Turning on the shower to let the water warm up in the bathroom, Angel had started to gather his night clothes. He was starting to remove his top when he heard Cherri tap at his bedroom door before the door opened. Angel only regarded her cooly before he returned to pulling his top over his head.

"Hey…" The cyclops said uncomfortably. "About earlier…"

"I don't want to talk about it," Angel stated dismissively as he started to undo the bandages that covered his chest. He wasn't angry with her but he wasn't happy with her actions regarding it.

"Come on…" Cherri protested. "I've been feeling left out all day, I'm your friend, aren't I? I should get some say in everything that is happening."

"E…(And…)" Angel responded like it didn't matter.

"I really don't like they feel they can decide what's best for you," Cherri defended. "I know you better than they do so why are you punishing me for that."

"I'm not punishing you," Angel replied. "I'm just disappointed in your behavior today."

"So you think I'm the one at fault for caring about you." Cherri protested. "They were discussing whether a doctor who is part of this place should see you."

"Charlie has mentioned that to me," Angel stated. "I have said I would prefer not to do that because I can deal with my own shit.

"Right..." Cherri said skeptically. "Like you can deal with Valentino." She immediately regretted the words the moment they came out of her mouth. "Wait...Angie...I did not mean that."

"Penso che tu l'abbia fatto...(I think you did...)" Angel responded as he turned toward the punky girl. A look of betrayal crossed his face as he grabbed her by the arm and shoved her out of the room. "I need to take a shower...we'll talk in the mornin'!" He locked the door after he closed it, impassively removing the rest of his clothing and the bandages. All the while Cherri was outside pleading with him.

"Angie..." Cherri begged. He could hear her tearfully say as she pounded on the door. "Angie, please...I'm sorry about what I said. Don't shut me out, Angel... Please...I'm sorry."

~I'm not the one you really should be apologizin' to~ Angel thought to himself. He could hear Charlie had come down and had made some attempts at comforting the distressed girl.

"Just," Charlie suggested outside. "Just give him his space for now." The two girls walked away leaving him to shower in peace. The steam of the shower had fogged up the bathroom mirrors and glass doors of the shower. Adjusting the cold water so that the dual rainfall showerheads that hung from the ceiling cleansed away all the blood, cum, and other grime that had collected just a couple of days ago. His sore and bruised muscles began to unlock as the warm water beat down on him.

"You have suffered enough and been alone for too long" Charlie's words echoed through his mind as he closed his eyes and rested his back against the steam warmed red marble tiles of the shower. The exposed wounds that hadn't quite healed as of yet stung and protested. He didn't register the pain though, it was a sensation he had long since grown used to...something he was familiar with even before he was reborn in Hell. When the wounds did heal, they would leave scars...but he was already damaged. What would be a few more scars now in the face of everything?

"Hey, 'Grumble Dust'! Do you really like being a loner, or are you just antisocial?"

"From here on...you are on your own. I ain't lettin' yah drag me down with yah. I don't even know why I bothered thinkin' yah would change, given the shit you've pulled."

"I need to go, Fratello. I'll be back first thing tomorrow, and I will continue to stay with you until... I will still be here with you, know that I love you and I miss you Fratello Majore. Famiglia per sempre (Family forever)"

"I've got you, dolce tesoro (sweet treasure), "You are not worthless or a failure mio prezioso (my precious one). Anyone who says you are chicken shit and lower has to be blind because there is so much that I love about you. When I see you smile... it's magic, and when you laugh, it's like I'm hearing music. You don't know how it pains me to hear you cry, to know that you are being hurt by that bitter old man."

"Ti voglio bene, Anthony (I love you, Anthony) You shouldn't have to live in pain and fear. You deserve better, you should be where you are happy...where you are loved and welcomed."

Opening his eyes his face turned towards the falling water that masked his silent tears that traveled down his cheeks, wishing the water would wash him away too.

