Bitter

by Twas_Brillig_and_slithy_toves

Summary:

Post-season 2, so some spoilers.

“What are you doing here?” He seethed as soon as he got within a few feet. Alastor was pretty sure he had made it clear that he would kill him anytime he saw him. Why would he be here? He looked up, exposing his light pink scars on his face and neck. Alastor’s handiwork stayed with him even in death, much to his enjoyment, pity the other wounds were covered by the brown suit. 

Or Alastor's father comes to the hotel to see him.

Chapter 1

Notes:

Angel dust is only in the second and third chapter

Alastor was helping at the moment, checking in a line of guests who wanted redemption. It would still be funny, even if redemption were possible, so many people would still fail. Even though that wasn’t the reason he came or the reason he came back, it would still be entertaining. His excuse wasn’t completely a lie.  

The line wasn’t nearly as long as it had been the first week, which was just as well, as they were going to be running out of room soon. He only had half a dozen more keys left, and then they would probably have to institute a waiting list, hopefully one that would take a while to process as sinners tried so hard but ended up failing.  

He was checking in a butterfly sinner when Alastor saw him come in out of the corner of his eye. His eyes flicked up to what should have been the second-to-last guest for what should have just been a quick smile when he froze. 

He knew that sinner, and only the fact that his smile had been stitched on kept him from scowling at him. The fuck was this man doing in his hotel when he was pretty sure he knew that if he ever came within view, he knew that Alastor would kill him again? 

They looked nothing alike, not anymore. He was wearing a top hat and a brown suit. His skin was red and soft, looking like a half-man, half-pincushion. Probably from the 10 times he had stabbed him. It wasn’t as soft as it looked, though he knew that from personal experience, it was about as hard as regular sinner skin, no more or less difficult to break. 

When was the last time he had seen him? The 80’s? Yes, it was probably the 80s, in one of the few times he had been in Imp City, he had run into him. Not for the first time, of course, the first time he had run into him in hell had been in the 50s. Alastor had killed him then for the second time, but not the last time. 

It was strange to see him here in front of him. After the last time he killed him, he was pretty sure his father lived in the ring furthest from Pentagram City, why would he be here-

Did his father actually want redemption or to torment him? Tormenting seemed more his style. He hit a button that was supposed to call Vaggi if the line was long or if someone else was handling the desk and assistance was needed. He would handle his father, like he always did. Someone else could handle the guests.  He cheerfully finished up the interaction with the butterfly sinner and held up a hand before the Watering Can sinner behind could step up. 

“Someone will be here in a moment to assist you. There’s something I need to take care of; it will just be a moment.” He said professionally, though he wasn’t really looking at him, but at his father, who was looking down, so he couldn’t see his face, just his top hat. 

He heard the elevator sound and saw Vaggi come off the elevator out of the corner of his eyes and left the desk behind his long legs, eating up the distance as he ignored Vaggi asking him what he was doing and why she had called him instead of doing his job.  Nothing mattered right now except him putting Lawrence in his place. Because after what he did, they weren’t father and son anymore, Lawrence was just his perpetual victim, even if he seemed to have forgotten about that he would remind him. 

“What are you doing here?” He seethed as soon as he got within a few feet. Alastor was pretty sure he had made it clear that he would kill him anytime he saw him. Why would he be here? He looked up, exposing his light pink scars on his face and neck. Alastor’s handiwork stayed with him even in death, much to his enjoyment, pity the other scars were covered by the brown suit. 

“Can’t a father see his son?” Alastor searched his face, trying to decipher the meaning. His father’s face was blank, empty; his father had been an avid poker player in life, and it had often been hard to tell what he was thinking until after he had already made him angry. He no longer cared if he made him angry; he reveled in it as well as any of the last, what was it, 4 times he had killed him before he moved to the far rings of pride. 

“I will give you one opportunity to leave peacefully,” Alastor hissed through his teeth. He did not want to, of course, but the image of the hotel would be tarnished if he just used his tentacles to spear him right in the lobby without at least giving him a chance to back away. He almost didn’t care, but he was supposed to be getting close to Morningstars, which wouldn’t help if his father’s inside were all over the lobby. 

“Alastor, what’s going on!” Vaggi had too abandoned the line to look between him and his father. She looked more distrustful of him than of his father; of course, she had no idea who he was and what he had done. 

“I’m letting this sinner know that we cannot host him, and it would be better if he goes elsewhere.” He knew Vaggi and Charlie would both have a problem with not accepting anyone because everyone deserves a second chance at redemption and all that poppycock. 

“Alastor, if he wants redemption, you can’t stop him.” She was annoyed; he didn’t care. There was no way he was letting his father live in this hotel. He was lucky that he was letting him leave this time unharmed. Except, he wasn’t going. He could see the slightest upturn of his lips. Oh, is that what this game was? He thought he could stay here despite Alastor not wanting him to because he was a part of this hotel. Well, it seemed like Lawrence had overestimated something. 

