Chapter Text
Angel pushed his way through the front doors of the hotel. The entire drive from the studio back to his ‘home’ was spent praying that no one would be awake to see the pitiful state he was in. His fur was matted and tangled with... he didn’t want to name everything that had dried through his fur and into his skin. His right eye was swollen to the point where it was almost completely shut. That eye was always more sensitive than the left one, and of course that was the one that teared up more, making it the perfect target to make him seem even more pitiful during filming.
All he had to do was make it upstairs. Then he could bathe and comb out the knots in his fur and go to sleep. He didn’t have work the next day - lately, he’s only had to go into the studio every other day. Val said it was because he was working hard but Angel knew it was because Val was letting his clients be rougher, and he didn’t want his best star to break just yet.
It disgusted him. He disgusted him - not Val, who saved him from being eaten alive the moment he arrived in hell. Not Val, who offered him protection in exchange for a few small, harmless favors. Not Val, who called him pretty but only after Angel was reduced to a sobbing pile of limbs, or when he was too drugged out to fight back. No, Angel Dust was the one that disgusted him.
He shouldn’t be this damn weak! He had been doing this for decades, yet he still ends up stumbling home like a used ragdoll at the end of the day.
The staircase leading up to the first floor of rooms came into view and Angel fought back another wave of tears. All he had to do was get to his room, but that required climbing said flight of stairs and the thought of doing that made his stomach roll. He couldn’t throw up in the lobby though, because the last time he did Niffty got on his ass about just how many types of fluids had stained her carpets.
“Angel! There you are!” An overly chipper voice called over to him, bouncing off the hardwood slightly. Angel closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and by the time he turned around his usual crooked half smile was in place.
“Hey there Toots,” He grinned at Charlie, who was bouncing over to him. “Whacha still up for? I thought Vaggie gave ya hell if ya stay up too late.”
“Oh, she’s already asleep!” Charlie’s smile didn’t fade. It was almost too bright to look directly at. “I just- holy hell, Angle what happened to you?”
Now the smile faded. She finally got a full view of Angel and her heart stopped. He looked like he had been hit by a bus, his usually shining white fur was stained and clumped together with different colors. His eye was swollen shut, and his bottom left arm seemed to be hanging limply at his side.
“Oh you know how it goes,” His grin didn’t falter. “When ya say ‘more’ they always deliva.”
“Angel...”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it Charles, it ain’t like I ain’t used to it,” He chuckled, but it was too resigned to be belivably lighthearted. “But if you’ll excuse lil’ old me, my bath is a-callin my name.”
“Hey, if Val’s hurting you-” She put a hand on his shoulder, only to rip it away when Angle flinched. The crooked smile dropped, replaced with a look of pure horror that lasted for all of one second before he was heading up the stairs.
Charlie watched him go, a bad feeling settling in her chest.
Angel sighed. He had been so close to making it to his room without a problem but of course the Princess just had to be disgustingly chipper this late at night. A traitorous part of his brain hissed at him.
She’s the princess
She has more pull than Valentino.
She could null your contract-
He shook his head, chasing the thought away. When he first came to live at the hotel, he had humored the impossible chance of Charlie being able to use her influence of being Hell’s one and only Princess to get him out of his eternal contract, but after seeing how the rest of Hell’s residents reacted to her Happy Hotel project, Angel knew Val would just laugh her into a second afterlife.
Then he would slaughter everyone in this godforsaken hotel. Not that Angel really cared - he was just here for the free room and food - but the thought of Val killing Charlie and Husk and Niffty and even Vaggie or Alastor...
He sighed again. His head hurt too badly for this.
“Ah, it seems you have finally decided to rejoin us.” Alastor’s static filled the hallway, causing Angel to pause. He could see the door to his room, the faint pink light of his vanity shining underneath, making the red carpet glow. He was so CLOSE.
“Al~” he purred, tilting his head so his bangs would cover his bruised eye. Not that Alastor was the type to care about his well being, but with the way his luck has been going this fine evening, this would be the ONE TIME the Radio Demon decided to stick his nose in Angel’s business. “Not very gentlemanly of ya, cornering a poor ‘elpless damsel on the way to ‘is room.”
