Even as he struggles along the thin threads of consciousness, the nightmarish memories of the past few hours simmer through Adam's mind. Everything's jumbled together, a mishmash of torment and terror that threatens him even as he sleeps.
Obviously, there'd been pain - and a lot of it. It was more than he'd ever felt in all his centuries of existence. Every part of him burned with it, pulsing and throbbing in his veins like fire. His eyes felt glued shut, lids sticking together and refusing to lift. There was a shrill ringing that pierced his ears, the sound echoing and burrowing through him like a hungry parasite.
Somehow, even with his senses impaired as they were, he could tell there were others nearby - though he couldn't even begin to guess who. His instincts told him that whoever would have helped him was gone , so he could tell, on some level, that things were about to get worse.
(And of course they did.)
He thought he knew pain before. Some fresh, recent memory had taught him how to suffer, showed him the meaning of agony and how deep it can run. But somehow, it continued and got worse . Somehow, it started up again after a very brief rest, and he was tortured all over again. He couldn't catch a goddamn break, and he'd almost have the sense to be insulted if he wasn't so preoccupied with being hurt.
His body had been paralyzed to that spot, lying in and tasting the dirt like some scum. He tried desperately to move, wanting to at least flip himself over, but more things were holding him down. He still wasn't able to remember who or what was entangling him - and why - but he could hear their mysterious hissed words and shouts, the words overlapping and garbled. Like he was underwater, everything was muffled and twisted and it was so hard to breathe . He gagged on something, on a slimy liquid he spat out through his teeth, and his lungs screeched and ached at his attempts to draw breath.
At one point, he began to beg. He was beyond caring about his pride at that point, just opening his loud mouth and screeching whatever came to mind. He'd pleaded and cried for these mysterious entities to stop hurting him, knowing it was pointless but trying his absolute best anyway.
Lying there like a worm on the ground, he'd been overwhelmed with that desperate need to get away from the cruelty dealt to him from those above him.
Above.
The thought of his torturer being someone from Heaven briefly crossed his hazy mind. He'd called out some names earlier, didn't he? But they didn't answer… did they? Fuck, he couldn't remember.
Well, whoever it was, winner or sinner, he'd just needed them to stop - but they didn't listen to him and kept going.
He won't ever admit this to anyone if he can help it, but through it all, he'd been… scared. It was terrifying, lying there like meat - completely helpless and exposed while someone burned and dug into his back. He'd felt them rifling around his insides, every twitch of his body bringing another shockwave of pain. And he'd been unable to do anything except protest weakly - not to mention every time he thought it was over, it somehow restarted and got worse every single time.
So many questions, and no answers.
Why did it keep happening? What had he done to deserve this? Why couldn't he die already?
When would the suffering be enough?
He continued to writhe and cry and plead until finally , there was a triumphant shout from someone nearby. He couldn't decode what they were saying, but they sounded relieved. The voice was soothing, and his attention clung to it like a lifeline, focusing on it until nothingness dragged him away once more.
...
...
...
Those hazy memories continue to flash through his foggy mind, even as some senses come back to him.
The first thing he feels is something wet and cold swiping across his back. He has no idea how much time passed, if he's still in that same dirt, or if anyone that tortured him is still around. His skin prickles as the rhythmic movements; though they're gentle and soothing, the thought of being touched by anything after all that makes him incredibly uneasy - like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop, for whoever is doing this to reveal their true intentions and hurt him again. The pain can't be gone, so why is this person bothering to be kind at all?
He's not fooled. No one's kind without a price. It certainly never got him anywhere - not even to Heaven.
After getting lost in those kind touches for a few moments more, he's able to pick up on noises around him. There's a quiet mechanical hum, the shifting of something light and soft, and a voice so achingly familiar.
"You're lucky, buddy. So, so lucky."
Who is that? He can't place it. Who are they kidding, though? Lucky? There's nothing lucky about this situation he's found himself in, nothing fortunate about this ceaseless pain and lingering fear—
"If my daughter wasn't such a softie…"
Daughter? Whose?