“Oh, believe me in this case, I can.” 

“Wait, do you know him?” Vaggi asked after a moment if he could see her looking between the two of them out of the corner of his eyes. 

“Oh, I’ve known him for a very long time.” He smiled, showing his malicious intent. Lawrence wasn’t leaving, which meant he was going to get to kill him again. He had never gotten bored with it so far. 

“Alastor, you can’t just kill someone because of petty squabbles.” Oh, there was nothing petty about this squabble. Lawrence had killed his mother. There was nothing petty at all about this. 

“Believe this is the furthest thing from petty.” Lawrence looked behind him, presumably looking at Vaggi, scared. Oh, yes, play the victim. His father was a chameleon, ready to play any part to get his way. In that way, he was his father’s son. 

“I just want redemption, I came here to get it, I don’t-” Alastor rolled his eyes, already tired of this song and dance. 

“He’s a murderer,” he said sharply. Not wanting to admit to once being related to such scum of the earth. Besides the less publicly known about his mortal life, the better. 

“So are you.” His father said back just as sharply, exposing his teeth. Oh, yes, he was, and his father hadn’t even been alive to see all the death that had come after him. 

“What’s going on?” Charlie's concerned yet wary voice came from the elevator. He looked up to see Charlie and a small group of sinners who were probably doing group therapy. Charlie kept asking him to try it; the only thing he found therapeutic was ripping this man limb from limb.  

“I was just telling Vaggi and this sinner that he is not welcome if he doesn’t wish to die a most painful death,” Alastor said politely, though he rolled his eyes because he knew Charlie was probably going to try to stop him, be outraged about everyone deserving redemption, no matter if what they had done was unforgivable. This was one case he was willing to actively go against her, and he looked at his father, showing his intent clearly in plain view. His smile widened as Lawrence seemed to realize his miscalculation that his hatred of him exceeded wanting to be in the Morningstar's good graces, and his father finally looked scared.  

“Alastor, you can’t just kill a guest-” Alastor was pretty sure if he let her, he’d be there the whole afternoon, Charlie trying to teach him all about forgiveness, or at least not actively murdering someone in the lobby. 

“He’s not a guest yet, and he won’t be one,” he interrupted,  “Because if anyone tries to check him or stops me from killing him, I will quit permanently this time.” He was deadly serious. He had given Lawrence a chance to leave peacefully, which was more than he deserved. He didn't leave; he would kill him again. What way had he already killed him? Beheading, stabbed of course, and then stabbing again for poetry. There was also the time he exploded him. What was the other time? 

“Alastor, maybe we should-” Alastor sighed; he wanted to avoid admitting it, but he knew that he couldn’t not, if he wanted to kill him. 

“This is my father, he killed my mother, and I told him if he ever came near me again, I would gut him just like I have the last 4 times.”  Disembowelment? That sounded like a plan. 

-“I still think maybe this is an opportunity." Alastor was done listening. They could try to fight him, but he was stronger than both of them in a fight, at least for the moment. He started growing, and tentacles streamed out, grabbing Lawrence and pulling both of them out of the hotel, ignoring Charlie and Vaggi telling him to stop. It was going to get messy, and he didn’t want his dear Nifty to have to clean up after him. 

“So why have you come here?” Alastor asked the moment they left the hotel, still holding him up in his tentacles. At least he had the decency to shed his innocent persona, especially after his top hat was knocked off. His eyes were red too; in life and death, they had the same eyes; he hated it. He hated any resemblance between the two of them. Thankfully, his teeth were smaller and silver, long and thin like little knives. He boosted the two of them high into the air with his tentacles so this conversation could stay mostly private. 

“I saw you on that ad and thought you were into redemption now.” He knew he shouldn’t have allowed himself to be on it even for a few moments. Not if it brought this piece of scum back into his life. 

“So you wanted to be redeemed, or you thought that meant this time I wouldn't kill you and you could use me?” The latter made much more sense than the former but either way didn’t matter, he said he would kill him if he saw him, and he would. 

Blood all over the kitchen. Her blood. She hadn’t deserved it. She had never deserved it.  

“How did you get to be so powerful?” His eyes glittered dangerously, but he was a kitten compared to his power. 

“Is that why you came?” He squashed down the small part of him that was disappointed that maybe he had come for redemption, to try to fix things with them even though he would need another century before he might even think about it.  “You thought you could convince me to show you the source of my power?”

“I gave you life, my little gator.” His southern drawl became more pronounced. Lawrence’s accent had muted slightly over the years. My little gator. His childhood nickname. His mother gave it to him, but his father used it the most.  He hated it. His father knew he hated it, but he supposed Lawerence knew that Alastor was going to kill him anyway.  

Besides, his mother was the one who gave him life; his father had given him misery. Bruises. Slaps for not being quiet enough while he was drinking. Nightmares, his mom crying. His hatred for people who preyed on the weak. His fury had developed into a rage that would probably never go away. 

