* I referenced Lassie. I don't own Lassie.

Cold

Sanderson and Steel, of course, had found absolutely nothing worth their while.

For the first few days of them living in the Hotel, they really tried. They jiggled doorknobs, attempted to root around in the odd drawer and cabinet, and were just really pushing their luck. Unfortunately for them, Alastor's shadows were doing a magnificent job, and the two thieves always found themselves unable to open any door.

Any at all.

Charlie really should've anticipated just how mischievous the shadows were going to be. They often unnecessarily locked things, such as the doors to the living room, dining hall, and even the front door of the Hotel. This wasn't just to mess with the new sinners, even though it was excessive with them. Apparently, on the off occasion, they would also do this with the others, especially Husk and Vaggie.

At some point, Charlie found a private corner of the Hotel. She hesitated, feeling a little intrusive. But after a few moments, she clicked her fingers. It was a soft and polite sound, barely even audible.

But nothing answered her. Nothing happened.

Charlie grimaced at her hand. Perhaps she was doing it wrong. Maybe they hadn't heard her.

She tried again, this time snapping her fingers loud enough to echo through the unused hotel room.

In the blink of an eye, a handful of Alastor's shadows surrounded her, grinning widely.

"Okay," she muttered to herself. She smiled slightly. "Uh, hi?"

A couple of them dipped their heads slightly in response, but did nothing else.

She sighed, feeling a little out of her depth. Despite the fact that she used to be a princess for many centuries, she had never wanted nor needed to command anyone. She had never even commanded Razzle or Dazzle, as it was her parents who would give them any necessary orders. Her giving orders to these shadows was still new to her.

Charlie took a deep breath. "Okay, look," she told them. "You-You're all doing a great job keeping this hotel secure, and I appreciate it, but…You've gotta give everyone here the same amount of access to the public areas of the Hotel. I know it's all in fun, but there's no reason why someone can't enjoy the living room, or the common areas, and things like that. And they definitely shouldn't have trouble going in and out of the front doors.

"Like I said, everything you're all doing is great, especially keeping the Hotel safe and everyone's personal rooms secured. But everything else? All the other stuff I mentioned?" She paused, and she hoped she was giving them a stern look, but it probably looked more like a weak grimace. "Please…stop?" She didn't mean to end it on a question, but she hoped she got her point across.

She was expecting a little defiance from the shadows, and maybe even some insulted or exasperated looks. Instead, they all gave her a nod, their smiles never faltering.

Then, one of the shadows went forward. It was a small blob of a thing, but equally as powerfully as the others. It seemed to be the quote-unquote runt of the lot. This was one of the shadows that Alastor had specifically commanded to keep a close eye on their newest residents. It drifted until it was in front of Charlie. It looked at her with a questioning half-grin.

Charlie nodded firmly. "Yes. Sanderson and Steel. Them, too. So long as they can't get into any personal rooms, so long as they don't find anything valuable to take, they also need to have access to the public areas just like everyone else."

Once again, Charlie expected this shadow and the others to be thoroughly annoyed, but if they were, they never let it on. They took these commands without hesitance or defiance, and…waited for further instruction. They just hovered there, still surrounding Charlie.

She chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah, that's, uh, that's all. Thank you."

On that note, they all disappeared, slithering out of the room at a speed that her eyes couldn't keep up with.

Even though Sanderson and Steel had now been given a little more freedom, thanks to Charlie's meeting with the shadows, she still kind of expected them to leave given that they hadn't been able to get their hands on anything. They were stubborn, it seemed. For some reason, they were intent on sticking around. Honestly, all things considered, they weren't that bad. Sure, Steel had a rough exterior and he often butted heads with Vaggie, but he wasn't exactly malicious. He only seemed like a jokester most of the time.