The night passed with an awkward quiet that spread around the house. Charlie hadn't really talked to Cherri after she had guided the other girl away from Angel's bedroom door. But she had Cherri sleep in the living room for the night, she could try talking to Angel in the morning when things were less charged. There was a lot of emotional energy and it was affecting them all in various ways.

Angel was free from Valentino and now he needed to sort out what that meant for him. The purpose of this whole vacation was so Angel had the chance to rest and be away from the city; away from Valentino's abusive and manipulative control. It was certainly something the Moth wouldn't have given him. The Blond Princess didn't know what sort of horrors the Spider had faced under the Overlord. And what worried her more was how he had reacted to the image she had shown him of Henroin with Arackniss and whoever that other Spider Demon was. Angel's unpatched eye had focused on Henroin as if he was seeing a cruel and unfeeling monster from his deepest nightmares. He had sat up in bed so suddenly that he must have gotten a headrush that had caused him to faint. What concerned her was when he had been unconscious, she had heard him begging someone he called "Pops" to stop something.

"Please...Pops stop! Per favore, papà (Please, dad)! Don't do this...Mi dispiace (I'm sorry)...please just stop."

His voice had taken on a frightened-child quality to it, so could this vision be a horror from his childhood? What was happening in it; what was Henroin doing? Was it to Angel or was it to someone else? All she had understood was that he was terrified to the point he had curled into a fetal position so his knees were tucked up to his chest as though to shield himself. Remembering how running a circle into his back had soothed him before, she used that to encourage him to relax and calm down. As the tension eased she resorted to lightly stroking his hair like her mother had when she had been distressed as a child until he began to regain consciousness.

Then of course there was Cherri herself. While the female cyclope had felt like she was coming to Angel's aid this evening, her actions were still out of line. Still, Charlie did have the distinct impression the hostility had been building before now. She didn't want to jump to accusations, but she had to make it clear that such emotional outbursts wouldn't be helpful to anyone; that was something to bring up later on when everyone was more rational

Angel dried his hair with a towel, one of the things that sucked most about being a Spider was the fur that was spread over his body. He knew this wasn't the case for all Spider Demons, but it felt like he needed a full-body blow dryer every time he needed to bathe. While such things did exist for the harrier denizens of Hell, that was more delegated to the spas and personal grooming establishments around Pentagram City. Even his makeup team had him use one at the studio when he took showers in between sessions. Unfortunately, that was a luxury the hotel couldn't offer and this cabin wasn't equipped with.

Figuring he was dry enough, Angel slipped on a well-worn gray top with a rose print on the chest and a pair of pink flannel trousers. His nightwear style wasn't as meticulous as his daily wear. When he was off the clock and free to rest he often turned to what he felt were as safe and comfortable as a well-loved friend. Much of his clothing choices were feminine or unisex in style, but what few people in Hell realized was that he preferred the more casual and comfortable styles of clothing rather than formal wear or the smut rags he often wore at his job with the studio. The only thing that was a cross between both sides of himself was the striped Valentino jacket he often wore, either with a short black skirt or shorts, and his thigh-high boots. It was casual but still was sophisticated enough to be dressy. He also wore these garments like protective armor. A way of making him appear hard, but with the right amount of softness to not appear outwardly intimidating or threatening. At the same time, it helped shield the vulnerable and wounded soul that lay bare beneath it.

Now that he was no longer bound to Valentino or the porn studio, he could be free to decide who he wanted to be. Looking in the mirror at himself he examined the bruising around his right eye. He was still feeling headachey and weak, maybe Charlie did have a point in suggesting he hadn't eaten all that much. After all, the only thing he had that morning was some oatmeal for breakfast. Even when he had been violently ill, he had mostly brought up stomach mucus with some sweetened aftertaste of the banana and strawberries he had added to the grain mush. Plus there was a strong desire for drugs, a want for anything to just help him block out the pain and horrors that clawed at his mind well before he arrived in Hell. Memories he wished he could get rid of.

