Chapter 30
Painful Conversations
Angel sighed as he reached the check-out lane. He couldn't really afford much, but he found some nice looking meals-in-a-cup, some actual decent-looking tomatoes for once, and a new flavor coffee drink to try. Probably just as shit as the rest, but dammit he had to try. Not like the hotel has a decent coffee machine… or fresh beans. Or fresh anything, really.
Sometimes, being an Italian sucked. No fresh ingredients, no decent drinks and a picky palate made for a miserable afterlife. Seriously, Lucifer was an angel at one point, right? How'd he let this place fall to shit so bad?
He grabbed his phone when it buzzed in his pocket, expecting to see a text from Cherri. He was planning to meet her after this at a coffee shop; the only one both of them agreed had coffee that was only eighty-percent shit. It's all about the little things, after all. Instead, there was a text from Charlie, and he grimaced. He better not be in trouble for going out to meet Cherri; it's just a fucking coffee shop! Sure, they weren't Cherri's biggest fans after the TV interview incident, but they weren't turf-warring right now, dammit.
She asked him to come back to the hotel, and he immediately felt irritated. Figures she'd call him back on his day off. There aren't even any planned activities! But when she said she wanted to talk, he paused. He wasn't really in the mood to talk about deep shit today. It's been a little over a week since his breakdown with Husk, and he still felt talked-out. Even so, he knew it had to happen eventually after what his boss tried to pull. If Valentino is going to start targeting the hotel, then she needs to know what she was up against.
At the same time, he felt like he was bothering her. His family may be mafia, but he was raised to believe that brothers take care of their sisters, not the other way around. No matter what, brothers don't trouble their sisters with their problems. No, the sister comes to them when someone bothers them, and the problem is dealt with. Permanently.
But now he was in a position to be that problem. As long as he remained, Valentino would be a threat, but Charlie would be heart-broken if he left, not to mention he'd have to go back to sucking off some scummy land-lord for rent, and he gagged at the memory of the last one he worked with. Oh Satan, that had been nasty…
While he waited for Charlie to arrive, he texted Cherri.
Angel (A.): Hey sugar tits, gotta bail.
Cherri (C.): Need help blowing shit up?
(A.): Nah, all good here. Charlie wants to talk.
(C.): She gets pissy, let me know.
(A.): Charlie, not Vaggie. Charlie doesn't get pissy.
(C.): K. I'll be at the cafe if ya need me.
(A.): Sounds good.
When Charlie's limo reached Mammon's Supermarket, Angel was standing outside the building carrying his bags and putting his phone away. Charlie burst out the door and ran up to him with her arms wide. If six months at the hotel have taught him anything, it's to always be prepared for a hug capable of knocking him on his ass. Holding up the bags with his top set of arms, he braced himself and caught her with his bottom two. "Yea, yea, calm it down, Bubbles. Guy's gotta breathe, here!"
"Oh, right! Sorry," Charlie apologized sheepishly, slowly releasing him. "I'm just really happy you decided to talk to me. So, where would you like to go? We could go to the park, or-"
"Actually, I'm starved," Angel interrupted with a grin. "Know any good restaurants 'round here? I could use some real food for once."
Charlie chuckled. "Yea, unfortunately the hotel's budget is… limited."
"Well, if yer gonna cut somethin' from the bottom line, I guarantee ya you can't take anything more outta the food budget. It's definitely the bottom, and as one I can tell you it's gettin' fucked hard!"
As the two continued to laugh and talk about the hotel, they got into the limo and drove away. During the drive they talked about nothing in particular. At one point Charlie mentioned Eliza should be getting paid once things calm down between her and Alastor, and Angel became eerily quiet for a few seconds. Unsure what she said to upset him, she changed the subject entirely and dropped it, much to Angel's relief.
As they drove, they passed by the ruined remains of Club 666, and Charlie looked surprised. "I wonder what happened there!"
"Bombs," Angel answered with a smirk. "Lots and lots of bombs. And dancing. And not nearly enough fire."
"Wait, you did that?!" she shrieked incredulously. "Angel!"
"Trust me, Bubbles, it ain't much of a loss to ya," the spider droned in a bored tone. "Just another slut-show that burned to the ground. Besides, Cherri's the one that took it out, not me. Didn't throw a single bomb, thank ya very much." After a moment of silence, Charlie heard him add under his breath, "Wish I did, though."
As Angel prepared himself for a lecture, he stared aimlessly out the window as they passed yet another ruined building. Another club, from the looks of it. All of the windows were blown out, most of the roof was caved in, and what he could see of the inside looked fucked all to shit. Then, after a moment, he realized he recognized that club.
"Hey, stop the car!" he shouted, and Charlie tapped on the separator to signal Razzle and Dazzle. After a few moments of loud, squealing tires, the limo came to a halt so that Angel could fly out the door.
