Slowly Isobel's breathing settled and the pain in her chest became a dull ache. She dragged herself from the floor and stripped off the blood stained dress. She threw it in a corner of the room as far from herself as possible. She tried showering. She stood under the water for a long time, scrubbed her skin pink, and though all signs of the night washed off her body, she still did not feel clean enough.
Isobel searched for her old clothes. She had been able to buy new ones, but couldn't stand the thought of them on her skin. She needed her clothes from before, she needed the feeling of home. Black t-shirt, black jeans, she even found her socks and put them on, even though she discovered one had a hole. She hugged everything to her body, and then put on her jacket making sure to zip it all the way up and tugged the hood over her head.
She laid in bed curled up watching the window. All the lights from the city shined back at her like angry eyes.
A few times people came knocking at her door. Angel, then Charlie, then Angel and Charlie together. Even Husker tried, telling her through the door that he'd make her a drink, though Isobel was pretty sure Angel put him up to it. She ignored them all and stared blankly, not really seeing anything, just running the night over and over in her head.
She sighed heavily, and then spoke into the silence.
"I know you're there."
Behind her the shadows coalesced into the figure of Alastor. Vaggie was right, locked doors couldn't keep him out.
"Not my intention to disturb, however, Angel is worried for you and asked if I would check on you after tonight's incident."
"Is that what we're going to call it? An incident?"
"We can call it something else if you prefer. A row, brawl, Donnybrook… I could go on."
"No, I think that's enough." She rolled over to face him, sat up, and pulled her knees to her chest. "I'll be fine. I guess I just forgot where I was or what kind of people were around. It's kind of stupid actually. I've spent all this time living in Hell exhausted from keeping my guard up so nothing bad would happen, and then the minute I relax just a little bit, something bad happens."
"Bad things happen all too frequently, I'm afraid. I am only glad that I was there to be of assistance."
Isobel gave a harsh little laugh. "Yeah, the comedic irony of you being my white knight."
"Too true, but pain and fear are only enjoyable if I'm the one causing them."
"Comforting."
The two stayed silent for a moment. And then Alastor spoke again.
"I believe sleep would do you well."
"Ha, yeah right. Not tonight. I know someone like you probably doesn't understand what it's like to be afraid of the dark, but…" Isobel shook her head.
It was true Alastor was usually the monster lurking in the dark rather than the one fearful of it. He looked at Isobel and remembered her expression right before she fled from the club. It intrigued him, so he decided to take a step out of character.
"Perhaps you just need someone to watch over you tonight to allay your fears."
Isobel scoffed, "what, are you volunteering?" He looked at her expectantly. Oh, she realized with a shock, he was, in fact, volunteering. "So you're just going to stand in the dark all night and watch me sleep?"
"If that is what is needed."
"That's fucking weird." Isobel thought the whole thing absurd. "You standing in a corner all night smiling sounds scarier than anything else I can imagine. Your face probably glows in the dark."
Alastor seethed. Very well, if she was going to be ungrateful. "I don't have to stand in a corner, I could watch you from the foot of your bed, or hide under it. Or I could just leave."
He moved to the door and Isobel reached out her hands to stop him.
"Ok, wait," she said. It was all fun and games, poking fun at Alastor, but the thought of being left alone suddenly sent her into a panic. She was afraid, and embarrassed that she was afraid. "Fine, fine. Don't leave. Just," she ran her fingers through her hair and gritted her teeth quite frustrated. She was tired of talking. "Just lay down and don't speak."
Alastor raised an eyebrow confused, seemed like a trick of some kind, but did as she requested. He leaned his cane against the headboard and laid down next to her on his back, clasping his hands over his stomach and crossing his ankles. He stared up at the ceiling and felt very awkward.
Isobel pulled her hood as far over her face as she could and laid down next to him, curled in a ball. Alastor raised a finger and gave it a little twirl at which all the lights went out.
Isobel counted her breaths until she fell asleep.
Several times she woke in the dark, sitting bolt upright gasping and clutching her chest. She sat in the dark, wild eyed, not quite sure where she was. Each time a comforting hand reached out and rested on her shoulder, pulling her back down to sleep.
Eventually, she fell into a dreamless state and rested.
Morning light played across Isobel's face. She blinked. Her vision was blurry and her head hurt, so she decided to go back to sleep. She pulled her pillow in tight and nuzzled her face into it, but something didn't feel right. She blinked again and saw nothing but red.
"Fucking Christ!" Isobel exclaimed, jumping back.
"Oh, good, you're awake," Alastor said. He sounded like he was in a fine mood, positively chipper. It gave Isobel a headache. "You were hanging on my arm for quite some time. I feared my hand might fall asleep." Alastor sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Nothing as bothersome as pins and needles, wouldn't you agree?"
"Why are you still here?" Isobel asked. He looked back at her as if the answer was obvious.
"You asked me to stay, so I stayed."
"Yeah, but I thought you would leave when I fell asleep, or get bored and find something better to do."
"One thing you should know about me," he said as he stood. "I always keep my word." Grabbing his cane, Alastor made his way to the door. "But you are correct, there are many things that require my attention, so this is where I leave you. I hope my presence in some small way comforted you, but I think we should keep this night between you and I. Wouldn't want to tarnish your reputation."
He didn't wait for her response and simply slipped out the door.
Isobel wasn't sure whose reputation he was really worried about, hers or his. It probably wouldn't do much for his street cred if it got out that he performed an act of kindness, but on the other hand it would be an uncomfortable conversation for her to explain how and why she had slept with the Radio Demon. It was a strange night, better left forgotten, she decided.
She rolled out of bed, a clear purpose forming in her mind. She needed to speak to Lucifer again about a possible conference with Heaven. She needed to push the matter if she was ever going to get out of here. She had been sitting on her laurels, playing house, instead of finding a way back to where she belonged.
She unzipped her jacket as she entered the bathroom. She wanted to splash water on her face, but the image in the mirror brought her to an abrupt halt. She did not recognize the person staring back at her.
Her bottom lip had a dark split where blood had dried, her left cheek bone was swollen and purple, and her neck was covered in dark, finger shaped bruises. A flood of emotions came over her as the events of the previous night played back in her head.
She quickly zipped her jacket back up, trying to cover as much of the damage as possible. Maybe she would wait until she healed to talk to Lucifer again.
She was now torn between leaving her room and facing the looks of pity and incessant questions, or staying alone with the crushing silence. Uncharacteristically, she decided that she needed people today. She needed noise and company.
So she went down stairs. She allowed the questions and Charlie's hugs. She even participated in the redemption lessons. She stayed close to Angel all day and he easily took on the protective brother role. After all, he understood all too well what it was like to be roughed up by a douchebag.
In the evening Cherri Bomb came to visit. She had a gift for Isobel. That afternoon she had braved the rubble and found Isobel's boots in the destroyed dressing room. The gesture was so kind that Isobel thought she might cry, but instead simply said 'thank you.'
Long into the night they all sat in the lobby watching terrible television shows, all these comforting souls surrounding Isobel as she sat in the corner of the couch hugging her knees. However, the hours dragged on and one by one each retired to bed, and Isobel found herself alone in the quiet darkness of her room. Still in her clothes, jacket zipped to the throat, hood snug over her head, she tried to sleep. She willed herself to forget her fears, to believe that she was safe. But it was no use.
She tossed and turned and eventually sat up and said into the quiet night, "well, shit."