Opening the door to the bath he walked out. He didn't hear Cherri so that meant she had either gone to bed for the night, or Charlie had set her up on one of the couches upstairs. He undid the lock on his bedroom door figuring he wasn't going to hear from her for the rest of the night. The whole day she had been displaying an almost petulant attitude. He had understood why, saving him from Valentino had been something she wanted to do. However, she was also impulsive and reactionary and that would prove a weakness against someone like Val in the long run. Angel knew from personal experience how sadistic Val could be when he was playing with one of his "toys" and Vox and Velvet were also quite dangerous in addition. While the cabin estate was safe because was private land owned by the Morning Stars. And there were supposedly other protections to keep out people who were not cleared as guests. It was still safer for them if Valentino didn't have any clear idea as to who was at the cabin. All Val could surmise was Charlie was up here, Vaggie was often with Charlie and acted as a bodyguard. So it would be plausible that she would be here regardless of whether she said anything. Val could only assume that he was at the cabin too, or at least somewhere out of the Moth's hands. Despite having a much higher status in Hell's power chain, Charlie wouldn't have been as self-assured about speaking to the Overlord if they were at the hotel. But aside from the three of them, Val couldn't confirm who else was here or who was still in the city and that was their advantage.

Settling down into bed, he turned out the light hoping some sleep could help ease the jackhammer that was pounded into his skull. As he nestled into the covers he felt a wave of weakness pass over him and then nothing.

Charlie sat up and Vaggie was likewise startled awake by a distressed squealing noise from downstairs.

"That sounds like Nuggz," Cherri called out as she threw aside her blankets and started down the stairs the other two female demons appeared on the landing to see what the commotion was about.

"I'm going to see what is going on," Vaggie told Charlie with some concern before she followed after the female cyclope. "Get Dr. Abaddon on the phone, he may be needed."

"Right," Charlie said grabbing the phone and calling the private physician that lived on the mountain estate.

"Hello," a tired but warm-hearted voice responded.

"Hi...Dr. Abaddon," Charlie answered. "This is Charlie..."

"Ah Charlotte," Dr. Abaddon answered. "So good to hear from you, are you at the cabin."

"Yes," Charlie tried to explain as simply as she could. "Anyway, I have some guests at the cabin with me, and one of them is..."

"CHARLIE," Vaggie yelled up with some alarm. "HE'S HAVING A SEIZURE!"

"One of them needs medical assistance," Charlie responded.

"I will be there at once," The doctor firmly answered.

His mind was so thick and foggy as he opened his eyes. He could hear Cherri trying to comfort Nuggz, or rather comfort herself, and used the small Hellborn pig as a proxy. He could hear Charlie and Vaggie upstairs talking to some unknown, the voice was male but he wasn't getting any impressions of maliciousness or any sort of ill intent. Charlie did mention a doctor earlier and asked if that was someone who should be called. Though she was opting to wait until morning before doing so, if he was here now that meant she felt something serious enough had happened for her to summon him.

"Angie..." Cherri asked? The Punky Cyclops must have noticed he was starting to regain consciousness.

"What..." He groggily said as he sat up and looked about the room. The last thing he remembered was lying down for the night and then he felt like he was about to pass out, a strange feeling to be having when he was already lying down. His head was pounding up a storm to the point he wished he could put his brain on ice. On top of that, he was feeling uncomfortably warm. "What happened?"

He glanced around the room as he tried to reorient where he was...okay this room was not familiar he was here for a reason. He was at a cabin it looked like, right...Charlie had brought him up to a cabin estate where Valentino couldn't get to him. After...after the Moth did something horrible.

"You tell me...," Cherri responded. Her tone wasn't cold or angry, but it was clear she wasn't happy about something. "When was the last time you used?"

"Maybe six maybe eight days ago," Angel answered, not quite grasping what Cherri was driving at.

