Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a windy autumn evening in Pentagram City. At the hotel, Charlie and Vaggie were searching through the hotel's records for some of Charlie's paperwork, Angel Dust was just what he called "chillin' " on his phone, and Niffty was cleaning up Alastor's room upstairs, when he himself was out "for work" as he'd informed Charlie beforehand.
Alastor's room was, no matter how many times she visited it, always an attraction for Niffty. And not only because it contained all sorts of insects roaming freely all around because of the bayou occupying half the room. She found the red themed decor pleasing; it reminded her of insect blood.

 

She had just dusted the little cream - colored
mini radio on the table when she spotted something lying on the floor, with a cockroach crawling across it, partially hidden by the hearthrug. She picked it up, intrigued to find the small bug and raised her hand to kill it. The tiny thing was in the blink of an eye.

 

After she slid the dead onto the floor, she saw something written on the book she was holding.

 

"Miss Charlie, Miss Vaggie, look what I found!"

 

Her gleeful voice rang throughout the hotel, reaching the princess' ears downstairs.

 

Charlie heard Niffty and said, "Oh dear, Vaggie, we need to go and check!"

 

"Must be killing those bugs again, nothing special honey," said Vaggie dismissively.

 

Charlie dragged her upstairs anyway.

 

The pair walked up the way to Alastor's room, only to find the door ajar and a particular little gremlin cackling while mercilessly decapitating a cockroach by stabbing its neck with a knife.

 

Niffty heard footsteps behind her, turning around to see them and stopped abruptly.

 

"Look, Miss Charlie!" Niffty held out the book before them.
Charlie's jaw dropped when she saw the little journal. Behind her, Vaggie let out an inaudible gasp.

 

"Gosh, didn't you read the title?!" Charlie exclaimed excitedly, turning the thing over in her hands.

 

"I didn't expect Alastor to actually have this,"
said Vaggie as she took the book from her. She tried opening it, but then-

 

"BEWARE! ARE YOU MY MASTER?"

 

Then all things happened at once. The room went dark all of a sudden, Vaggie dropped the book as Charlie shuddered and grabbed her arm, even Niffty squeaked and ran to hide behind both of them, the lights started to flicker on and off, producing a somewhat glitching effect. The scary voice repeated its previous statement. Charlie looked aghast as she witnessed the situation.

 

"N-n-no, um, I'm Charlie," said she, taking a step backward causing Vaggie to stumble. Niffty let out a squeal as she struggled to stay hidden.

 

There was a low growl and then the shadow disappeared just like that, dissolving into black-grey particles and diving back into the book that had fallen onto the floor, from Vaggie's hands. Eventually everything returned to its former state.

Chapter Text

No one said anything for a while.

 

Then Vaggie slapped her head. "Why did you have to admit that so easily? We could've waited and seen what happened!"

 

"I'm sorry Vaggie, I couldn't help it, it was so frightening-" Charlie was trembling slightly. Vaggie noticed this and instantly changed her tone.

 

"It's alright, hun."

 

Vaggie handed the book back to Niffty, who instantly kept it back on the table where it was, as if afraid the shadow-thingy would leap back out. She scampered quickly to the door, followed by Charlie and Vaggie.

 

They were so appalled by the whole ordeal that
none of them questioned Alastor about it when he came back.

 

"Hello, my dear," he beamed at Charlie, suddenly appearing into the middle of the lobby, nearly frightening the shit out of Angel Dust, who was casually drinking liquor but spat it out when he saw the deer.

 

"You gotta stop doing that, Freaky Face!" The pornstar screamed from his seat. "It's not funny!"

 

"Oh but it is, my feminine fellow!" Alastor chuckled at Angel's reaction, letting a burst of static slip.

 

Behind the counter, Husk merely rolled his eyes and went back to polishing bottles with a cloth he had been using for quite a few days but had never bothered to wash.

 

Alastor shot a quick glance at Husk, apparently enjoying his lack of interest. Then he turned to Charlie.

 

"Can you please ask Niffty to kindly stop cleaning my room? I've been gone for quite some hours and I find that she has still not finished with it."

 

"Um, y-yes, Al, of course," Charlie smiled sheepishly at him before calling Niffty down into the hall.