"Angel?!" the princess called out, running after him. "Angel, what's wrong?" As she followed the spider into the ruined building, she couldn't help but gasp at the wreckage. Charred streaks and blood splatter decorated walls and floors alike, and bodies both burned and eviscerated had clearly been dragged away without cleaning the mess left behind. Broken glass littered the floor, forcing them to walk on the fallen ceiling pieces to avoid getting shards stuck through their shoes.
"Hot damn!" Angel laughed, looking around wildly. "This is the club Alastor fucked up?! No wonder Big V's so fuckin' pissed; this was one of his nicer joints! Now I really wish I'd've been here for this!"
"So you know about what happened?" Charlie asked, slowly walking through the destruction. "About Vox and Valentino trying to…" Unable to finish the statement, she let her words hang in the air, watching as Angel's shoulder's tensed.
"Y-yea, I heard," he answered, shakily. "Al told me about it. Said they were tryin' ta take out the hotel."
Charlie sighed. "I just don't get why! I mean, she said Vox wanted to hurt Al, but when we asked about Valentino she just kind of blew him off. Why would he want to hurt the hotel?"
Angel's breath caught. Considering Alastor told him about Val wanting Angel back at the studio, there was no way the shrink didn't know. No, she kept that part a secret, and he bit his lip when he realized why.
Please, don't… Don't let her read that. She doesn't need to know that!
Even months later, after asking him again and again to reconsider telling Charlie about Val, she still kept his secret. Perhaps she actually couldn't tell? Surely she should have been able to mention why Val was involved, since he was a danger to the hotel. No, it must be the contract. Telling her bosses about a possible danger to business was too professional for her to willingly keep quiet about it.
As if Angel needed another reason to feel guilty as fuck right now.
"I'm sorry, Bubbles," he apologized softly. "I… I'm so sorry."
"You don't have to be sorry, Angel," she told him, patting his shoulder soothingly. "I know he's your boss, but it's not-"
"Don't," he snapped. "Don't say it ain't my fault when it is! This is all my fault! I'm the reason he went after ya."
"What do you mean?"
Angel rubbed his arms as he felt the ghost of Valentino's touch on his fur, shivering from the echoes of his violating assault. "He… he wants me ta leave the hotel. He doesn't like me bein' sober, harder to keep a hold on his top bitch that way. That, and my actin' ain't as good, apparently. He doesn't like me leavin' the studio, and hates not bein' able to keep an eye on me. Said as long as I got him his money he wouldn't make me leave, but I don't know how long that's gonna last."
Charlie's eyes were wide as she processed this. "Then… why don't you-" she covered her mouth with her hand as realization dawned on her. "Oh Angel, does… does he own you?" His only answer was to flinch away slightly, and tears started to well in her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wanted to handle it myself," he answered, looking up and clenching all four of his fists. "You don't know Val like I do; don't know what he can and, more importantly, will do. I thought that, if I just got away from him myself, if I could just get through him sober, then maybe… Maybe it would be enough."
"What do you mean? Enough for what?"
"...Look babe, I'm gonna level wit' ya. The idea of redemption is great an' all, but we don't have a fuckin' clue what it'll take ta get outta here." Charlie looked down, rubbing her arm for comfort at the harsh truth of that statement. "Let's be honest; if it were easy ta get into Heaven, then why the fuck are you still here?"
Charlie jumped, looking downright shocked. "Angel, you do realize I'm a demon, right? Mom and Dad were demons when they-"
"Bubbles, that don't matta," Angel argued, putting up a finger. "Ya may be acceptin' of some crazy shit, but you're the best damn person here. If they ain't willin' ta overlook you bein' a demon ta let ya up there, even temporarily, then how the hell are fuck-ups like me supposed ta make it? I mean fuck, yer dad can fuck up and become a demon, but you can't go up there an' get some fancy wings an' a halo? If anyone deserves 'em, it's you, dammit! You hate sin and you care about people; you believe in them! So why the hell are ya down here if we actually have a chance?"
Unable to get a word in, Hell's princess just listened as Angel ranted. He continued going on about how no one knows Heaven's rules, and began to ask questions that she honestly hadn't considered. Historically, Christianity frowns upon being gay, so what if he had to go straight? Could he even do that? And, more importantly, why should he have to? She would never ask him to change that way, because it didn't make him a bad person, but what if Heaven actually condemns it?
That would also mean that her lover, Vaggie, would never have a chance at Heaven. Not just because she's a lesbian, but because Charlie is actively seeing her, which means that, if it is true that Heaven turns away gays, Angel saw it as the only condemning factor Heaven could possibly have against her, aside from her being Lucifer's daughter.