"So you are going cold turkey and didn't tell me," Cherri demanded? "When were you going to let me know?! Did you feel you can keep me in the dark up to the moment you are crawling on the floor practically crying out in pain for a fix?! I was practically looking through your travel bag to see if you brought any 'Dust' with you, that's when I came across something else you didn't let me know about. Val has been sending his love and affections by blowing up your phone all day." Cherri cleared her throat and proceeded to read out some of the texts that Valentino had sent ever since the phone call with Charlie.

'Angel Dust, call me this instant!'

'Angel...Daddy is getting annoyed...get on the phone right NOW!'

'You think just because the Princess of Hell has you under her protection that you can do what you want?! I own you...your scrawny ass is bought and paid for. And you know I have the connections to turn the city against that silly hotel.'

'You honestly think Princess 'Goody-goody Two-shoes' gives any shits about you. Nah Angel Cakes, she is only using you for her own ends, just like..like" Cherri paused as in her reading, her single eye trying to make sense of what was on the screen. She sat down on the bed her tone changing from upset to confused. "Like that skanky, one-eyed bitch you pal around with, and every lover you've ever had.'

"Cherri..." Angel said. His voice sounded lost, tired, and distressed. "I don't need to hear anymore." Cherri closed the phone and said nothing. Glancing over her shoulder at the sound of people trundling down the stairs she stood up and put her phone down on one of the bedside tables.

"Angel," Charlie said with some relief. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," Angel responded. He shook his head as though to clear cobwebs. He was already beginning to feel woozy again, and a tremor passed over his skinny frame.

"You gave us all a scare," Charlie said. "Just to be on the safe side, I asked Dr. Abaddon to do a medical check-up on you. He's my family's private physician and he is someone I trust. If this is uncomfortable I understand, but I want to have some idea of what is happening rather than taking chances. So can you allow him to give you a look over?" Knowing that Charlie wasn't exactly giving him much choice, he gave a nod of consent. Charlie stepped aside and a locust demon entered the room. He was tall, his face similar to Valentino's, except the blueish-gray skin was brown, and the malicious, self-important red eyes were more of soft and studious gold. He was dressed in casual attire. A pair of tan tweed pants with a white shirt that was covered by a gold and green argyle print sweater. Not the suits and white coats that Angel remembered seeing doctors wear when he had been alive. The casual attire however was probably due to this being a house call made after hours from wherever he worked.

"Hello..." Dr. Abadon greeted kindly. "May I call you Angel?" Angel gave no consenting response, instead, he could feel his mind slowly beginning to fog over again.

Charlie noticed that Angel did look rather tired and weak when he sat up. Darkened circles had formed under his eyes that made it appear as though he was watching the locust demon with an owlish expression. Though there was a set to his posture that showed he wasn't comfortable being in what could be viewed as a vulnerable position with an unfamiliar demon present.

"Anyways," The doctor explained as he opened his doctor's bag and pulled out a stethoscope. "Charlie and her companion have informed me you had a medical issue moments ago. Are you able to remember what happened?"

"I just remember going to bed," Angel said. "And then I think I may have blacked out."

"You had a seizure, Angel," Vaggie started. The statement was similar to how she responded when he had asked her about who Alastor was. Not angry, or irritated, but there was confusion backed by suspicions. "If it wasn't for Nuggets squealing who knows what could have happened." Abaddon listened to the Spider's heartbeat while another of his four limbs was monitoring Angel's pulse.

"Has he had episodes like this before," Abaddon asked?

"Not that I know of," Charlie said. "Though the night...before we arrived."

"Hold that thought," Abaddon paused the Princesses words as he seemed to notice something, before returning his attention to his patient. "Angel, I am going to need you to lay back and roll onto your side." Taking Angel's shoulders in a firm but gentle grasp, the older demon guided the younger man so he rested against the pillows. Angel didn't resist, his eyes had taken on a frightened awareness as through knowing what Abaddon was implying.

"What's happening," Charlie asked in concern.

