A/N: Still sticking with the present timeline. I'm only planning for one more flashback chapter in this story, since I think they interrupt the pace with this one more than they did in Red Smoke. (Specially now we're getting to the crunch). The next update probably won't be as quick btw. But thanks to everyone who commented so far!

Anyways, hope you enjoy and please R&R!

Chapter 8: The Morning After

Angel groaned as he came around, his head already pounding with a particularly wicked hangover. He reached up to massage his temples, disturbing the covers laid over him as he did so.

Wait. Covers?

He blinked, trying to clear his wasted vision and realised that yes, he was in a bed, not out on the streets.

And not just any bed – his bed in his room in the Hotel.

He hadn't managed to leave at all.

He thought hard as he sat up, still rubbing his throbbing skull. Memories of the previous night were hazy – he remembered going downstairs with the intention of delivering himself to Val as much of a drunk sloppy mess as he could manage, and then…

The others were there. He'd made an ass of himself trying to get them to leave him alone. Charlie and her goddamn puppy eyes. And after that-

He remembered the second he also noticed the lingering, familiar perfume in his room: Molly.

Molly was here, in what was now the worst possible place for her to be if he was going to keep her safe.

Cursing, Angel climbed out of bed. He changed out of his usual uniform of the job into something harder looking – shirt and slacks – and was about to go to the bathroom when he spotted something sitting on his dresser: buttery toast with the note THANK ME LATER! POKING AROUND THIS FANCY PLACE, COME FIND ME -M sitting next to it.

God bless Molly and hangover food. Angel wolfed it all down then hurried to the bathroom to wake himself up. He still felt a bit like garbage, but it couldn't be helped.

Once he'd splashed some water on his face, he felt able to brave the daylight. But when he checked out the window, he saw it was still pretty earlier. Molly always had been an early bird, unlike basically anyone else in the family.

Angel shrugged a jacket on, one with plenty of inside holsters for more pistols. Not his weapon of choice, but anything he could fit in his six hands would do. He had to get Molly to a safe location, and then – and then go back to Val.

The early morning was his window, and he couldn't mess it up this time. Especially when neither Molly nor the other Hazbins knew Val had found the hotel yet. This was a ticking time bomb with one day left on the clock, and Angel was determined it was going to blow up in no one's face except his.

With that thought in mind, he snuck down the stairs to the lobby, praying Molly was the only one up.

Luckily, it seemed like she was – he found her poking around one of the rooms, a look of fascination in her big eyes.

Less luckily, she'd set her sights on a dusty old piano Nifty had recently cleaned off. She was lifting the lid, her fingers hovering over the keys, about to press down.

Angel cleared his throat.

Molly turned, huge swathes of hair flipping as she did so, and smiled at him. "Mornin', Tony! How's the head?"

He shrugged non-committally, grateful when she passed him a glass of water. "It's mine, but you can share it."

"Thanks, Molls." He tried not to down the rest of it in one go, but Molly just pushed it away when he tried to hand it back. Angel gave in to his parched throat and gulped down the rest. "About last night – were you the one who was taking care o' me?"

"Yeah. But the Princess came to check on you, too."

"Huh. Thanks."

"Serious, Tony?" She stuck out her tongue. "Ain't we looked out for each other enough that you know you don't gotta thank me for that?"

"Mm. Guess it's been awhile." The glass squeaked as he ran his finger against the edge of it. "Listen, we gotta-"

"Sing for me, first," she said suddenly. She laughed at the look on his face, pulling on his arm with an exaggerated flutter of eyelashes. "C'mon, Tony! Don't you remember how we used to do this all the time?"

And before he could tell her not to, she started to play the piano. "You and I used to entertain Pops' guests all the time, remember?"

"Yeah, sure, back when he had that stupid idea that he could make you into a respectable lady."

She chuckled. "Yeah, but it was more than that," she said. "He really liked showing us off, didn't he? Get the twins playing a nice little song when family and friends are around. Specially cause Niss'd never put up with being paraded around from the age of like, two."

Angel rubbed his arm, uncomfortable. He did remember that. He remembered it as one of the few times when he was young enough that his Pops didn't disapprove of him yet. In fact, it was probably the last time in his life he remembered being...innocent. Just happy and innocent, before things were complicated.