Sanderson had the role of peacemaker. From the looks of it, he had been involved in Steel's shenanigans for a very long time now, and he knew how to deal with him. He was also the one to encourage Steel to partake in the normal social activities, like meals and game nights. Steel wasn't interested in movie night, but game night was definitely up his alley, having been a con-artist when alive and possessing a competitive edge.

Everyone wasn't quite sure what to make of Sanderson and Steel at first. It's not that they didn't welcome them, it's just that it'd only been the six of them for so long now. It almost felt like an intrusion. And Steel and Sanderson just barely toed the line of being disruptive.

However, as a few weeks went by, and once everyone came to the realization that they weren't truly a threat despite their mischievous tendencies, they all gradually accepted each other.

Angel and Niffty thought Steel was a riot, with his jokes and tales of living on the streets with nothing but his wits. He didn't get along with everyone, especially once he offhandedly admitted to trying to swipe some of Husk's liquor. But he seemed to mostly just want to get his kicks somehow, all in fun.

Sanderson got along with pretty much everyone. After his initial aloofness wore off, he offered to do things more and more. He was still pretty shy, but he had no problems helping with dishes, doing some laundry, or serving popcorn during movie night. He claimed he had nothing better to do, so why not?

Whether it was all to simply play the part of willing redemption seekers, Charlie couldn't say. But all in all, Sanderson and Steel's presence was not a harmful thing. Especially because a new client joined the Hotel a little over a week after they did.

Baxter, a demon who almost resembled that of a lanky anglerfish, was extremely reclusive. He often didn't bother being social with anyone, opting to shut himself away with his experiments. The problem was that he'd been without a laboratory for nearly a year now, and he was losing his mind at not having a scientific outlet. It drove him to go out in public more, in search of a bigger place.

Sanderson and Baxter had met in passing many years ago when Baxter first arrived in Hell. They weren't what you call friends by any means, but they got along well enough. Between Baxter's obsessive need to work with chemicals and Sanderson's experimentation with medicine when alive, they occasionally bounced ideas off each other throughout the years.

So, when Baxter heard through the grapevine that Sanderson and his new partner had joined the redemption Hotel, he sneered at this. Aside from how ridiculous the idea of redemption was, Baxter also highly doubted they had laboratories up in Heaven.

Still, Baxter was not doing so well. He'd been evicted from multiple living situations on and off, and for very inconsequential reasons, in his opinion. So he sometimes blew up the odd apartment, and occasionally his experiments smoked out an entire building. So what? All in the name of science, if you asked him.

Unfortunately, he'd built up quite the reputation, and now no landlord within miles of Pentagram City dared to sign a lease with him. He spent his days hopping from motel to motel, and loitering and squatting when necessary. He didn't really have friends to stay with, not that he could tolerate anyone anyway.

But the Hazbin Hotel kept popping up in his mind. It was such a huge place, and it seemed to be free of chaos and aggravation. He never handled change all that well, and he didn't like interacting with anyone, but he had nowhere to live, and he was desperately and passionately missing having a laboratory.

"We don't have a laboratory," Charlie had explained to him apologetically as they walked the halls to pick out a room for him. "I'm sorry."

"I didn't expect you to," Baxter muttered tensely as he followed her. "All I need is a space big enough to build it, and I'll be fine. Your biggest room will have to do."

Charlie had to be fair, though, and she gave him a room as big as the ones nearly everyone else had. He had locked himself inside of it with a harsh huff. He only ever left that room to go outside of the Hotel for more supplies, or to use the deep kitchen sinks to clean up from his experiments, as his en suite didn't have an even remotely big enough sink.

He was something of a mad scientist, literally. He was very neurotic, needed things to be a certain way in order to not go completely insane, and one could often here clattering, bubbling, and sizzling coming from his room until the early hours of the morning. Despite his unpredictability, he was very non-confrontational, always opting to stay out of everyone's way so that he could be left alone.

Someone else in the Hotel was currently taking a leaf from Baxter's book, it seemed.

Charlie sighed through her nose.

