Part 25

Having never experienced an axe through the skull, Angel was hit with a feeling that was both foreign and familiar when he finally opened his eyes. He had felt like this from binges before, but this was on a whole new level, and he curled into a ball on the floor of his room, gripping both his head and stomach. "Aw...fuuuuuuuck."

Grasping the baseboard of his bed, the spider pulled himself onto his knees, taking a moment to rest on the edge of it. His stomach did a flip, and it made him scramble to the bathroom on his hands and knees, voiding whatever was inside him into the bowl. He started to sweat, and the side of his face pressed almost lovingly to the cold seat. "Thank you...thank you for being cold, toilet. Imma...aw fuck-'' he threw up again, "-keep you." He wasn't sure why he was even vomiting; he couldn't remember much from the last twelve hours. All that was in his memory was a face and the drugs that got him into this state, to begin with.

Leaning against the cold seat, he waited for his stomach to settle before he braced his hands on the bowl's rim and brought himself to a standing position. He could still feel the trembling in his legs, and he swallowed, a burning ache running through his throat. He managed his way to the sink, where he could feel himself waiver, his legs still unsteady and wanting him to collapse. He turned on the water and splashed his face before he looked at his reflection, his mascara still on, his hair still a little stiff from the hairspray. He needed a shower

The drugs in his system had worn off pretty quickly, but there was a steady pounding behind his eyes and a growing frustration as the pain he felt in his stomach came back. It was intense and made him start breathing faster. "Lookin' good, Angel. Lookin' real good..." He flushed the toilet and slowly walked from his bedroom. At least he didn't have work today.

"Heh..." he muttered to himself, the idea of doing anything just that more stressful as he dragged himself down the hallway. Relapse was a bitch and a half. He needed relief.

As he made his way down the hall of the Hotel, he stopped outside Alex's room and tapped his fingers on the door. "Hey...Alex, you in there?" No response came. "Listen...uh..." he could hear himself sigh in defeat, pressing his fist against the door, his head banging against it. He didn't want to do this first thing after waking up. "I'm sorry, okay." His fingers clenched, and his fists became tighter, "for treatin' you like you was less, and all. Okay?" Still no response. "Alex, I know I can be real shitty when I get pissy and I'm sorry. I...I honestly don't remember much of last night, and my head is just...just the fucking worst right now." Still no response.

A dull ache in the back of his head seemed to intensify, and Angel groaned as he held onto the wall, bumping his fist against the door.

"C'mon, Alex. Say somethin'." He ran a hand down the length of his face and sighed. "Alex?" Again, nothing, and that's when he decided to go ahead and open the door.

He wanted to see Alex sitting on his bed, angry, upset, or happy to see him, or anything for that matter. But he wasn't there. "Alex?"

The boy hadn't gone to sleep that night and hadn't checked on him. The covers, blood, grime, and other fluids were strewn across his bed, but the bed had not been slept in. He touched the covers. Cold. Briefly, he could remember little flickers from last night. He knew he had come home, come upstairs...and that's all he could remember.

Had he and Alex talked?

He looked around the room. It was in shambles, worse than after a studio shoot. At least this mess served a purpose: it distracted his mind from what was going through his head. Noises drifted to him, but he wasn't sure where they came from.

A particular smell ran through his nose, and Angel was brought back, just a little bit, to the night before. He remembered kissing Alex a lot, touching him, holding him. They had sex. But the sex...he couldn't remember anything about the sex, which didn't help with the growing stress building up inside his head.

He remembered a great flood of desire for the reptile, a hunger deep inside of him that he hadn't felt in a long while. He remembered...Valentino, remembered fucking Val while thinking of Alex killing him. He...he had wanted to fuck Alex so bad because of that thought. He couldn't remember.

Standing in the center of the room, the smell increased, but it wasn't a pleasant scent anymore. He noticed the pile of clothes on the floor. Alex had been wearing those last night, and they were ripped and bloody. Looking down, Angel could see the blood on his thighs. Ok. So they HAD fucked. But he was getting no mental stimulation, and his headache was going to get worse.