"It might be best you didn't watch," Dr. Abaddon sighed.

"Charlie let's just go outside," Vaggie attempted to coax the other girl out of the room. "You shouldn't have to see this." She was about to turn to Cherri to suggest she leave as well. There was a horrified intake of breath from Charlie as Angel's eyes rolled back. His body went rigid as he began to convulse, his breaths became an almost choking rattle as white foam formed at his mouth. Cherri was also clearly distressed, her hands going to her face as she watched this happen. Dr. Abaddon remained calm during the event, as he took a pen out of his sweater pocket and held Angel's tongue out of the way to keep him from inadvertently biting down on it. Vaggie pulled Charlie into her arms as the blond princess just broke down into tears on her shoulder.

*1929*

Drool dribbled from his slackened mouth as he stared vacantly at the bare gray walls of his cell. How long had he been in this place, weeks...months? The doctors were saying he was suspected of being at risk of homosexuality and were doing corrective therapies to prevent that from becoming a reality. The electro-shock therapies were horrible and would leave him shaking for hours afterward. The insulin shock therapies were even worse, as entire days would pass in the span of a few minutes. And even once he awoke from the resulting comas he would be left sitting on the bed or wondering about the small room in a zombie-like state where he had little awareness of anything around him.

It was once he managed to regain any sense of awareness, that the doctors would come and verify how their treatments were working. He'd be shown photographs and images of nude women in various positions and poses and asked if he felt anything about them. Was he aroused by them? Did he feel any sort of interest in them? He would be honest and say he didn't feel any attraction or anything. Truthfully he didn't know what they expected to gain in doing this. He was sixteen years old and was still seen as a child by legal standards. He was old enough to understand that females were needed for procreation and that he was expected to be attracted to them. But even his older brother would find it difficult to be sexually turned on by images of nude pinups while there were other patients screaming somewhere down the hall. Or the cries of children who had been abandoned in this horrible place because they were too unruly or had conditions that their parents didn't want to deal with.

The door cautiously opened, he didn't spare a glance assuming this was possibly an orderly who had come to check on him or replace the bedpan. There was a horrified gasp from the doorway before a young woman appeared before him. The woman-or girl rather as she was the same age he was- was dressed in a soft pink dress with a floral design and a rosy pink cardigan. Hesitantly, she knelt down so he could see her face. Her butterscotch brown eyes were full of concern and horror over what she was seeing with him. He knew her from somewhere...he was aware she was someone he had recognized. But his brain was too fogged from the recent insulin-induced coma, he could only blankly eye her face as he tried to place who she was.

"Anthony," The young woman said. One hand cupping his cheek gently while the other rested on top of one of his own. "Fratello...are you there? It's me, your sister. È Molly... tua sorella gemella (It's Molly...your twin sister). Enzo and I are here for you...we are here to take you home." Tears slipped down her cheeks at how haggard he appeared. Taking hold of his arm she guided him to his feet, before wrapping her arms around him and holding him close. He vaguely remembered the warmth and softness of her body pressed to his, it was familiar to him."

"Molly," A harsh-sounding male voice called. Pulling one of his arms over her shoulders, she guided him towards a vaguely familiar twenty-year-old man who stood in the doorway. He was dressed in a black suit and fedora. His dark brown eyes were close to the same color as the nearly black hair that framed his face. The older man eyed him disapprovingly as though it was against his better judgments to remove him from this place. But behind it, there were some hints that he knew the treatment received was not something he'd consciously wish on anyone.

"Excuse me..." A Doctor protested. "But where are you taking that patient?"

"Away from here," the Dark-Haired man responded.

"He hasn't been cured of his suspected mental illness," The Doctor responded.

"He wasn't sent here to be cured," The Other Man said as he slung Anthony's other arm over his shoulders. He regarded the younger man with a cool expression momentarily as though saying 'Don't make me regret doing this for you'. "He was sent here to rot. He'll be coming with us..."