He could hear himself slurring his words, his exhaustion hitting harder and harder with every moment he had to stay upright, but he hoped Alastor wouldn’t care enough to dig into it. His knees shook and he had to lock them tight to keep them from giving out completely.
“HA very amusing, my friend,” Alastor’s grin stayed on his face. Angel’s pain-addled mind wondered - not for the first time - what the shorter demon would look like with a wider range of emotions, rather than just ‘creepy smile’. “I couldn’t help but notice you are coming home later these days.”
Angel bit the inside of his cheek. He wrapped three out of four arms around himself, the fourth hanging with a shattered wrist at his side. So Alastor calls the hotel home too, huh?
“Ya know how it goes baby,” He grinned, winking his good eye. He noticed Alastor blink rapidly for a moment and the tension in his chest lessened a little. If he kept up the act for just a little longer, no one would know. Good thing everyone just expects him to be a shameless whore. It made his performance easier to put on. “They just can’t get enough ‘a me! And how am I supposed ‘ta deny such lovely fans?”
“Hm, I do believe our definition of lovely is wildly different!” Alastor exclaimed. If Angel closed his eyes, he knew he would have been able to hear faint music playing in the background of the other demon’s static.
It was one reason he liked spending like with Alastor. Not just because the Radio Demon’s reactions to his flirting were amusing - when was the last time someone actually shied away from his advances? - but also because if he wanted to hear the music he had to focus, which meant he didn’t have to think about everything else that usually bombarded his brain at any given moment.
“Well, as enlightening as this conversation’s been, I gotta turn in for th’ night,” Angel hoped Alastor would take the hint and let him slip by. He was so close to his room that it ACHED. “My fur don’t stay fluffed and shined on it’s own ya know.”
“Hm, I was noticing how your appearance is more disheveled than usual!” Alastor didn’t blink at that. Angel wasn’t too fond of when Alastor spoke without blinking. It unnerved the spider greatly, and there wasn’t much that spooked him now-a-days. “I take it your line of employment has not been as fun as usual?”
“Who said it ain’t fun?” It was meant to be a teasing question, but came out a little bit too defensive, and the instant it left his mouth, Angel wished he could take it back. “Uh, night Alastor.”
“Good night, Angel Dust,” He stepped aside, his grin almost different than usual. “Do not let the hell bugs bite~”
When Angel glanced over his shoulder, Alastor was gone. He suppressed a shudder as he let himself into his room. He knew Alastor was a demon worthy of the fear he commanded, but sometimes the things he did left Angel’s skin crawling.
Fat Nuggets came running up to him, spots glowing with happiness that their dad was back from being gone for so long. For the first time in many hours, Angel felt a genuine smile grace his face. Leaning down, he scooped his pet into his arms, only flinching a little when the action pulled at the various aches deep in his bones.
“Daddy’s home baby.” He pressed his forehead against Fat Nugget’s, letting their warm breath fan over his cheek for a moment. It was grounding, feeling the pig’s familiar weight in his arms. Fat Nuggets was the one thing in Hell that he genuinely loved.
He plopped the pig onto the bed, not caring that their spines caught on the bedding and left a small rip in the fabric, before heading to the small bathroom. Having his own bathroom - with a door that locks - was probably the biggest blessing from this whole hotel situation, as ironic as that sounded.
As the bath filled, Angel looked at himself in the mirror. No wonder Charlie didn’t buy his faked charm - he looked about as bad as he felt. He knew most of his physical wounds would be healed by morning, but he also knew the ache deep in his chest would linger until his skin hurt worse once more.
The scent of his favorite soak filled the steamy air as he poured the oil into the bath. He subconsciously locked the door as he clicked on the small radio Charlie had given him. He always avoided the news channels, but there was one that only played soothing music and as much as he hated to admit it, he came to rely on the tunes to forget about the hell he was living. He peeled off what was left of his clothing, tossing the ripped, stained fabric into the trash bin, he stepped into the scalding water.
