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Sir Pentious watched in uneasy silence as a strange golden dome began to crawl across the endless blue of Heaven’s sky. The light shimmered like molten glass, swallowing the clouds one by one.
Beside him, Emily hovered in mid-air, her halo flickering with confusion.
“Do you think Charlie should know?” Pentious asked quietly, his voice a hiss between fear and politeness.
The young seraph blinked as if waking from a trance. Then, without another word, her wings flared open, scattering feathers of light as she darted toward the balcony of Pentious’s new quarters.
“Oh my gosh! Charlie!” Emily gasped. A soft hum filled the air as she opened a light-blue portal behind her. “I should tell her! About this—about you—about everything! B-be right back!”
And with that, she was gone. The portal folded in on itself, leaving the serpent standing alone beneath Heaven’s shining sky.
For a long moment, Pentious didn’t move.
Deep inside his chest—somewhere beyond bone, scales, and the soul he had once sold—he knew this might be his only chance to ever see his friends again.
He had spent what felt like ages behind the golden bars of Heaven’s prison, trapped in silence and guilt. When they had finally released him, it wasn’t freedom waiting for him—it was judgment.
A courtroom full of glaring angels.
Every face in that chamber had looked ready to strike him down, their eyes sharp as swords. Even their general, a woman with the manic grin of those old street lunatics Pentious remembered from his mortal days, seemed to thirst for his death.
And all because of Adam.
But Pentious knew he hadn’t killed the First Man. His death ray hadn’t even fully charged before that fatal blast went off. He wasn’t sure what had truly happened, but he knew one thing: his hands were not the ones that ended Adam’s life.
Still, in Heaven, truth mattered less than faith.
It should have been the end of him—
Until She spoke.
The Word of God.
A voice that sounded like a choir made of sunlight. Gentle. Understanding. Final.
“Welcome to Heaven, Pendleton.”
Pendleton.
He hadn’t heard that name in centuries. It rolled through his mind like a memory of something clean, something human.
For a brief, fleeting second, he almost felt at peace.
After the trial, Emily had been assigned to him—a bright-eyed guide with wings too big for her own good. She had asked him what he needed to feel “at home” in Heaven.
And truly, Heaven had everything.
Gardens that glowed with eternal morning.
Music that never faded.
Peace that was absolute.
Everything—except what Pentious truly wanted.
The laughter of friends.
The rush of chaos.
The messy, loud, imperfect warmth of belonging.
He wanted to go home. Not the mortal one, not the divine one—the Hazbin one.
He wanted to tell Cherry that everything he’d said before dying was true. That he did love her. That he still did.
So when Emily vanished through that glowing portal, Pentious didn’t think.
He leapt.
The wind screamed around him, his golden-trimmed body twisting through the blue. Then the light turned white—then red—then—
SULFUR.
ASH.
SMOKE.
The smell hit him first.
It clawed at his nose, burned his throat—and nearly made him weep with joy.
Heaven had smelled like nothing, like polished air. But Hell… Hell smelled alive.
“Sir Pentious! I told you, you can’t leave Heaven!” Emily’s voice echoed from above, high and frantic.
But her panic barely reached him. The serpent’s chest filled with trembling laughter.
He was home.
The world snapped back around him like a rubber band.
He tumbled forward, scales scraping against the cracked red tiles of a familiar floor.
Sulfur burned his nose. The heat clung to him like an embrace, and somewhere, faintly, he could hear distant laughter and the buzz of neon signs outside.
He almost cried.
Hell didn’t just smell alive — it was alive. Every breath hurt, and it was wonderful.
“Sir Pentious! You can’t just—!”
Emily’s voice came from above as she fluttered through the still–open portal, halo flickering with panic.
He ignored her completely.
Because in front of him, sitting on a crimson couch with wide, tear–filled eyes, was Charlie.
She froze, hands shaking as she whispered his name.
“...Pent?”
And that was all it took.
He lunged forward before his mind could catch up, wrapping his arms and coils around her in a desperate embrace.
