Just a heads up before we begin. There will be continued alcohol abuse as well as mentioned suicide attempts and alcohol poisoning. The back half of the chapter was in part inspired by 'Whiskey Lullaby' by Brad Paisley.
Alastor walked up to Charlie's door. She'd been missing all morning and really should've at least shown up before midday. Alastor opened the door and frowned when he saw Charlie missing from her bed. He was about to turn and leave but stopped when Alastor heard coughing from the bathroom. Sighing, the deer demon started toward the sound.
He peered around the door frame and let his smile falter at Charlie positioned over the toilet emptying her guts. Alastor shook his head and with a flick of his wrist, Charlie's hair was pulled back by an unseen force. Charlie didn't acknowledge this, rather she coughed again and continued to vomit.
"Regretting not listening to me yet?' Alastor asked, leaning on the doorway.
Charlie flipped him off as another wave of nausea hit her. Alastor sighed and watched the princess empty what little was left in her stomach. His mind kept drifting to the night before - her desperate kiss, the taste of whiskey on her lips, the way something in him had wanted to...
No. Best not to think about that.
Finally, Charlie pulled herself away from the toilet and collapsed against the wall. She looked up at Alastor and glared at his smug smile, though they both knew it was more mask than genuine.
"Where... where were you?" Charlie asked weakly, her tone made his static crackle.
"I told you I had business to attend to. You decided not to heed my warning and once again got yourself blackout drunk. I must say you made yourself look quite the fool." The words came out harsher than intended, his own discomfort making him cruel. "How much of last night do you remember?"
"Enough..." Charlie looked away, shame coloring her cheeks.
"I'm sure..."
Alastor turned to leave, his shadow writhing with unnamed emotions.
"Alastor, wait!"
He turned to the princess who was struggling to hold herself upright. Something in her voice made his chest ache.
"I- I'm sorry..."
"For what? You're already paying for your actions."
"No, not about that... for..." A rather noticeable blush crept onto Charlie's cheeks and Alastor knew immediately what she was trying to refer to.
Alastor fought desperately to expel his thoughts about their little... intimate evening. The image of her lips on his, even with the alcohol on her breath, made him unusually quiet. For a moment, he could almost feel her hands in his hair again, the desperate way she'd clung to him...
Charlie nervously rubbed her arm, anything she could say about what she did dying on her lips. The silence between them felt heavy with things neither knew how to express.
"You were drunk," Alastor simply said and disappeared into his shadows.
He caught a glimpse of Charlie reaching for him, a tear sliding down her cheek before he fled. 'Coward', his mind whispered. But he didn't know how to handle this - any of it.
Charlie didn't even bother to dress properly. She simply walked out of her room and down in the lobby without donning her suit jacket. Angel and Cherri exchanged worried looks as she grabbed a cold plate of food from the kitchen.
"Should we..." Angel started, but Cherri shook her head. They'd rather not risk the ire of Alastor should he deem them at fault for her current mood.
The others watched as Charlie ate in silence, brushing Kee Kee away as the cat did its best to try and cheer Charlie up. Even Nifty had stopped her usual chattering, watching Charlie with her single eye full of concern.
Alastor manifested in the lobby and took his normal seat, coffee mug in hand. His eyes were immediately on Charlie, the princess still eating away from the rest of the group. Suddenly Charlie stood up from her seat and made her way over to the bar. Instead of taking a seat, she went right behind the bar brushing right past Husk.
Husk didn't say a word as Charlie grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the shelf. Everyone watched as she simply opened the bottle up and started to drink straight from it. Alastor immediately teleported to the bar and glared at Husk before focusing on Charlie.
"I thought we learned our lesson?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
Charlie lowered the bottle and looked at Alastor. Her eyes were hollow, grief and defiance warring in their depths. She didn't say anything, the two staring at each other before she took another deliberate swig. Alastor's anger flared, his antlers beginning to extend from his skull.
"Drinking won't solve anything, my dear," he growled at her, static distorting his voice.
Charlie ignored him and hopped over the bar brushing past the increasingly irate Radio Demon. Alastor's anger flared even more, and the rest of the lobby was growing concerned. The Radio Demon teleported right in front of Charlie who had continued to drink from the bottle.
