Charlie guided Sevianthan down the many hallways and corridors of the hotel, briefly describing her lofty dream in short sentences before he interrupted her again with a stream of questions.

The serpent-like demon 'ooh'd' and 'ahh'd' at all the appropriate moments and Charlie felt a little relieved, a real smile growing on her lips for the first time in what seemed like forever. Seviathan had a way of doing that, she recalled with a light fondness.

"So where's uncle Lulu? I haven't seen him yet," he asked suddenly, his eyes darting in every direction.

"Oh, my dad? He doesn't stay here with us. He has a room but for some reason he prefers the palace…" Charlie mumbled, a little sullen. She didn't hold it against her father, though she had been certain that once the new hotel was built, he would've moved in.

"You gotta invite him over! I miss the ol' sap!'' he laughed, recalling some private joke of theirs.

Seviathan and her dad had always sort of gotten along. They were alike in a lot of ways, that's probably why.

At a fork in the hotel, Charlie was about to suggest they return to the lobby when Seviathan suddenly gripped her shoulders, his expression serious.

"I need to say something," he spoke in hushed tones, the words pouring from his mouth in a flurry, "I was always upset about how things ended between us. It wasn't fair. I know it's been a long time, too freakin' long actually, but I was hoping by coming here…that you and I could… I don't know, mend whatever weirdness we still got goin' on."

Charlie was momentarily stunned, struck by the out-of-the-blue admission. She wasn't sure if she could handle the emotional burden of a returning ex-boyfriend. Not after Vaggie, and not while Alastor…

"There's nothing weird," Charlie found herself saying, and genuinely meaning it.

What happened with them was in the past, and despite the family-infused drama that had stirred up between them and the subsequent sour feelings, Charlie held no ill will towards Seviathan or his father.

It would go against her entire goal of the hotel. The idea that everyone deserves a second chance. Actually, it would be more prudent to admit that she actually missed him after all this time.

"Thank the devil," Seviathan said, with a smirk.

…

Seviathan was shown to his room. An empty one they had originally set up for a guest that had never turned up. He thanked her for having him and pronounced his excitement for the next redemption activity. She'd certainly have to get to work on that…

Charlie was feeling a bit better, perked up by the notion that they had technically received another guest with eyes on redemption. Even if Hellborn couldn't possibly be redeemed, his participation would lend a legitimacy to their cause. And soon enough, Vox was sure to launch their campaign! Charlie wondered if Sev would work as some sort of liaison between the hotel and the TV demon. She probably should have worked out those details a little more ahead of time… But it was originally Vaggie who had reached out in the first place…

The blonde shook her head of the thoughts, not wanting to be dragged into another sulk-fest. What the Hell! Things were looking up! She thought with a reckless optimism, pumping her arms as she stomped down the hallways.

"Dammit Niffty, he's too tall for you!"

Angel and Niffty approached from the opposite end, shoving at each other with elbows and limbs to get ahead. They fell in a heap at the landing, Niffty pounding tiny fists over the porn demon's head.

"What're you two doing?" Charlie rushed over and pulled the bug demon off of him.

Angel was the first to recover, brushing himself off with his numerous arms. "Niffty here thinks she has a shot with your ex boy-toy," he said with a sly grin.

Niffty slumped in Charlie's hands, giving in. "He's so… bad," she giggled maniacally. "Is he single?"

"Like that's ever stopped anyone before! Eh, Char?" Angel elbowed the hotelier, joking, but he immediately cringed. Perhaps it was a bit too soon for jokes like that…

But Charlie merely waved her hand, either missing the implication or ignoring it entirely as she was wont to do. There wasn't room in her brain to process anything of the sort. "You know, I'm actually not sure…"

The demoness deposited Niffty back onto the carpet where she scurried back and forth like the bug she resembled. "I hope he'll let me organize his closet!"

Charlie grinned at Niffty's boundless energy, grateful for the distraction. "We'll see about that," she said, watching the little demon disappear into the dark. She was a problem for another time.

As they continued down the hallway, Angel fell into step beside Charlie, his expression subdued now that he got a good look at her. "Hey, you okay?" he asked quietly, realizing he hadn't had a normal conversation with the woman in some time.