That train of thought got her thinking of other things. What if family sins reflected on a soul? She knew Angel Dust's family were all spiders; does that mean he was condemned at birth? She's never seen Heaven before; what if family ties really do damn your soul before you're given a chance? Still, there was one question Angel hadn't answered yet.
"Angel," she interrupted, though she had to call out two more times before the spider actually stopped to listen. "You said that getting through things by yourself might give you a chance. What did you mean?"
He faltered for a moment. Oh sweet Satan he didn't want to say this…
"Sufferin's always been talked about as a way ta get into Heaven," he answered quietly. "So, if I take care o' this myself, sober an' all, then maybe the pain would be enough, ya know? Ta get me in. Despite… everythin' else."
Charlie gasped. "Angel… Oh Angel!" She ran up and threw her arms around him, and the unstable debris under him made it hard to keep his footing. He managed to stay standing, but just barely. "You…" She sniffed. "You don't have to suffer alone, OK? Please, don't do this to yourself… You deserve so much better!"
He hugged her back as she cried into his chest. "So do you, Bubbles. You deserve way more respect than these fuckers give ya. Ya care so much for 'em, an' they just laugh at ya, but you're always smilin'. You're one tough bitch when ya wanna be."
"You're tough, too," she giggled, pulling away to look up at him. "But don't… don't forget that I'm here, OK? We all are; Vaggie, Eliza, Husk, Niffty… even Al!"
Now Angel laughed. "Ha! As if Al'd raise a finger ta help… though he'd probably love ta get his claws on Big V after what he an' Vox tried ta pull. Though I gotta admit, I'm surprised the shrink came back. Vox must've been offerin' a dud deal or some shit."
"Actually, I heard they offered a lot," Charlie mentioned slowly, pulling away completely. "Money, protection, benefits…"
"Wait, ya serious?" Angel laughed, though this one was far more nervous than the last. "So… they wanted her soul too, right? Like, signed written contract an' everythin'?"
"Actually… no," Charlie denied, her brows furrowing as she remembered what Eliza had told her. "Apparently, he refused to put it in writing."
Angel just stared down at her for a moment. "The… fuck?" That made no sense. Sure, a hand-shake with a powerful overlord was binding and really common, but something like this should have been in writing. It was the only way to make sure everything went according to plan. "I knew Vox did loose deals with people, but he must've really been tryin' ta fuck 'er over or else that was just fuckin' stupid! Even my contract with Big V's on paper!"
"Well, no matter what, the deal didn't happen," Charlie said with a grin. "So, for now at least, everything can go back to normal."
After a moment of hesitation, Angel stated, "Things ain't gonna be normal for a while."
"What? Why not?"
"Because Val's pissed, toots. And you don't know what he gets like when he's pissed."
If Valentino was going to keep pursuing the hotel to get Angel, then there were probably going to be problems in the future. The deal with Eliza failed, but there was more he could do. The hotel was on shaky ground already; Charlie didn't need him making things worse. Like her father always says:
You don't take shit from other demons!
Charlie looked around for a moment, running one way and then another. When she was done, there was a table with two chairs (thankfully unbroken despite the wreckage around them), and she sat down. "I have all night, Angel. Tell me everything I need to know."
Husk kept staring at his bottle. He was in that weird mood again; the one where he wanted to drink, but for some weird-ass reason just didn't want to be drunk. For as much as sobriety sucked, there were times that even he didn't want to run away from his thoughts, and recently, those thoughts centered around Angel. Namely, about his utterly fucked up situation.
The spider made one thing painfully clear on the night of their emotional talk; he didn't want any help. No matter what, he was determined to get through this by himself, and Husk was tempted to try putting him in another headlock to change his mind. If the stubborn shit wanted to be stupid, Husk was the master of playing hard-ball. At least the princess got him to agree to talk, or at least meet up somewhere. Now he could talk to someone who could actually help, who could give him the support he needed.
Unlike him.
Husk leaned his head against the bottle as the temptation to pop the top and drain it nearly won him over at that moment. Goddammit, he was being an idiot! Why was this so fucking hard? It's been so long since he's been able to love anything: Friends, family… himself. No, this was beyond him, and that's how it should stay.
So why wasn't he fucking drinking already?
"My, my! You're looking rather down there, my friend! Whatever could be on your mind?"
The ever-peppy, filtered voice of Alastor was not helping his mood at that moment. "A lotta none-your-fuckin'-business."
"Dear me, what an attitude!" Alastor leaned closer to the cat's ear, causing Husk to glare at him suspiciously. "Anything to do with a mutual acquaintance, perhaps? A certain arachnid companion you've become rather fond of?"
Husk growled up at him, but the man didn't react except to tilt his head. He recognized that condescending smile; that 'You're so adorable!' expression. "Quit pretendin' to give a shit. Ain't that entertainin', so fuck off."
