastor wouldn’t mind her using his bathroom. If she walked to her room, she’d be tracking mud through the hallway all the way there, and as much as Niffty liked cleaning, Charlie didn’t want to give her even more work to do.
She glanced down at the little maid, who was wiping her hands off on her apron after touching Charlie’s muddy pants leg. She didn’t seem particularly distressed about any of this, then again, she never seemed bothered by things Charlie thought would scar most people for life. Like Alastor dying...
Charlie swallowed hard, remembering the glossy look in his eyes when he had turned to face her in the lobby. She had been so certain he was just sleepwalking. She had no idea he was losing his mind because of some disease that would eventually kill him.
She shuddered, reaching up to grip her shoulders, remembering Alastor holding tightly onto them as she swam to the surface of the water. Had he been lucid enough to know she was trying to save him?
Husk said this often ended with him ending up killing himself somehow. Charlie felt sick. How many times had Alastor gotten sick and ended his own life?
She remembered he had been confused and dazed when he ran into the bayou. He bumped into that tree and fell into the water. If she hadn’t found him he would have drowned.... How many times were his deaths completely unintentional?
He must have been so confused. He must have been in so much pain as the darkness enveloped him. Did he ever understand he was dying? Did he ever have enough sanity left to process that he couldn’t save himself?
...He must have been so, so scared.
Charlie stood in silence, facing the doors until Vaggie peered her head in. The angel looked over Charlie’s shoulder to assess the situation. Charlie watched a golden hue flush her cheeks before she quickly looked away from whatever was happening behind the princess.
Holding out the clean clothes, Vaggie trained her focus on the ground. Charlie took the clothes and stared down at them.
She couldn’t let him suffer again. He had held onto her when she rescued him from the water. He didn’t want to drown. He didn’t want to die.
Charlie was barely aware of Vaggie taking her arms and leading her to the connected bathroom. She barely registered it when Vaggie turned on the faucet for the bath. She hadn’t even realized she’d been undressed until she was being guided into the tub.
She stared down at the water as it clouded from the mud that came from her skin and hair.
He didn’t want to die.
Charlie’s brows furrowed and she quickly grabbed for the shampoo to get the rest of this muck off of her. She finished her bath quickly and dried off. She pulled on her clean clothes and marched back into the bedroom, having totally forgotten about the men getting Alastor cleaned up.
Luckily, they had apparently finished by the time she had and were now placing Alastor back in bed. Charlie saw Lucifer snap his fingers just before a small metal tub and some clothes disappeared beside him. Niffty had made easy work on the mud on the floor, and the muddy armchair had been discarded next to the bayou. Niffty was currently working on that.
It was almost like none of this had ever happened. She looked at Alastor. His damp bangs clung to his face in strands, extenuating how exhausted he must be. Despite this, his eyes were blown open and scanning the room slowly. His ears turned and twitched. He was still alert and wide awake – now, for reasons she knew were not in his control.
She tried to ignore the froth bubbling from the corners of his mouth as she strode over and covered him with the blankets on the bed. His eye twitched and his head tilted quickly. She tried to ignore how he looked right past her as she tucked him in, trying her damndest to make him as comfortable as possible.
She couldn’t ignore how much she knew he didn’t want to die again. He didn’t want to have a gruesome death. She didn’t want him to have a gruesome death. What the fuck was she going to do?!
She turned to Husk, “How long does it take before the disease kills him itself?” She hoped it was quickly. If he went insane, she could stay with him. At least he wouldn’t be alone. If he was in pain, they could give him painkillers.
She wasn’t going to let him kill himself by some accident.
Husk shrugged warily, seeming to understand what she was doing, “Could take a day. Or a week. Maybe a month.”
She frowned at how unhelpful that was , turning back to Alastor . “ We’ll ride this out for as long as it takes. We’ll keep him safe until he... dies.” It hurt to get that last word out. But that’s what they were waiting for, wasn’t it? For him to die?