“And I will give you death over and over.” He promised. The only way to avoid it was for him to stay the hell away from him. “But if you ever come to the Hotel again, I will broadcast your screams. I don't care if you're not an overlord; I will make an exception. Remember that when you respawn.” 

“Al!” Charlie had apparently made her way out of the hotel now, but he didn’t care. His father was dying, even if he had to do it in front of the princess. Though maybe not disemboweling, unfortunately. He wished he had a bit of angelic steel, that way he could end his sorry existence once and for all, but at least this way he had been able to kill him multiple times. 

He decided to do to him what he should have done to Vox in the first place; at least he would have been able to avoid the whole situation with the dog and the cannon. Sometimes Alastor was too much of a showman for his own good when there were simpler, more effective methods available to him, granted his larger form had also been unavailable to him as his staff was broken, so maybe he would have if he could have. Alastor grew larger, more than twice as large. He watched in pleasure as the terror ran into his eyes again. Even though it had been years since the terror had been driven into him, he still enjoyed seeing the shoe on the other foot. 

“Al!” Charlie was still screaming, and Alastor was still ignoring; he’d be done soon anyway. As soon as he was large enough, he bit his father’s head off and let the body fall to the ground. He was disappointingly as bitter in death as he was in life. 

Notes:

I made a second chapter to show how this affects Alastor; Badly, it affects him badly.

Please let me know what you think. I accept all comments and concrit!

Chapter 2

“Smiles, what the hell are you doing here?” Angel Dust squealed as he sat upright in the large bed. Alastor elected to ignore all the various tools of the spider's trade that were in the room. Angel clutched the blanket to his chest, breathing hard. The spider had just woken up when he had made a loud noise a few moments earlier. Angel Dust's eyes were looking all around the room, looking for something. 

“You and I are going to have a drink,” Alastor said, pointing at him with his staff and his hands, absently fiddling with it. It was so much nicer once it had been fixed again. 

“It’s 3 in the morning,” Angel complained loudly, looking at his phone.  

“I’m aware of the time.” 

“I have work in 4 hours.” That he did not know, but also he didn’t care. He wanted a drink, and he wanted it with Angel. 

“No, the only thing you have to worry about is having a drink with me.” He wanted to drink with Angel; anything that got in the way of that would be sorry. 

“The hell, Smiles? What are you talking about? There's no way Val is going to let me skip out on work.” He pushed down the blanket, exposing his rather revealing clothing. Was that his usual nighttime attire? Or did he dress that way for the moth demon? The spider demon looked irritated, frustrated, and probably some other emotions he really didn’t care about. 

“Oh, he will.” Alastor rotated his head 180 degrees, and he then turned back, and Angel looked significantly more scared of him now. Good. Maybe he would stop complaining and get to dressing; he wanted to wet his whistle. 

“They still have a bar here, don’t they?” Alastor hadn’t been able to use the bar during his time as the Vees' hostage, but he had seen it. 

“Yeah, on the 5th floor, but Alastor-” 

“I’ll see you down there, my good man.” He said shortly, giving him a lightly menacing smile in the hope he would not have to come back up to get him. 

“Al-” Was all he heard before he disappeared into his shadows and reappeared in the bar. It was empty, probably due to the time of night. That was okay; he could pour himself a drink even if he preferred Husker for the job. He might as well get started- well, restarted while Angel was freshening up. Besides, sooner or later, those Vees would show up trying to ruin his night. He used a tentacle to pull a drink from behind the bar as well as two glasses. Angel could get something else if he wasn’t feeling Rye whiskey. He poured the whiskey and took a drink. 

It definitely burned on the way down, but in a pleasant way. He hadn’t been drinking as much as he had when he was injured. When Rosie had fixed his staff, he had finally had enough power to heal. Of course, that was before his father had come to the hotel.

His father. He tightened his grip on the bar, making a small screeching noise as it gave under his claws, after vanishing his cane for the moment. He hated him so much, and he had just waltzed right back into his life, wanting to gain an advantage. He shouldn’t be at the Vee tower. He was only going to end up saying something about his father to his enemies, exposing himself. But ever since he had overheard that Angel’s big sin was killing his father, it had looped around in his head, and killing his father for the 4th time had driven him here. 

“Smiles, what the hell is this? Also, why are the lights still off?” He flicked on the light, making Alastor wince at the sudden brightness. He had fairly good night vision, not all demons did. Sometimes, he didn’t realize he was sitting in the dark, especially when he was a little drunk.   

“Drink.” He wasn’t ready to explain yet, or maybe not at all, but he hoped his tone made it clear that this was no request, but a command.  Angel grumbled a bit more but pulled up a barstool and sat beside him. He was wearing his usual kind of clothing now. Exposed but not as exposed as whatever he had been wearing to sleep. It was pink this time. 

