The silence between them was heavy, broken only by the soft sounds of Charlie's quiet sobs against Spawn's chest. For the first time, the stoic Hellspawn wasn't consumed by rage or guilt but instead stood motionless, allowing her to grieve for everything he'd been through.
Charlie's mind swirled with thoughts. The memories she had just witnessed, the battles, the pain, the victories, and the sacrifices—it was overwhelming. And the realization that Al Simmons, a being capable of reshaping worlds and dethroning celestial entities, was standing in her hotel was almost too much to process.
She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, her cheeks streaked with tears. There was a question clawing at her mind, one she couldn't ignore.
"Al... how?" she asked, her voice shaky but steadying with resolve. "How did you get here? Why are you here?"
Spawn's glowing green eyes dimmed as he sighed, the weight of the question evident in his expression.
"I don't know," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "I've been trying to figure that out ever since I got here. One moment, I was... back home. And the next, I was in this version of hell."
Charlie's brows furrowed in confusion. "Do you think... do you think someone sent you here? Like... for a reason?"
Spawn let out a bitter chuckle, his cape shifting faintly around him like a living shadow. "Reason? If there is one, no one's told me. I've been dropped into a world I don't know, surrounded by people who—" He paused, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "—people who don't deserve the hell they're trapped in. Maybe that's why I'm here. Maybe this is just another punishment, another way for me to see what I've lost. Or maybe... maybe it's a second chance to make things right."
Charlie's eyes widened slightly, her tears slowing. "A second chance? You think this is your redemption?"
Spawn hesitated. Redemption wasn't a word he thought about often. It felt... unreachable, like something that didn't apply to someone like him. "I don't know, Charlie. All I know is that, for the first time in a long time, I've met people who care. People like you. And maybe... maybe that means something."
Charlie smiled through her tears, her hand resting lightly on his arm. "It does, Al. It means everything. And whatever brought you here, I'm glad it did. You're not alone anymore. We'll figure this out together."
For a moment, Spawn didn't respond. But the faintest flicker of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—a rare and fleeting expression of gratitude.
Charlie's quiet sobs began to slow as the weight of reality pressed down on them both. Spawn looked down at her, his glowing green eyes softening for a brief moment, though his voice remained steady and resolute. He reached a clawed hand to her shoulder, firm but not harsh, grounding her in the moment.
"This can't last, Charlie," he said, his deep, gravelly voice low but unwavering. "I have to go. If I don't, they'll follow through on their threat. I won't let that happen. Too many lives are at stake."
Charlie sniffled, her hands trembling as she wiped at her tear-streaked face. Her grip on his arm tightened slightly, unwilling to let him go. "I know," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "But I'm not giving up. Al, I promise you, no matter what it takes, I'll find a way to help. You don't have to do this alone."
Spawn said nothing for a moment, his glowing eyes fixed on her. Something deep inside him stirred, an emotion he rarely allowed himself to feel. She deserved more than his silence, more than the walls he kept firmly built around himself. With a faint flex of his clawed hand, a pendant materialized in his palm, the dark metal etched with his sigil, its surface glimmering faintly as if charged with his very essence. The air around it seemed to hum softly with an otherworldly energy as he held it out to her.
"This," he said after a moment, his voice quieter but no less steady, "will let anyone who touches it see my past. Everything I've been through. Everything I've endured. It's yours now."
Charlie's red eyes widened as she stared at the pendant, her breath hitching. The significance of his gesture hit her like a wave. She looked up at him, her lips parting, but no words came immediately. "You're… giving this to me? Are you sure?" Her voice trembled with disbelief and awe, her hands hovering near the pendant but not daring to touch it yet.
Spawn's gaze didn't waver. "You deserve to know everything," he said simply. "You've already seen my past, but this... this will help others understand more, especially if I'm not here."
Her hand hesitated as it reached toward the pendant. The gravity of the moment wasn't lost on her. Spawn was not a man who shared lightly, nor did he give away pieces of himself so freely. For him to entrust her with something so deeply personal—it meant everything.