She brushed away the damp hair that clung to his face, hesitating as she did so. This wouldn’t be easy: Watching her hotelier—her friend, die in front of her as she could do nothing about it. But knowing he would come back made it simpler... or maybe it made it more complicated. All she could do was make sure he didn’t die painfully.
She could at least do that...
Charlie sat in the clean armchair, knees pulled up to her chest and arms wrapped around her legs.
This was unbearable.
Alastor was groaning, rolling and turning and flailing uselessly. He spouted nonsensical sounds. At one point they had been words, like when he asked her why she was there. But they had rapidly devolved into syllables and vowels with no real meaning beyond the purpose of making noise.
Charlie watched as Lucifer held Alastor’s arm as still as he could while Husk administered another dose of heavy-duty pain killers—the last dose seemingly having done nothing to ease the deer’s pain. Alastor continued to huff and groan like he was being tortured.
It had been day two since they found out Alastor was dying. Charlie had been so convinced they could manage his suffering. But as the seconds ticked by, her faith crumbled faster and faster.
Alastor’s glossy eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he opened his mouth wide, froth spilling down the sides of his face as he arched his back against his will. The moment Lucifer let go of Alastor’s arm, it swung upward and banged into the headboard. Charlie winced at the bruise that would leave.
Charlie vaguely heard Husk suggesting that they could restrain him to keep him from further hurting himself. The thought made the princess’s stomach churn.
This wasn’t fair. It was inhumane. But what else could they do? If they didn’t manage him so aggressively, he would wander off and end up killing himself.
Just last night, the moment Charlie turned her back, Alastor had bolted from bed again. She’d heard the movement and came racing to him in a panic, pleading out loud that he stayed away from the bayou—which Lucifer had since blocked off with some a tree he uprooted from somewhere in the swampy land and placed horizontally at the entrance of the place.
To her luck, Alastor hadn’t made a run for the bayou. He had been after the wall behind his bed, pushing himself between the nightstand (knocking it over) and the headboard. He had managed to slam his head into the wall a few times before Charlie was able to grab him and pull him back into bed.
Charlie wanted nothing more than for Alastor’s suffering to end, but even as she held onto her legs and watched Alastor flail pathetically in bed, she knew there was only two ways this could go.
Either the disease killed him, or they let the disease make him kill himself.
She swallowed thickly. Neither choice was appealing. But there was no cure. And all they were doing was delaying the inevitable. Drawing out his pain.
...Maybe she should let him bang into skull into the wall until it cracked open. Or wander into the bayou until he tripped and fell, hitting his head on a stone. Or fell into the water and drowned.
...
He’d held onto her when she rescued him from the water.
He didn’t want to die. Not like that. He still had some sanity left back then. At least he was able to express it. Was he still in there somewhere? Was he watching on in horror as his body acted against his commands? How much of him was left?
Would he still be afraid if he died?
Charlie slowly stood up.
Lucifer turned to her, “Char.” He wrung out his hands, “I think Husk is right. We need to find a way to hold him down more permanently. He keeps hurting himself.”
She didn’t respond. She approached the bed, walking past her dad and Husk. She looked down at Alastor as he twitched and squirmed aimlessly.
“Hnnnn, Aaaa” Alastor breathed out, hands grabbing the bedsheets, which has long since been pulled off the mattress.
Charlie reached down and took one of his hands, her vision blurring.
He was suffering.
He didn’t want to die.
He was in so much pain.
He didn’t want to die.
There was nothing they could do.
He didn’t want to die.
....
He didn’t want to die.
Charlie squeezed his hand reassuringly, and moved her other to his forehead. She hesitated, looking inside herself for the courage to go through with what she was about to do. What she had to do.
Alastor’s eyes had greyed significantly. They met hers and for a moment she lost her determination. That was until she saw no recognition for her in those glossy eyes. He didn’t even know she was there.
She gulped and closed her eyes.
An unknown power naturally pooled in her chest and flowed mercifully into her hand, gently diffusing through Alastor’s head and then, throughout his body.