“Why am I here?” Angel asked. A fair question, it wasn’t like the two of them were exactly close, and Angel lived with the Vees now. There hadn’t really been anything linking before except the hotel. He seemed amused when Alastor had quit more than anything else. Didn’t matter, though, the only thing that mattered at the moment was that Angel Dust had also killed his father, and even if they didn’t talk about it, he needed to be around someone who shared the first major sin of his. Not his last, of course, just the first.   

“Drink.” He said pointedly to the whiskey. He didn’t look at Angel, but after a few minutes, Angel sighed and picked up the glass. 

“The Vees are going to be so mad when they realize you're here.” He could hear nerves underneath the vibrato. Alastor wasn’t worried; he could handle the vees easily now that his staff and wounds were fixed. 

“Don’t worry, my good fellow, they wouldn’t dare try again.” Or if they did, they could fight one more time, and Alastor could show him exactly how strong and skilled he was. That would be nice too. He could go big again, just like he had when he bit off his father's head, or he could scare them off.  

He had just refilled his empty glass when he heard footsteps behind him. 

“What is this bitch doing here?” It was Val, shame he had rather been enjoying his drink. 

“Having a drink with Angel Dust here.” He caught the look Angel gave Val, a panicked 'I didn’t want to, he forced me to kind of look’. Alastor rolled his eyes. So dramatic. 

“Be a good fellow and leave us be.” He never had as much of a grudge with Val or Velevette; in fact, he had kind of enjoyed being around them and talking shit about Vox during his stay there.  His line of work disgusted him, but he had been able to be polite and get along with both of them.  Val, of course, was scowling at him in those ridiculous glasses, looking pissed off at his choice of drinking buddy. 

“That’s my property, and he has 8 guys lined up to fuck in 4 hours.” Alastor rolled his eyes at the crassness but said, 

“Well then, you will just have to give him the day off tomorrow.” He heard bouncing behind him and sighed; he had a good idea who was coming up behind them. He looked over, Vox. The screen still didn’t have limbs, and his approval rating was still low. Every single time it rose up, even a little Alastor would run a radio show to talk it back down again. Alastor grinned at that and focused on the little screen. 

“No, he’s my property, not yours, and he has work!” Alastor didn’t spare him a glance, looking at the bouncing TV. 

“Is that Alastor? What the fuck is Alastor doing here?” Vox demanded, hopping in place, his big eyes furious. It was the first time they had come across each other since their last fight when Vox tried to wipe both of them off hell. Maybe he should have just kidnapped Angel Dust and taken him back to the hotel to drink? Maybe he still should. Still, Angel wouldn’t be able to relax much if he were worried about the Vees the entire time, and he didn’t care to deal with all that drama. 

"If you don’t leave Angel and I to drink, I will eat your hands. All of them.”  He said, looking back to the moth, Vox didn’t have hands. He knew Vox had been watching; his little drones never really left the outside of the hotel. He probably would have seen what he had done to his father, though he didn’t know it was his father, just some sinner. “I’m still hungry,” he said menacingly with a knowing look and the bodyless TV screen. He was, but he would never eat Vals’s hands, who knew where those things had been?  Still ripping them off might be fun, though it would be a little rude after their previous gossiping together. 

Val’s lower set of fingers were resting where Alastor knew his guns to be. So dramatic, all he wanted was a drinking buddy, and everyone was going into a tizzy about it. He sighed, letting his shadows start to pool around him, away from Angel but towards the Vees. 

“You know I still could use more voices on my broadcast.” He said mostly conversationally but with a hint of menace. He didn’t want to get into that tonight, and he wanted to torment Vox as a head for a little while before he put in his broadcast if that’s what he decided to do. Val, he didn’t really care about that much, only if he was going to make this small drinking excursion difficult.  He focused and let some of the voices from the broadcast fill the air, along with some rather showy green magic, whose main purpose was actually just to be showy. 

He was delighted to see the moth’s face pale slightly as well as the TV head. He had more often threatened this than actually shown it. Rosie had directed him on which overlords to take down. Vox had never been high on her list, and to be honest, part of him had enjoyed fighting him over the years, so he had never seriously advocated for the Vees, even after one of their closer fights they had while he was already injured by another overlord.  That all said, they had never really seen him at unrestricted full power and with a terribly small amount of patience. 

“It would be a shame if I had to put my two pals away,”  The mocking tone on pals was meant more for Vox than for Val. Vox’s large eyes glared at him for it. He had almost killed him; he really owed Vox some more pain for that. He just hadn’t decided exactly how he wanted to meter it out yet. For now, it was just keeping him low-powered so he couldn’t regenerate, not that it would stop him long term. Vox had made his TV heads; he was probably also working on making a body as well. Now that he knew he could live without a head if he made himself a body, he could just rip it off. Make the picture box rethink that. 

Val took a step back, and Vox looked pointedly away from him. His grin widened, and he stopped the theatrics, letting light back in. 

“You're going to give him tomorrow off, and we’re going to the hotel for drinks, and in return I won’t rip off your hands, and I won’t put you in my broadcast tonight. “ He made sure to specify tonight because he still might put Vox in it any time, despite being so pathetic, being just a head. 