Grunting, the spider left the room, looking back into Alex's but trying not to let the feeling of confusion inside himself sink in. The floor squeaked from his steps as he finally made his way downstairs.

The radio demon sat at the bar reading a newspaper, and Charlie and Vaggie were on the couch working out a few logistical issues with some paperwork. At the same time, Charlie scribbled down in a notebook, and Husker was at the bar, cleaning something that had already been washed multiple times before.

"Good-" Alastor looked out the window, "evening, my good friend!" His voice called, and he folded the newspaper.

Charlie looked over the top of her glasses. She had this broad smile on her face. "Hey, Angel. Sleep in a little later than normal, did ya?" Her pen flew across the page of the book as she made little notes in her tiny black journal,

The spider demon had just pulled his head up the other way and turned to see Alastor standing at the bar. It didn't hit him until the very moment that Alex wasn't here either.

Something wasn't right, and everything else began to pile up in the spider's mind, bits and pieces starting to fall into place.

Had...had he… Alex?

Angel felt himself wretch as the thought crossed his mind. "Where is he?"

It was Charlie's turn to be confused. "What...are you talking about?"

Angel held a finger to his head, his heart racing as he approached the bar. " He's not in his room. He wasn't in my room, and he's not out here. Where is he?" Charlie and Vaggie exchanged glances, but Vaggie spoke, "We thought he was with you." The only one who didn't seem concerned was Alastor. Angel couldn't help but feel just a little suspicious.

"Quite a night, I bet you, sport." Alastor sat at the countertop with his newspaper in hand; the corner crinkled from where he read it, his teeth white against the backdrop of his dark skin, "and then quite the morning."

Angel couldn't help but lean on the bar as he faced the Radio Demon. "Quite a morning? Why do I get the feelin' you know something that I don't..." his nose began to wiggle a little bit, sniffing. "I know that fucking smell. What did you do!?"

Alastor's expression didn't change, and there was a smile. "My dear boy, your little toy's survival is exciting for me outside of an otherwise dreary day. What makes you think I did something?"

Angel felt his fists clench tight, "because you smell like Valentino's office, and that's the only place that smells like that. What. Did. You. Do!?"

Alastor remained ever calm, pulling his staff off the ground and walking to Angel Dust. "Do relax, dear boy. I walked with him after he came downstairs this morning, looking rather troubled. A simple walk around the neighborhood is all. Or limp, rather." Husker grunted. "The kid and I went to a bar last night. He got into some trouble with a few demons. Big one busted him up a little, but he was fine," he smiled, "should have seen the other guy."

Angel remembered the way Brutus had looked last night on set. So that WAS Alex. "So, what happened after your little walk?"

Alastor smiled, "why, the boy wanted to kill the monster." He laughed and turned the page of his newspaper.

Husker seemed more put off and shook his head as Alastor laughed a little louder. "He wanted to go and see Valentino, so I took him as he requested."

Angel scoffed, throwing his hands down on the bar, and the whole thing shook. "BULLSHIT! Alex wouldn't go to see that sleazebag without me or someone with him." Alastor folded his page, "then call me a liar."

Angel hadn't realized his leg twitched in anger. Charlie put her book down, looking at Alastor and Angel. "Well, this...isn't a problem." Alastor chuckled a little. "I'm afraid the damage has already been done, dear." He looked to Angel. "You know what happens to people in there."

Angel's hair raised, and his chest heaved for air like someone was stepping on it as he stared at the Radio Demon. He was sure there was a memory from last night, there was definitely a memory there, and it was right on the tip of his tongue, but at the same time, it came back; at the same time, he remembered coming home, playing with Alex while he slept, holding him down while pressed himself on the lizard, the boy who came to hell for him, used him in the ways he wanted, said the things he said, Alastor said it out loud. "You know what you did, Angel. And what he did in response. And then what Valentino did..."

Angel Dust froze, "w-w-what do you mean...Valentino..."

Alastor's smile was twisted and malicious, "He didn't stop...just like the films. He wouldn't stop. Poor baby Alex. At the mercy of the moth. For the whole world to see, too." Alastor said calmly and unfolded his paper again, "They are already selling the DVD..."