When she opened her eyes, Alastor had ceased moving. His body no longer twitched or flailed. His chest no longer rose nor fell. His greyed and vacant eyes had stopped moving, resting on her for no reason other than that’s where they were when he--...
When she killed him.
He removed her hands from his body and stepped back, inhaling sharply.
She had killed him.
She just couldn’t bear to see him suffering anymore. He had to die! She... she had to do it, right? She inhaled again, but this time it caught in her throat. She took another step back, “Oh god... What--... What did I just do?” She covered her mouth in shock and stumbled back further.
Lucifer grabbed her and led her back to the chair she’d abandoned, “Hey! Hey, Charlie, listen to me!” He moved quickly, standing in front of her, blocking her view of Alastor’s... body on the bed, “You did what he needed you to do! Okay? He needed that!”
Charlie leaned forward, pressing her elbows into her legs. She kept her mouth covered, eyes wi de down at the floor, picturing the much too still body lying in the bed.
She had killed him.
She didn’t even realize Husk was beside her until he put a hand on her shoulder, “He’ll be back, kid. Just wait, okay? You did good.”
The reassurances did nothing to calm the rising terror in her gut as it continued to dawn on her that she had actually killed her friend. He was going to come back. Husk told her that. He wasn’t gone forever. But she had still killed him.
She hoped it was peaceful. She could only imagine this was better than drowning. But she didn’t know what dying felt like. What if dying was painful, no matter how peaceful or merciful the method was? Had she hurt him?
She continued to stare at Alastor’s body, even as everyone else left the room. She vaguely heard Vaggie tell her that she’d come to check on her soon; Lucifer telling her she saved him from more misery and suffering ; Husk saying he’d be back before she knew it, good as new ; Niffty saying she’d bring her some tea; Angel saying she shouldn’t be alone in here.
She wasn’t sure how long it took for her to realize Angel was saying he was going to stay in the room with her, but when she looked toward the other armchair, sure enough, he was sitting there, watching her.
Her dam broke.
The moment she looked into Angel’s eyes, tears fell from her own, pouring down her cheeks. Angel jumped up from his chair and knelt in front of her, “H-hey! It’s okay! You heard Husk! He’ll be back soon!”
Charlie sobbed. She couldn’t stop the tears now, “I killed him, Angel!”
Angel, as much as he appeared to want to help, obviously had no idea what to do. He awkwardly patted her back and hushed her, “Yeah, I know. But he needed it, alright? Ya showed him mercy, Charlie. ”
“I killed him!” She repeated, unable to find any other words.
“Uhh,” Angel was beginning to panic. Charlie couldn’t stop herself, “He didn’t want to die—I didn’t know what else to do!”
“You did good!” Angel settled on, “Really good! I mean—if you didn’t do it, then he woulda just kept sufferin’ until something painful took him out!” When that didn’t stop her tears, he doubled down, “ From where I was standin’ he looked like he just fell asleep! It was peaceful, you know? No better way to go than in your sleep, right?” He chuckled nervously.
Charlie continued to sob. Angel stopped talking. He put a hand on hers and just waited in silence until her crying stopped.
The last thing Charlie remembered was crying in front of Angel. She blinked tiredly as she looked around for a clock.
Damn... She’d been asleep for four hours. Looking around the dimly-lit room with tired eyes, she quickly noticed she was alone The bedroom doors had been cracked open slightly. She could hear mummers of speech coming from the hallway. People were talking just outside.
She didn’t care what they were saying.
Her eyes fell to the bed. Alastor’s body was still lying where she’d left it. She slowly stood up and trudged to the bed, half expecting him to sit up in a confused state and ask what she was doing there. He did no such thing. She sat on the edge of the bed, noticing how his head lolled as the bed dipped under her weight.
How long did she have to wait for him to come back? Husk never told her that. A piece of her worried that because she killed him, that maybe his death would be permanent. Her gut twisted in a knot at that thought, and she looked toward the bedroom doors, willing someone to come in and tell her she was wrong.