Her warmth hit him like sunlight after a thousand winters.
For a heartbeat, Charlie didn’t move — and then, like only Charlie could, she hugged him back so tightly that he thought his ribs might crack.
They both cried.
They both laughed through the tears.
Neither wanted to be the first to let go.
Up above, Emily hovered uncertainly.
“Guys—uh, I really hate to interrupt, but Heaven’s on lockdown right now! Adam’s dead, Sera’s panicking, the gates are closing—”
Her words stumbled to a stop as she finally noticed the golden serpent still clinging to Charlie.
“WAIT. Sir Pentious! You can’t be here! You’re a redeemed soul!”
“I told you—” she groaned, exasperated, “—you can’t leave Heaven!”
Pentious didn’t move. His coils tightened slightly around Charlie’s waist, as if daring the seraph to try.
Charlie looked between them, confused and still shaking.
“Wait, what? Redeemed? Pentious, what does she mean?”
“It’s true,” Emily said, landing softly on the lobby floor. “He passed judgment. He’s one of Heaven’s souls now. I can’t leave him here—if the lockdown completes, he’ll be stuck!”
“Good,” Pentious hissed without hesitation. “Then I’ll be stuck home.”
“Sir Pentious—”
“No.” He lifted his chin, eyes bright with defiance. “You spent all day asking what would make me feel at home in Heaven. Well—this. This is it.”
He turned to Charlie, who was still trembling, her golden eyes wide with disbelief.
“Here. With her. With my friends.”
Emily’s wings drooped a little. Her halo dimmed. She wasn’t angry—just torn.
Charlie took a step forward, voice steadying even as her tears returned.
“Emily, I understand the risk. But please—if you let him stay, even just for a little while, I promise I’ll protect him. My father will too. No harm will come to him here.”
“Charlie—he’s an angelic soul now,” Emily said softly. “If he stays too long, Hell could—well, it could unmake him.”
“Oh, I’ve lived in Hell before,” Pentious cut in, smiling faintly. “I know its dangers. And believe me, my dear, I’ve outlived worse.”
Emily hesitated, guilt flickering across her young face. She knew what her army—what Adam—had done. And she didn’t have the heart to argue.
Charlie placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Come back in a few days,” she said. “Bring Sera if you want—we can talk with my father, find a proper solution. But for now… let him stay.”
Pentious’s tail flicked nervously as he added in a softer tone:
“You said your job was to make Heaven’s souls happy. So, make me happy—just this once.”
Emily sighed, defeated, though her smile was kind.
“All right. I’ll report that you’re under Charlie’s protection.”
She turned toward the portal.
“Congratulations, by the way. Looks like your hotel does work.”
The blue light swallowed her up, and she was gone.
Silence fell again. Only the gentle hum of the lobby lights remained.
Pentious let out a shaky breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His whole body trembled—not with fear this time, but relief. Emily wasn’t cruel, but the thought that she might drag him back to Heaven against his will had frozen his very blood.
Now he was free.
Back where he belonged.
He looked around the lobby, drinking it all in. Everything was cleaner, newer—the wallpaper replaced, the carpets bright and freshly laid, the lamps glowing properly for once. But what caught his attention most was the painting above the fireplace.
Him.
In full battle gear, frozen mid–snarl, framed in gold.
“We put it there to honor you,” Charlie said quietly behind him.
Warmth bloomed in his chest.
“It’s… beautiful. A bit eerie, considering I’m alive again—but still, quite flattering.”
He turned to her.
Same golden hair braided over one shoulder, same scarlet dress, same spark in her eyes. But behind that spark he saw exhaustion — the deep, endless ache of someone who’d lost too much.
“I missed you so much,” she whispered, voice cracking as tears filled her eyes again.
He didn’t hesitate. He wrapped her up in another hug, his scales glinting softly in the firelight.
“And I, you, princess,” he murmured. His throat ached with joy and pain in equal measure.
They stayed like that for a long time—long enough that both their arms started to ache.
When Charlie finally shifted, one hand brushed against the small, golden–tipped wings on his back.