She rarely saw much of Alastor these days.

He attended their meetings, sometimes hung out in the living room, made meals every day as per usual, and that was it. Between their meetings and normal get-togethers with everyone else, he seemed to all but disappear during lulls. When she first noticed this odd withdrawal on his part, she would sometimes go looking for him, but could never find him.

At first, Charlie thought he was avoiding her. She'd been so emotional for many months now, and he looked like he didn't always know what to do during those instances. Perhaps she'd driven him away.

She immediately quieted those thoughts, knowing that she must be jumping to conclusions. Alastor was a very social person, but he was also very independent, too. He'd been living in the Hotel for several months now. Whenever he was when not being social, maybe he just really needed his alone time. Sort of like how Charlie had needed some rare alone after their shopping trip.

Yes, that was understandable. That was probably the case. So, Charlie tried to always think of that and to not take it too personally. However…

She missed swapping stories, talking about his food, hearing his laughter, and even enjoying their quieter moments. She missed hanging out with him. She missed his company.

She missed him.

Charlie walked the halls, trying to find something to do before her next meeting with Alastor in less than an hour. She wondered if she should talk to him about it, if only to make sure he was alright, and if she needed to do anything on her end to help.

These thoughts were interrupted by mass amounts of glass smashing to the floor, followed by irate shouting. Charlie swiftly followed the sounds until she came to a halt in front of the dining hall door.

"Looks like I caught you red-handed," Steel sneered, pointing at the shards of glass scattered over the table, chairs, and carpet.

"What does that even mean," Baxter snarled, a now empty cardboard box hanging from his grip. "Red-handed doing what?" He pointed to the kitchen doors on the other side of the room. "I was merely about to use the kitchen sink to clean my beakers. That is, until you shoved them out of my hands."

Charlie cringed as she walked into the dining room, knowing how this could end with Steel's hotheadedness. There was no Sanderson to talk him down. There was no one else in the room. It was just her and them.

"Charlie," Steel greeted with an arrogant grin. "Finally! Some authority here! Look. Half the glasses are missing off this here table. Wonder who coulda taken 'em."

"You think I stole them," Baxter snapped. "For what reason?"

"You were griping the other day that you didn't have enough beakers. All this extra glass seems right up your alley."

"What proof do you have?!"

"What do you call all this glass thrown everywhere?!"

"Guys," Charlie loudly tried.

"All of this glass," Baxter said through clenched teeth, voice getting low. "This was nearly all of my beakers, and you smashed every last one of them. I have no money to replace them. Do you, you shifty conman?"

"Yeah," Steel chuckled, going around until the table was no longer separating them. Charlie immediately got in between them, and she was surprised when Steel respectfully stopped and kept a distance. However, he didn't stop his lack of filter. "Yeah, I'm a conman. One of the greatest, too, while we're passing out compliments. But at least I own up to it. Unlike you, you slimy, screw-loose, crackpot."

They threw punches, scratches, and kicks at each other in a rabid frenzy. Charlie had each of her hands on their chests, just barely keeping them apart. She knew a thing or two about fighting, but she wasn't physically strong, and she'd always been fine with that. But now she desperately wished she had invested at least some money in a weight-lifting set for the Hotel. Her arms shook against their pushing, pulling, and jerking weights.

Suddenly, mercifully, Baxter took off running through the dining hall, allowing Charlie to drop her one hand. The relief lasted for only a millisecond, because Steel followed, racing after him.

Charlie huffed as she watched the two trying to get at each other. Thankfully, the table was in their way again, giving Charlie some time to think the next step through. Not much time though, because they started throwing tableware at each other.

She groaned and shook her head. She knew it was risky on her part, but she didn't see an alternative. Charlie curled her fingers and lifted her arms high into the air.

Steel and Baxter shouted terrified profanities when two walls of searing fire shot up in front of them. Not only did it do a better job of keeping them separate than the table did, but it also got them to stop fighting and focus on something else other than each other.