Warm light flooded the room as the door was opened further: Vaggie peered in, catching Charlie’s line of sight and pausing. Charlie blinked, not expecting that to have worked. Vaggie opened the door all the way and entered, flicking on the light. The others came with her.
“Hey, hun,” Vaggie soothingly said, walking around the bed to stand be side her and placing a warm hand on Charlie’s shaking shoulder, “ How are you feeling?”
Charlie tucked some hair behind her ear shrugging. She looked back down at Alastor’s--.... corpse. “How long--” before she could finish asking, Husk responded, “Don’t know.”
Vaggie huffed, “Well, how long has it taken before?”
Husk crossed his arms, unamused by Vaggie’s assertiveness, “Days. Hours. Minutes. Weeks. I don’t fucking know!” He waved his hand to show how fed up he was with being their font of Alastor knowledge.
Charlie sighed. She took Alastor’s cold, dead hand, “Then I’ll wait for however long it takes.”
Lucifer shuffled forward a bit, “Charlie, you can’t be serious! We have no idea when he’ll come back, and you’ll be waiting by a dead body--” Lucifer stopped talking. Charlie didn’t have to look at Vaggie to know she was glaring at Lucifer to make him shut up.
Charlie squeezed the cold palm in hers, “It’s okay, Dad. Really. I don’t want him to be alone, and I... I did this.” She felt Vaggie put both hands on her shoulders and squeeze, supportively.
“Guess I’ll see if I can drag the TV up here,” Angel scratched his head. He squinted his eyes, counting the people in the room, “We’ll need more chairs.”
Charlie stiffened, eyes wide, “What? You’re all going to wait with me?”
Husk shrugged; Lucifer looked at Angel, a bit shocked at being volunteered until Angel nudged him, then he quickly looked at Charlie and nodded, smiling awkwardly. Niffty had already scurried off to get some more chairs. Vaggie smiled down at her, “We’re here for you, for however long this takes.”
Charlie felt her eyes watering again, but this time it wasn’t painful. She looked down at Alastor’s still face. Someone had closed his eyes. “You hear that, Al? We’re all going to be here when you come back.”
Vaggie added, a bit of gruffness in her voice, “So hurry the fuck up!”
Movie three was just about to end. The heroine had saved the day, got the man, and was riding off into the sunset when Charlie felt the hand she held between both of her own twitch.
Her attention snapped to Alastor, TV forgotten. “Guys! He’s waking up!” She announced. The end credits rolled as everyone slowly gathered around the bed in anticipation.
Charlie watched as Alastor’s ears began to twitch, and his eyes began to flutter open. Suddenly, he gasped loudly, eyes flying open, and sitting up faster than she’d ever seen him move before. He grabbed his throat, pulling his hand away from her and sucking in air desperately.
This lasted for several seconds as Alastor gathered his bearings and began to look around. As soon as he was lucid enough to realize he was surrounded by people, his grin fell into place and widened threateningly, “May I help you?” His voice was raspy.
There was a pause...
And then Charlie dove into him, grabbing him up in the biggest, tightest hug she could manage, “Alastor! We were so worried!” She ignored the way Husk rolled his eyes and Lucifer coughed awkwardly.
Alastor tried to shift out of her hug, but she wasn’t finished and didn’t want to let him go. So, when he couldn’t move himself, he decided to move her. He gently pushed her off of him, holding up his hands briefly to indicate he was done with the physical contact. Despite wanting to hug him again, she silently nodded in respect to his boundaries.
“I see no reason to worry,” Alastor dismissed, he didn’t look pleased by it though. “I was merely sick. I’m better now.” He eyed Charlie strangely, “Besides. You seemed to have had the situation... handled, shall we say.”
Charlie’s lip quivere d, his words like a dagger through her heart. “I’m so sorry, Al!” She had to restrain herself from hugging him again. “I didn’t know what else to do!”