“Do we have an agreement?” The two Vees just stared at him, and he wondered where Velvette was. Was she still sleeping, letting the two of them deal with him?  Shame. He decided to grow a few feet just so that he was taller than Val, and give him an additional reminder.

“I asked,” He said, also lengthening his antlers a little and making his teeth slightly sharper, “If we have an agreement.” Val and Vox both looked up at him, and after a long moment, Val nodded his head. 

“Splendid. Be back in a few hours, chums.” He said, hooking his arms through Angel Dust's and turning them into shadows. It took a few minutes for them to move through the streets and back to the empty bar at the hotel. Husk had gone to bed about half an hour ago, leaving the area empty. He shouldn’t mind if Alastor helped himself to another whiskey at the bar. How many was that for him tonight? His brow furrowed slightly as he couldn't remember, but still, he used his tentacles again to grab more whiskey and glasses. 

The pornstar looked rather pale, standing there somehow even though he was white. First time shadow travel does that sometimes. Nobody seemed to like it. It took the pornstar a few moments to gather himself enough to lurch his way to a seat and collapse in it. 

“What the hell?”Alastor heard him mutter under his breath. His eyes were wide, and he refused to look towards him. Oh, was this about his show of power and not the shadow travel? It had been more to intimidate. Those shadows were more a mirror of his broadcast, not a portal. It took a bit more energy and focus to open the real one, not advisable to do when one is a little drunk. He supposed the screams might be having an effect on Angel Dust as well; they were very alarming to most, which was the point. He took another gulp of his whiskey. Angel was a strong fellow; eventually, he would snap back to himself. 

“The hell?” Angel said again, looking at the bar underneath his upper set of hands. Alastor took another gulp and then refilled the glass. He would work through it, he just needed a minute. He did. Angel, after a few minutes, seemed to come back to himself and regain his more vibrant white color. 

“What was that?” Angel turned and spat at him. Brave little spider. He was lucky he elected to not take his tone personally. 

“Vox? Val? Those shadows? Those screams? What the hell was that?” He started gesturing as he talked with his upper hands, then winced like he expected Alastor to hit him for his outburst. Oh, yes, Val was quite the violent one, wasn’t he?  He didn’t hit to intimidate, no, he scared. But he had apparently done a lot of unintentional scaring tonight, so he decided not to push it any further. 

“I had to get them to let you leave?” Instead, he said politely, Angel was not soothed by his words. 

“Why? What the fuck is this all about? Did Charlie tell you to come and get me because I’m not going back?” Angel complained loudly, and he sounded angry, apparently emboldened by his non-reaction. Alastor did not care. 

“This has nothing to do with Charlie.” He said honestly, he wasn’t even sure what Charlie would do if he knew he had gone to get Angel, probably yell at him for interfering, then do some more interfering herself. Ha. He laughed to himself.

“Then what does this have to do with me?” Angel raised an eyebrow slightly more calmly but also poured himself a glass.  

“Drink, darling.” He took another gulp of whiskey. The Vees whiskey had been a little nicer than their own, but they probably put more money into it. Charlie barely allowed the bar to exist; she wanted them all clean and not under any influence, somtimes the influence was needed. 

Especially when your asshole of a father barged his way back into your damn life over 100 years after he had killed him and left a bad taste in his mouth that several glasses of whiskey hadn’t gotten out yet. He saw Angel looking at him, looking both wary and kind of exasperated out of the corner of his eye. He ignored it in favor of more whiskey. 

“Are you drunk?” The question came after a few minutes of silence, where he was pretending he didn’t notice Angel stealing looks at him.  He wasn’t as drunk as he would like to be, but he was also probably drunker than he should have been. He’d had a few drinks before he came to pick up Angel as well.  

“A bit,” he admitted. Would he he made the decisions he had tonight if he wasn’t so drunk? Probably not. But his father’s tone when he said My little gator swam incessantly in his head. His sharp silver teeth wouldn't leave, and their eyes. He hated they shared the same eyes. He never cared about him; it was always about status. It was always perfunctory. His father had never wanted a son, nor, it would seem, a wife. Yet, he had them anyway. 

Alastor understood the desire to not have children,  but at least he had done the proper thing, and he hadn’t had any in life. He didn’t have a child, and then made everything their problem.

 He took another large gulp. He was not nearly drunk enough; he needed more to drown these thoughts and memories out. He hated his father. His Mom. What Lawrence did to his Mom. 

His eyes, his father's eyes. They were too similar. He hated each and every similarity between them. He hated how he learned how to school his face from his actions, from a young age. Alastor hated everything about the man he used to be and the demon who kept showing his face. Every reminder of him made everything in him itch. He wanted all the reminders gone. He didn’t want him on the broadcast because every time he thought of him, he started drowning in old emotions; angelic steel was the only way.  