Charlie nodded, staring ahead, knowing exactly what he was referring to. "I'm alright. It's just… different without…"

"Without her around?"

"Yeah," she turned to him then, a sad smile gracing her lips. "It's weird to have someone in your life for so long and then one day they're just… not a part of it anymore."

Angel nodded, his frown matching hers. "I feel that, toots. But change can be healing too, you know? I mean, look at me! I never thought I'd get used to the idea of staying in this whackjob hotel but now… I never want to go back to where I was. And it was all thanks to you so…I dunno, just, I'm here for you."

Charlie's eyes watered, thinking of Angel's circumstances and the amazing strides he has made. It warmed her heart to hear such a thing from him, especially with how their relationship had originally started. She could tell he has changed. He was still himself, still capable of making the odd inappropriate off-color commentary, still indentured to his job as a pornstar, but different. Brighter somehow, stronger.

"Angel…" her voice quavered. She fought the urge to leap at him with a hug. "I don't deserve you…"

"Hey, don't start that shit!" he scolded, surprised by her tears.

Too touched to even keep talking about herself, Charlie asked after his own well-being instead.

"I'm… okay," he said with a troubled pause. "Besides Val and his constant bullshit, I'm doin' okay."

Charlie reached over and grabbed two of his hands. She wasn't sure what he was thinking as he said that, but the look on his face told her there was some other burden she was unaware of. She wouldn't press, but was glad to hear from his own admission that something had improved. Her eyes became wide and glossy.

"I won't rest until your deal with Valentino is broken," she said in a misty, far-off manner. It was all she could offer at this moment.

He brushed her off, smirking, but thankful. "Appreciate it, Char."

…

Charlie had gotten a brilliant idea for a new redemption activity. She was a bit behind in her planning, having spent the last several days cooped up in her bedroom, so she immediately raced to her office to get back to work. With Vaggie gone, there were some duties that now fell onto her and Charlie wanted to get ahead of things before they really piled up. She couldn't have any setbacks what with their new hotel guest in tow.

She mentally went over her to-do list, some new items including things like: A welcome party for Seviathan, inviting her dad over, inquiring with Vox on the status of their TV broadcast, inquiring with Alastor on the status of his radio broadcast…

Her mind froze at the thought of the Radio Demon. There was a whole separate list that solely encompassed things having to do with him alone. Checking his wound being the most pressing.

She couldn't believe how caught up she had gotten in her break up or the hotel or Seviathan that she forgot that her partner was essentially at death's door.

Charlie scolded herself, adding 'check up on Alastor' to her most urgent to-dos.

But first things first, she had an activity to organize! Talking with Al, Shawshank, and Angel of all people, with their thoughtful words of support, had inspired in her one of the most important lessons of all. Something incredibly crucial to the status of the redeemed:

Empathy.

…

Alastor paced around his bedroom, having finished skimming through the last of his library books. All of which had offered him nothing but more frustration. Even the one on 'Celestial Waters' said nothing about the Supernal Sea besides it being completely forbidden to outsiders. In fact, it was so hush-hush that the damnable author couldn't even get close enough to write about it.

He had to secure another meeting with the King of Hell, he had just too many open-ended questions that only an angel of his previous status could conceivably have the answer to. But getting that out of the blond would be another issue entirely. He could only go through Charlie, and she was decidedly distracted by her own world at the moment.

A break-up… who could have seen that coming besides anyone with eyes and ears? You don't offer up your soul against the wishes of your partner without them eventually finding out, with dire consequences in either direction.

Alastor worked to suppress the smile that fought to make an appearance. That wouldn't do, he thought, finding it rather unbecoming to be gleeful at the gray angel's heinous mistake. But he couldn't help himself. Vagatha had dug her hole and now she lay in it. That's what she gets for choosing to fight a losing battle against the Radio Demon. If she had just let him be on his merry way, things might have turned out differently.

He felt no real ill-will towards the darling. It was just unfortunate for her that she had gotten so wrapped up in whatever he was doing. Which, at the time, was nothing more than a little harmless flirting, working to solve the Mark, and running of the hotel alongside his business partner.

Alastor was feeling particularly wicked at the moment and he grappled once more with his blooming smile.

It was just in his nature, he guessed, shrugging off the swirling in his gut. Whatever it was, guilt, pleasure, pain, relief… he couldn't even pinpoint them anymore.