 

After Charlie had done what he'd asked, he returned to his room upstairs without further conversation, receiving a suspicious glare from Angel Dust.

 

Alastor's room had a unique world of its own, with it's comforting scarlet walls and the late 30's decor. It was undoubtedly one of his priced possessions. Elegant little frames adorned the wall and the shelf next to his bed was never short of new books-he liked to entertain himself with reading, which, of course, was a fact he kept secret from everyone, including Husk and Niffty.

 

A bayou occupied half the room, and it was so large and deep one could go in and explore the forest within it, and find oneself in a completely different universe, in the company of oak and mahogany trees that stood tall and touched the sky, with the eerily quiet surroundings creating a sense of mystery rather that horror. While most of the hotel staff found it creepy, it was actually comforting for Alastor in a way he couldn't quite explain.
He also had a few alligators in one of the swamps but no one need know anything about that.

 

Alastor sighed wearily as he looked around. Niffty had indeed done a good job cleaning his room out, but had unfortunately not bothered to sweep the dead bugs off the floor. He almost stepped on a large beetle on the ground while on the way to his bed. He shook his head and changed his direction of walking. However, he stumbled upon something again.

 

Alastor picked up the little book lying on the floor, at the exact same spot Niffty'd found it.

 

It was sort of his pocket diary, during the time he was alive, except he wrote nothing in it but the names and descriptions of his victims. Of the people he'd slaughtered so mercilessly.

 

He found it amusing that the little book had remained with him even in his afterlife.

 

He sat down on the bed and turned its pages lazily, barely stopping to read, when he found it- a page where he'd written about his family.

 

(Here's the things he wrote:

 

Dad: He beats me up every night without listening to what I have to say. I told him I did not pick the flowers from our neighbour's stupid garden, I did not kick David* in the butt {though he deserved it}, I did not do a million other things that EVERYONE thinks I did. I. Hate. This. Place.

 

But there's one person I wish hadn't left me sooner. She comforted me when I was trapped in circles of thoughts all going through my mind at once, she taught me to never give up fighting for myself. My mother. She was my only support in this otherwise boring life of mine. I can and will never forget her.)

*David was the son of Alastor's Dad's friend.*

 

Here Alastor found some ink blotches, and remembered crying while writing that. He smirked at his younger self getting all emotional and put the book aside. There were some things he wished he hadn't done, and that included not breaking down like an emotional fool even at the worst of times. This attitude was majorly responsible for his resolve to never stop smiling, even in the face of the most adverse difficulties.

 

But all those memories... he couldn't get rid of them if he wanted to. He remembered everything like it happened yesterday, and these were the times he wished he could modify his own memory. To wallow in the bliss of having forgotten those unwanted scenes from his life. To leave them somewhere where even he wouldn't be able to reach, even if he wanted to.

 

Alastor set the book down very slowly, a clawed hand holding down the page that was trying to turn over from the wind coming from his bayou. He couldn't exactly explain why he wished he hadn't read that cursed page, but he did. He felt tears forming at the corners of his eyes, which had now transformed to radio dials.

 

Wretched things, those little drops of water.

 

Alastor wiped them away hastily while thinking,
What in hell is happening to me?

 

Andbefore he could so much as ponder over why he was suddenly hit with a wave of melancholy, he felt a needle-sharp pain shoot through his chest, making him double over and clutch tightly the spot where he'd gotten injured by Adam. He lay down very quickly, the action accelerating the agony.

 

He was only remotely aware of the angelic energy actively trying to kill him, to finish him off gradually like slow poison, but he hadn't breathed a word about it to anyone, not even Charlie. He could have told Husk and Niffty, and sworn them to secrecy, since he already owned their souls, but something inside him prevented him from doing that.

Anyone would think he did not fully know the consequences of getting hit directly near the heart by an angelic weapon; but the Radio Demon thrived on his pride as he was wont to do. After all, he did earn quite powerful place in this pit of darkness.

 

He just wasn't used to opening up to anyone. He was afraid they would think he was weak, and one of the many things that Alastor hated was being pitied by someone. He would much rather bear the pain than have anyone fuss over him and his wounds. It was what he had been telling himself since the time he arrived in Hell- he would not allow anyone to see the real him. He would keep his identity known and feared, but his self hidden. He would hide his past beneath that facade of a smile.