“Fuck...” He hissed, the heat both making him relax but also tense from the sudden rush of pain against his sensitive skin. After a moment of being submerged, the heat began to feel almost euphoric. He leaned back and let his eyes close, his breathing matching the gentle music floating through the thick air.
He could feel himself drifting off to sleep and forced himself to sit up. Angel took his time, working the soap through the tangles and soaking the matted crap from his fur before rubbing a healthy amount of oils through it to keep it soft and knot free. The only time he liked being touched was when he bathed himself, because he knew nothing bad would happen to him there. This was his Angel time. No one could touch him here.
Before he was ready, the bath water began to cool and he could hear Fat Nuggets scratching at the bathroom door. With a heavy sigh, Angel rinsed himself off completely before pulling the plug. He lost himself in the sight of the water - a shimmery pink, shimmery from the bath oils and pink from the blood he had to scrub off his person - only blinking when there was nothing but white porcelain staring back at him. He barely realized he was moving, his body going through the actions of turning the radio off and towel drying his fur as best as he could without the hairdryer.
Angel hummed a lyricless song under his breath as he left the bathroom and sat at his vanity, his towel wrapped around his slim, bruised hips. Fat Nuggets came over and Angel used one set of hands to pull the pig into his lap as he used another to grab his hair dryer. He took turns between fluffing his fur and gently putting it on the cool setting to keep Nuggets feeling included. Eventually, both he and Fat Nuggets were dry and ready for bed. He pulled on a pair of his favorite panties - one of the few pairs that he owned that didn’t have even a whisper of lace or mesh - and an oversized shirt that brushed along his knees as long as he didn’t raise his arms.
Curling into his bed, he was eternally grateful towards Charlie once more. Before coming to the hotel, he very rarely fell asleep in a bed that wasn’t crusted with one thing or another, but here his sheets were always soft and smelled faintly of some flower he couldn’t name. Fat Nuggets huffed as he forced his way into Angel’s arms, who held him close. He felt a small lick on his cheek and fell asleep with a smile on his face.
“About time you woke up,” Vaggie was the first to notice Angel entering the dining room the next morning. “We were about to throw your plate out.”
“Mm, sorry ‘bout that Toots.” He yawned and ran a hand through his bangs, which were still a little flattened on one side from where they had squished into his pillow. He was still wearing his pajamas, his shirt covering more skin and fur than his normal work outfits ever did. He sat in his usual seat, not caring that he was practically sitting alone. They all had unspoken assigned seats at the far too long dining room table. His just happened to be at least two seats away from anyone else.
“Hey Angel, you alright?” Charlie asked, and as much as Angel appreciated her concern, the last thing he wanted to deal with was the pity in her voice.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” He asked, nibbling on something. He didn’t even bother to see what it was because it all tasted like ash that morning anyway. He kept his bottom hands resting in his lap - even if his wrist practically healed, it was still sore and he knew it would stay sore for a few days at least.
“Well, after last night...” She looked away, fiddling with the end of her hair. Angel’s stomach rolled as he felt eyes turning to him.
“You know me,” He plastered on a lecherous grin. “Sometimes a fella needs a little time ‘ta recover after such a rough, looong night~”
“Ugh, can’t you go one morning without being disgusting?” Vaggie snapped, her mouth curled down in a sneer. Angel’s grin became sharper.
“What for?” He asked, sending a wink in her direction. “Where’s th’ fun in that?”
“There’s no point in arguin,” Husk sighed playing with the food on his plate. It looked like he ate about as much as Angel had. “He’s always gonna be like this.”
“Like how?” He really was slipping, wasn’t he? What was supposed to be playful, or flirty, or teasing came out as sharp and accusing. Everyone froze, forks halfway to mouths and eyes wide. Angel wanted to shrink in on himself, but he kept his shoulders back.
Like his Father used to tell him, weakness is first seen in a person’s body language. If they’re beaten down but hold their head high, they still have a chance. Now, it wasn’t any kind of motivational speech or anything - his Father had been telling him that as young Anthony lay on his bedroom floor, trying to pinch off a gushing nosebleed. His Father wiped his knuckles on a handkerchief and refused to look at his son. He had gotten sick and tired of his son being such a faggot bitch. He warned the boy the next time he saw weakness in him, he wouldn’t hesitate to teach him a lesson.