Who the fuck is speaking? And why can't he open his eyes?
"I don't know if you can hear me, but you better be fucking grateful," the voice continues. Something about its tone is unsettling, a clear threat lurking underneath. "If you try to hurt her, I'll make you wish Alastor had finished the job."
Alastor.
That name connects with him, sparking an even more powerful anxiety. Fear makes his heart speed up and pound against his rib cage, and though he's still beyond deciphering who that is specifically, he knows on a visceral level that they aren't a friend. Something about that name is dangerous , and it shakes him to the core.
"Just give me a reason, Adam."
Adam. That's him. That's his name. Why is this person calling his name?
A low groan passes through his lips as he feels himself yanked towards consciousness - thankfully not literally, because he doesn't think moving much would be a great idea right now.
"Ah- shit, did that wake you up?" The voice hisses, and it's starting to piss him off. "Don't do that yet, c'mon-"
Like hell he'll listen to this unknown fucker! Whoever this is, they're still prattling on above him, becoming increasingly irritating the more he's plagued with pain as he rouses.
His eyes finally pry open - slowly, so the sudden light doesn't overwhelm him.
He can't register his surroundings right away, just noting that he's on his stomach and something soft and hideously red is under him. He's only in his pants, which is weird because he only takes off his cassock to shower. (Shit, he sleeps in the damn thing.) He can't recall the last time he'd worn something else - why bother, when he already had the perfect look? It's just like how he never goes anywhere without his mask, which… fuck, is also missing.
His vision's still blurry and his mind is like tv static, but he does manage to turn his neck just a bit, the slight movement making his head spin. He can finally see a smaller person hovering above his back, catching a glimpse of feathers and a white coat.
While Adam can't remember how or why he's here, clarity does return to him enough to recognize who this person is. And, of course, it's the absolute last being in the universe he'd want to see or be near right now, a very punchable face way too fucking close to him.
Lucifer.
"What the fuck…?" he mutters, wanting to be louder but finds his mouth too dry. His throat burns and his lungs itch, a heavy cough hitting him in protest. "You goddamn… what in the fuck…" He can't get his words together, whole body trembling with the strain of the coughs.
"Easy there, asswipe." Lucifer - fucking LUCIFER - has the balls to look unimpressed, like Adam's some burden forced upon him. He moves to the angel's side, allowing their gazes to meet without Adam having to strain his neck to look behind him. How fucking thoughtful.
Adam feels that familiar paralysis and paranoia, but he reminds himself that nothing is holding him down now. It's just his own lack of strength that keeps him lying still on the bed. He rolls slightly so he's on his side, accepting the resulting pain that shoots through him in order to keep a better eye on the enemy.
The memories of agony and suffering continue to sear through his mind, but he can't connect all the dots yet. Something serious happened, but he is just too damn tired to think it through. He has to force his eyes to stay open, letting frustration and hate flow to fuel him and keep his body awake. It gets his heart pumping faster, his hands clutching the sheets below tightly and a tremble coursing through him.
His breaths come in short bursts as he wriggles away further, trying to put as much distance between himself and Lucifer as possible. "G-get back," he croaks in warning.
"Adam—" Lucifer's tiny hand is outstretched towards him, and the sight just makes fresh rage flare through the angel.
DON'T TOUCH ME!
"St-stay the fuck away from me, Lucifer!" Adam snarls, teeth bared as he scoots back more. He's so disoriented and lightheaded, his back pounding with pain, but the threat is right there and he needs to get away-
Fingers touch his shoulder, and he full-body flinches and lets out a yelp despite himself. It doesn't hurt, not yet , but the anticipation of pain is just so overpowering that he can't help it. So like a cornered animal, he lashes out to protect himself, a hand curling to a fist and striking out against the demon with as much force as he can muster.
…It's not much force at all.