"On the contrary; I find it rather fascinating!" he cheered, finally backing up and letting the veteran breathe. "This is so very unlike you! Why, just the other day the two of you seemed quite cozy with each other!"
Now Husk stood straight up, glaring at the pompous deer with all he had. "You've been fuckin' spyin' on me?!"
"Ha! Hardly, my brusque friend!" He turned to the side, looking at his microphone for a moment before giving Husk a side-long, mischievous glance. "Perhaps if you don't wish others to see, you should refrain from such open displays in the lobby! Why, I had only just decided to walk the halls, and there you two were sitting together on the floor! Hardly my fault that you put no stock in secrecy, wouldn't you agree?"
"As if you can talk," Husk retorted, finally opening the bottle. His train of thought was ruined, so his moment of sobriety was over. Time to get sloshed. "You've been puttin' a lotta effort into winnin' over the shrink."
Alastor stiffened for a moment, but recovered quickly with a laugh. "Winning over? Why my dear Husker, how ridiculous you sound! She is merely a friend, and nothing more!"
"Yea, yea, feed your bullshit to someone else," Husk grumbled. "I ain't ever seen you put this much work into a 'friend'. You've been distracted by that chick since the day she fuckin' dropped."
"Distracted?" Alastor purred, staring the veteran down with narrowed eyes. "That coming from the one who has regular drinking sessions with a very particular guest? Whatever shall you do when our dear princess finally thinks to put a drinking limit on the bar's stock, hm?"
"Everythin' we've been drinkin' has belonged to me," Husk argued. "I decide the limit on my own shit."
"Ah, but he's still a guest. How long until they decide that your friendly social affairs are nothing more than precarious obstacles to his recovery?"
Without missing a beat, Husk growled, "And how long until I have to sick the princess on you again to keep you from killin' someone?"
Thin black dials in angry red pools for eyes. He hit a nerve. "Et tu, Husker? You're the reason I had to waste an entire morning calming down my co-manager?"
"And what else was I supposed to do? Sit and listen to you tear the lady apart?"
The overlord looked nothing short of offended. "I will have you know that by the time your little reserves showed up, I had already left, and she was still very much in one piece!"
"Well, ain't that a fuckin' first," Husk spat. He started gathering ingredients from under the desk, as well as his mixing tools. "Get a plaque for her door: 'Eliza, the first to not get eaten alive.'"
"Husker…"
"Give it a rest," Husk sighed. "Save it for someone who doesn't get the 'all talk' treatment." Making quick work of the mixed beverage, he poured some bright red liquid into a martini glass and decorated the rim with orange sugar before sliding it over to the Radio Demon, who stopped it with his hand without even glancing down at it.
After a brief, tense moment, the threat display disappeared completely as the overlord laughed. "Ah Husker, I do enjoy our chats." He picked up the glass and tossed his head back, draining it in one go. "You will always be my favorite bartender, you know." Setting down the empty glass, he turned on his heel and walked away, the spring in his step as obnoxiously prominent as ever.
"Just 'cause no one else can mix it right," the veteran grumbled.
"Ha! So very true. No one mixes drinks like you, my friend! Au revoir!" With that, the pompous deer vanished into the darkness, as if he hadn't just finished up yet another antagonistic conversation with the veteran.
Husk sighed as he lifted his bottle of booze to his lips. The friendship he shared with the Radio Demon was, by far, the strangest he's ever had, and that was saying something. Despite the deer's constant need to flex his power whenever he got mad, Husk never felt as though he was in legitimate danger around him. He's seen that the display isn't just for show; that he's more than just capable, but also willing to back up his words, and yet not once has he lifted a finger against the cat. Husk got away with saying things that other people would get maimed for, and he never quite understood why. Niffty never spoke out against the man, but that's because in her mind he could do no wrong.
Alastor was a weird-ass guy. Capable but quite unwilling to give a shit about most things, but when he does he's a fucking wrecking ball with no one at the helm stopping him from taking down his mark as well as everything around it. And somehow, they were friends. Really fucked-up, antagonistic friends. And admittedly, despite how obnoxious and pompous the man was, if Husk decided he wanted to have someone taken care of…
Alastor would be the first person he'd ask for help.
Author's Note:
Here, it's done. Enjoy it. Eat it. Burn it. I don't care, just take it away! Good GOD you have no idea how much grief this chapter gave me. I couldn't just bail on the conversation between Angel and Charlie because I built it up, so it had to happen, but you don't know how many re-writes it's gone through, or the sheer amount of writers block I've suffered with it. The conversation between Husk and Alastor took two fucking days to write, and that's just because of lack of time, but something about Charlie and Angel having a deep conversation about shit, even when it's earned, just wasn't clicking in my head. But now it's over. Fucking done. Take it away, FanFiction. Yes, this chapter is shorter, but I'm done. Now to move on. FINALLY!
