Author's Note: Shadows, hidden intentions, emotional moments and genuine care for others? Yes, I was bound to try and write a fic about Alastor. I am not entirely well-versed in this fandom, but I hope you'll all enjoy this fic as I take a jab at it with my own style (while trying to keep them in character). I have no idea where this will take us or if it's there even going to be a story arc, but nontheless, thank you for joining me in this journey.
The hotel was at it's prime. Sinners were walking in through the front door, the giant countdown was no longer ticking and all in hell were walking with their heads held high as though the extermination was never to repeat itself, as if they had won. And they had, technically. It was everything Charlie had dreamt to achieve, but it didn't feel like a victory. She couldn't get used to this new normality because it would mean to also admit to everything and everyone they had lost, and she couldn't bear to face that yet.
So, she found comfort in her old routines, in dragging all the residents into heartfelt group exercises, talking to Vaggie hours on end about ways to build trust and even wake at an ungodly hour to help Alastor prepare breakfast for everyone, just like she was doing that morning.
It was in moments such as that, in which Charlie usually felt both uneasy and completely relaxed, because in the quiet of the wee hours she could pretend nothing else existed behind those walls, but also, be faced by the deafening silence that was filled with her loudest thoughts, the ones she usually tried to drown behind happy ideas and celebratory plans, but would seldom settle down.
"So, I was thinking, since we are having so many new sinners move in, it might be time to expand our staff as well," Charlie began, chopping some carrots as Alastor pleasantly hummed to himself without sparing a glance her way, "And I know it's kind of dangerous to just let anyone help, since we need trustworthy people that can ensure everyone's protection and personal growth, but that's also the point of this place, right? Second chances. But the logical thing would be to first make progress with said sinners before offering them a position in the staff. That's why I was thinking Angel could be one of us now that he has proven he has changed," Charlie continued to ramble, "It's the obvious choice and Sir. Pent—" she cut herself off, her throat closing as the name casually slipped, as though they hadn't lost him.
Charlie bit into her lower lip, focusing on chopping more vegetables, letting a long pause take over the conversation before the static noise that emanated from the Radio Demon became more present.
"Why did you stop talking, my dear?" the elusive demon asked, keeping his eyes on the task at hand.
Charlie quirked an eyebrow up, "Oh, I-I didn't think you were actually listening."
"I was not!" he agreed, finally looking her way to offer his unsettlingly emblematic smile. Charlie deflated slightly, even if that was the answer she expected to hear, "I hardly ever care to meddle in the idly conversations that go around," he shrugged nonchalant, "All the nonsense talk is like white noise, useful to keep the show running while in intermissions but not to keep the audience entertained," Charlie drove her gaze away as he took over, adding the vegetables she had cut to the stew, "Your voice, however, is a lovely melody one can hum to, my dear. It quiets down the cacophony of sounds in a place as chaotic as this," he handed her back the knife, "that's why I find your company enjoyable."
Charlie gazed at him dumbfounded, before he motioned for her to take the blade once more.
"So, go on, finish your train of thought before you are the only one left at the station."
Charlie grabbed the knife, seeing herself in the reflection. "Maybe I am just that," she mumbled, "a happy little jingle that gets stuck in people's heads. Maybe that's why the cannibals decided to help, because they liked the tune, and heard what they wanted to, not because they believed in what we were doing."
"And what's so wrong with that?" Alastor quipped back.
"Several of them died!" she finally snapped "for a cause they didn't even believe in!"
"Might as well," Alastor answered, "we die as we live, at least they had a taste of glory and purpose this time around. Don't assume that dying for a worthy cause is the only worthy way to go. They joined willingly, they died in their own terms, doing what they loved. Helping you was just a plus to them."
Charlie felt her stomach turn at his words. They were sickeningly twisted and encouraging at once, a perfect representation of how hell felt at that moment. "Is that how you feel about the hotel?"
Alastor tilted his head, humming questioningly at that, refraining from uttering a word.
"You keep saying you don't believe in what we do here, yet you stick around. You even fought Adam."