"Put the bottle down… now!" Alastor ordered through the static.
Charlie took this as downing the rest of the bottle right in front of Alastor. Once she was done, Charlie calmly placed it in one of his outstretched hands. The princess brushed past Alastor once again, grabbing the drink Angel was sipping on.
"Hey!"
Charlie said nothing and disappeared up the stairs, leaving the crew in bewilderment. Husk recognized the look in her eyes—he'd seen it in himself often enough—the look of someone trying to drink themselves into oblivion. Alastor, meanwhile, let his demonic features retreat, but everyone could tell he was barely containing his rage. Without warning, the empty bottle was sent flying across the room, shattering against the wall as Alastor teleported away.
Days blurred together as Alastor watched Charlie's descent continue. Each morning brought new worries of finding her passed out in strange places, discovering hidden bottles in her office, and watching her brighter moments become more forced and artificial.
She wasn't even trying to hide her drinking anymore.
The first time Alastor caught her drinking after their confrontation in the lobby was during a group therapy session with Angel and Cherri, and it hit him like a physical blow. Charlie had always maintained a professional demeanor with the residents - even in her darkest moments before, she'd kept up appearances. Now she swayed through meetings, her words slurring as she tried to lecture about redemption.
The entire crew gathered in the lobby one morning to discuss the goings on. Charlie was once again found passed out due to her drinking. Now she was long asleep in her room leaving the rest to continue to worry about her.
"This is getting bad," Angel told Alastor, genuine fear in his eyes. "Like, really bad. Found her passed out in the kitchen at four in the morning, surrounded by empty bottles. She didn't even remember how she got there."
Cherri nodded beside him. "Yesterday, she tried giving a practice rehabilitation lecture while barely able to stand. When I tried to help her back to her room, she just... laughed. It wasn't like her laugh, almost sounded hollow. She told me everything was 'perfectly fine' and stumbled off."
"She's hiding booze everywhere," Nifty reported anxiously, wringing her hands. "Under her bed, in desk drawers, behind books in the library. I keep cleaning them up but they just... reappear."
"Can't even keep track of how much she's drinking anymore," Husk added grimly. "I've tried watering down the drinks she gets from me but she caught on. She's started bringing her own bottles to the bar. Just sits there, staring at nothing, drinking herself stupid. Won't listen to anyone."
Alastor grimly listened to their stories. He knew it was bad, but not this bad. A thought slid into his mind: He was the one to guide her to the bottle. Whether he liked it or not, this was in part his doing. With no real way of solving the problem, they dispersed and went about their days. The Hotel felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable crash. Their small family watched helplessly as Charlie spiraled deeper into her addiction.
Even Lucifer seemed at a loss, watching his daughter destroy herself one bottle at a time.
"I tried taking the bottles away," he admitted to Alastor that evening. "Charlie just laughed and said she'd find more. She said maybe she'd try some of the harder stuff next time. I don't... I don't know how to help her. What can I even do at this point?"
Alastor didn't have the answer, he too wondered the same thing.
Then came perhaps the worst night of his afterlife up to that point. Alastor was reading the evening paper, enjoying a nice cup of coffee to help keep him on his feet. This had become normal for him in recent days as he waited for the inevitable moment when he would have to grab a passed-out princess from some random corner of the hotel.
His shadow had been tracking her movements, a habit he'd developed as her drinking worsened. Yet with no shadow in sight so far, Alastor assumed she was somewhere safe, drinking her pain away. As he downed the last drops of his drink, his shadow appeared, worry plastered across its face.
"What is it?" he asked, lowering his mug
They alerted him to her precarious position. On the roof, severely intoxicated, and most likely debating on whether to-
Alastor didn't waste a second. He materialized on the rooftop, his eternal smile dropping at the sight before him.
Charlie sat perched on the very edge, her legs dangling over the side. An empty bottle lay beside her, another half-full one clutched in her hand. Her hair whipped wildly in Hell's wind, and she swayed dangerously with each gust. Alastor took a cautious step forward, not wanting to alert Charlie.
"The stars are different here," she slurred, not turning around. "Vaggie used to say they looked like broken glass. Isn't that funny? Broken things are beautiful too."