“Ah, it’s good to see so many friendly faces on this fine morning!” Alastor seemed to walk out of a shadow, looking dressed to the nines as usual. It didn’t matter how late into the night or early in the morning you caught him - there was never a wrinkle nor hair out of place to be seen. “Oh? Did I... interrupt something?”
His smile grew and Angel knew that he knew what he walked in on, but was egging them on. Every time Angel started to think huh, maybe Alastor wasn’t as bad as everyone made him out to be, the shorter demon turned around and did some sadistic shit, all in the name of his own entertainment, and Angel forgot any positive thoughts he might have had.
“They were talking about how Angel’s a whore!” Niffty chirped as she licked her fork clean, her one eye large and sparking as it tended to be. Angel gripped his fork tightly, not noticing the metal digging into his palm.
“What pleasant breakfast conversation!” Alastor said, the static behind his words slightly louder than usual.
“Look, we can’t help it when he comes down here dressed like that, even on his off days...” Husker pointed to Angel’s oversized shirt with close to no emotion. Angel’s throat stung for some reason.
“I just wished he would try to take this hotel seriously for once!” Vaggie all but spat. “All he does is parade around, flaunting the fact that he thinks this is a joke! That he thinks WE’RE a joke! And for what? So he can get fucked? So he can keep doing drugs?”
“Vaggie-” Charlie looked at her girlfriend in horror.
“No Charlie, you know exactly what I mean,” Her face softened, but her scowl never completely vanished. “Even you’ve been doubting him!”
“Princess...?” Angel didn’t know why he felt like he had been punched in the stomach at the realization.
“No! No Angel it’s not like that,” Charlie looked close to tears as she glanced between Vaggie and Angel. “I believe in you! I do! I just... I want you to succeed so badly! And I worry sometimes that... that-”
“That I’m gonna to embarrass ya cuz I’m just a stupid slut?” Angel filled in, laughing cynically. “That I’m gonna ruin the already SHINING reputation of this dumpsta fire of a passion project cuz I can’t keep my pants on?”
“Angel-”
“I know what ya all think ‘bout me!” He thundered, standing and slamming his fork down on the table, making all the other plates rattle. Everyone was staring at him in silence. No one made a single sound as he continued. “I’m just a dumb whore who’ll put out for any dog face that has a few clams, right? That I wake up every damn mornin thinkin to myself how exciting it’s gonna be to get plowed into a bed by someone I don’t know? You must really think ya got a read on who I am, cuz fuck! I don’t even know that Angel Dust as well as ya apparently do!”
“Angel please-” Charlie had tears running down her cheeks, but the sight just fueled the anger burning through his chest.
“NO! You don’t know SHIT about me-” He screamed, throwing his plate at the wall in a fit of rage. The sound of shattering porcelain broke Angel from his rant. He stared at the stain setting into the wallpaper, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath. His hands shook but when he looked around he wasn’t in the hotel anymore.
He was back home. He was young - thirteen, maybe. His mother was cowering in the doorway. Molly was trying to stop crying. Father was throwing plates and glasses and silverware at anything he could. He didn’t know what was happening. They had been having a pleasant family when his Father’s special work phone rang. His Father had gone to answer, only to come back mere minutes later and start trashing their dining room.
That wasn’t the first time Anthony had seen his Father take his anger out on his family, and it certainly wasn’t the last either.
“O-oh fuck...” He took a shaking breath as he realized he wasn’t at his childhood home, but at the hotel. He realized it wasn’t his Father throwing plates but rather...
He was.
He felt the few bites of breakfast trying to make a reappearance. As much of a sinner as he was, the one thing Angel promised himself was that he would NEVER become like his Father. He could have sex for money, murder, fight, cause property damage, steal, lie, do as many drugs as he could get his hands on, like men - any and all sins he could get his hands on - but he would never resort to being like his fucking Father. Any yet there he was, acting exactly the way his Father used to.