But his fist does make contact with Lucifer's chest, pushing the bastard back just a few inches. Frustratingly, the effort to punch took everything out of Adam, and he can only groan in protest as Lucifer closes the distance again like nothing had happened.
"Did you get that out of your system?" The shrimpy king asks, that bored look on his ugly face again. "I get it - you're confused, you want to hurt me, yadda yadda yadda… but it's not really the time or place. You really don't realize how fucked up you are, do you? You're only going to make it worse if you keep moving."
What the shit does that even mean? Adam gnashes his teeth, muttering, "Fuck you," before trying to strike again. This time, however, his arm is caught by Lucifer, who pins his wrist down onto the bed.
That, Adam realizes all at once, is the worst thing that could've happened. His mind may be scrambled right now, but his body remembers - it remembers, in a terribly visceral way, what happened the last time he'd been forced down by the wrists specifically. It remembers everything that his brain cannot.
He goes into overdrive with panic, letting out a scream of protest as he thrashes away. His lungs are on fire as he heaves, his back igniting with pain. Just for a moment, adrenaline lets him ignore all of it as he writhes.
Lucifer gives a hiss of protest, strengthening his grip crawling onto the bed to brace himself against the angel tighter. "Stop— stop struggling!" he yells, as if he has any right to make demands. "I don't want to hurt you!"
LIAR .
That's all Lucifer ever wanted to do! This cocksucking, wife-stealing cunt is at the root of every single fucking problem the First Man's ever had! All he's ever done is hurt Adam!
He's screaming louder now, garbled words passing through his lips that even he can't decode. There's some curses in there, he's sure, but he can barely hear himself over the roaring of blood in his ears. That stupid cough returns to him and he can feel his lungs protest as he hacks, spitting out whatever he can Lucifer's way.
Lucifer is practically straddling him now, only feeding Adam's hysterical protest.
"Stop it - fucking now!" Lucifer snarls, his voice rising to a ferocious growl. "You're going to rip your stitches!"
Stitches? Why the fuck does he have stitches— What had been done to him!?
He bucks and flails desperately, shoving the demon off him and squirming away even further. His eyes glare into the demon, daring him to try to restrain him again. Everything is just too fucking much right now, he can't bear it, he can't-
And then… the image of Lucifer flips - the world is upside down for a brief, confusing moment.
I'm falling, he thinks for a half-second, his body already flapping his wings to catch himself. It's as easy as breathing-
Adam barely registers that it doesn't work - his wings don't flap and lift him back up. He feels an uncomfortableness seeping into his bones, and something feels so terribly off, but he has no time to process it before a white-hot pain explodes in his back.
The whole world goes black again almost instantly.
The last few hours have been nothing but exhausting for Vaggie.
Sure, she could argue she got some much-needed cuddling with her girlfriend, but the context of why Charlie needed that comfort is not at all enjoyable. The princess had been a complete mess, sobbing her bleeding heart out until she'd cried herself to sleep. Vaggie could only hold Charlie as she wore herself out, being that pillar of strength for her. And Charlie needed that - she's always being so strong, so optimistic and positive, that she never gets to release those negative emotions that build up.
And, fuck, a lot of emotions had built up in the last twenty-four hours. For all of them.
The battle with Heaven had been harrowing enough, everyone pushing themselves to their limits just to defend their right to exist. The hotel being destroyed - not to mention losing Sir Pentious and Dazzle - was devastating to them all. And despite Lucifer and Alastor collaborating (in the loosest definition of the word) on a new hotel, everyone was left weary and worn and grieving.
Arguably the worst factor, however… the icing atop the trauma cake - Charlie's cake, specifically - was Adam.
Adam, who they'd all thought (and hoped) died when Niffty stabbed him a billion times.
Adam, who did not die from those stabs. Adam and his stupid injuries, his stupid deal with stupid Alastor to lose his stupid wings.