The only thing that bothered him about this particular issue was Charlie's less than sparkling response. He'd never seen her look so miserable, her constant frown triggering a twitch in his chest. And it bothered him all the more that three seconds of speaking with Seviathan von Eldritch had perked her up quicker than the attempts to cheer her from anyone else.

His eyes narrowed. What a laugh, he thought. Seviathan's arrival and seeking of redemption should've been the exact sort of entertainment he'd usually be grateful for, but all it did now was make him want to punt something.

'Careful what you wish for,' he mused to himself. It certainly served him right at least.

His shadow spun around his form, its usual frown painted across the shade. "Focus," is all it said.

Alastor's neck cracked towards his companion. "Why, I am! With Vagatha out of the way, access to the princess will be easier than ever."

"To what end?" the shadow said with unhidden suspicion.

Alastor had a new idea in mind, one inspired by his last interaction with the former exorcist. "What we need... A little angelic power." He soured at the words.

…

With some newfound freedom, Alastor traveled on over to Charlie's room this time around, the need for sneaking around not as pressing as before.

He raised a fist over her wooden door, his other hand curled over his cane behind his back.

But before he was able to manage a single knock, the door flung open and Charlie barrelled right into the deer demon's chest, nearly knocking him to the ground. Alastor stumbled back, catching his balance with his microphone.

"Careful, dear! You're stronger than you look…" he mused, brushing his shoulder. He was briefly delighted to see the vigor return to her recently sullen form.

"Sorry Al," she rubbed her head in apology, bowing slightly. She had her notebook in hand, a list of to-dos scribbled and scratched out all over it.

"Where were you headed in such a rush?"

"Actually, I was on my way to see you," she said softly towards her toes. "Sorry…I know I've been… distracted lately and I haven't gotten the chance to check in with you about you-know-what…"

"Perfect, just what I wanted to speak with you about!" Alastor swept past her and into the room, dragging her along with him. He slammed the door behind them.

…

The last time they were alone in Charlie's room, the demoness was in a particularly foul state. And Alastor, on the other hand, was particularly giving.

She blushed at the memory, feeling like the version of herself she was back then wasn't truly her, and that version of Alastor wasn't really him either.

The whole break-up still felt a bit unreal to her in general. And so to have Alastor in her room, now, while she was neither fully grieving or in a relationship… Well, it was a whole new world. No longer burdened by the pressure to conform to what she deemed as "righteous behavior," Charlie and Alastor's relationship, whatever that entailed, was free to be explored to the fullest.

And that scared the utter shit out of her.

Charlie became conscious of the way her clothes fell on her body, or the way her hair sat over her shoulder. She felt a lot more self-conscious than she expected, and ten times more self-aware than usual.

And she focused far too closely on the way Alastor looked. His posture, his smile, the way his claws bent at the tips or how his ears would occasionally twitch as if something had gotten too close.

Charlie didn't even know how to present herself, like that was something she had to consider before. It all felt too new and too real.

But change was good, as she had heard from Angel just recently. She tried to embody that philosophy.

"So…" she began, awkward, her eyes moving around the room to anywhere but him.

"So…" he mimicked. He walked about the room, admiring her typical mess. Papers, clothes, and trash as always. The vase from his old gift of roses was still here, though minus the now dead flowers. He smiled briefly at it.

"How do you like Seviathan?" Charlie asked hurriedly, the first thing coming to mind that had nothing to do with the man himself.

The Radio Demon stopped dead in his tracks, his smile vanishing, his head creaking towards her. His blank stare said it all. But he continued, cool as a cucumber. "Seems like a blockheaded brute to me," he said in lieu of what he was probably actually thinking. He continued his trek around the room.

Charlie grinned. "Yeah, he's always kinda been like that… I hope you two will get along. He's our ticket to royal recognition!"

"That remains to be seen…" Alastor plopped himself down on her two-seater by the window and crossed his legs. "And how are you, my darling?" he finally asked, touching on the unspoken topic.

Charlie's face fell. It wasn't her subject of choice. She still didn't want his pity as much as she appreciated his concern. It was easier when he could tease her. When he just made her laugh.

