The morning came as usual, light cascaded across Isobel's face until she woke. Nightmares had not plagued her at all that night, so she was in a good mood as she squinted and blinked. As her eyes adjusted she looked over expecting to see Alastor in his usual supine state. Instead, however, she found him facing her, on his side, face relaxed, and complete, totally asleep.
She smiled, thinking, poor deer-boy must have actually been tired this time. She wondered how long it had actually been since he last slept.
His long bangs covered much of his face, only revealing the slightest of smiles. She suddenly had an urge to reach over and gently brush his hair back. Yeah, right. She didn't want to get bit, so she dismissed that invasive thought immediately. Instead, she decided it best to leave him be and quietly read. It would be another hour before he would wake.
When he did, it was with a start. He woke like a wild animal reacting to the shock of a predator. He sprung up hissing, teeth bared, claws out, and antlers growing 2 feet each instantly.
Isobel froze, afraid any movement would draw an attack. When his eyes reached her, a look of recognition fell across his face and he calmed. He had obviously been disoriented and it took him a few moments to remember where he was. He fell back down and rubbed his eyes.
"Are you ok?" Isobel asked, stunned. She made a mental note never to wake Alastor from sleep, he was liable to come out swinging and literally kill her.
"Fine, fine," he reassured. "As I said I do not sleep often, when I do it is unexpected and a bit of a shock when I wake."
"It is very strange to see you sleep."
"How so?" He asked rolling on his side to face her.
"For starters, you don't have that creepy smile when you sleep." He stared at her, not sure if he should feel insulted. "Yeah," she continued pointing at his face. "Like that one right there."
He grumbled and rolled to standing. He had forgotten that he was wearing pajamas and looked down at himself in confusion. This morning was very strange for him.
"Also," Isobel added, turning her attention back to the book in her lap. "You look almost harmless when you're sleeping."
"All the more reason to avoid it."
She looked up at him and saw that he was already in his suit and tie. Ah, magic. Isobel was a bit more than envious. She lifted the book to cover her face.
"Have a wonderful day, Alastor." Her voice came floating from behind the pages. As her eyes scanned the sentences, the butt of a cane appeared resting at the top of the spine. Using it, Alastor pushed the book down until Isobel's eyes met his own.
"And to you, Isobel," he said before disappearing into shadow.
After that night Isobel stopped asking Alastor to sleep in her room. She didn't have to. It became an unspoken expectation that he would be there. Every night she would wait, usually reading into the late hours and eventually he would show.
Alastor became something of a tall, red security blanket for her, and she became a kind of unlikely roommate to him. He continued to tell himself it was all in an effort to endear himself to Isobel for the greater good of using her for his own benefit. However, it was also much easier to sleep with another pair of eyes and ears.
After a few days, Isobel went back to her old routine. She took her walks, though she was a bit more cautious than before. She returned to the library. And waiting. Endlessly waiting.
She waited with Angel and Charlie watching TV. She waited at the bar with Huskar. She waited with Vaggie who offered to teach her some fighting skills. And then she waited by herself.
When she would feel an especially strong need to be alone she would go to the roof. She would lay a blanket down and sit and read, or lay on her back watching the sky and listening to her music.
On a certain afternoon, Isobel sat singing Don't Get Me Wrong by the Pretenders out to the city. She had just gotten to the part about being distracted by the fireworks that go off whenever you smile, when a white, shining angel flew up over the edge of the roof.
His golden hair gleamed in the light as his 6 majestic wings carried him down to the ledge.
"Well, that's impressive," Isobel said, awestruck. A feather floated by and she snatched it out of the air. Long and white, she ran her fingers over the vane and placed it in her pocket for safe keeping. She rose to her feet and pulled her headphones off, as she gave a little wave.
"Hello, Lucifer," she said. "That's one hell of an entrance."
"Oh, that," he said, trying to sound humble. "Charlie said you were probably on the roof and this was just the quickest way." Lucifer also hated climbing stairs.
"It's nice to see you again." She smiled like a dope all too elated that he was just as handsome as the first time she met him. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from the King of Hell?"
He grinned, oh, how he enjoyed flattery.
"I have something for you." He held up a piece of paper and handed it over to Isobel. "You got your meeting."
Taking the paper, Isobel held it to her chest, excitement filling her. "Really? That's amazing!"
"Yeah. A Principality named…" he had to look at the paper again to recall, "Enki will talk to you. Heaven seems pretty keen to fix, whatever it is that happened."