Since the original wounds didn't take, Vaggie saw no issue with leaving the First Man to finally die from the repercussions of his own heinous actions - in fact, when she first saw him bleeding near Charlie and Alastor, she'd wanted someone to just finish him off already. Whoever killed him - be it Niffty, Alastor, Lucifer, or literally anyone - would be doing both Heaven and Hell a huge favor.
They'd be doing Vaggie a great service, too. After all, she still held a lot of hatred and ill feelings towards the First Man. She'd never forgotten what he'd done to her, what he'd taken . Everything that once was her home had been viciously ripped from her, and she could only look back at her past in disdain. Anything that made her even a tiny bit happy had been soured by the knowledge that she couldn't have it anymore.
All those bitter feelings just exploded out of Vaggie as they fought the Exorcists, fueling her rage and letting her be "out for love," as Carmilla had put it. And Vaggie had come out victorious in her personal fight, trapping Lute under some rubble by the arm and giving her a taste of cold mercy to make it hurt more.
Honestly, Lute should've been proud that Vaggie made such a brutal choice - she'd learned from the best, after all.
To this day, Vaggie remembers everything about Heaven - being created to slaughter sinners, meeting her brash bully of a commander for the first time, and even every annual Extermination. How could she forget Adam's cocky attitude, the way he talked down to women, and how well he got along with his bloodthirsty bestie?
Vaggie has no real good memories of Lute - up until their most recent interactions, she'd regarded her old lieutenant neutrally for the most part. Since the beginning, Lute's been a cold-hearted bitch, laughing along with Adam at the sinners' misfortunes and making a game out of their executions, but it'd been easy for Vaggie to ignore that behavior until she was forced to see it.
And for Adam… well, Vaggie had even less positive experiences with him. (Less than zero, somehow.) For fuck's sake, the bastard had named her Vaggie after… ugh. She still hopes he was just fucking with her when he said that, but she genuinely does not know when she was named, nor by whom. It must've been before she even materialized. Her insistence of the name's pronunciation was usually laughed at and ignored, much to her chagrin.
Honestly, it's a wonder how many Exterminations she participated in without losing her mind, honestly. After getting away from that life, it's like her eyes - eye - had finally opened. She could see Adam and Lute's cruelty clearly for what it was, without any sort of personal connection to force rose-colored glasses over her eyes (eye). The two are twisted individuals, finding sadistic pleasure in their murder sprees - and Vaggie had been lucky to leave that life and make it out alive.
But of course, she didn't just leave - she was forced to fall.
She'll never be able to forget that day, that Extermination cycle, when she spared a child sinner. Looking back, she doesn't regret it - not only because being damned brought her to Charlie, but because it had been the right thing to do. The inhabitants of Hell may have made mistakes, but there are people down here that deserve to live and change - and children, especially, are capable of growth.
But the damage had been done. Vaggie had shown mercy to someone - and despite them being Heavenly creatures, that simply wasn't allowed among the Exorcists. For her crime of compassion, she'd been punished in the worst way possible, crippled and excommunicated from her home.
That was what made the post-battle circumstances so frustrating. Seeing Adam lying helpless and broken before Alastor just reminded Vaggie of her own trauma, and how large a role he played in it. Lute had cut her wings off and gouged her eye out , and Adam had just… gone along with it.
He'd just shrugged and said, "End of the line, babe," and didn't so much as look back at her as she bled on the ground.
Adam hadn't cared back then, and despite mockingly calling her one of his "best girls," she doubts he ever did. He'd been so quick to ditch her when she needed someone - was it not fair for her to give him the same treatment? Wouldn't it be considered justice for him to experience a fraction of the loneliness and pain she'd felt, abandoned by those she once considered family?
The roundabout twist of fate wasn't lost on her - on the contrary, she was ashamed of how strangely satisfying it was to see.
Even if Charlie advocated for his survival, Vaggie didn't have to agree. She wanted so very badly to leave it at that - an eye for an eye, no sick pun intended. It felt a little different from her choice to spare Lute; Adam was responsible for all the Exterminations in the first place, not to mention the other Exorcists following his every order. If there had to be one in the angelic army to die, Adam's death would be completely justified.