An eerie pitch sound cut through the static, as he tightly held his smile in place. "You know why I'm here, dear, for the entertainment! And golly, have you delivered?!"
Charlie sighed, "Yeah, yeah, I know," she waved a hand, leaning into the kitchen bar as Alastor kept on diligently making breakfast, "But even you have changed," she added more softly, more caringly, "When my dad came, you stood by me, by what I was doing," she smiled genuinely and Alastor felt a tightness around his neck, "and sure, you were using that to shoot a few jabs at him, but you came through when it mattered the most, before Lucifer showed up," she looked for his eyes, "And…I've been meaning to ask, after your fight with Adam you disappeared, we thought—I thought you were…"
"Don't let your imagination torture you with hypothetical scenarios when reality shows none of them were true," he intervened, "As you can see, I'm fine, my dear. I merely had to cut to commercials earlier than I would have liked. My transmission was cut short, but not silenced."
"It's just that…you were gone for so long, no one knew where you were. We didn't even find you in the rubble and we just had lost…"
Alastor drove his eyes to the door, knowing on the other side stood a painting of him on the main hall. "Yes, I was made aware of the departure of your esteemed resident. Brave fella, I'll admit. Not all of us are cut to be immortalized in statues, nor be mourned in a place where the wicked and wrenched run free."
"We'd miss you. At least I know I would," Charlie said invertedly, catching him off guard, "In the time you were missing, Dad suggested to change the name back to Happy Hotel but I told him to leave it as you named it. It was meant to be a tribute." Alastor's movements slowed down as he heard that, "Luckily, you appeared shortly after!" she added, trying to infuse her usual cheerfulness into the conversation after sensing how it had taken a dire turn.
"...That's a nice gesture, Charlie. I appreciate the thought," he finally said, clearing his throat to let his vintage tone take over the sound of his real voice. "Now then, the other residents will be waking up soon, so how about you prepare the side dishes while I finish the main course?"
Charlie smiled, nodding as she got back to work, letting a silence fill in the space with less apprehension than before.
"And, Charlie," he added, "communicating through a happy jingle does not mean that the message you deliver is of less importance. When you speak, others listen. In a place ruled by fear, you command a room without resorting to threats or violence. Very few can claim the same, dare I say not even Lucifer himself could do so. Your voice is stronger than you think, if only you heard it yourself when you talk in favor of others."
Charlie froze in place, hearing the true praise that laced the words he had offered her. The sole idea that someone that valued the power of oral expression so much would speak so highly of her made Charlie feel a fluttering warmth inside. The excitement was enough for her to throw her arms around him, forgetting the distance he often kept from others. She just hugged him as tightly as her two arms allowed her, resting against the surprisingly comforting presence of his being.
Alastor's posture remained stiff at the initial surprise, his own shadow seemed to have frizzled at the contact, but the Radio Demon didn't shove her away, instead, he slowly patted her back once before taking her shoulder and gently push her back to regain his space, without letting any discomfort be seen on his face.
"S-sorry," Charlie stuttered.
"It's quite alright, dear," he hummed, "I better run upstairs to make myself presentable before joining everyone for breakfast, do you think you can manage without me for the time being?"
Charlie nodded, taking a step back to let him reach the exit. "Um, thank you, Alastor."
"It's just breakfast, dear," he said over his shoulder, "same as any other day."
"I meant for-" she lost her nerve, seeing in his eyes that despite the careless front, he knew what she really meant, "for all those other days as well," she finally said, "thank you."
Alastor stood at the door for a second before nodding, sparing a smile that meant to say what his words didn't, what both understood. He melted into the shadows the moment after to reach his room.
Once inside he leaned heavily over the door, gasping for air, pressing a hand against his chest, where Charlie had rested moments prior. His clothes were quickly dampened with the warm red liquid that soaked through his vest, staining his hand. He threw his head back, grunting in pain as the wound inflicted by a celestial weapon refused to heal despite his best efforts. Maybe if his microphone hadn't been torn in two then he would have been able to. But that didn't matter now. This was his reality.
Even if he wasn't ready to face it yet.