Alastor arched a brow slightly. Charlie was starting to wonder if he actually knew what she did: Had he been aware enough at the time to realize she was going to kill him?
“Ah, well,” Lucifer concluded. “Glad to see everything’s in order again. Charlie! Why don’t you get some rest now?” Now that Alastor was awake and well, Lucifer was back at it, trying to coax her away from the deer demon.
“Just a second, dad!” Charlie resisted, “Alastor just woke up!”
Alastor moved to the edge of his bed and placed his feet on the ground experimentally, slowly adding his weight. As soon as he realized he could stand without the fear of falling, he did so, only pausing briefly to realize he had been changed into pajamas at some point. Charlie was now wondering if he remembered anything that happened at all.
“Right, and Alastor needs rest too,” Vaggie decided, glaring at the hotelier whose smile was tightening up.
“Nonsense, I’m right as rain!” Alastor insisted. He eyed Charlie, “Though, I do agree, Charlie. You look an absolute mess! Why not lie down for a tad?” His eyes found the TV and he sneered. Charlie could practically see him running scenario after scenario through his head to figure out what was going on. He was doing incredibly well at hiding his confusion.
“Alastor, are you sure you’re okay?” Charlie had to ask. He’d been... dead... not but 15 minutes ago.
Alastor tilted his head as if to say ‘I am, but you won’t be if you all don’t leave right now—and take that damn TV with you’. “Gracious, Charlie! How many times do you need me to say I’m absolutely, positively fine?”
Vaggie growled, “As many times as it takes!” She pointed a finger at Alastor, “Do you even know the trouble you caused everyone?!”
Alastor grit his teeth, “Oh, please do tell.”
Vaggie stomped her foot, “You fucking died! Charlie had to kill you!” Charlie noticed Alastor’s ears perk up. Vaggie threw her hands to her side, “All because you ate a fucking diseased deer?!”
Angel joined in, “Yeah! You know what, Alastor? Fuck you! This ain’t the first time this happened, right?! But you keep eatin’ those fuckin’ deer?!”
Alastor looked at Husk, grin widening. Husk looked away, grumbling something under his breath. Alastor stared for a second longer before humming. His attention then returned to the group, “Oh, but you don’t understand the thrill! What’s life without a little risk?”
Vaggie cursed in Spanish, “You listen to me, you puta de mierda!” She grabbed a fistful of his shirt, “If you ever put us through that again, I will kill you next time! And if I do, you’ll wish you’d stayed dead!”
Alastor pushed her hand off him and laughed, “Oh? Haha! You will now?” He looked at Charlie with intrigue, “Why not have our dear Charlie do it again, hmm?”
Charlie tensed up, looking away. She heard Alastor’s voice harden with seriousness, “I assure you, you will not see that again.” The way his voice dripped with vehemence and disgust made her skin crawl. Sometimes she forgot just how scary he could be.
“We better fucking not!” Vaggie growled out a final threat.
Angel grumbled, “Just stop eating deer, jackass.” He started strutting from the room, Husk following quickly. Angel looked down at him, “He’s a fucking deer—he eats deer—what the fuck?”
People began piling out of Alastor’s room, leaving the TV behind. Charlie watched Alastor glare at it before snapping his fingers. A tentacle reached up from beneath it and crushed it, pulling it down into the portal it came from. Welp... there went their TV.
“Alastor...” Charlie started again, looking up at him. She just needed to hear it one more time, “Are you sure you’re ok--”
“Charlie, my dear. If you ask me one more time, I’ll send your father’s rubber duck collection in after the picture box,” Alastor threatened just loud enough for the departing Lucifer to hear.
Lucifer turned back to him in a quick movement, “Wait, what?!”
Alastor laughed, as he and Lucifer began hurling insults back and forth at each other. Charlie watched for a few more moments, before smiling tiredly.
She might have a few new scrapes and bruises, and new nightmare fuel, but...
Everything was okay again.