Vaggie grabbed Charlie's shoulder to comfort her as her eyes opened wider, Angel Dust staring at Alastor, the pit of his stomach opening up. A pit in hell so dark that Angel's jaw wouldn't stop trembling and shaking. "WHERE. IS. ALEX."

Alastor laughed, "Oh, so you CAN remember. Good." His head turned, and he kept the smile on his face. "I don't know. The poor boy was in such a state when he came back down that he walked away. I assume he is out there still walking." The demon chuckled as he rested his elbows on the counter. "You should be more considerate with those you love, dear boy. Not many people can endure that sort of torture or guilt. Or the shame. Or the public humiliation."

Angel had every desire to punch the radio demon, to hurt him, to show him who mattered right then and there in his rage. "Whatever fucking game you're playin' is gonna end. Alex WILL be the one who kills Valentino..."

The demon paused reading and looked up at Angel, that big smile growing more comprehensive, "Of course he will. Who is arguing that?" He returned to reading, "he's going to eat Valentino alive." He hummed to himself as he closed his eyes and sniffled. "What a great time this is going to be! But first..." his smile stayed, and his eyes flicked up at Angel. "Before we move on and watch this child begin his crusade against Valentino, how does it make you feel, Angel?"

Charlie watched, unable to look away, even with Vaggie trying to tell her to do so and whispering to her. But she could not.

"Do you feel the hatred bubbling inside? Is this a blood lust? It's certainly a passion, and it burns, right?" He chuckled, tossing his paper onto the bar before he stood up. "If I were you, I would hold onto that feeling and remember this above all else: all of it...all of it, dear boy, has been for you. Every stab, every punch, every indignity he went through... for you."

Charlie had jumped a little in the room, not realizing Angel Dust was rushing forward, and aggressively yanked the Demon out of his chair with all four hands. The static of Alastor's microphone had shattered the glass above Husk, and the air filled with Alastor's laugh, his smile widening: "And yet you waste your time on me?! Hahaha!"

Angel's mouth pulled back, the gritting of his teeth making them squeak against the air, his breathing hard and his hands tight around Alastor; even Vaggie looked over in surprise from the quick motion, the red-haired demon not fighting back, still enjoying every bit of this as Angel spoke slowly, barely containing his anger. "You fucked with him, Al. He didn't deserve what you put him through." The words echoed in a loud rumble, his voice quivering with rage, the volume so high that it didn't sound like the angel anymore.

But he let him go. As angry as Angel was, he knew WHAT Alastor was and knew he was lucky to have his hands still even when touching the demon. "I didn't do anything to him, dear boy. He didn't come to hell for me, he didn't go looking for fights or training for me, he didn't even go ass first into Valentino for me. That was for you. All for you. Angel. So sweet. So soft." He sneered and tousled Angel's hair, "but weak. You're all bark and no bite, dear boy." He touched each of his fangs, pressing them before leaning back into the spider, "So! What does our little Angel plan to do about it?"

Angel spat his words and bared his fangs. "I'm going to go find my fucking lizard! I'm going to go find Alex! And then I'm gonna help him end this. And...and then I'm going to be there with him." His face became softer, though he was sure his anger wasn't entirely evident. "I'm gonna help him. Even...Even if he doesn't want me...if he lets me..." Angel felt something push out of him, the slightest movement of desperation, but he fought it. "I know how it feels." His shoulders relaxed. "It feels like I've lost something important, and now...and now...I can only think about finding him..."

Charlie's face was sad as her friend and the Spider turned away from the bar and looked at everyone else in the hotel lobby. He didn't mean to sound cheesy, corny, or melodramatic, and he wasn't sure the others would fully understand Alex's importance. This wasn't some booty call, and he wasn't looking for another friend or someone to listen to him. He was here. Touching him. Holding him. Fighting for him. He had been taking that for granted.

"Well...there is the door, boy. I suggest you start looking. He already has a day's head start, and with those wrappings, who knows what kind of attention he will draw. IF he has any fight left."

The light flickered, and a hum escaped his microphone as a fanfare of music, trumpets blaring.

Angel ran out the door of the hotel.