 

If only his mother were here, she would know exactly how he felt-

 

Another jolt of agony rushed through him; he winced deeply and lay down, his fluffy deer ears flat on his head, accidentally kicking the covers off to the floor. His while front hurt, and it was unbearable.

 

And for the first time in his life AND afterlife, Alastor was confused as hell. He had always prided himself on having a considerably high tolerance to any kind of torture. Hell, he was so utterly immune to agony that he turned into quite a sadist. Inflicting pain on others as well as experiencing it himself had become an enjoyable instance to him.

 

But this time...

 

This time he found he just couldn't bring himself to find joy in his pain. This had to be some kind of sick joke- him succumbing to the torture that he thrived on for the past who-knows-how-many years? This was insane. It was simply unacceptable.

 

He tried telling himself it wasn't real. It had to be a dream. A nightmare, rather. Unfortunately it wasn't.

 

Alastor knew he couldn't sleep with his entire front hurting like anything. He mindlessly picked up the book again and started reading in an attempt to distract himself. It didn't help at all.

 

He landed, quite by coincidence, at a page where he'd noted down a few creole recipes his mother had taught him. At this point he felt like slapping himself across the face. At least it would distract him from the constant agony that plagued him day and night.

 

He already had enough on his mind without another painful memory. His afterlife was a fucking curse; it changed his appearance but not his memory. And definitely not the pocket diary.

 

More tears slid down his face. Alastor wiped them hastily and with more force than needed, so that one of his claws left a tear on the skin on his cheek. A drop of blood fell on the floor, and he couldn't make out whether it was from the wound that had reopened or from his face.

 

He held the book close to his chest, praying, for the first time (and the last, as he swore to himself), for sleep to come to him.

Chapter Text

The scene outside the window showed a dull grey morning. Sunlight filtered in through the tattered curtains, casting shadows of the fabric on the floor. The room itself was a cold, unwelcome place, with an intense enough silence; one would think as though someone had died there.

 

The only occupants of the room were three figures; a young lady in her thirties, wearing a amid's dress, a tall man with a beard thicker than Father Christmas- probably her husband - and a small boy, who appeared to be 10 years old. The boy was being beaten for some reason, by the man.

 

"Why are you doing this?" The woman wailed, covering her eyes with her hands.

 

"I have to, Elizabeth, he has gone and done it again."

 

"Please—I'll do anything—" she tried to snatch the boy away from the whip.
The father beat her to it, slapping her arm away

 

"NO!"

The boy screamed as another whip landed on his back, nearly making him stumble on his legs and fall to the ground. The lashings didn't stop, though.

 

"I'll teach you such a lesson so that you will not dare raise a finger against my daughter!"

 

"If she's your daughter," said the poor child, fighting back tears and a lump in his throat, "Who am I? Am I not your son?"

 

"You were never my son,"

 

"Then finish me and free yourself from my responsibility!"

 

Another whip landed on his heavily bruised arm; the child whimpered pitifully and ran to his mother, who opened her arms wide and hugged him. Tears ran down her rosy cheeks as she pulled the child closer to her bosom and sat down cross legged on the cold stone floor.

 

"Mom," the child cried, "Why can't we leave here? Father doesn't even spare you."

 

"Dear," the woman whispered softly, "We stay strong in the face of difficulties. You have me, do you not? We'll find out a way. But until then, just remember to smile."

 

Those two words. They rang in the child's ears numerous times. Little did the mother know he would take her advice very seriously throughout the rest of his life.

Yet another whip, as quick as a flash of lightning, came down hard on the boy's back, this time hitting the mother as well. She only winced wver so slightly as she kept telling the boy to smile. Hers, the boy noticed amidst the agony of his bruises, was a pained, forceful smile. She was smiling FOR HIM.

"Eliza, leave him alone," the man thundered, "I have something to say to this ungrateful wretch."

The woman refused, shaking her head vigorously as she pulled the boy even closer, her grip on his arm tightening. The boy flinched slightly.

"I told you," the father shouted, "TO LET GO OF HIM!"

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF HEAVEN WILL YOU DO IF I DON'T?!" The woman screamed at the top of her lungs, "He's my son! OUR son! And you treat him like a dog on the street!"