"I'm better. I just… needed to get everything out of my system and refocus on the hotel," she sighed, and continued, "I'm still upset! But at the same time, a part of me feels… relieved? But I feel horrible for feeling that way so it just all goes back in a circle," she rambled, moving to sit next to him on the loveseat, their shoulders brushing. "Does that make sense?"

She doesn't even know what she's trying to say. But it felt important that Alastor knew.

He eyed her silently before replying. "Of course," he said, "Though you needn't feel horrible for anything."

The two of them were back at some sort of baseline now, post-breakup. The fever-pitch of their previous interactions returning to one of normalcy. Charlie wasn't sure how she felt about that, the regression not sitting well in her stomach.

She wondered idly if he was thinking of the same things. They locked eyes for a moment, though too long for comfort, and Charlie stood back up again, too conscious of their proximity and those lengthy stares of his.

"S-so, um, what'd you come to see me about? Any progress?" she asked shakily, moving to sit on the edge of her bed instead.

He raised a brow but didn't comment, instead reaching into his coat pocket to pull out the book of poetry. She hadn't seen it since that time in the radio tower and Charlie instantly turned red, the memory of Alastor's touch piercing straight through her brain. Not to mention the embarrassing but endearing solidifying of their connection. Did any of that still track between them after everything that happened with Vaggie?

She swallowed and waited for him to speak.

He flipped to the back of the book and produced a brightly written poem, one she didn't immediately recognize.

"I never got a chance to discuss this discovery with you. I found this poem stuck to another page. It's oddly new looking, isn't it? Compared to the others." He handed it over to her and she read silently.

Painted vision, come to pass
The future's spun with threaded glass.

An angel weeps upon your bed
And reads aloud the book of dead:
"Bring back my fellow, foe, and friend
Bring back my lover tho he's bled
On saintless sheets of the condemned,
On tapestry of woe.
A life of searching I shall spend
Reaping truth I'd never sow
When all was lost, the Dark did take
His heart of love, his heart to break?
My dear hath fought, my dear did bend
But all was naught to comprehend.
I beg of thee, my dream's at end
Pray grant me this, my final ask:
Remove my soul, remove my mask."

When she was done she looked up, misty-eyed. "It's so sad," she said, choked up.

"What do you make of it?" he asked.

"These first two lines stand out to me, they're so different from the rest."

He nodded at her to continue.

She flipped the book around and examined the page. "It mentions a vision come to pass, and the future. Like this is something that could happen. A prediction… or a prophecy," she finished.

"I wondered the same thing," Alastor replied, leaning forward. "But why is it in this book? Is this really about the Mark?"

"I don't know," Charlie said, a thoughtful look on her face. "The whole poem is from the perspective of an angel. Who are they? And who are they speaking about?"

"Who indeed," drawled Alastor. "Instinctively, I put you and I in those roles."

"U-us?" Charlie stuttered, surprise written all over her face. This was a very intimate poem. Filled with love, loss, and longing. The last thing she'd imagine was the two of them.

She read it again with that in mind. The idea of them as the subjects of the angel's lament stirred something within her, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. Could their connection truly be as profound as the poem implied? Though she was one to talk, she thought dejectedly. The 'Bonded by the Soul' poem was just as intimate.

When she was through, she looked up again. "I can't think of it that way… it would imply that you…"

"Died? Was taken by the Dark?" he supplemented for her.

"Yes! I don't even want to humor that. Not to mention…" she trailed off, flustered. This poem implied WAY too much once they were the two subjects.

It implied they were lovers, first of all.

"That I have a heart of love?" Alastor said, misreading her thoughts.

"Well, yeah, but no! I mean, of course you have one, Al…" Charlie finished lamely.

The deer demon laughed, deep and hearty. "Most would disagree with you!"

"Al, come on…" she said earnestly, rehashing an old argument of theirs. "You aren't the dark creature you think you are. You're a bit cryptic, sure, and somewhat murdery…"

"Do go on."

"But you aren't… evil! I refuse to believe that. You can be thoughtful and sweet. I mean, you and I–"

"We're getting a bit off-topic, dear," he interrupted, his grin softening.

"Whatever," she sighed, knowing deep down she would get nowhere with him on the subject. It was better just to move on. "Even if this poem was about someone with the Mark, I don't like it. Everything is already too late, that they failed to be saved."