“Ow—!”
“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry! Did I hurt you? Do you need a bandage? Medicine? I can—”
“Charlie, it’s fine!” he chuckled. “Just brushed my wings. Nothing’s broken, I promise.”
That was when she really looked at him. The faint halo above his head, the white–gold sheen of his scales, the way his eyes glowed softer than before.
It hit her all at once.
He was redeemed.
The hotel worked.
All her hope — her endless, stubborn faith — had meant something.
Charlie’s breath caught.
“Charlie?” Pentious asked gently. “Are you all right?”
“We have to tell the others,” she whispered.
“Tell them—?”
“EVERYONE!” she yelled, suddenly grabbing his wrist and dragging him toward the main hall.
“They need to see this!”
Pentious barely had time to laugh before being pulled down the corridor, the sound of her excitement echoing through the hotel like the first sunrise after a thousand nights.
He was home.
Truly, finally home.
Charlie was running like a maniac down the hallway toward the hotel’s private lounge, with Sir Pentious right behind her, babbling about the “absolutely exquisite” new décor. She only caught fragments of his compliments — her mind was spinning, her chest felt too tight, her feet barely touched the floor.
Because redemption was real, and Pentious was alive.
Sir Pentious could barely keep up with the princess, but he wasn’t about to ask her to slow down. The faster they went, the sooner he’d see Cherry again.
As the hotel’s corridors blurred past, he couldn’t help admiring how everything had changed — the polished floors, the brighter lights — and wondered if his friends had changed too.
Had he been the only one to die in that battle?
Were they safe? Had anyone been hurt?
He was about to find out.
The mad dash didn’t last long. They stopped in front of a large red door, and Charlie didn’t even hesitate — she threw it open and froze half the room in shock.
“Vaggie! Holy shit! Emily popped out of a portal to tell me some stuff, and then Sir Pentious showed up — he’s been redeemed, he’s alive, he’s in Heaven! Holy shit we did it! We actually did it! I knew it! I fucking knew it!!!”
Charlie screamed at the top of her lungs before collapsing on the floor, overwhelmed with joy and adrenaline.
Vaggie immediately rushed to her side, trying to help her breathe, but couldn’t tear her eyes away from the snake demon everyone thought had been dead for a month.
Sir Pentious stood there awkwardly, tipping his hat as a dozen pairs of eyes stared at him like he was a ghost — which, technically, he had been. The whole room was frozen, nobody dared to move or even breathe.
Until Cherry Bomb got up.
Her fists were clenched, her single eye unreadable, and Pentious understood immediately.
He had kissed her before dying, without warning, without finesse — completely improper. But he hadn’t wanted to die without telling her how he felt.
He took off his hat, lowering his head.
“Miss Cherry Bomb, I must apologize for my… ah… impulsive actionsss before my, er, demise—”
He didn’t get to finish.
Her hand came flying at his face. The slap echoed across the lounge like a gunshot.
He blinked, stunned, staring into that fierce, beautiful eye. “That’s for pulling that dumbass stunt,” she hissed, and before he could even respond, she grabbed his shirt and kissed him.
It wasn’t perfect — his fangs got in the way — but she didn’t care. And neither did he. It was messy, warm, and real. For the first time since he’d “died,” he felt alive.
When they finally broke apart, Cherry’s cheeks were faintly pink.
“That’s for returning the favor,” she said — and slapped him again on the other cheek.
“Ow!”
“And that’s for scaring the shit out of me, you idiot! You think we wanted you to die, huh?! We thought you were gone, and you’ve been up in Heaven this whole damn time forgetting about us?”
Pentious quickly took her hand, squeezing it tight. “I never forgot, Miss Bomb. Not for a single moment. When I arrived in Heaven, I couldn’t ssstop thinking about you… about all of you. I worried so much I’d left you hurt or worse. If I could’ve come back sooner, I would have.”
Cherry didn’t reply, but she didn’t pull her hand away either.