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but the man's expression shifted the tiniest fraction. But the next moment the boy knew he was wrong about that.

"AAAAAAAAAARRRRHHHH!!!"

A horrible yell reverberated throughout the entire room, making the boy shudder violently. It took him a fairly lot of time to realize the scream had come from his mother.

 

Elizabeth sat crouched in a corner, her legs pulled up tightly against her chest, and a bright red liquid flowing from her right arm, forming a puddle on the ground. The metallic stench of blood filled the place.

 

"I will make sure you never forget this day," The father threatened, raising his hand. The boy wiped his tears angrily, glancing at his mother who seemed to have passed out from the blood loss. He braced himself for another piercing pain.

 

Just when he was about to receive another whip—

 

A terrible static-filled scream broke from Alastor's lips.

 

He opened his eyes suddenly and saw Charlie bending over him, looking concerned. He tried to get up but she pushed him back down.

 

Once he was lying back down, she rushed off calling someone's name, leaving him to wonder about who and where he was.

He was vaguely aware that the ordeal he'd just faced was all but reality; he was indeed not back in those ruthless times of his life. This was a different place, looking as if it was dipped in red. And for some strange reason, he found that he couldn't remember anything, even if it was only for a short period of time.

 

Then realization dawned upon him like he'd been hit on the head with a heavy stone. He was in hell. Or rather, back in hell.

Why couldn't he just forget everything? It was only his life, after all! That too down on earth. He should be completely unbothered about those memories! Even if his mind kept tricking him into recalling them time and again, sometimes in the form of hallucinations and sometimes in nightmares.

"Alastor! You're finally awake," Charlie had returned, this time with Vaggie, "We were so worried!"

Alastor just stared at her blankly, unsure of what exactly she was talking about.

Vaggie seemed to notice how strange he was behaving, because she pulled Charlie aside for a while.

Alastor watched the two of them exchange words before Charlie funally turned her attention to him.

 

"Al," She began, her tone carefully composed and cautious, "I don't mean to invade your personal space, but you really need to tell me what happened last night."

 

A million questions arose in Alastor's mind at once- what had compelled Charlie to ask him this question? He made another attempt to sit up but this time Vaggie pushed him down. Even amidst his confusion, Alastor couldn't help but notice that Vaggie's touch was firm and commanding, unlike Charlie, whose was timid but gentle.

"You're not getting out of this room until you answer Charlie," Vaggie told him strictly. "Do you understand?"

Alastor glowered at her, then sighed wearily. "Fair enough."

"So tell me," Charlie continued.

"I just had a bit of a distraction, nothing I can't handle! And it's also none of your concern."

Charlie's expression turned softer. Alastor was starting to wonder if he'd accidentally let something slip, or if his smile wasn't as wide as usual.

"Okay," said Charlie, getting up from her chair. "I guess I'll give you time to open up. It's good to share your feelings, you know?"

With that, she walked slowly to the door, Vaggie following behind her. Alastor watched them, heaving an inward sigh of relief. He'd somehow managed to keep his secret.

However, just as Charlie was about to close the door behind her, Alastor felt a rush of agony shoot through the wound, making him double over, clutching his shirt. Charlie gasped, throwing the door wide open as she ran to the bed and started stroking Alastor's shoulder.

 

"It's okay, Alastor, you can tell me, it's still not too late to fix things!"

Alastor was in too much pain to notice Vaggie's little tut as she followed Charlie back into the room. "I told you something was wrong with him, Charlie."

 

"Nothing's wrong with me!" Alastor snarled at her, grippping his chest harder as the agony flared up, with twice the intensity it had before.
"Leave me alone."

Chapter Text

The next time Alastor came to, he found himself still in that familiar place he called his room, still lying down, still confused. For some strange reason everything seemed to be spinning. He opened his eyes with some difficulty and found Charlie's bright yellow eyes staring back down at him.

 

If he hadn't known where and who he was, Alastor would have jumped up and screamed.

 

He almost did from the look of horror in Charlie's eyes, because the next moment Charlie was sitting beside him and rubbing circles into his back.

 

"It's okay, Alastor! It's just me and Vaggie."

 

From the corner of his eye, Alastor saw Vaggie roll her eyes to the ceiling, mouthing the words, "About time." He looked back at Charlie and flinched when he realized she was touching him.