“I’m- I’m s-sorry...” His breathing began to pick up. He felt a hand on his arm and all but threw himself away from whoever it was, feeling safer pressed against the wall like a kicked dog hearing its owner returning home.
“Angel...” Charlie looked at him, her hand still raised.
“I’m going to my r-room,” He whispered, letting his bangs cover his face. “I’m sorry.”
He rushed from the room as fast as his long legs could take him, slamming his bedroom down behind him and locking it tightly. As a secondary thought, he pushed the small bookshelf that held various knick-knacks and porn magazines in front of the door. He knew Charlie had a key, and he really couldn’t handle facing anyone at the moment, least of all the Princess.
Fat Nuggets huffed up to him, bumping his knee with their snout. Angel smiled for a moment before choking back a sob. He pulled the pig into his arms and let himself cry, focusing only on the warmth of his pet and the soft music that seemed to be coming from somewhere unseen. Before long, he fell asleep like that - sitting on the floor with his back against the mattress and his legs pulled up to his chest.
When he woke up, he realized he was in his bed. He didn’t remember slipping under his covers, but he settled back against his soft pillows and let the headache overtake him.
He hated crying, because it always came with an ache bad enough to make the world blacken around the edges.
After a few minutes the headache began to fade and he found he was able to sit up. On the side table were a bottle of water and... painkillers? In a flash of panic he glanced over to the door, but the bookshelf was still firmly in place.
Angel debated for a moment, but the dull ache still bombarding him was enough to override his hesitation and he downed the pills easily. He checked his phone and saw his day off was already halfway over. It was always near the end of his days off that he started feeling... odd, and he could tell that it was going to hit soon. He hated that the feelings reminded him of the days of AGONY that he suffered through after his first real detox. Now THAT was more punishment than anything else.
The thought of going into work the next day made his eyes sting, but he sucked it up. It wasn’t like he had a choice! And besides, he loved his job! He loved feeling wanted and desirable. He loved feeling beautiful, even if it ended with a few more bruises than when he went in. He loved his job, so why...?
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to think about that. Instead, he went over to his vanity and sat down, looking at himself in the mirror. He looked the same as always, if not a little more exhausted than usual, so why could he barely recognize himself? Why was his reflection suddenly a stranger?
Angel did the only thing he knew how to do when things got this bad. He pulled out his phone and called one of two numbers he had memorized. After a moment, a sharp grin filled the small screen.
“Hey Angie!” Cherri grinned at her friend, her one eye barely fitting fully in the shot.
“Hey Cherri,” He smiled, softer and more genuine than before. He propped his phone up against the mirror. “I hope this ain’t a bad time...”
“Nah, I was just fucking around,” She said, her expression dropping minutely at the tone of her friend’s words. “What’s up man?”
“Just a rough day,” He sighed. People speculated if Hell really was Hell, because it seemed like a paradise for sinners rather than a punishment, but the longer that Angel stayed clean from drugs the more he realized they were wrong. This was Hell, because the only real happiness you were allowed to feel was synthetic and all other times were soaked in the thick, meaty tang of suffering that no number of bathes or injections could wash away. “I was just... I just wanted to talk for a little bit... I have this clay mask I wanted to try and...”
“You don’t wanna be alone?” Cherri filled in, her smile dropping. She had been his friend since she fell down to Hell. They’d been through everything together - turf wars, attempted murders, drug deals, withdrawals, beatings... She was his only real support. Fat Nuggets was the only thing he loved, but Cherri was the only demon he genuinely trusted with his life. He knew she wouldn’t sell him out, and in this world, that’s the highest honor one could have from another person.
“Mm.” He hummed, pinning his bangs back with a few pink hairclips. He tried not to wear his bangs back often, because he felt like it made his face look too small.
“Well, you’ll never guess what happened earlier!” Cherri rambled on as Angel applied his mask - he does them often, the clay conditioning his fur and brightening the coloring of his face - but this was a new one. He really liked the way it smelled, and it didn’t feel too slimy, unlike other masks he had tried in the past.