"Call it intuition, but if this is a Marked person's fate, I trust it is in our hands to change that outcome based on the first two lines alone. A future spun with threaded glass is quite fragile."

She nodded, eager for him to be right. "Let's hope," Charlie said, disliking this angel's lament more and more.

She fingered the page, her curiosity piquing at the poem's sudden appearance. If this poem was a so-called "hidden prophecy"... was there more that could be gleaned? This silly little book of poetry was becoming more critical by the moment. Her father had some explaining to do…

"I'd like to ask for you to schedule another meeting with dear old dad, if you please," he began, on the same wave-length as her. "There must be more to all of this than meets the eye."

"I agree. And well, we're in luck! I've invited my dad over for a little welcoming party for Sev. He'll be here tomorrow."

Alastor pulled a face. "Ah yes, lucky me…"

…

Silence descended upon the room while Alastor watched Charlie flip through the poetry book.

She set it down, cognizant of how quiet it was. She wished they were in Alastor's room instead, or that he would play some music. At least he had something to do in his own room. In hers, there was nothing but each others' company.

Fidgety, she stood, and began to tidy up, needing something to do with her hands, and avoiding something she knew she had to do.

"Allow me," said Alastor from his perch on the window seat. He waved his arm and the trash quite literally took itself out.

"Al!" Charlie yelped. "I can do that myself…" There went her excuse. Her sharp nails were just itching for something to grab onto.

And the next best thing was the sleeve of the Radio Demon.

Sighing, she sat next to him on the loveseat again and tugged at his jacket. This was also something on her to-do list, though something she wasn't looking forward to.

"Show me it," Charlie demanded, mustering up some courage to witness the spiraling mark.

Alastor looked at her curiously. She had not asked to see it, more like commanded. "I do not think that's a good idea," he said serenely, "You do not take seeing the Mark very well…"

"I'm fine, Al! Has it changed? Did you keep your promise of not using your powers?"

The red demon nodded, though he looked irritated by that fact. "Besides the occasional teleport or cleaning of messes… I have kept my promise."

"I have to see it, please show me," said Charlie, turning her body towards him to emphasize her seriousness. "If it hasn't changed, then not using your powers in a damaging way must have made a difference!"

"Will you take my word instead?" asked Alastor with a hint of a challenge, his head coming to rest on his palm.

Charlie's eyes sparkled in defiance. "Never," she said with a smile.

He raised a brow at that, returning her grin. "And here I thought you trusted me, dear."

"Oh, that's rich," Charlie huffed. She wasn't expecting such a dawdling response from the man and grew impatient. She was determined to see the Mark. Its progress or not would decide some next steps.

While busy contemplating on how best to continue, Alastor spoke again, interrupting her reverie.

"You'll have to make me," he said cooly, his hand splayed across his mouth, to cover a devilish smile.

Charlie felt a surge of frustration at Alastor's playful resistance, a pink tinge blossoming over her cheeks. But she refused to back down. If anything, his challenge only fueled her determination, some inner need to assert some control over this situation.

"Fine," she said, her voice laced with resolve. "If that's how you want to play it." She tried to recall a time when she dealt with his noncompliance in the past and how she went about handling it. But all she remembered was the time she drunkenly undressed him.

He didn't refuse her then…

With a swift movement, she reached for his collar. But Alastor's hand shot out, catching her wrist in a firm grip.

"Oh no, my dear," he said, his tone dripping with mock concern. "I don't think you understand. You'll have to make me show you."

"Come on, Alastor! We don't have time for this!" She had no idea what in Hell he was getting at. He was always messing with her in some way, to some end.

"The Mark isn't for the faint of heart," he shrugged, fanning the flames of her exasperation. He wanted something from her. And with a flip of a switch, she was manipulated into acting.

Her eyes narrowed, and she stood to stand in front of his seated figure. He watched her, curious and patient. Charlie inhaled and exhaled, a plume of smoke releasing from her heated lips. Her red horns grew, her long blonde hair released from their bindings and flowed freely.

She gripped his collar and pulled until he tilted his face up; submissive. He did not stop her this time.

Face to face she peered into his glowing red eyes with her own golden ones, a tremulous strength in her commanding voice, fangs bared. "Show me," she ordered him with untold power.

…