"Are you absolutely sure?" she asked again, her voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the fragile moment.
"I trust you," he said, his voice firm but laced with a sincerity that made her heart ache.
The words hit her harder than anything else he could have said. Spawn didn't give trust lightly. Those three words were a gift more precious than anything she could have imagined. Her breath caught in her throat as tears began to stream down her cheeks again, though this time, they were filled with gratitude and something deeper, something that bound them in understanding.
"Thank you, Al," she whispered, her hand finally closing gently over the pendant. It felt cold and heavy in her palm, yet it carried a strange warmth, as if imbued with a piece of him. "I'll keep it safe. And I won't let you down. I promise."
Spawn gave her a slow, faint nod, his towering figure almost seeming to soften in the glow of her gratitude. But the moment didn't linger. He stepped back, the shadows of his cape shifting around him, alive with purpose, enveloping him in a dark, protective shroud. For a moment, he turned his gaze back to her, as if memorizing her face, before the hardened edge of resolve returned to his expression.
"Stay strong, Charlie," he said, his voice low but gentle, carrying an unspoken promise of its own.
Before she could say more, he turned away, the shadows rising around him. In the blink of an eye, he disappeared, leaving Charlie standing alone in the quiet toom, clutching the pendant tightly to her chest. She closed her eyes, a silent vow forming in her mind. Whatever it took, she would keep her promise.
Lucifer paced the grand halls of his palace, his mind restless. Though he prided himself on being composed, the ticking clock and the weight of Heaven's ultimatum were beginning to wear on him. Still, he knew better than to doubt Spawn's integrity. Whatever else the man might be, he was someone who honored his word.
He glanced at the time once more, tapping his fingers on the arm of his throne. For a moment, he considered calling Charlie, just to check on her and make sure she wasn't spiraling. He hated to admit it, but he could sense that his daughter was deeply affected by all of this.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, the shadows in the room shifted, and Spawn materialized in front of him. Lucifer turned, relief momentarily flashing across his face before his usual composure returned. "You're back," he said, his voice steady but edged with concern. "How did it go?"
Spawn's expression was unreadable as he approached, his movements deliberate and calm despite the heaviness in the air. "It went about as well as you'd expect," he said flatly, though his tone carried an undertone of emotion. "She took it hard. Real hard."
Lucifer nodded, a faint sigh escaping his lips. "I thought as much," he admitted, leaning back slightly. "She cares about you, you know. Perhaps more than even she realizes."
Spawn was silent for a moment, his glowing green eyes narrowing slightly. "I know," he said finally, his voice low but resolute. "That's why I had to tell her. She deserved the truth."
Lucifer studied him for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "You've done something not many in Hell—or Heaven—would ever do. You've shown her a side of you that you've kept hidden from everyone else. That kind of trust… it's rare."
Spawn's cape shifted around him as if alive, mirroring his unease. "She's earned it," he said simply. "If anyone deserves to know who I am, it's her."
Lucifer's gaze softened, his usual aloofness giving way to something more sincere. "She'll be alright," he said, his voice quieter now. "Charlie is stronger than most give her credit for. And I think she's found strength in knowing you."
Spawn nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he glanced toward the distant windows of the palace. The countdown loomed over them like a heavy shadow, but for now, there was nothing more to be said.
Without a word, Lucifer turned on his heel, motioning for Spawn to follow. The Hellspawn moved silently behind him, his boots echoing faintly against the polished marble floors of the palace. The tension between them was palpable, yet neither spoke as they made their way through the expansive corridors, past countless ornate doors and flickering infernal torches.
Finally, they entered a darkened chamber at the far end of the hall, its walls lined with ancient tomes and glowing runes. At its center was a massive circular table embedded with celestial and infernal symbols, its surface shimmering faintly as Lucifer approached. With a subtle flick of his wrist, a holographic interface sprang to life, its ethereal glow casting sharp shadows across the room.
Lucifer's expression hardened as he activated the communication channel. After a moment, the hologram flickered, and the image of an Exorcist sergeant appeared. Her armor gleamed in celestial light, her features sharp and stern, radiating the kind of authority that came with absolute conviction.