“I’ve ssspent plenty of time up there,” he added softly. “And I can promise you — it’s no Paradise without you. Or my friends. Or even my Egg Boiz. I was… completely alone.”
Tears started to well up, glinting between his scales.
“Aww, so you do care about us, Pent,” Angel Dust teased, sauntering closer with a grin. Husk followed, tail flicking lazily.
“Of course I care, Angel,” Pentious replied without shame. Once, he would’ve hidden that kind of confession — weakness was dangerous in Hell.
But here, in Charlie’s hotel, feeling things wasn’t weakness. It was proof you still had a soul.
“It’s damn good to see you alive, man,” Husk said with a genuine smile.
“And redeemed,” Vaggie added, still steadying a teary-eyed Charlie.
“Boss!!” a small voice squeaked from the door.
Pentious turned — and saw one of his Egg Boiz, Frank, standing there beside Angel’s little pig and Charlie’s weird key-creature.
“Frank!” Pentious cried, rushing over to scoop up the tiny egg. “Oh, it’s so good to see one of you again!”
They all moved to the couches in the lounge, Cherry sitting close — maybe too close — beside him. Nobody said a word about it.
“He’s the only one who made it,” Cherry said quietly, stroking Frank’s shell. Pentious’s face fell. “A terrible lossss… but I’m grateful he survived.”
“So, what’s Heaven like?” Angel asked, stretching across the couch. “Bet they rolled out the golden carpet for ya, huh?”
Pentious hesitated. “Ah. Actually, they… put me in prison the moment I arrived.”
The entire room went still.
“…What?” Cherry’s voice was dangerously low.
“Oh, but don’t worry! I was released! Everything’s fine now!” he added quickly, seeing the murderous look in her eye.
“Wait,” Charlie said, frowning. “I thought you said you were welcome in Heaven?”
“I am,” he said carefully. “Eventually. It just took… some time, a full confession, and, well… the literal Word of God to convince them I was truly redeemed.”
Cherry’s fingers twitched near her bombs. Frank curled tighter against him.
Vaggie crossed her arms. “Maybe you should tell us exactly what happened up there, Pentious.”
He nodded and told them everything — the golden bars, the chains, the endless questions, the suspicious stares of the ancient seraph, Sera. And then, the woman who called herself the Word of God, the one who’d shown him kindness when everyone else had doubted. He described the blinding light, the shimmering shield Heaven was now building around itself, and Emily’s unexpected visit to Charlie.
By the time he finished, everyone was quiet — worried, yes, but also a little relieved. He was safe. And he had made it.
Angel leaned back on the couch, crossing one leg over the other as the room slowly filled with laughter again.
“Damn, snake boy, you sure know how to make an entrance,” he said, smirking. “Heaven to Hell in what, under ten minutes? That’s faster than FedEx.”
Pentious tilted his hat with exaggerated pride. “Efficiency, my dear Angel, is one of my more divine virtuesss.”
Angel chuckled, twirling a lock of his fur. “You always did know how to make an exit too — though, y’know, preferably without dying next time.”
His grin softened just a little. “Seriously though… good to have you back, sugar scales. Place was too damn quiet without your explosions.”
Pentious’s expression wavered between embarrassment and joy. “I assure you, that can be rectified at once.”
“God, please don’t,” Husk muttered from across the room.
The old cat demon had been quiet through most of it, nursing what was probably his third drink of the night. Now, watching Charlie bounce between crying and laughing, he sighed softly.
“Kid’s gonna short–circuit herself one of these days,” he said under his breath. “And for once, it ain’t even my fault.”
He glanced at Pentious and Cherry, still sitting close — too close — and felt something strange tug at the corner of his mouth.
“Heh. Guess miracles do happen after all,” he grumbled.
He raised his glass toward Pentious in a lazy toast. “Welcome back, scales. Try not to blow the roof off again.”
“I ssshall endeavor to behave, sir,” Pentious replied.
Husk rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“Well,” Vaggie sighed, rubbing her temple, “looks like we need to prepare for our angelic guests.”