He clutched the bar counter, tearing it again with his claws. He hated the man. Angel looked over, looking wary and confused in his direction, up from his more fruity drink, which he must have made while Alastor was lost in thought. 

“You killed your father, right?” He asked before he could think about it too much. Something shuttered in Angel’s eyes, a defensive sort of thing, and he wrapped his lower arms around himself. 

“No offense, Alastor, but if I was going to talk to someone about that, it’s not going to be you.” While it was true that the two of them were not exactly close, he was wrong that he was the worst person to talk to about this; after all, he understood more than anyone else. 

“I killed my father today for the 4th- no, 5th time.” He shouldn’t be telling Angel this; he shouldn’t be telling anyone this, but Angel might understand, understand how every single time his father came back into his life it threw him for a loop, how he felt more like that weak child who had taken everything, trying not to complain, than the strong overlord that he was. How thoroughly it disrupted his life every single time it happened. 

“Oh,” Angel said after a moment. He looked a lot less defensive and more concerned. Was he concerned about him? Concern made him feel a little itchy. Distance was better; emotions and affection just made things messy and dangerous. He should leave before any more emotions were shared, but instead, he asked.

“Is he here? Is your father here?”  Angel seemed to be debating answering the question before he looked away, hugging himself tighter and said. 

“Probably, but I haven’t seen him.” Alastor nodded; he wished he could say the same. He supposed the porn star didn’t draw them back in like Overlord, or perhaps maybe Angel’s father wasn’t nearly as power hungry. He wasn’t going to ask him why he killed his father or offer up why he had killed his own. His first murder at least had been in response to another, but he was already saying too much in his drunken state; he couldn't dig himself in further. 

“If your situation is anything like mine, probably for the best.” He fucking hated seeing his father. He fucking hated the eyes they shared. He hated every time he saw his stupid fucking face. He hated his voice, his words, his reminders. He wanted him gone. Gone from his life. 

Alastor hadn’t realized he had thrown the glass at the wall away from Angel until he heard it shatter. His breathing was heavier than it should have been.  He was showing more emotion than he should have been showing anyone, especially to Angel.  This whole night had probably been a huge mistake, the kind only his father could cause him to make. Enough, it was enough. He couldn’t expose himself anymore.  He slowly forced himself back into control, his breath measured, and his smile less stretched, which he hadn’t realized it was getting. 

“We should be getting you back…Can you keep this to yourself?" He turned to ask the spider, who was still looking at where he had thrown his glass, looking alarmed. The look faded after a moment or two as he seemed to process his question.  

“My contract.” Oh, yes, his contract meant that he had to do whatever Val said at work anyway, and meant that Vox had pretty much open access to him, and he had already shown how much he liked to hypnozitize him. Even though they had let the two of them go, they would probably interrogate him the moment he returned. He could not let it be known that his father was here in hell and that he cared so much about him. Vox would probably make a partnership with him and use him to taunt Alastor like he had taunted him. 

“Very well.” Only a deal could cut off another one as long as it didn’t directly interfere.   “Let’s make a deal. You keep this to yourself, and I will …” He trailed off, even drunk, he knew he had to be careful what he promised. Even a favor could change everything, as he had shown with Charlie. Getting him out of his deal with overpayment for this would probably be complicated, even if it were possible. So something smaller, more manageable, something Angel would want but wouldn't cost him much of anything. He could temporarily loan him a power? He had more than enough now, and a small amount of power for say a week might work, especially with something else to sweeten the pot.  

“I can lend some of my powers for say a week, and I can tell you an embarrassing story about Vox you can trade to Valentino for blackmail?” He had two years' worth of a fairly newly demon Vox he could use against him in one form or another.  Angel seemed both wary and interested in the proposition. 

“What powers? What use is that since I wouldn’t be able to use them against Valentino? He still owns my soul?” A fair point, most contracts/deals had provisions against hurting the owner built into them, and if they didn’t, the owner merely had to grab the chain, and it would stop them anyway.    

“Then don’t use them against the moth. Directly. There is always wiggle room when it comes to contracts, know where you can wiggle.” Alastor was probably being a bit too helpful with really not much in it for him. His damn loose, drunk lips.  

“What the hell do you mean by that, Smiles?” He sounded both confused and angry, but Alastor still didn’t look at him. Hmm, he had thought this would be more interesting or more therapeutic or more something. Maybe he should have just kept drinking by himself because now he had to bribe Angel. Had it even helped? He took another gulp.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, my good man. Do we have a deal?” He held out his hand, and Angel looked at it like it was covered in blood. It wasn’t, was it? He had cleaned himself up after his short adventure with his father, and it had mostly bloodied his shirt, not his hand. It was a good thing his normal clothes were red; they hid blood much better.  

“What powers and how can I use them if not against Val?” His tone was distrustful because Angel was cautious now, in the way he wasn't nearly as cautious about the first time around. To be fair, he had underestimated his initial soul deal as well. He had no idea it would take him so long to find his way out of it. 