Keeping her arms raised to maintain the fire, she walked towards them as calmly as she could.

"Just…stop," she said to them desperately. As she spoke, she could feel beads of sweat already forming on her temples. "Please. None of this is necessary. Baxter," she turned a little to face him. "We'll figure out how to replace your beakers." She then turned towards Steel, not realizing that her fingers had now started to tremble. "And Baxter didn't steal anything. Husk had dishes duty tonight. That's why half of the glasses on the table are missing."

Steel's eyes widened sheepishly. "Oh."

"Why would Husk need to clean glasses that are already clean," Baxter asked almost conversationally.

"Smudged up glass," Steel responded with a shrug. "He's weird about that kinda thing."

Charlie exhaled harshly, now feeling her hands and arms starting to shake, as if she was holding up a lead weight. "Before I put this fire out…I'm gonna need you to apologize to each other."

They only exchanged petulant mumbles for many seconds, as well as heavy death glares. Charlie bowed her head and huffed. Sweat was now dripping down her face, and the fire was beginning to flicker weakly.

"Ugh," Charlie grunted. "I'm sorry, but neither of you are leaving this room until you're both on better terms."

Steel glanced between the fire, Charlie, and Baxter. Then, he flexed his jaw. "Eh, son of a bitch." He scratched at the back of his neck. "I'm a shit-stirrer, what can I say. Agree to disagree and whatnot?"

Baxter's eyebrows came together suspiciously, but he did relax some. "Yes. Agreed."

Not only was this good enough for Charlie, but it was enough in general. She dropped her hands with a gasp, and the fire immediately disappeared. She leaned exhaustedly against the table for support.

"Uh, you good there, Charlie," Steel asked.

"Yeah," she exhaled shakily. "I will be. I don't use my powers all that often. Not always a good thing." She smoothed her hand over her sweat-soaked forehead and brushed some stray hairs away from her face. "Are you two good now?"

"I believe so," Baxter said, still with a look of suspicion.

"Yeah," Steel nodded. "I thought you stole 'em. How else was I supposed to react?"

"Maybe by not jumping to conclusions, damnit!"

"Wait, wait, wait," Charlie suddenly said, looking at Steel. "You mean you really thought he stole the glasses? You weren't just trying to get a rise out of him."

Steel scoffed. "When was the last time you seen me do something like that? No! If there was one good thing that got through my stupid skull when I was alive…It was protect your turf. Nothing else matters except your chums, and what you own. I wasn't about to let no crazy hermit take nothing from us."

Steel suddenly grimaced, as if embarrassed by something. "Uh, 'cause you know, don't want you getting to the good stuff or nothing. Don't need you thinking you can have everything and shit."

Baxter exasperatedly pinched the space between his safety goggles. "You people are so strange," he mumbled.

"And, uh," Steel continued. "I'll spot you some cash for the extra beakers." He scoffed humorously. "If I don't forget by that point, that is."

Baxter rolled his eyes and left the room.

"So emotional," Steel snickered as he also began leaving the room. "I'll track down Niffty. She'll have a blast in here. See you around, Charlie."

"Yeah," Charlie grunted. "See you."

Only when it was just her in the room did Charlie bring her shaking hands to her face. She was still leaning against the table, as it was the only thing keeping her upright. She rubbed her hands roughly over her skin, which resulted in large droplets of sweat to sting at her eyes. Groaning, she placed one of her hands on the table and pushed herself away, hoping it'd give her the necessary momentum to leave the dining hall and go to her bedroom. She didn't notice that her own handprint had left a scorch mark on the tabletop.

She shuffled through the halls, occasionally pushing her hand against a wall to keep herself steady. She once again swiped at her eyes, hoping to clear away some of the sweat that seemed to be blinding her. She had to stop when she felt her knees beginning to shake.