“I can’t wait!” Charlie said brightly, completely re-energized after Pentious’s story.
“I’m just glad you’re okay, Pent,” Husk said sincerely.
Angel snorted. “Can’t wait to see Heaven myself. Wonder if they’ve got brothels up there…”
As the chatter resumed, Cherry leaned closer, practically sitting on his tail.
“How long are you staying?” she murmured so only he could hear.
“I’m… not sssure,” he admitted, forcing a brave smile. “As long as I can, I hope.”
“I wanted to tell you Miss—”
“Cherry,” she interrupted.
“…What?”
“Stop calling me Miss Bomb. It’s just Cherry now. Got it?”
He smiled softly. “Got it, Cherry.”
Vaggie had stayed silent too, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold with that sharp, protective stare of hers.
Charlie was glowing — literally and emotionally — and it hit her all at once just how much she’d fought against this dream at the start. How many times she’d told Charlie to slow down.
And yet here they were.
A redeemed soul, proof that her girlfriend’s impossible dream actually worked.
“Damn it,” Vaggie whispered to herself, rubbing her eyes with a shaky laugh.
When Charlie turned toward her, still crying, Vaggie couldn’t help but smile.
“You really did it, babe,” she said softly. “You actually fucking did it.”
Charlie let out a breathless laugh, running into her arms.
Angel made a fake gagging sound. “Aww, look at you two — all mushy and sentimental. I’m gonna need a bucket.”
“Shut up, Angel,” Vaggie shot back, but she was smiling.
“Yeah, yeah, love you too, sweetheart,” Angel said with a wink.
“Don’t call me sweetheart.”
“Okay, mi amor.”
“ANGEL.”
“Alright, alright! Jeez, you try to lighten the mood around here and suddenly everyone’s cranky.”
For a few precious minutes, the room felt alive again — laughter and warmth mixing with the faint hum of neon from outside.
Pentious sat quietly, his coils tucked beneath him, just watching.
This was what he’d missed. Not the chaos or the violence or even the thrill of invention — but the sound of belonging.
Every voice here mattered to him. Every laugh, every curse, every ridiculous insult thrown across the room.
He wasn’t just a guest in Hell anymore. He was part of it again.
He caught Charlie’s gaze from across the room, and for a second, they both just smiled — no words, no grand speeches. Just understanding. The hotel worked. And if Heaven didn’t like it, well… they could deal with it.
Pentious leaned back, letting out a long sigh.
Hell still smelled like smoke and sin, but for the first time, it also smelled like peace.
“Home sweet home,” he murmured.
And that’s when the door burst open.
Lucifer — the King of Hell himself — stepped in wearing his white suit, followed by Alastor in blood-red. Both were dusted with flour and some kind of red sauce.
“Charlie! My dear, your damned hotelier has—”
“I’ve done nothing outside of my usual duties, sir, if anything, it was your—”
“Don’t you dare blame me, you radio-headed freak! You don’t even know how to measure flour properly—”
“I assure you, I was extremely delicate, unlike you, who caused utter chaos in the kitchen—”
“I was born before you, bastard, I know how to bake a goddamn cake—”
“Need I remind you, sir, that you broke the jar of jam—”
“Because you crossed into my side of the kitchen—”
“The line was from the oven to the sink, not the fridge!”
“You absolute asshole—!”
“Okay, okay, everybody calm down!” Charlie jumped between them like a human barricade.
“What the hell were you two even doing?” Angel Dust asked, half-laughing.
“In the process of baking a cake for Charlie,” they both said in perfect unison.
“Oh, that’s so sweet!” Charlie beamed. “Actually, could you guys make another one?”
Lucifer blinked. “Another?”
“Yup! To celebrate the fact that REDEMPTION IS FUCKING REAL! IN YOUR FACE, DAD! IN YOUR FACE, ALASTOR! I WAS RIGHT!”
Both men stared at her and then noticed the white snake with a halo sitting on the couch.
Lucifer’s jaw hit the floor.
Somewhere in the hotel, a radio exploded.