 

"Sorry, my bad!" Charlie instantly removed her arm from his back. Alastor's ears bent back involuntarily as he remembered the last time he saw Charlie and her little dog of a girlfriend. He'd been in extreme agony to notice they'd indeed not left his room after all, and on top of he'd passed out. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of being so weak in their presence.

 

"Alastor, you really need to explain some things."

 

Alastor was snapped out of his thoughts, and he winced as the wound sent another jolt of pain through his chest.

 

"I'm afraid I don't follow, dear Charlotte." Charlie knew very well he would only address her by her full name if and when he was very mad indeed. She slowly stood up and found a chair to sit down.

 

"I know I'm not supposed to intervene in your life, ahem," she cleared her throat, "your afterlife. But I think this time, you genuinely shouldn't be secretive about this. We both know something's wrong with you."

 

"I haven't the foggiest of what you're trying to imply-"

 

"Hey dollface," Angel Dust's voice reverberated in the corridor. "Your dad's lookin' for ya."

 

"Be right there!" Charlie shouted back, before turning to Alastor, worry etched onto her features.

 

"Al, please hurry and tell me, and let's get this over with until Dad finds out! You won't like that, will you?"

 

Alastor looked at her, irritation growing and threatening to spill out in the form of a growl. Why wouldn't this girl understand?! He had no intentions whatsoever of opening up to anyone, least of all a young woman who was unbearably optimistic and whose petty "project" he found failed to doom. She needn't act so honey-sweet; if she wanted a favor from him, he was forced to obey her- after all, staying at the Hotel and being the little princess' pet was his mistress' order, he wouldn't dare disobey her.

 

Angel Dust's loud and deliberate cough startled everyone.

 

"Heya ladies, whatcha been up to- oh."

 

The spider demon took one look at Alastor and gasped.

 

"Smiles, you okay there or-"

 

"He's fine!" Charlie said sheepishly, plastering a big smile over her face. "He's perfect! Why don't you go and find Dad for me Angel, and tell him to wait the fuck up?" She was still smiling but Angel could tell that she was at the end of her patience.

 

"Right," Angel said cautiously, then turned towards the door, "Don' keep 'im waitin', okay?"

 

"Of course!" Charlie said, somehow still smiling- Alastor secretly admired her for that; unlike any other demon's smile at the Hotel, Charlie's always seemed to be genuine, even when she was absolutely pissed off (and that happened in about a million years).

 

Suddenly they all heard voices outside Alastor's room. Vaggie, who was standing in a corner with her spear clutched to her chest, tutted and walked over to the door, opening it and leering outside. What she saw made her shut the door with a loud ***BANG***. Alastor covered his one ear and winced, the unpleasant sound making his headache grow stronger.

 

"Quick, Charlie, your dad- uh, um- Lucifer's coming upstairs!"

 

"Oh my God no," Charlie whispered frantically, getting up from her chair and gently pushing Alastor to lie down. He hissed at her like a feral cat but allowed himself to be pushed down anyway.

 

"Alastor, please, just- just try and sleep again, I'll convince Dad to find a way to heal you-"

 

"I don't need to be healed."

 

"I can explain everything later, please co-operate." The pleading look in Charlie's eyes stirred something in Alastor's chest- the Princess of Hell. Pleading with him. He'd imagined something like this in his pastime but never in his wildest dreams did he think he would be the reason for her to do so.

 

Apparently it had already too late to do anything because Niffty had come scampering in through the open door, and behind her was exactly who Charlie had feared would not have the patience to just wait for her to come down.

 

"What's going on? Why's everyone-"

 

Alastor grimaced. He knew that voice too well.

 

Lucifer entered the room, still in his PJ's and looked around sleepily.

 

"Oh-"

 

The moment he saw Alastor, he stopped in his tracks.

 

"Charlie, dear, WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!!"

 

Everyone in the room- Vaggie, Niffty, Charlie - turned to look at Lucifer.

 

"Dad," said Charlie, "You won't believe this."

 

She gestured him to come over to Alastor's bed.

 

Even Alastor tilted his gaze downward, and what he saw almost made him fall over the edge.
Charlie had unbuttoned his shirt. And there was the wretched wound on his chest, gleaming with golden light.