She slowly let the side of her body connect with the wall. Her eyes were now completely shut against the growing exhaustion, but it was no big deal. Her bedroom should only be a few more feet away. Just a few…more…

She slid against the wall. Her world spun. It continued spinning even after she hit the floor.

Her world went dark.

She could've sworn she felt a wet snout nudge her hand before completely losing consciousness.

Fat Nuggets' ears pricked up.

Quicker than Angel could keep up with, the pig sprang out of his little bed, jumped at the door, nearly chewed the doorknob off, and escaped the room.

Angel, who had been sitting on his own bed, tossed his magazine aside. "Hey! You kidding me, Nuggs," he exclaimed as he took off after him, but Fat Nuggets was already far ahead of him by that point.

He raced out of his bedroom, with only the sound of his tiny hooves to guide him in that general direction. He slowed to a stop when Fat Nuggets came into view. He was sitting beside Charlie, who was lying motionlessly on the floor.

"What? Are you Lassie, now," he asked the pig as he walked over to them. "Okay," he exhaled as he knelt down. Eyebrows scrunched together, he awkwardly angled himself to see Charlie's face, and saw that her eyes were closed and her brows were pulled together in discomfort. Her hands were curled against her body, with something like smoke rising faintly from her fingertips

He frowned deeply. "Uh, hey. What'cha got going on here?...Hey," he said a little louder, reaching his hand out to shake her shoulder. "Charlie, what – Ow! Son of a fucking bitch!"

He shot to his feet, shaking his fingers rapidly too cool them. "Jesus," he gasped as he inspected his hand, searching for any burn marks. He looked down at her, baffled. "The hell's going on with you?" Hesitantly, he tapped the bottom of her shoe with his boot. "Come on, wake up. I don't know what to do!"

He ran his hand through his hair as he paced a little. He stopped as soon as he saw Fat Nuggets nudging Charlie's hand.

"Hey! No, no, no," he exclaimed as he dove down and scooped him up. "Don't do that." Even though Fat Nuggets hadn't been burned, Angel still swiped his thumb gently over his snout as he stared helplessly at Charlie. He sighed. "Well, shit," he muttered. "Now I gotta bother your over-protective bitch of an ex-girlfriend. Be right back. Don't go anywhere."

As he quickly turned away and set off to find Vaggie, Fat Nuggets squirmed irritably in his arms. "No, I ain't leaving you alone with her. You're going back to our room. You lack self-preservation."

After he dropped Fat Nuggets off, and after making sure to lock the door so he couldn't escape again, he sprinted for Vaggie's room. When he arrived, he rapidly knocked on her door. It slowly opened.

"What," Vaggie asked in a neutral tone.

"You may wanna do something about the Hotel's ray of sunshine," Angel suggested. "She's passed out in the hall, not looking too good, and well on her way to burning a hole in the floor."

Vaggie's face screwed up, trying to make sense of his words. 'Burning a hole in the floor…' Vaggie's eyes widened. "Oh, shit," she gasped loudly. Angel yelped when she suddenly grabbed the front of his suit and got in his face. "Take me to her! Right. Now."

"Jesus, why do you think I'm here bothering you," he said, roughly prying her hand off.

Angel ran ahead, and Vaggie was so close behind him she nearly kicked at his heels. When they got to Charlie, the carpet in the near vicinity was now charred grayish-black around her. Vaggie veered around Angel, and she skidded to her knees beside her. Out of worry, out of reflex, she placed her hand on Charlie's shoulder to shake her.

"Son of a bitch," she screeched, flinching sharply and tucking her smarting hand against her chest. "Why'd I do that? I'm such an idiot!" After the pain subsided, she awkwardly angled herself sideways to get a better look at Charlie's face without having to touch her, but her view was largely blocked due to half of her face resting on the carpet and the other half being almost completely shielded by disheveled golden hair.

Vaggie sat back on her heels, putting her hands to her face and groaning helplessly into her palms.