"Lucifer," she said curtly, her tone clipped and devoid of pleasantries.
Lucifer didn't flinch. His voice was calm but carried an edge of command. "I have Spawn here," he said, gesturing to the Hellspawn at his side. "He's willing to go with you of his own volition. This ends here."
The Exorcist's eyes narrowed slightly, her lips curling into a faint, smug smile. "A wise decision," she replied. "It's better this way—for everyone."
But Lucifer wasn't finished. His gaze sharpened, and the commanding presence he'd cultivated filled the room. "Understand this," he said coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "There will be no theatrics, no grand displays of Heaven's might. You will come to my palace, you will take him, and that will be the end of it. No one else in Hell will be harmed, and no one will forget the terms of this agreement."
The Exorcist hesitated for a moment, clearly displeased by the limitations he was imposing. She opened her mouth as if to protest but quickly thought better of it. After a long, tense pause, she nodded stiffly. "Agreed," she said.
Lucifer leaned back slightly, his expression neutral but his eyes filled with quiet triumph. "Then it's settled. You'll have him, and Heaven will leave Hell in peace."
The hologram flickered out, and the room fell into an uneasy silence. Lucifer turned to Spawn, his face unreadable. "This is it," he said simply. "I hope you're ready."
Spawn's green eyes glowed faintly in the dim light. "I'm always ready."
As the two stood in silence, the air heavy with anticipation, Lucifer found himself studying Spawn. His gaze lingered, uncharacteristically thoughtful, a flicker of something close to admiration passing through his eyes.
Spawn, ever perceptive, caught the look and turned his head slightly. "What?" he asked, his deep voice tinged with curiosity. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Lucifer smirked faintly, leaning against the ornate pillar beside him. "I never thought someone like you would end up causing this much trouble for Heaven," he admitted. "Hell, I didn't think anyone could."
Spawn tilted his head, his glowing green eyes narrowing. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Lucifer shrugged, the faintest trace of a grin tugging at his lips. "It means that for all their bluster about being untouchable, you've forced them to acknowledge a problem they can't ignore. And not just because you're powerful—though I'd be lying if I said that wasn't part of it. But you've made a difference in ways that go beyond violence."
Spawn crossed his arms, his cape shifting slightly in response. "You don't strike me as the type to get sentimental, Lucifer."
"Sentimental?" Lucifer chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Hardly. At least not over things like this. But credit where it's due. You've done something here, Spawn. You've not only managed to shake up Hell's order but Heaven's as well. And, surprisingly, you've done more than just stir chaos—you've inspired something. Hope, perhaps."
Spawn's eyes narrowed further, skepticism etched across his scarred face. "Hope? That sounds more like Charlie's department."
Lucifer's smirk softened into something more genuine. "Maybe. But you've been a part of it, whether you like it or not. And not just for the people of Hell."
Spawn arched a brow, unsure where Lucifer was going with this.
"You've made a difference with me," Lucifer admitted, his tone losing its usual smug edge. "I've ruled Hell for longer than I care to count, but I let myself grow stagnant. I shut myself away, let others take the reins while I wallowed in my own frustrations. Were it not for you… I might never have gotten my act together."
Spawn stared at Lucifer, unaccustomed to such candidness from the King of Hell. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of Lucifer's words hanging between them.
Finally, Spawn broke the silence. "Well," he said gruffly, "I guess it's nice to know I've been good for something here."
Lucifer laughed quietly, a rare, genuine sound. "More than you realize, my friend. More than you realize."
Charlie took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she stood in the bustling lobby of the hotel. Her fingers tightened around the pendant that Al had entrusted to her, its weight feeling heavier than it should. She scanned the crowd, her eyes landing on Vaggie, Angel, Husk, and Niffty. Lifting her hand, she signaled for them to come over.
The four exchanged curious glances but made their way to her without question.
Vaggie was the first to speak, her tone filled with concern. "Charlie, what's going on? You look like you've been crying. Did something happen?"
