Chapter Text
No one should have seen Vaggie spare that child.
It was almost funny. The run-down buildings of the hellish city surrounding her towered over her. Her and that child. An exorcist would have had to have been flying in the perfect spot, looking down at the perfect time, to even catch a glimpse of what was going on.
And of course someone was.
Of course it happened to be not one, but two angels.
Of course it happened to be Adam and Lute.
It really was funny, wasn’t it? One show of weakness, one sign of empathy for these damned souls, and they saw it. One wrong move in all her years, and of course they fucking saw it. Vaggie almost would have laughed if she wasn’t so focused on the sound of descending wingbeats.
The exorcist turned around, spear in hand, the ‘go, run’ she had spoken to the child still on her tongue. She wanted to explain. Wanted to beg for mercy. Wanted to fight back against what she knew was coming.
But her spear was already flung out of her hands.
Lute’s sword was already in her eye socket.
Her form was already thrown to the floor, her wings– her beautiful wings– ripped straight from her back.
Her halo was already taken from her. The last piece of divinity she had left, effortlessly plucked away as if it never even was there.
“Sinful filth like you has no place in Heaven.”
Vaggie lay there, screaming and crying in pain, as the two angels who damned her forever flew away without even a glance back.
She knew she was screaming. She could feel it; the raw, unfiltered anguish pouring out of her. But she couldn’t hear anything. Not with the agony coursing through her. She could feel her blood pooling beneath her fingers; but she couldn’t see it, her remaining vision blurry with pain.
She wasn’t sure how much time passed before the pain started to dull down. It could have been minutes or an hour for all Vaggie knew. What she did know is that she had to get out. Out of this wretched hell-hole, out of this filthy place.
Or at least out of this alleyway.
Slowly, carefully, excruciatingly, she stood. The simple action took way too much effort, but what other choice did she have? She picked up her spear and shed off some of her clothing. Not all of it– she kept the base uniform on– but enough that she wouldn’t be recognized as an exorcist if someone saw her.
If someone saw her.
She was in Hell now. If someone saw her, it would be a demon. She would be dead. There’s no way she could even hope to defend herself in this state.
Stop. Don’t think about that.
Not that she could think about much – her thoughts were hazy from the agony. She was actively trying to ignore the blood drying on her back. And the screaming in the distance. And the gaping fucking hole where her left eye should be.
After several minutes of wandering, looking for something– she didn’t even know what– She stopped. This is it, she decided, this is where I die.
She wasn’t sure she even felt sad. She was just so, so tired, in so much pain, that she couldn’t stop herself from falling to the ground again. She crawled up to the back of a building, leaning her back against it and looking up at the red sky.
It was almost pretty, she decided. She wasn’t convinced, but she wanted the last thing she looked at to at least look nice. So in that instant she thought that the hazy, blood-red sky of hell did in fact look pretty.
Then she heard footsteps.
Oh no. Oh God no. Whoever this was was surely going to kill her. It was probably an angry sinner, looking for someone to take their rage out on. And whoever this was could do whatever they wanted to her with the state she was in.
Suddenly, a woman turned the corner.
And god was she beautiful.
Wait. No. What?
The sinner? Hellborn? had smooth, basically white skin, red circles on each cheek, and long blonde hair tied in several bands down her back. She was tall, way taller than Vaggie, and was wearing a nicely pressed bright red suit. She matched the sky.
The exorcist knew she should run, but for some reason she couldn’t. It was probably due to the fact that there was no way she could even attempt to stand up, let alone run, without collapsing. Definitely not because she was suddenly captivated by this stranger.
Then the woman’s eyes met hers. Fuck.
Vaggie wanted to crawl away, but the tall woman was crouching in front of her before she could react. With a soft “Oh, no…” and an absolutely heartbreaking look in her eyes that no citizen of Hell should ever have, she pulled a roll of bandages out of her pocket and wrapped some around Vaggie’s head, covering her left eye socket. Thank goodness that the blood was too dried and the lighting too dark for the woman to notice her blood color. That or maybe most of it was gone with her shedded clothing. Vaggie didn’t care. She was too fucking confused.
For some reason, Vaggie found herself smiling. She convinced herself it had to be because of how delirious she was. To her surprise, the demon in front of her smiled, too, and bashfully tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
What the fuck is going on.
She could tell that the savior? Holy angel? was about saying something, probably some kind of question, but Vaggie couldn’t keep track of words at the moment. The edges of her vision were going dark. The distant screams were fading. She felt lightheaded, dizzy, and suddenly extremely nauseous. She faintly felt a panicked hand grabbing her shoulder as her head hit the concrete.
And just like that she was out.
____________
Charlie was freaking out.
The princess was now carrying the smaller woman in her arms, after several minutes of trying to get her gravely injured, unconscious body safely off the ground without hurting her even more.
She knew she shouldn’t be this nervous – she was helping one of her people. Year after year of searching for survivors to help after each extermination, the sinners always either refused adamantly or, unfortunately, died of their wounds before Charlie could do anything. But it was working this time! She found someone to help!
And for some reason her heart was going a million miles an hour in her chest.
It, like, definitely wasn’t because the woman in her arms was like, super hot, right?
No, Charlie, that would be weird. Don’t be weird. Great Satan, how horrible of a person was she to pluck a random, unconscious sinner off the streets, carry her back to her home (and technically without her consent) fucking bridal style, and all she could think about was how attractive she was? What???
She shook her head (probably much more aggressively than she should’ve) and marched on, eventually reaching the limo at the edge of the city where Razzle and Dazzle were waiting for her. She talked to them about their new guest as they drove back to the hotel. Okay, well, technically not a hotel yet, since the place was in shambles and they obviously didn’t have any residents, but it would be a hotel some day. That’s what mattered.
Some day.
Charlie stepped out of the window and into the building, thanking Razzle and Dazzle as the small creatures opened the doors for her and the unconscious woman she was carrying. With great care Charlie carried her up to a guest room on the same floor that her own bedroom resided on– she wanted to be readily available if she was needed. Which would likely be a lot considering the stranger’s injuries.
Charlie spent the next half an hour or so gently bandaging the woman’s back, which was hard because it was difficult to determine what the hell she was even looking at. There were two large, symmetrical gashes – so it was a safe guess this sinner spawned with wings. It was extremely unfortunate that such a rare trait had to be taken by the exorcists. Not to mention that the uneven, haphazard look of the wounds suggests that they were ripped out, and Charlie didn’t even want to imagine how painful that was. You poor thing.
The confusing part, though, was the state the wounds themselves were in. Charlie expected it to be a red, bloody mess, but the gashes already seemed to be healing nicely. Must be good luck, some sinners were known to have faster regeneration than others after all. Though that didn’t explain the overall lack of red.
Whatever. I need sleep. There’s no point dwelling on the details. She’s alive and that’s what matters.
With both a proud smile and a heavy heart, the princess made her way to her own room down the hall and to tried to sleep, hoping her new guest slept well.