 

Alastor quickly drew the two sides of his shirt together and buttoned it up.

 

Charlie saw him looking shocked and stuttered, "I can explain, Alastor, I-uh, we just-"

 

Vaggie completed her explanation: "Niffty heard you scream at somethin' like 4 in the morning. She came running as fast as she could to your room and then she saw this-this golden light coming from you, and then, y'know, she panicked and woke us all up. And then Charlie and I came upstairs to see what the fuss was about, and that's when Charlie found you sort of moaning and writhing in your bed- you'd got all the covers twisted, y'know- and then Charlie petted your head and tried to make you calm down. I dunno if you were in your sleep or what, but you grabbed her hand and told her not to leave you. She stayed with you the whole night. And that's how this all started."
To Charlie she said, "Hon, you need to get some rest. You've been up all night."

 

Charlie nodded quietly, still wanting to stay with Alastor.

 

"Dad, please, could you see what's wrong with him?" Charlie said, her eyes glinting with tears. Lucifer glanced at her, then at the deer demon, who had his head in his hands.

"Alright duckling, I'm doing this for you, not for the bellhop." Lucifer muttered under his breath as he approached the bed. Alastor seemed to shrink back instinctively.

"You'll have to remove your vest or whatever the fuck you're wearing," Lucifer told him in a kind of commanding tone. Alastor sat as still as a stick and turned his head to the side, baring his teeth.

"Al, please," Charlie looked at him with her puppy dog eyes. "Please. Just this time. We need to know how you got that wound."

Wound? How did Charlie know his wound? Did she-

Alastor couldn't bear to think of it. All he really wanted to do at that time was close his eyes and drift off to fuck knows where, forgetting everything and everyone. His headache was crushing him, the world still hadn't stopped spinning, and his wound hurt like hell.

But of course nobody wants to listen.

 

Lucifer came and sat on the edge of the bed, and Alastor flinched. This was not going good.

 

He unbuttoned his shirt, only enough to reveal the wretched scar, which had apparently stretched from his shoulder to his abdomen over the course of three days, looking filthier than he'd ever seen it. Alastor had had his shadow help him clean and dress the wound every night, but that too had proved to be insufficient. The scar revealed the tender flesh underneath, the color of iron, and Alastor wished Lucifer would just hurry up and let him cover his chest again- the pungent sulfuric air in Hell made his wound sting so bad he wanted to scratch at it.

 

Lucifer observed the scar with a grave expression on his pale face.
Alastor found himself highly disliking it. But then, what else was to be expected from a fallen angel?

 

Lucifer suddenly extended a hand and touched the edge of the jagged scar, provoking a staticky scream from Alastor, who squirmed under his touch and winced. Charlie's eyes widened.

 

"Dad! Be careful!"

 

"Of course I'm being careful!" Lucifer retorted, taking his hand away, "I didn't even touch him!"

 

Lucifer got up from the bed and stood behind Charlie.

 

Alastor didn't say anything- he was still in shock from what he'd heard from Charlie a few minutes ago. After that, a new stream of thoughts poured into his mind. Why would he grab Charlie's hand? Screaming, writhing, twisted covers? What in the Seven Rings was happening?

 

He didn't know what to say - everyone was surely expecting an explanation. Besides, the wound still hurt like a bitch and that was enough to keep him lying down right where he was.

 

Lucifer, meanwhile, was whispering something to Charlie. All Alastor could hear was 'Angelic' , 'Needs time to heal' , and 'can act strange'.
What the fuck did that mean? Was he behaving strange? How exactly?
Quite suddenly, Alastor felt the energy drain from his body, he felt weaker even to keep his eyes open, but he had to know what was going on. He'd never been so exhausted in all his time at hell.

 

Fortunately it was something Vaggie noticed.

 

"Why's he closing his eyes again?"

 

"Oh, he might not have slept well, judging from what we heard happened to him-"

 

"No Charlie, look closely."

 

The last thing Alastor saw was Angel Dust pushing Husker (when did they come?!) to get into the room before everything went black for him.

Chapter Text

It was already noon when Alastor came to again, and it was the exact same situation as before- Charlie and Lucifer bending down upon him. This time he managed to heave himself up and out of Charlie's grasp on his shoulder.