Charlie hesitated, her thumb brushing over the surface of the pendant as she wrestled with how much to say. Finally, she looked at them, her expression a mixture of determination and worry. Without a word, she held up the pendant for them to see.
"This," she said softly, "is something Al gave me. There's… a lot you all need to know."
Angel tilted his head, his usual sass momentarily replaced by genuine curiosity. "What is it? Some kinda cursed bling or somethin'?"
Niffty leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with fascination. "Ooh, it looks old! Is it magical? Does it grant wishes?!"
Husk took a sip from his flask, his gruff voice cutting through the chatter. "Whatever it is, it doesn't look like good news."
Charlie nodded, clutching the pendant tighter. "It's not exactly good news, Husk. But it's important. Please, come with me. We need to talk—somewhere private."
Without waiting for a response, she turned and began walking toward the room she had just left, her steps purposeful but heavy. The others followed, their curiosity growing with every step.
Once inside, Charlie closed the door behind them, her back leaning against it for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. The room still held the faint echo of her earlier conversation with Al, and the weight of everything she had seen in his memories pressed down on her.
Vaggie stepped closer, her hand gently resting on Charlie's arm. "Whatever it is, we're here for you. Just tell us."
Charlie looked at each of them in turn, her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination. "What I'm about to tell you isn't just about Al. It's about everything he's been through. And why he's doing what he's doing right now."
As the group settled in to listen, Charlie held the pendant close to her heart, silently vowing to honor the trust Al had placed in her.
"This pendant," Charlie began, holding it up for them to see, "is more than just something Al gave me. It's… a window. A way to see his past. Everything he's been through."
Angel raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "So, what? It's like some kinda magic slideshow? Sounds like a lot of drama to me."
Charlie shook her head, her expression grave. "It's not just drama, Angel. It's real. And it's important. Al trusted me with this because he knew I'd only share it with people who could be trusted."
Niffty, her curiosity piqued, leaned in closer, her small hands clasped together. "Ooh, so we get to see what made him so… him? That's exciting!"
Husk let out a low grumble, taking a sip from his flask. "Sounds like we're about to see a whole lotta shit we didn't sign up for."
Charlie's gaze softened as she looked at each of them. "You're all my family. And I need you to understand why Al is the way he is. Why he's willing to do what he's doing now. But I won't force you. If you don't want to know, you don't have to touch it."
The group exchanged hesitant glances. Vaggie stepped forward first, her trust in Charlie unwavering. "I'll do it. If this is important to you, then it's important to me."
Charlie gave her a small, grateful smile before holding out the pendant. One by one, the others placed their hands on it, Angel grumbling under his breath as he joined in.
The moment their fingers touched the pendant, a wave of necroplasmic energy surged through the room. The world around them shifted and blurred, and suddenly, they were no longer in the hotel.
They were standing inside a memory. A church, filled with the soft glow of candles, as a younger Al Simmons stood at the altar with Wanda, exchanging vows. The happiness on their faces was almost tangible, a stark contrast to the chaos they knew of Al's current life.
Before anyone could comment, the scene shifted violently. Now, they were in Botswana, watching Al's betrayal unfold as Chapel burned him alive. The group flinched at the sheer brutality, Niffty letting out a soft gasp as Angel muttered, "Damn, that's rough."
The memories continued to unravel, showing them the horrors of the hell Al was sent to, the torment he endured, and the moment Malebolgia offered him a twisted deal.
Vaggie clenched her fists, her voice trembling with anger. "He didn't deserve this. No one deserves this."
The scenes became a blur of pain, anger, and defiance as they witnessed Spawn's battles—against Violator, against the Redeemer, against forces of both Heaven and Hell. They saw his love for Wanda and his unwavering commitment to protect Cyan, even from the shadows.
Finally, they saw his ultimate battle against God and Satan, his ascension, and his eventual fall back into despair. The memory of him holding a shotgun to his own chin struck a chord of silence through the group, the weight of his suffering pressing down on them.
As the vision ended, they were pulled back into the room, the pendant's glow fading. None of them spoke at first, their minds reeling from what they had just witnessed.