He listened as he took his time, painting on the clay as if he were trying to cover a bad painting with a fresh layer of white, giving the canvas a second chance at being art. He supposed he was like a canvas, but one where the bullshit already painted on was so horrific that no amount of white paint would ever be able to cover it up.
Angel couldn’t feel his arm. He was shaking so violently that his teeth chattered, blood splattering the studio carpets. The only thing he could comprehend was Val’s words, but even they sounded like they were coming through a layer of static.
“It’s okay now,” Val said. “Daddy’s here now. Daddy will make you feel better. Daddy got rid of the bad man, okay?”
All Angel could do was whimper. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. It was just supposed to be a normal scene, but the demon kept getting rougher and rougher. Even when
Angel called out ‘lantern’ no one did anything to stop the scene. Val only started shouting when the sound of Angel’s ribs cracking filled the air of the studio. His screams turned from pained to complete agony as the demon ignored Val. The next crack was his arm, breaking at the elbow. By the time Val’s henchmen were able to drag the demon off, Angel knew he was fucked. Concussion, judging from how his head was ringing and the room was spinning. His arm was useless, and he couldn’t take a breath without agony shooting through his body. He tried to curl in on himself, to hide away from the pain, but he realized his lower half was soaked. Cracking one eye open, all he could see was crimson coating the once white sheets.
“Angel cakes?” Val’s voice sounded watery, like he was talking from the bottom of a pool or maybe Angel was the one at the bottom of a pool. “Can you hear me?”
“D-daddy-” He sobbed, the pain flaring. He couldn’t remember ever being in this much pain at once, even when he had been punished after botching a drug deal back when he was alive and working for his Father.
“Don’t worry, that man is going to get everything he deserves for hurting my Angel,” Val cupped Angel’s face. Angel could never remember Val being so gentle with him before.
“Here, this will ease the pain...”
He didn’t even register the prick in his arm, rather the only thing he could feel was the cool rush that flooded his body and calmed the raging wildfire of pain that was eating away at him.
“Daddy’s sorry Angel Cakes,” Val’s face faded in and out of focus. “You know I love you, right? You know I just want what’s best for you.”
“Yes.... daddy...” he knew Val didn’t like it when he didn’t answer his questions.
“Someone take him back to that damn hotel!” His voice was getting fainter and fainter as the coolness spread. “Clean this.... Don’t let... can’t lose..... Best money maker.... Two weeks...”
Angel let his eyes flutter closed. He didn’t want to hurt anymore.
“You’re awake!” A loud voice all but screamed in his ear. Angel instantly whined, his entire body vibrating with pain. He wished he could go back to sleep.
“Charlie, shh,” A second voice spoke. “He definitely won’t be up for loud things right now.”
“Oh, sorry Vaggie,” Charlie whispered. Angel felt a hand running through his bangs. He shifted and took stock of his wounds. The night before faded in and out of his memory, but the broken bones remained no matter how much he forgot. His ribs were broken - at least two of them - and his chest was bound tightly to keep him from jostling them too much. His arm was in a cast of sorts, resting at his side. He would need a sling if he wanted to keep it from hurting even more. There was a bandage on his forehead, but at least he could see out of both eyes this time. “Angel? How are you feeling?”
“Like ass,” He groaned, his voice deeper and rougher than anyone had heard it. “What time is it?”
“Uh, almost lunch.” Charlie sounded like she was hiding something. Angel tried to guess how long he had been unconscious.
“How long was I out fa?” He was grateful that the lights in his room had been dimmed. He wondered where Fat Nuggets had gone, but was also kind of happy the pig wasn’t there. He didn’t want Nugs to see him like this.
“Almost two days,” Vaggie said softly. Angel didn’t like Vaggie talking so softly. The woman was more suited for being loud and authoritative. Hearing her so gentle - so lost - didn’t sit well with Angel. “Some of Valentino’s henchmen dropped you off at the front door at dawn yesterday. It’s been about thirty five hours...”
“Oh.” Angel didn’t know what to think about that.
“Uh, there was a note pinned to your shirt...” Charlie chuckled, but it was clearly the kind of chuckle that meant if she did anything other than chuckle she would burst into tears. She handed the slip of paper to Angel, who scanned the familiar handwriting.