"Charlie," Alastor said carefully, taking another slow step forward. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation away from the edge."
She laughed - a hollow, bitter sound that made his static crackle with anxiety. "Why? Afraid I'll fall?" She leaned forward slightly, making his shadow twitch. "Wonder if it would hurt. Probably not as much as this does."
"My dear-"
"Did you know," she interrupted, taking another drink, "that she used to bring me up here? When everything got too much. We'd lay back and she'd point out all the ways Hell's stars were different." Charlie tilted her head back, looking at the crimson sky.
Alastor moved closer, his shadow ready to catch her if she slipped. "Charlie, please-"
"I keep thinking maybe if I drink enough, I'll see her again." Charlie's voice cracked as she stood up. "But it doesn't work. Nothing works. I just keep feeling everything and I'm so tired of feeling, Al." She swayed forward again, dramatically. "Maybe if I just-"
"Charlie, my darling demon belle…"
Charlie turned to him and his non-existent heart shattered. Tears flowed freely down her face, her clothes disheveled, her eyes once full of life so devoid of emotion.
"I can't Al… I just-"
Charlie looked at the ledge behind her, then back at Alastor. The Radio Demon took another step forward as if he was anticipating her next move. Charlie shook her head and retreated from him, her right leg too close to the edge for Alastor's liking.
"I can't do it anymore," Charlie finally whispered. "I'm sorry Al."
Time stopped and Alastor's heart froze as Charlie began to lean back.
"CHARLIE!"
Before she was too far over the threshold, Alastor's shadow wrapped around her instantly, pulling her back from the edge. The shadow held her steady as Alastor grabbed onto her. She struggled weakly as he gathered her into his arms, the bottle falling from her grip and shattering far below.
"Let me go!" she cried, beating her fists against his chest. "Let me go, let me go, let me-"
"Never," he growled, holding her tighter as she broke down sobbing.
"I can't do this anymore," she wept into his jacket. "I can't keep pretending I'm okay. I can't keep trying to be strong. I just want it to stop hurting. Please, make it stop hurting."
Alastor sank to his knees, still clutching her to him as his shadow formed a protective barrier around them both. "I know, my dear. I know."
"She would hate me like this," Charlie hiccupped. "She'd be so disappointed. But I don't know how else to... to..."
"To cope?" Alastor finished softly.
Charlie nodded miserably against his chest. "Everything hurts when I'm sober. At least when I'm drunk I can pretend... can pretend..."
"That she's still here?"
"That I deserve to be." The raw honesty in her voice made his static stutter. "She died to save me, Al. She thought I was worth saving. But look at me now - I'm just proving everyone right. The failure of a princess who couldn't even keep her girlfriend alive."
"Charlie-"
"Maybe I should have let that sword hit me instead," she whispered. "Maybe then she'd still be-"
"Stop." Alastor's voice crackled with barely controlled emotion. "Don't you dare finish that thought."
"Why not? It's true. She'd be better at this than me. She was always better at everything..."
Alastor held her tighter as she dissolved into incoherent sobs, his shadows swaying agitatedly around them. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, until Charlie's crying quieted to hiccups and her shivering became too pronounced to ignore.
"Let's get you inside," he murmured, standing with her still cradled in his arms.
"M'sorry," she slurred, the alcohol and emotional exhaustion finally catching up to her. "Didn't mean to scare you."
"I know, my dear." He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I know."
As he carried her down from the roof, Alastor's mind raced. This had gone beyond simple grief drinking. Charlie wasn't just numbing her pain anymore - she was actively trying to destroy herself. Something had to change before he lost her too.
Alastor brought her into her room, stepping over the countless bottles that had accumulated throughout the week. Charlie was fast asleep in his arms, but she still held him tight. The princess would not let him go anywhere, and frankly, he didn't want to.
His shadow pulled back the unkempt sheets of her bed and Alastor sat down. Fear gripped at his chest, the scene of Charlie nearly going over the edge playing over and over again in his head. Alastor exhaled a shaky breath, one he didn't know was holding. He looked down at her sleeping form, once again. A small teary smile tugged at her lips, even after everything she went through that evening.
"Alastor…" she mumbled in her sleep.