“Some light shadow magic and a minion for a week,” he looked over for this part. “No sex with the minion.” Was the disappointment in Angel’s eyes real or for show? It did seem a bit exaggerated, but he had no idea just how horny this spider demon was.  Now that he was no longer tied and his magic potential was full, letting Angel borrow some of his shadow magic for a week would barely put a dent in his reserves. “And a bit of blackmail material.” He added, it was more gossip than anything else, but it could be utilized for helpful purposes if Angel was smart, and he certainly couldn’t be as dumb as he seemed at times. One could never trust the surface; hell taught everyone how to hide, how to be what someone else wanted them to be.  

“All this so Vox doesn’t know?” He was smarter than he looked. “That dude is so obsessed with you? Why is that?” Angel's voice was curious but also hesitant, likely knowing from Vox they were both very heated about the other, especially now. He hated how much he cared about the picture box until he had sicced his dog on him and tried to kill him with a cannon.  

“He wanted me to join his team. I said no, now he’s pissy.” Alastor said with a wide grin, knowing he was leaving some of the finer details out, like exactly how he had said no. It had really been his best decision; if Vox hadn’t taken it so badly, he wouldn’t have been obsessed with him for the last 70 years, and he wouldn’t have been able to manipulate him so thoroughly. He was done talking, Vox, and he ignored the small pocket of emotion that sort of seemed like guilt that came with that memory.  

He spent a few more moments outlining the exact terms of the deal before he extended his hand towards the pornstar, green lighting up the room a little. Even non-soul deals always lit the place up. 

“Do we have a deal?” Angel stared at his hand for a long moment, probably weighing the pros and cons. He hoped he weighed how much having the strongest sinner pissed at you would be a bad thing. Alastor made for a much better temporary benefactor than an enemy. Apparently, Angel came to the right decision because he nodded and took his hand. 

The magic was always so showy, lighting up the entire room and probably beyond even for such a small deal with no souls in the mix.   Thankfully, it was still early in the morning, and most of the residents were still fast asleep. He would tell Angel what he knew, and Angel wouldn’t tell anyone about his father.  

The story took about ten minutes to tell, and the both of them were laughing at the tale's end. Vox had been quite entertaining; it was really too bad he wanted to team up, that he had wanted to be friends, business pattern, and probably more with how much the picture box was obsessed with him. But soon the red sunlight was starting to come through the windows, and soon people would be going to the kitchen for breakfast. It was better if Angel wasn’t planning to stay, that he left before the people got their little hopes up. It was so annoying to deal with their disappointment all day. 

“Are you sure you want to go back?” He asked, getting off his barstool, he was a little shaky, but he should still be fine to use his shadows to transport the two of them back. 

“Yeah, I don’t have control over myself, and until I do, I can’t come back.” Alastor nodded; he understood that point. He decided not to add that was actually why he had kept his distance from the spider, although his lewd advances had not helped either. 

“Very well, my good fellow, it’s time to go back then.” He held out his hand, and after a moment the spider grabbed it. The travel was a little more bumpy than usual, even for him. Maybe he shouldn’t shadow transport after drinking so much. Angel dust stumbled off to the bathroom, and he saw Val waiting for him right by his bed, smoking a cigarette. If looks could kill, he would be a dead demon. Alastor smirked back at him. He wasn’t going to do anything, and they both knew it. 

“Give him the rest of the day off, or I will eat your hands." He promised the moth demon and let the radio dials in his eyes out; it was usually a good intimidation factor, though possibly not needed after earlier in the night/morning.  He used his shadow to travel back. He hoped that Angel would find a good way to use his temporary powers. 

Notes:

I may add a third chapter; it depends on how big of an asshole I want Alstor to be. Please let me know what you think. I accept all comments and criticism!

Chapter 3

Notes:

Warning: Alastor earns more of his Alastor is a jerk tag than previous chapters, as well as the (new) manipulative Alastor tag even if he just sees it as being pragmatic.

Alastor was drinking on the balcony of the hotel. Blood and coffee this time, not whiskey. That whole night had been one mistake after another. He didn’t get drunk in public, that's what his room was for, but his drunk self had decided that going to Vee Tower and then taking Angel Dust back to the hotel to drink sounded like a splendid idea. It was not. Not only did he have a hangover the rest of the day, but he had also done the worst thing possible. He had told Angel Dust about his father. 

He was sloppy with his secrets, just like he accused Lucifer of being a few weeks ago. It was quite embarrassing, and he had to swear the girls to secrecy as well before they told the whole hotel. He should have known better, but his drunk self had just blabbed it. Thankfully, he had contained all three people, as well as he could anyway. Charlie and Vaggi had promised him on things that deeply mattered that they would not tell anyone; unfortunately, Charlie and Vaggi would not make any more deals with him. They were already varying levels of angry about how he had used his last deal and varying levels of angry that he had killed his father in front of the hotel, not caring that he had taken it outside for their sake.  