Molly kept playing, though, changing the tune into a little ditty he recognised. She looked over at him, pointedly emphasising the beats where the melody would come in. "Come on…" she teased. "Just one song. For me?"

Angel bit his lip. She had looked after him when he was drunk off his face, and if there was one 'redeeming quality' he always felt he had, it was repaying his debts to people. The hotel was an old, rickety thing, anyway – with any luck they wouldn't wake anyone up, and if they did, he'd find some excuse to slip away and then it wouldn't matter if she was here or not...the hotel would be safe so long as he wasn't in it.

So he humoured her, counting himself in and starting to sing. It was an old song, one they both used to wheel out a lot at parties; a soft piano piece that worked best when a night was winding down. Angel's Italian was a little rusty, but it came back to him the more he sang, and his voice warmed up beautifully. He'd gotten used to singing crowd-pleasing stuff at whatever club Val favoured that week, so he hadn't had an excuse to use his vibrato in a long time.

And it was more than that...he hadn't realised until now how much he'd missed music. He always got a thrill out of performing, in a different way he did from then getting into fights or porn. At its best, there was an electric connection between performers, or between him and his audience. He'd been so preoccupied with anxiety and fear about Val, and finding ways to distract himself while stuck in the hotel, that he hadn't noticed how colourless life had become.

No fights, little alcohol, no drugs, no music, no rush in his blood to remind him he was still alive, even while he was dead.

It was good to feel he could still find traces of colour in this weird new life he'd been trying to form.

Molly smiled at him, putting little touches and flourishes into her playing as she went, their duet a little rough and cheeky around the edges like always. She looked up at him as she played, harmonising softly, but then her eyes wandered and Angel saw she was looking at Charlie and Vaggie, who had come downstairs and were staring at the two of them like they didn't know what to make of it.

Molly reached over and squeezed his hand with one of hers, pleading with her eyes for him to not stop. And Angel didn't – their voices rose and fell gently together, the sound winding down along with Molly's gentle chords on the piano. Then she lifted her hands, she and Angel finishing perfectly together as the song echoed down the halls of the hotel.

There was a pause, then Molly burst out giggling. Angel leant against the piano, ducking his head so he could try and hide it.

He was smiling, too.

And then Charlie started clapping, starry-eyed cheer in her eyes. Vaggie joined in, even whistling with her fingers in her mouth, and Molly jokingly hid behind her hair, playing at bashfulness. Angel looked up, about to try and brush the whole moment off, when suddenly Charlie's smile faded.

The two twins looked around, saw she was looking at someone standing in the hall, their hat in their hand.

Henroin.

He cleared his throat, his expression sober. Angel could feel how much his father was avoiding looking at him. But right then, it was the most perfect opportunity Angel could have wished for.

"Thought I might find you here," Henroin said to Molly.

"Aw, shucks!" Angel said, snapping his fingers. He patted his sister on the shoulder, tried to smile reassuringly. "Looks like Pops came to getcha. Let's do this again sometime, OK, Molls?"

"What?" Vaggie said, disbelieving. "Won't she be safer with us at the hotel?"

Angel winced, facing away enough from Vaggie for her not to notice. How the hell was he going to get out of this without having to fess up Val already knew he was at the hotel? Charlie was frowning, too, and he could see on her face that she was starting to put it together that something was off. Angel turned away.

Unfortunately, there was the same look in Molly's eyes. "Tony," she said. "I need you to be straight with me. What did you mean yesterday when you said-"

Suddenly there was a loud bang, followed by a strange popping noise. They all looked around at one another, confused.

Then the lights went out, plunging them into the ever-present gloom of the hotel. Vaggie flipped a nearby switch, but they didn't come back on.

"Power's out," she said, a waver in her voice. Angel and Charlie locked eyes, the growing fear on his face reflected in her widening eyes.

Angel spun around, pushing past Henroin and racing to the doors just in time to see dozens of red lights appearing outside the windows – the eyes of tons and tons of demons, all of them surrounding the hotel.

He'd been so, so stupid.

There was a day left before Val's deadline. But what did that matter? The Overlord had never intended to wait that long.

"Oh, shit," he whispered, just before the doors burst open.