"Uh, what's even going on here?"

Without looking up at him, Vaggie ordered, "Go get a cold glass of water."

He scoffed sarcastically. "'Cause she obviously looks aroused."

Vaggie's hands fell to her thighs in exasperation. "Is everything one big sex joke to you?"

"It is if I try hard enough."

"Oh my god, Angel, do you not see her! Just go get the damn-"

"Yeah! And I'm worried, too, goddamnit!"

Vaggie stared at him, teeth clenched out of stress. Angel was looking down at her with a scowl that was slowly morphing into a concerned frown. "I'm getting it," he muttered as he turned down the hall towards the kitchen.

Vaggie sighed as she looked at Charlie. Obviously, Charlie had felt compelled to use her powers for some reason. She didn't like using her powers. This didn't always happen as a result of it, but when it did, she would normally just trudge to her room to sleep it off. Vaggie couldn't get near her when she was like this, so she often never saw how bad it could truly get.

Vaggie cringed sharply when Charlie suddenly groaned and curled in on herself. Sparks of fire flickered in her hands, and something truly disturbing followed.

A flash of dark red horns on the top of her head.

Charlie rarely used her demonic form, even when up against another demon. Vaggie blinked, not sure if she was seeing things. When she did so, she no longer saw any demonic traces on her, aside from the burnt floor and occasional smoke from her hands.

"Here," Angel suddenly appeared as he handed her a large glass of overflowing ice water. Vaggie stuck her hand in the glass and tossed the ice cubes somewhere behind her shoulder.

Angel leaned against the wall as he watched Vaggie slowly, gently, painstakingly pour the water over Charlie's face.

Charlie's shoulders twitched whenever the water hit her, but just barely.

"Charlie," Vaggie murmured. "Can you hear me?"

The lines between Charlie's brows deepened, but her mouth moved open and closed in silent affirmation.

Vaggie sighed with some relief. "Look, I know this is a loaded question, but do you think you'll be able to make it back to your room anytime soon?"

Charlie's scowl of discomfort deepened. The side of her head rasped quietly against the carpet as she shook it once, slowly. The scorch marks in the carpet beneath her cheeks now started burning into tiny embers.

"Shit," Vaggie muttered. If she stayed in the hallway any longer….How was she supposed to explain to Charlie that she burned down her own Hotel?

"What exactly is going on," Angel asked.

Vaggie opened her mouth to explain, but was cut off by familiar, aggravating radio static.

"My, how interesting," Alastor exclaimed as he turned around the corner. He breezed right passed a thoroughly annoyed Vaggie and stopped next to Charlie, peering down at her. "Does Charlie often take naps in hallways?"

Vaggie's lips curled back in a snarl. "Go someplace else. This has nothing to do with you."

Alastor was ignoring her, not even looking at her. "How did this happen exactly," he asked.

Vaggie scowled again. "You clearly didn't hear me the first time. Get lost."

She swiftly leaned away from him when he suddenly bent his entire upper body to lean down towards Charlie. "There is clearly magic of some sorts at work here. And magic is something I'm familiar with. Perhaps I could be of help."

She scoffed. "No one's ever been able to help her when she gets like this. Not me, not Razzle, not Dazzle…Not even her own parents."

Alastor watched curiously as a random spark of fire flickered on Charlie's fingertips. "Ah," he realized as he reached his hand out. "So it's her powers that are causing this?"

"Sort of," Vaggie said. "But it's – No! Wait! Stop! You're gonna – "

She fell silent. Stunned.

She watched as Alastor's palm ghosted across Charlie's cheek. He tucked some of her hair behind her shoulder, away from her face. All the while, he was looking at Charlie with an expression Vaggie had never seen from him before. His smile was still there, but it was small and contemplative, and there were deep creases in between his eyebrows for some reason.

"How," she breathed as she watched the slow, almost careful movements of his hand. "How are you able to touch her?"