Angel Cakes~ I’m giving you the next two weeks to recover. Daddy promised to take good care of you, so you better not do anything to scar the goods. You are to check in every once in a while so I know how your condition is. I expect you back in the studio at the end of this two weeks.
He didn’t sign it, but he didn’t have to. Angel would know Val’s writing anywhere. His chest had warmed at first - Val really did love him - only for it to be instantly doused. Was that all he was? Goods to be sold? But Val said he loved Angel. Val said he wanted what was best for Angel, because he cared about Angel. But he couldn’t even be bothered to wait to make sure Angel made it inside? He left Angel bleeding out on the doorstep of the hotel?
Angel’s head hurt.
“Is Angel Dust wake?” Niffty poked her head in, her eye widening at the sight of the spider sitting up in his bed. “Oh! Angel! Are you hungry?”
“Not really,” He felt more sick than hungry. “Thanks though.”
“We’ll send something up later, okay?” Charlie sounded as though she felt that if she spoke any louder, Angel would shatter. Niffty glanced between Angel and Charlie for a moment before scurrying away, leaving the doorway empty.
“Mm.” He wanted to cry, but it seemed his eyes were dry.
“We’ll let you rest,” Vaggie put a hand on the back of Charlie’s shoulder, nudging her towards the door. They both started to leave when Vaggie paused and turned back towards Angel. “And... I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?”
“For what I said at breakfast the other day,” She looked away, her grey skin seeming greyer. “It was... out of line. I was just frustrated and... and I thought you were just doing all of that to mock us... I guess I didn’t think that you were- that you were hurting too.”
“It’s aight,” Angel offered her a small smile. Normal Angel would have heckled her a little, asking to get someone to record it so Vaggie couldn’t deny it happened, or try to needle her into doing a favor for him if she really was that sorry, but he just didn’t have the willpower for that. He barely had the energy to sit upright. “I don’t blame ya. Sluts like me don’t have alotta real feelings otha than horny and high.”
“Angel, that’s not-”
“Come on,” Charlie seemed physically pained at how flippant Angel was being. “Angel, just call if you need anything, okay?”
“Aight Toots.”
They left, closing the door behind him. The room was almost unnervingly silent, but at least his head didn’t feel like someone put a milk frother into his eye and went to town with it quite as much anymore.
The faint sound of static was the only warning he was given before another presence made itself known in his room. Angel didn’t even have to open his eyes to know who it was.
“My dear Angel, I was most upset to see your condition,” Alastor’s voice was softer than usual, the static surrounding it was calming, like white noise, rather than the normal nails-on-chalkboard feeling it gave people. “I have come bearing a gift that may ease your recovery.”
“Why do ya care?” He found himself asking. He knew the Radio Demon had no affection for him - not that he held much affection for anyone at the hotel, but he had even less for the spider who constantly made inappropriate comments that bordered on harassment more often than not.
“Because, I have taken responsibility for this disaster that is this hotel, and if some horrible fate were to befall one of my patrons, it would be like a good show being cancelled too soon.”
“Right... th’ whole entertainment thing.” Angel wanted to sleep. Maybe if he was lucky he wouldn't wake up for another few days. He shoved his face in his pillow. The static seemed to spike for a moment before settling again.
“If you were to need anything, I am sure our charming demon belle would be able to whip up anything you might crave.”
“Mm, thanks Al.” Angel didn’t look up from where his face was still buried in his pillow.
Alastor didn’t respond again, and Angel suddenly couldn’t feel the shorter demon’s presence anymore. He wondered what Alastor had brought that was supposedly to help his recovery, but his question was answered as he drifted off to sleep.
Grainy music danced through the air, just soft enough to soothe the emotional pain in his chest as he felt his eyes grow heavy. It was nothing like the music that came from his own radio, which was clearer and was only heard by his ears. This music seemed to be heard with his soul, like a gentle hand caressing his cheek.
Angel drifted off, wondering why Alastor would do something like this for him. He hoped the morning would be better. He wondered what the next two weeks would bring.
He feared what the next two weeks would bring.