There was a static screech, but he pushed it away. Was she dreaming about him, out of all people? Somehow her grip on him tightened and Alastor was pulled down to lay beside her. Before he could do anything to protest, Alastor's shadow betrayed him and laid the bed covers over them both.
Alastor didn't want sleep to claim him; he didn't need the rest. Yet the day's events were now catching up to him, too. His eyelids began to feel heavy, and his body was exhausted. Shakely, he wrapped his arms around the sleeping princess. Alastor heard her sigh and lean into his touch, something Alastor was not prepared for. The Radio Demon lay still for a moment before pulling the princess closer.
"I'm not going anywhere, my darling demon belle."
His eyes slid shut and Alastor fell asleep tangled up with Charlie.
Alastor's eyes fluttered open as the morning sun peaked through the curtains. The night's events were fresh in his mind, yet he was at peace knowing that Charlie was safe in his arms. He turned his head to take in her sight, smiling as he saw the princess sleeping peacefully after her tumultuous night. Charlie was very much still holding on to him, her hair spread wildly on the bed, and wearing a smile that tugged at Alastor's non-existent heart. She was certainly a sight to behold, one could get used to waking up like this.
Alastor paused at that thought. Did he really think that? Did he want to wake up at her side, hold onto her until every little worry faded away? It wouldn't be that bad of a prospect. Did Charlie see good in him even after he committed so many atrocities? She had to if, admittedly drunkenly, told him that she loved him. Would he tear hell apart for her if someone dared to harm Charlie? Probably.
Damn Husk and damn Rosie for making him think he could feel this sort of way about anyone.
A sigh escaped Charlie's lips as she snuggled close to him. Alastor unconsciously pulled Charlie closer, allowing himself just one more moment of peace before reality would inevitably intrude.
When Charlie stirred, something had changed in her eyes. The vulnerability of the night before had given way to shame. She couldn't meet his gaze as she untangled herself from his arms.
"Thank you," she mumbled, "for last night. For stopping me from..."
"Think nothing of it, my dear."
"Al, I-" She hugged herself, shrinking away. "You shouldn't have to deal with this. With me."
"Charlotte," he began, using her full name.
Her heart fluttered at that, but she shook her head. "I can't keep doing this to you. To any of you." Her fingers twisted in her wrinkled clothes. "You deserve better than watching me fall apart."
Alastor teleported in front of her, lifting her chin. His expression was uncharacteristically gentle. "Then let us help you. Let me help you."
"I don't know how." Her hand found the bottle on the nightstand, fingers wrapping around it like a lifeline. "This is the only thing that makes it quiet up here." She tapped her temple. "The memories, her voice, everything..."
"It will kill you," he said softly, his static humming with concern.
"Maybe that would be better." She took a drink before he could stop her. "For everyone."
"Not for me." The raw honesty in his voice made her pause.
Charlie laughed, but it held no joy. "Since when does the Radio Demon care about anything?"
"Since you," he admitted quietly.
She stood, unable to face the sincerity in his voice. "Don't. Please don't. I'll just wind up failing you too." Her hand touched his cheek briefly. "Just like I failed her."
Before Alastor could react, Charlie leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his other cheek. "Thank you for caring," she whispered. "Even if I don't deserve it."
She walked to the door but paused in the threshold. "I'm sorry I'm not stronger."
The bottle dropped from her hand as she left, the sound of it hitting the floor echoing in the sudden silence. Alastor watched her go, his shadows writhing with the need to follow. His hand touched the spot where she'd kissed him, static crackling softly.
Over the next couple of days, her drinking worsened. She started missing meetings, appointments, and entire days lost to alcohol-induced blackouts. Her room became a shrine to empty bottles and tear-stained photographs.
Alastor kept his distance and let the princess spiral. It was routine now for him to pick up her drunken form from wherever she winded up and bring her back to her room. He couldn't bring himself to stay with her as much as he wanted to, knowing that his presence alone wouldn't help the situation. So he would leave her be and let her continue the same dance all over again.
Then one morning, Charlie wasn't passed out in her normal spot. In fact, Alastor couldn't find her anywhere in her normal drinking spots.
"Has anyone seen Charlie?" Alastor asked at breakfast, trying to keep the worry from his voice.