Angel broke the silence, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "That… that was some heavy shit."
Niffty wiped at her eye, sniffling for a moment. "He's been through so much. I can't believe he's still standing after all of that."
Husk looked down at his flask, his usual gruffness replaced with a quiet respect. "That guy's tougher than anyone I've ever met. Hell, tougher than I ever wanna be."
Vaggie turned to Charlie, her expression filled with a mix of anger and sorrow. "Charlie, we have to help him. After everything he's been through, he doesn't deserve to go through more."
Charlie nodded, tears streaming down her face again. "I know. We have to find a way to bring him back. We just have to."
As the group sat in contemplative silence, the gravity of what they had just seen began to sink in. One by one, they started voicing their thoughts, each perspective adding another layer to the complexity of Spawn's story.
Vaggie was the first to speak, her voice firm yet laced with awe. "He's so much more than just a soldier. Everything he's been through… it's like he's a force of nature. A fighter, a survivor, and in some ways… a conqueror. He didn't just endure; he overcame things that should've broken anyone."
Angel leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he let out a low whistle. "So, we're just casually harboring a god killer in the hotel, huh? I mean, not gonna lie—that's metal as fuck. But also, uh…" His voice trailed off for a moment before he added, softer, "Man, that guy's been through it. Like, all of it."
Niffty twirled her fingers together, her usual energy dimmed by the weight of what she had seen. "He's… wow. He's the ultimate bad boy, isn't he? I mean, look at everything he's done! But also… I feel so bad for him. He's been carrying so much pain, and he doesn't let anyone in to help."
Husk was unusually quiet, his brow furrowed as he stared at the pendant still glowing faintly in Charlie's hand. "Weird thing is…" he muttered, his voice uncharacteristically subdued, "I feel like I've seen all this before. Like déjà vu, but stronger. I can't put my finger on it, but something about his story feels familiar."
Charlie looked around at her friends, their reactions solidifying her resolve. "He's more than all of that," she said softly. "He's a protector. Even after all he's been through, he doesn't stop fighting for what he believes in. For the people he cares about." She tightened her grip on the pendant, her voice growing more determined. "We can't let him face this alone. We have to help him."
The others exchanged glances, nodding in agreement. Angel grinned faintly, his cocky demeanor returning. "Alright, Princess. What's the game plan? We're gonna raise hell for heaven, or what?"
Vaggie shifted as she straightened up. "Whatever we do, we need to be smart about it. Heaven doesn't play fair, and neither should we."
Niffty clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and determination. "I can help! I'll be the sneaky one!"
Husk sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess I'm in, too."
Charlie smiled through her tears, her heart swelling with gratitude for the family she had built around her. "Thank you. All of you. We'll find a way. Together."
The calm in the room shifted as the air crackled with divine energy. A glowing portal opened up within Lucifer's palace, bathing the room in a harsh, golden light. Emerging from the radiance were a group of Exorcists clad in their immaculate white armor, their presence radiating an unspoken hostility.
Leading them was a woman who Spawn immediately recognized—Lute, the leader of the Exorcists. Her imposing figure was only matched by the steely determination in her eyes. She scanned the room, her gaze locking onto Spawn with a flicker of disdain before addressing Lucifer with a curt nod.
"Lucifer," she said flatly, her voice carrying the same sanctimonious tone Spawn remembered from their previous encounter.
Lucifer's eyes shifted to Spawn, one brow arching in mild amusement. "You know her?"
Spawn crossed his arms, his glowing green eyes narrowing as he regarded Lute. "Yeah," he said tersely. "She and her little hit squad tried to bring me in once before. Didn't end well for them."
The corner of Lucifer's mouth quirked into a faint smirk. "I take it you didn't roll out the welcome mat."
Lute's composure faltered for the briefest of moments, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Your… pet," she spat, her tone dripping with venom, "resorted to barbarism and slaughter. It hardly matters now, though. He's here to surrender." Her smugness returned, a glint of triumph flashing in her eyes.