He once again ignored her. Well, just that question at least. "What's normally done when this happens to her?"

Vaggie shook her head stiffly. "Normally…Nothing. She sort of just has to…deal with it. Ride it out."

"And what exactly is going on?"

"That's none of your business," she spat.

He chuckled, but it lacked its usual mirth. "How do you expect me to help her, then?"

"I," Vaggie stammered for a few seconds. "I-I'm not expecting you! No one is! Just – just like how no one expected you to take over the fucking Hotel!" That last sentence was a bit of a low blow, she knew, and it really didn't have anything to do with the matter at hand, but she couldn't stop it from coming out.

The way he's able to touch her without getting burned, the way his hand moved across her hair and face with care, the way he continued to look at her with a soft, maybe even concerned expression that she didn't think the Radio Demon was capable of possessing…

Vaggie felt something heavy in her chest. Was it dread? Envy? Protectiveness? All three of those things combined? She wasn't sure. However, her thoughts kept going back to how he gently touched Charlie, that he could touch her, could possibly help her.

Something that she wasn't capable of doing.

"S-sometimes," she reluctantly spoke through clenched teeth, and the weight seemed to grow. "Sometimes her powers backfire. Not always, but sometimes. It's one of the reasons why she doesn't use them that often. This is the result, the excess, or whatever you wanna call it."

Vaggie glanced away from Alastor and Charlie to stare at the ice she had tossed away. Most of it had melted completely by now. She continued to speak. "Ideally, she'd have just enough energy to at least walk to her room and rest, but this time…I don't know what happened. Maybe she used them for a minute too long? I don't know."

"Wouldn't she just burn right through her bed," Angel spoke up for the first time in many minutes, still leaning against the wall, almost as if he was standing watch.

Vaggie shook her head at him. "No, her bed and her covers have always been flame retardant, mostly for this reason."

"Hmm," Alastor hummed, getting Vaggie's attention again. His hand had yet to leave Charlie's sweaty face, and the back of his thumb was stroking over the corner of her jaw, though he didn't seem to be aware of that particular action. He stared at Charlie's face for a few more minutes before, "Very well, then."

Abruptly, he tucked his hands underneath Charlie's body, and lifted her. He could feel the charred fibers of the carpet getting stuck in between his fingers when he did this, but he ignored that as he adjusted her more comfortably in his arms. Still very much unconscious, Charlie let out a disoriented groan, and her head lolled until her forehead was resting against his upper arm.

Vaggie shot to her feet. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" A voice inside her head nagged her, almost taunting her. Alastor can help, remember?

Alastor raised a brow at her. "You said she needs rest, did you not?"

"Yes, but – No! I mean – Just – Why do you even wanna help?!"

"You said that's what needs to be done for her." He then smirked. "Besides, it does me no good if my business partner doesn't get proper rest. Imagine me running this hotel alone." He paused to laugh loudly. "Actually, what fun that would be!"

He laughed again, and Vaggie's teeth clenched as she watched the Radio Demon turn away with Charlie in his arms.

She shook her head stubbornly. "I'm going with you."

"No need. Instructions were simple."

"To make sure you're not up to anything-"

He cut off her sentence by abruptly spinning around to face her. "Do you remember when you brazenly approached me and accused me of using my shadows simply to show off to Charlie?"

Vaggie nodded hesitantly.

"And do you remember what I told you afterwards?"

Vaggie's eyes slowly widened. She glanced rapidly between Alastor and the unconscious Charlie resting securely in his arms. "You…" she muttered. "Y-you actually-"

"I have no other motive," he said quietly. He didn't wait to see any further reaction from her. He glanced down at Charlie, and then walked away from the area, with Vaggie staring after them.

Angel was no longer leaning against the wall, but was now fully standing up. With a sympathetic frown, he walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Vags-"

She shoved him aside, and walked away.