Blank faces and shaken heads answered him.
"She's probably just sleeping it off somewhere," Angel suggested, but his expression clearly showed his concern.
"Yeah she's probably passed out in her room," Cherri offered.
"Sleep will do her good," Husk said. "It's better than drinking."
As afternoon crept toward evening with no sign of her, true fear began to grip Alastor's heart. His eternal smile had vanished completely as he paced around his room. Finally, he had enough of waiting for the princess to make her way out of her room. He teleported to her door and burst in without knocking. Alastor's heart stopped at the sight before him. Charlie lay face-down on her bed, one arm dangling limply over the side. An empty bottle had rolled across the floor, and clutched in her other hand was a photograph - Vaggie smiling at the camera, unaware it would be one of her last pictures.
"Charlie?" Alastor called out to her.
Charlie didn't answer, her drunken stupor must've gotten to her and the poor girl must've passed out yet again. Alastor's heart began to race but he still held onto hope that she was just passed out. However, the lack of snoring was not helping his case.
"Charlie," he called her again.
Still no answer.
Alastor walked over to her bedside and turned her over carefully, checking for breath. She was alive, but barely - her skin was clammy, her breathing shallow.
"Charlie?" He patted her cheek gently, then more firmly when she didn't respond. "Charlie, wake up!"
Nothing. Not even a flutter of her eyelids. Her breathing was so shallow he had to press his ear to her chest to confirm her heart was still beating. The photograph of Vaggie slipped from her limp fingers as Alastor gathered her into his arms.
"Don't you dare," he growled, static crackling through the air. "Don't you dare do this to me."
Her head lolled lifelessly against his chest as he stood, cradling her like she might shatter. His shadow erupted around them, filling the room with frantic static as they sensed his panic.
"HELP!" The Radio Demon's voice boomed through the Hotel, layered with desperate frequencies. "SOMEONE HELP!"
Angel appeared first, freezing in the doorway. "Oh fuck... oh fuck, no..."
"Get Lucifer," Alastor ordered, his voice cracking with interference. "NOW!" He yelled, his antlers begging to grow.
Within moments, the room filled with people. Lucifer took one look at his daughter and paled.
"Put her down," he commanded, summoning his power. "Carefully."
Alastor laid Charlie on the bed, stepping back as Lucifer's hands began to glow. The King of Hell pressed them to Charlie's forehead, his face contorting with concentration.
"She's still alive," he reported tensely, "but barely. The alcohol... it's like she was trying to-" He cut himself off, focusing on his magic.
"Will she wake up?" Alastor asked, his eternal smile completely gone.
Lucifer's silence was answer enough.
Hours passed. Charlie remained unconscious, her breathing so faint it was barely visible. Alastor didn't leave her side. He sat rigidly in a chair beside her bed, watching her pale face for any sign of consciousness. The photograph of Vaggie lay on the bedside table - a reminder of what had driven Charlie to this point.
Lucifer was also at Charlie's side, a hand laced with hers. He had been silent since Alastor asked about Charlie's potential fate. Alastor kept glancing at him but Lucifer didn't pay him any attention.
"You should rest," Lucifer told him sometime during the night.
Alastor looked up from Charlie to face Lucifer. The Radio Demon said nothing, immediately looking back down at Charlie.
"I'm not leaving her," he finally said after what felt like an eternity.
"This isn't your fault."
"Isn't it?" Alastor's static crackled softly. "I watched her spiral. I knew she was getting worse. I should have..."
"We all should have done more," Lucifer sighed.
The two fell into silence, their eyes fixated on Charlie. Outside the door, they could hear the others—Angel pacing, Nifty cleaning obsessively, Husk muttering curses under his breath—all waiting for any update, all afraid that the worst might happen.
"If she dies..." Alastor started, then stopped, unable to finish the thought.
"She won't," Lucifer said firmly. "She's stronger than this. She has to be."
But as days turned into a week with no change, fear began to settle like lead in Alastor's chest. He talked to her constantly, filling the silence with stories, jokes, and even attempted singing - anything to reach her. Charlie remained still and silent, lost in whatever darkness she'd tried to drink herself into. And the Radio Demon, for all his power, could do nothing but watch and wait.