And beyond justice or righteousness, it was a natural consequence. Adam fucked around and found out what happened when you mess with the wrong demon. That could've been it, case closed - everyone would just go home and forget all about him.
End of the line, Adam.
…
Well, if only it could've been that easy.
The truth was… even if, in that moment, she'd wanted Adam to die, Vaggie just couldn't stop seeing herself on the ground in his place. She saw her own crumpled body, her splintered back a golden, bleeding mess as she begged for anyone to help and stop her suffering.
Every time she blinked, the identity of the bleeding body would flicker between Adam and Vaggie, the images blending together disorientingly. The experiences were too painfully similar, and she just couldn't bring herself to let someone, even the likes of Adam, die in that agony.
So ultimately, she'd relented and helped Charlie in her makeshift surgery. It had been extremely hard on everyone involved in the process, but he'd pulled through. By the end of it, Charlie's relief was palpable and contagious; even Vaggie felt a little grateful that they'd saved a life.
It figured that a day ago, she'd wanted him to be dead, and she ended up being one of the reasons he's not.
As she wakes the next morning a few minutes after dawn, Vaggie finds herself restless.
Letting Charlie sleep is crucial, so she quietly slips out of bed and tiptoes out into the hallway. She has no idea what to do besides think, her mind still buzzing with uncertainty.
It feels a little like they're in limbo, waiting for something to trigger the next event in their lives - a trigger conveniently shaped like the First Man.
Despite everything they'd done so far to help, all they managed to do was bring Adam back from the brink of death. This is only the beginning of a long, long road of recovery. Now that he is the angel without wings in Hell, their lives are unfortunately linked together again - and, much as she doesn't want to, Vaggie can't stop herself from empathizing.
It had taken her quite a long time to get used to a wingless life, and she'd only lived a fraction of Adam's lifetime. There are so many possible trials and tribulations to this kind of thing, and not just the sort that come with having Adam in proximity. Balance issues, ghost pains, nightmares, grueling physical therapy… and those were only a few examples from Vaggie's experience. For a while, it had taken everything out of her just to stand on her own feet - literally and figuratively.
But… things had turned out alright for Vaggie in the end, hadn't they? Charlie was there with her every step of her recovery, and the two of them fell in love. In a strange way, Lute and Adam's actions against Vaggie that day were the best thing that could've happened to her, setting her on the right path to find people who truly care about her.
Not that she'd ever thank or be grateful to her old lieutenant for butchering her. Lute's intentions were to humiliate and maim her, but they did prove there was greener grass on the other side after all - Vaggie just needed to go through something horrible to realize it.
And, much as she hated to taint her own redemption with thoughts of that dickhead, Vaggie wonders if Adam could, someday, find something worth living for in Hell if he stays.
(Of course, Vaggie hopes he doesn't stay - but if he has to, she'd rather him be… not miserable all the time. He can't be of any use to them that way…)
Whether or not Adam wanted to stay was a different story, but he might not have a choice in the matter. Who knows if Heaven would even take him back? Vaggie would certainly hope so - she can't imagine Lute ever rejecting her partner-in-crime - but she also knows better than to trust the officials up there. Seraphim change their rules and policies on a whim - not to mention, they didn't even know how souls got to Heaven in the first place! Did they even want an impaired angel who can't get his wings back? Maybe they, like every other fucking soul in the afterlife and beyond, wouldn't want to deal with Adam anymore, and would see this as a chance to get rid of him.
But Charlie… Charlie would give him a chance to get back there, to walk the path of redemption and earn his place again. The whole point of her hotel in the first place has always been redemption. When Pentious had betrayed them on his first night and put himself at their mercy, Charlie had just asked for an apology and nothing more.