"I can't believe this." Isobel looked at the scrap of paper. It had a day and time (which happened to be tomorrow morning) alongside what looked like a crudely drawn duck. "I can't tell you how much this means to me." She almost felt like crying.
"I'm glad I was able to help. Took some doing, too, Heaven isn't great at listening."
She stared at him in his beautiful face and couldn't help herself.
"Would it be ok if I hugged you?" she asked.
"Oh, shucks," he stammered. "Sure, I guess so."
Isobel wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed. Her hug seemed to make him feel a bit self conscious.
"Well, uh, I just came to give you the good news, and I did. So there you go. I guess I'll, uh, just be on my way then."
As he turned away from her, she suddenly grabbed him by the hand and said, "you're a good guy, Lucifer, don't let anyone tell you different."
He smiled and blushed ever so slightly. He wasn't used to such obvious adoration and praise. He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and smiled, and then stepped off the ledge.
His wings unfurled, catching his weight as they flapped. Isobel did her best to hide her swoon and keep it all inside. She crossed to the edge of the roof and watched him fly down, before looking at the note again. She read it over and over, afraid that it wasn't real.
She was so close now. It seemed like home was just a conversation away. She could finally get back to where she belonged. She suddenly realized that this may be her last night in Hell. She needed to get her stuff together. What if they wanted to take her right away? She practically skipped back to the door that led to the stairwell, all the while not realizing that she was being watched.
On the east side of the hotel, rising tall and foreboding, Alastor's radio tower peered over the roof and it just so happened that Alastor, himself, was in that tower at the moment. Not that he was eavesdropping or spying. Not that he was keeping tabs on her. It just so happened that he coincidentally was in the radio tower at the same time Lucifer and Isobel shared their little moment.
He, of course, could not hear what was said, but he did see Lucifer give her something and then the two of them embraced, which made Alastor's blood boil. In his mind, Isobel was as good as his property, she may as well have a chain around her neck. But he had not actually sealed a deal with her yet. Stupid him, he was beginning to believe that he might not need to. She was always so compliant, even allowing him into her bed.
Their relationship, as it were, was nothing lewd or sexual, but Alastor wondered what Lucifer would say if he'd told him that he and Isobel had been, in fact, sleeping together for some time now. It wouldn't be a lie, not that lying was something Alastor shied away from. He sneered as he watched her leave the roof.
Isobel's packing was surprisingly quick and easy. It felt wrong somehow to take anything she had bought while she had been there. She didn't even know if it would be physically possible for any of that stuff to cross the veil, so she just gathered what she had when she arrived, which turned out to be little. She stuffed her meager belongings into her bag, and spent the rest of the afternoon seeking out the others of the house and telling them of her good news. Not good-byes exactly, Isobel hated good-byes, but if she was, in fact, leaving tomorrow she wanted at least a little more time with those that had been so kind to her.
These people had sheltered her, protected her, cheered her up, and guided her all while dealing with the fact that they were all stuck in the same wretched situation. It goes to prove, Isobel thought to herself, can't really believe what others tell you about a place and its people, especially if they've never been there before. These were not the horrible creatures of fire and sin that she was warned about every Sunday of her childhood. They were not the monsters under the bed lying in wait to feast on her soul.
Of course, there were exceptions.
Alastor was sitting in the parlor drinking coffee and reading a newspaper when Isobel found him.
"Good afternoon, Alastor," she said. She was all full of mirth and glee. Alastor rankled.
"Good afternoon," he said without lowering the paper. He placed his mug on a little table next to his chair and read on. If she had not been so involved with her own happiness, she would have noticed the cold edge in his voice, but she was oblivious.
"I got some good news today."
"Yes, I know." He finally lowered the paper to acknowledge her and feigned delight. "It would seem that you are at last headed home. When is the happy event?"
Isobel felt like he said all this far too exuberantly. Something was off.
"Tomorrow," she replied flatly.
"That soon? No wonder you chose to shower Lucifer with your affection so readily. Looks like this time he's your white knight. I daresay he does fit the part much better."
"Oh, we're doing this again." Now she understood, though she wondered how Alastor knew that Lucifer gave her the message personally. Also, shower her affection? Was he talking about the hug? How would he possibly know about that as well? "Pissing contest again, huh? You know, jealousy is not a good look."
She had hoped the little joke would lighten the mood, but Alastor just laughed in her face, each guffaw laced with spite.
"Hey, he was the only one able to help me," she tried to reason. "So I don't know what your problem is. What do you want from me?"