Spawn took a step forward, his cape billowing behind him as his voice rumbled through the chamber. "The only reason I'm here is because your side decided to play dirty. Threatening innocent lives—hellborn and sinner alike—just to get what you want? That's low, even for you."
Lute's expression soured further, but she quickly masked it with an air of righteous superiority. "Innocent?" she scoffed, her gaze sweeping over Spawn with thinly veiled contempt. "You think the creatures of Hell are innocent? Every soul here is guilty. You most of all."
Spawn's fists clenched, but Lucifer raised a hand, his tone casual yet firm. "Now, now, Lute. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. The deal was made: you come here, you take him, and you leave."
Lute glared at Lucifer but didn't argue. Her hand motioned to the Exorcists behind her, and they began to move forward, their weapons ready.
Spawn stood his ground, his piercing green eyes locked on Lute. "Let's get this over with," he growled, his voice low and unwavering.
The tension in the room thickened as Lute waved her hand, signaling for her Exorcists to move forward. Two of them approached Spawn with glowing chains, the divine energy humming faintly in the air.
"Bind him," Lute commanded, her voice sharp and authoritative.
Before the Exorcists could get any closer, Lucifer stepped between them and Spawn, raising a hand to stop them. "That won't be necessary," he said, his tone casual but edged with warning.
Lute's eyes narrowed. "It's standard procedure."
Lucifer gave a soft laugh, though his gaze was anything but amused. "Oh, don't insult me, Lute. This isn't about procedure. It's about flexing your so-called authority. He's going willingly, isn't he?"
Spawn stepped forward, his glowing green eyes briefly meeting Lucifer's. "It's fine," Spawn said, his voice calm but firm. "Let them do what they need to do. We agreed—no theatrics."
Lucifer turned to face Spawn, his expression a mix of frustration and begrudging respect. "It's not about whether or not you're fine with it," Lucifer replied. "It's about principle. You're surrendering willingly, yet they feel the need to put on this little show. It's ridiculous."
Lute crossed her arms, clearly growing impatient. "If he's truly willing, then he won't mind."
Lucifer turned his gaze back to her, his tone sharp. "You're so predictable, Lute. Always taking the opportunity to rub salt in the wound. Typical."
Spawn raised a hand, cutting through the rising tension. "Lucifer, drop it. We're wasting time. Let them do what they came here to do so this can be over with."
Lucifer let out a frustrated sigh but stepped aside, motioning for the Exorcists to proceed. "Fine," he muttered. "But this is exactly why I stopped trying to reason with your kind."
The Exorcists moved in, carefully clasping the glowing chains around Spawn's wrists. The moment the chains locked, a faint sizzling sound echoed in the air, the divine energy reacting to the necroplasm coursing through Spawn's body. He didn't flinch, standing tall and unbothered as the Exorcists finished their work.
Lute smirked, satisfied, before motioning for her squad to prepare the portal back to Heaven. "Let's move," she said curtly, turning away from Lucifer and Spawn.
Lucifer's eyes lingered on Spawn as the Exorcists began to lead him away. "You're a better man than most, Spawn," he said quietly, though his voice carried in the room. "Don't let them break you."
Spawn nodded once, his expression unreadable. "I've faced worse."
The portal shimmered into existence, its divine glow casting long shadows across the room. Without hesitation, Spawn stepped forward, leaving Lucifer standing alone as the light swallowed him whole.
As Spawn stepped through the divine portal, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The oppressive heat and sulfuric air of Hell gave way to an unnatural chill, sterile and suffused with an overwhelming sense of divine power. The air itself seemed heavier, pressing against him as though trying to weigh him down.
He didn't falter. His steps were steady, his gaze fixed forward. He neither hung his head in submission nor lifted it in defiance. His posture was neutral, radiating a confidence that couldn't be shaken even here, in the heart of his enemy's domain.
Yet, he also became acutely aware of something. Something he hadn't had to worry about up until this point. Because now that he was out of hell, and no longer surrounded by sin, an old burden reared it's ugly head.
9:9:9:9