She hasn't explicitly said she'd let Adam stay, but she doesn't need to; Vaggie knows she can't resist helping someone in need. After all, she'd rescued so many broken-winged homeless birds found on the front lawn in the hotel's first few months of construction, so this crippled asshole angel wasn't really that much different. Vaggie deeply admires Charlie's compassion, as that's a level of kindness she isn't sure she'll ever reach. The Hazbin Hotel's all about improving yourself, though, and not just for guests - hoteliers, also, are not exempt from personal growth.
So if everyone's on their own paths to being better, perhaps, in time, even someone like Adam could show progress…
The sounds of a struggle tear Vaggie away from her thoughts, and she realizes she's standing near the hallway that leads to Adam's isolated ward. Lucifer kept an eye on him overnight, and should still be in the room now. There's strained screaming and shuffling from down the ward, and the dots are easy to connect.
"Oh, fuck," Vaggie mumbles with a groan, hurrying down the hall and into the room. What she finds on the other side of the door (the one with a big "FIRST DICKHEAD" sign on it) is a visibly frustrated Lucifer with his hands balled into fists. He's looking downward at something, but the view is blocked by the big bed in the middle - a bed that, noticeably, is missing one First Man.
"Sir, where's…?" Vaggie can't even finish her sentence as she quickly crosses the room, stopping short when she finds her answer lying on the floor.
On his back is a newly-bloodied Adam, motionless and frozen in a stance of panic and fear. His whole body is rigid and his eyes are rolled back in his head, mouth agape in a scream probably cut short. The golden ichor is all over the place again - stemming from his back mostly, but some is still dribbling down his chin.
"Um… Your Majesty, what… happened here?" Vaggie asks, uncomfortably rubbing her arm. "Did he fall off the bed?"
Lucifer jumps like he'd just noticed she was there. "Oh- oh, Maggie," he huffs, shaking his head in exasperation. "Thank goodness you're here! You see, this fucking idiot woke up for a sec, took one look at me, and freaked out! I tried to talk to him, but he wasn't all there yet, and decided it'd be smart to just thrash around and scream like a bat out of… well, you know!" He puts his hands on his hips, glaring daggers at the angel. "I just knew he'd just rip those stitches right out - after all Charlie went through to sew him up in the first place! Ugh!"
"Sounds like he was pretty confused…" Vaggie remarks in thought. "Did he seem to recognize anything? Like, where he was, who you were, that his wings were gone…?"
"Oh yeah, he recognized me," Lucifer mutters. "That's why he went berserk. He did not want me touching him, but… well, right now, it can't be helped." He gently hooks his arms under Adam's, nodding towards the angel's lower half. "Can you be a dear and grab his legs?"
With a sigh, Vaggie kneels down. It's definitely the last thing she wants to do, but she isn't about to refuse the King of Hell himself. Carefully, she grabs Adam's legs and together, the two short ex-angels somehow lift one of the tallest humans back up onto the bed.
Removing the soaked bandages reveals the stitches are half ripped out, some blood leaking from the undone corners of the wounds, but it's not as bad as it looked on the floor. Lucifer's magic is able to quickly resew them shut, summoning new bandages. "I guess I needed to change those soon anyway," the king gripes under his breath. "Thanks for your help."
Instead of a reply, Vaggie covers her face with her hands and groans, sinking down onto a nearby chair. "Mierda…"
Lucifer sighs too, running a hand through his hair. "Look, Maggie-"
"It's Vaggie, sir."
"Right, that's what I said. Anyway, I know there's a bit of kinship between us, being two angels cast out from Heaven. The circumstances that made us fall may be different, but I can imagine that this guy had a hand in your exile, and he is not on your list of favorite people." Lucifer gestures sourly to Adam's sleeping form. "It's the same for me. I'd have much rather killed him out there - and I actually wonder if that was the more merciful option, given the fuckton of pain he seems to be in."
"Losing your wings is… a traumatic experience," Vaggie whispers, her voice hoarse. "But… I don't think we could've killed him." Not in front of…
"Yes, I think you're correct," Lucifer says with a nod. "Which shows another thing we have in common: we both love Charlie to bits, and would never want to let that perfect princess down."