 

"Why, may I ask, is everyone crowded in my bedroom?"

 

All he got in response was a snort from Lucifer.

 

The wound had luckily stopped hurting, but there was a new feeling inside his head now - dizziness. Despite everything he still managed to smile and balance himself.

 

"You fainted, Alastor." Charlie told him gently. She was seated beside his bed, on a wooden chair. She seemed to have braced herself for whatever the fuck she thought he would do next, because she appeared to speak carefully chosen words.

 

"Don't panic, now, there was no one here except me and Vaggie. And dad, of course. Aaaand Angel Dust."

 

At this his smile almost faded. "What?"

 

"She said you passed out," shouted Angel Dust from the other end of the room, while scrolling on his phone. Apparently he'd finally managed to get into the room. "If you need further clarification."

 

"Angel!" Vaggie shot him a look that clearly said 'Shut the fuck up'.

 

"Just sayin'," He shrugged and went out of the room.

 

"See here now, Al, you need to rest. I can't imagine how you never told us that you endured - this- this is so severe. You could have died!

 

"Well, you deserved this," said Lucifer- Charlie glared at him- "But you are in this state because you tried to protect my daughter. So I guess I owe you a favor."

 

Alastor dearly wanted to say- "And I don't need your favour" but decided against it - inviting The Devil's wrath upon himself in front of his daughter was the last thing wanted to do. Even in his worst times, Alastor's reputation mattered to him.

 

"Oh, go away and leave me alone," he murmured, making Charlie roll her eyes to the ceiling, "Nothing's wrong with me."

 

"And this attitude of yours, pendejo, is exactly what has made the wound deeper and even more difficult to heal," said Vaggie, "Charlie, we need to find someone who can treat him. We can't let him perish like this."

 

"You do not have my permission-"

 

"Will you ever shut up?" Lucifer interrupted him halfway. "They're only just trying to save you."

 

Alastor muttered something rude under his breath but remained quiet nevertheless.

 

"Wait," Vaggie exclaimed. "I know someone who can do this."

 

"Who?" said Charlie and Lucifer together. Charlie with eagerness, Lucifer with some surprise.

 

"Drake, my colleague when we were in heaven. He's a former exorcist just like me and maybe he knows a thing or two."

 

Vaggie didn't usually like to recall her past but this was needed, and she knew she had to help her girlfriend find a way out. She loved Charlie dearly and would do anything for her.

 

"Well, what are you waiting for? Can you contact him by any means?"

 

"Uh, I don't know, Your Highness, he doesn't have a working phone. Maybe I have his address somewhere in my journal."

 

"What journal?" asked Charlie, astonished. "You never told me, Vaggie!"

 

Vaggie grinned sheepishly.

 

"Uhm, we'll just search for it downstairs! Bye, guys!" Vaggie pulled Charlie's hand and they headed downstairs together.

 

Alastor saw them leave and somehow managed to sit up. His eyes had turned to radio dials, and Lucifer knew that only happened when he was really pissed off.

 

"What are you getting angry for?"

 

"Get out."

 

"What?"

 

"I SAID GET OUT OF MY FUCKING ROOM!"

 

Alastor just couldn't stop himself.

 

"Fine, if that's what the piss baby wants."

 

Lucifer teleported out before Alastor could find anything in his vicinity to throw at him.

 

Alastor knew things were just going to got messier if he resisted. He blinked twice which made his eyes go back to normal.

 

Maybe I'll just go down and see what the others are up to.

 

He dressed up in quite a hurry and headed downstairs, but right then someone bumped into him.

 

"Ow."

 

There was a small squeal, and Alastor looked down at whoever had the courage to not pay attention while walking especially when they knew they lived with a powerful overlord. His expression softened when he saw who it was.

 

Niffty looked back at Alastor and smiled. He saw that she was carrying a tray with a covered dish on it.

 

"Charlie sent me up to your room, she said it's okay if you don't join us downstairs for lunch. Here." She handed the plate to Alastor and quickly ran back down.

 

How considerate. But he still didn't like where this was going.

 

Alastor was left holding the plate, looking slightly bewildered. He hadn't really been looking forward to spending the day in his room, but now he had no choice.

 

Unable to come up with an excuse to join the others, he returned to his room.