That was it. He had had enough of this stupid, infuriating woman. He slammed his fist down on the table sending both his mug and Isobel jumping back. He rose from the chair and leaned over her, his other hand curled into a claw as if he would love nothing more than to tear her to pieces.
"I want to eat you." He bared his ferocious teeth as spittle collected at the edges of his mouth. "I want to consume you in all ways imaginable. I want to own you. But more than that, I want you to beg to be owned. I want you to demand to be consumed. By me. I want you to wake up every morning and choose me."
Isobel stood silent for a moment and swallowed.
"Ok," she said, looking him in the eye. Though she had been startled, she wasn't scared. "What the fuck do you think I've been doing? For weeks now I have been choosing you. I choose you every night when I let you into my bed, and every morning when I wake up and you're still there. But let's not pretend this is something that it's not." She held up the scrap of paper. "I'm sorry if this messes up whatever plans you had for me, but right now I have to choose this. I have to go back to where I belong."
As quick as a whip, he caught her by the wrist, his long fingers constricting. He could feel her pulse quicken as the blood pumped under his finger tips. He pulled her in close and said with venom, "we both know you don't belong there, with them."
"What are you talking about?"
"I saw it that night at the club. I saw it on your face after I dispatched those miscreants for you. You looked around at what I had wrought and you weren't afraid or disgusted. You were enthralled. You were smiling."
Like a drum beat her heart fell into the pit of her stomach. Shaking her head she said, "How can you say something like that?"
"Because," he pulled her even closer. "I know my own kind when I see them, and I can smell a predator from a mile away."
She wrenched her arm from his grasp and backed away holding the paper to her chest.
"You're wrong," she said. "I'm not like you."
Calming himself, sitting and opening the newspaper again, he said ever so casually, "if not now, sooner or later you will be."
Breathing heavy and trying to control the trembling in her chin, Isobel didn't know what to say. She stared at him, he was no longer even looking at her.
"Fuck you."
She turned and retreated from the room.
That night Isobel laid in bed, an arm draped over her red, puffy eyes. She was so mad that this was how she was going to spend her last night at the hotel. She should have been excited for tomorrow, but instead she was miserable and alone. She sat up and looked around the room, trying to memorize everything. She wanted to remember it all.
As her eyes scanned, they fell upon a black lump in the corner. It was the dress she had been wearing that night in the club. The one Alastor had bought her. She had torn it off and had thrown it into the corner, and that is where it stayed. She couldn't face it, didn't want to deal with the emotions it would conjure. So it stayed in a heap mostly out of sight. It was a shame. Isobel really liked that dress. She fell back on the bed with a groan.
Of course Alastor had been right about that night. She had been enthralled. She wanted those bastards to hurt, to suffer, to die. She was powerless to do it herself, but Alastor had exacted all of the fury and destruction she had felt brewing inside herself and she had to admit, it felt good.
But he didn't understand. That was the problem. That was why she needed to leave. The darkness she always felt just behind her, following her, it used to feel like it would swallow her whole. But the longer she was here the darkness felt more and more that it was coming from inside of her. She had to leave and it had to be soon or she was afraid she would be lost.
She rolled over and stared out the window wondering how long it would be until she would fall asleep. As she pondered, she suddenly realized she heard noises behind her. It was the now familiar rustle of Alastor moving about the room. After their confrontation that afternoon she had not expected him to want anything to do with her that night. She was glad he was there, but could not bring herself to roll over and face him. She felt the bed shift as he laid down, on his side, his back to her.
He had thought about staying away. She was leaving and therefore no longer any use to him. However, the sleeping arrangement had become something of a routine and despite his chaotic nature, Alastor thrived in routine. This was perhaps the last night he would have to sleep soundly knowing that a light sleeping sentry who was prone to nightmares was there to alert him to anything amiss in the night. Soon enough he would be back in his own room or wandering the halls awake and wary.
They stayed there silent, save the sound of their breathing. Isobel counted Alastor's breaths. When she got to 50, she rolled over to face his back. She shuffled close, but careful not close enough to touch him. She held her arms to her chest and took a breath.
"My nightmares," she began. "I dream of blood and pain, but not my own. I dream that I am the one spilling the blood and causing the pain, and it scares me. That's not me. That can't be me. Please understand."
She closed her eyes and in short order fell asleep. Alastor could feel her breathing on the back of his neck which made his hair stand on end and was very annoying, but soon it became just a rhythm that lulled him into a dreamless slumber.