With a shy smile, Vaggie tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "You're very right about that, sir." Charlie is her first relationship - and hopefully her only - so this sort of feels like the 'speaking with the parents' stage of human couples.
"So what I'm trying to get at here is… that frustration you feel, having to help out the First Dick here when you don't even want to be near him? I get it." Lucifer looks over their charge once more, a cloudiness covering his gaze. "But Charlie wants to help, and that girl has the hugest goddamned heart I've ever known. Though I wasn't on board with her whole hotel idea at first, I've since changed my mind. Seeing my citizens all work together to fight against Heaven was pretty fucking inspiring, you know."
It was. Vaggie still can't believe everyone managed to come together and pull it off. Yes, they didn't come out unscathed, and their losses weigh heavily on them, but it could've been much, much worse.
Lucifer continues, "So, as her proud papa… I want her to keep succeeding. If she continues to try and redeem people - even the likes of Adam - who am I to stop her? After all - I love her way more than I hate him."
"I want nothing but good things for her, too - she deserves it," Vaggie assures. "I just… hope there won't be too many issues with him."
The king pointedly looks at the cuffs he'd clamped around Adam's wrists. "Well, physically, he won't be a threat with those. He can't even fly anymore. It'll be like having someone unpleasant as a guest for an undisclosed amount of time. And if the experiences of the retail workers I've met down here are anything to go off of, it's best to just ignore those types of entitled customers."
Lucifer pauses for a second, working something through in his head. "Speaking of unpleasant and entitled people… Keeping Adam alive is worth it to see that bellboy taken down a peg." He cracks a smirk and shrugs sheepishly. "It must be a huge blow to his pride that he wasn't allowed to finish his 'fun'. I gotta admit, I'm feeling a bit of schadenfreude at that!"
Vaggie snorts, amused to see Lucifer's weird rivalry with Alastor is still going strong. "I can't blame you, sir."
"And hey - say Adam recovers here for weeks or whatever and bitches the whole time, only to fuck off to Heaven without so much as a 'thank you'…" Lucifer stops to grimace, the thought clearly sounding as unpleasant to him as it does to Vaggie. "…Even if that happens, he'll still be alive, and you know that will be enough for Charlie. She'll know she didn't go through all that for nothing."
Vaggie thinks back to Charlie weeping in her arms, fragments of apologies and names escaping her lips. Adam, unfortunately, had been one of those names. She thinks of her own musings about last night, about everything that connected her to the other amputated angel.
"I'll keep supporting her, sir," she promises. "And… I'll do my best to help with what I can." Whatever kind of help that means is uncertain, but she'll keep pushing forward and try to choose compassion, even when it's difficult.
"Attagirl! I knew you were perfect for my daughter."
The king's praise makes Vaggie's chest warm. "I think I should go check on her, actually - if she's awake, I'll let her know Adam woke up for a second. She'll be happy to hear that, at least."
"She will, won't she?" Lucifer's face melts back to a warm smile. "Aw, hell, I wanna come check on her too! First Dick-and-Balls here is stable; he can stand to be alone for a few minutes." He gathers up his coat - newly conjured, as they ripped his old one to shreds - and places his hat back on his head. "Do you mind?"
Vaggie chuckles. "Not at all, Your Majesty."
"Oh, cut that out, Maggie! You're family!" With a wide, sharp-toothed grin, Lucifer wraps an arm around Vaggie's shoulder, shuffling her out of the room and down the hallway. It's a bit abrasive, but Vaggie can't help but smile along with the king.
As they walk away, something catches Vaggie's attention - in the corner of her eye, she sees something dark moving quickly in the direction of Adam's door. When she turns to look, however, there's nothing there.
Fuck, I need more sleep, Vaggie thinks, and shakes her head clear. Maybe getting out of bed at dawn wasn't the best move, if she's seeing things that aren't there.