Uh, what a week. At least the terms of his deal with Angel would be set come morning, his end fulfilled, and his powers back where they should be. Alastor wouldn’t ask the spider how he used them; it was better not to know. He took another gulp of blood coffee. He was a lot less...fragile about the whole thing now. He had shoved those feelings back where they came from and hoped that they never crawled their way up again.  So embarrassing. 

He had about 20 more minutes on his break. Ever since his father, he had been actually working a normal human shift. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to do it for long and he could go back to his occasional helping, and mostly defending the hotel from outside forces, job that he preferred, but while the two women were angry with him he was trying to help out more. He needed to be in their good graces and Lucifer’s if he wanted to eventually make a deal with one of them to boost his own powers. He didn’t really have a plan yet except to get closer to the Morningstars. 

Interesting. He caught sight of something he wasn’t expecting: Angel Dust was walking up to the hotel. The balcony of the hotel was much further away from the ground floor than the old one, so he could really only see someone vaguely Angel Dust-shaped and dressed. 

Why would Angel Dust return to the hotel? Last he knew from Husk, who was still sulking around, more often than not, carrying that little pig around, Angel was still set on staying with the Vees. Why would he be back, the night before their deal was up? He watched Angel tilt his head up to look at him, stopping in the walkway in front. 

Two tentacles grew slowly from the back of Angel, black and long. Fascinating. The pornstar had been a busy bee learning about his powers. Two was probably the extent he could produce with how little power Alastor had given him. One tentacle latched onto the side of the building, then the other as Angel Dust hoisted himself in the air, and Angel swung between the two, making his way up the side of the building, somewhat jerkily. It did make it somewhat simpler; no one would see Angel, and so no crying would ensue when Angel went back. 

But why was he there? Angel didn’t need to return to give it back. At 3-4, or whatever time they had made that deal, the next norming, his powers would automatically be returned to him, but the deal would still be in place for his silence. So why was the spider demon there? 

He was rather quick for someone who had only gotten his powers a week ago. When Angel set foot on the balcony, his tentacles retracted back into his body mostly smoothly.  

“Impressive.” He said honestly, it often took sinners a lot longer to master their powers. While the tentacles had been jerky, they had done the job Angel wanted them to, and style wasn’t always everything. “You know you don’t have to come here to return them,” he added, pleasantly taking another drink of his blood coffee.

“I know.” Angel looked rather stoic but determined. Interesting. Very interesting. 

“So why are you here, my effeminate fellow?” he asked slightly teasingly. Why would Angel come back to the hotel he was afraid of to talk to him right before their deal was done? It could only be the most interesting of tales. Angel’s eyes darted around. Was he looking for prying eyes or just remembering how much Vox liked to spy on him, really the both of them, he supposed. 

 “Is this a conversation we need to have privately?” Alastor asked with a knowing smile. He wasn’t sure what the spider wanted exactly, but he could make a few guesses. all of which would be better without wandering eyes or bodiless TV boxes or moths looking in.. Angel nodded. Alastor stood up, abandoning his drink, and his shadow swallowed both of them, depositing the two in his room a few moments later. 

Angel seemed much less uncomfortable this time around; either he was more used to shadows or Alastor's lack of drunkenness had smoothed the experience somewhat.  Or possibly both. 

Alastor, being the gracious host he was, gestured to his only chair that wasn’t hidden in the bayou. Most people, for some reason, didn’t seem to like venturing into the bayou. Angel didn’t sit. Alastor did sit on his own bed, waiting for Angel to speak, crossing his legs patiently waiting as Angel started pacing, his lower hands clenching into fists. Interesting. 

He heard something that was probably Italian whispered under the pornstar's breath. Alastor didn’t speak it; he only spoke English, French, and a small bit of Spanish. His curiosity was piqued as he watched him pace. Angel Dust stopped facing away from him, still muttering what was likely Italian. Then something in English that sounded like, 

“This is a bad idea,” before he abruptly turned around, facing him. 

“What would it take to keep it?” Oh, very interesting. His spider had really enjoyed his temporary gifts, it seemed. “I’m not saying I’ll do it, I just want to know what it would take.” Angel hurriedly went on, his left arms waving in his direction. How did one deal with having so many limbs?   

He focused on the question. What would it take to let Angel keep his powers? That was an intriguing question, one he hadn’t even considered Angel would ask. Powers, though, could be intoxicating. Husk had sold himself to him, to save his own, after all. Of course, in Husk’s case, it was also important because every Overlord had made enemies somewhere, and without power,s you were a sitting duck waiting to get stepped on like an ant.   

“You want to keep your powers?” He mused out loud. Angel must have found quite the use for them after all, or just enjoyed the increase in strength that came with it. He puzzled over the question. Powers, even small ones like the ones he let Angel borrow, if permanent, were soul-deal materials. Was there anything that Angel Dust could give them that would make it worth it? He was a regular sinner, not an overlord; he didn’t usually make deals with sinners. 

Was there anything Angel Dust could give him to make the exchange worth it? He would be a little less powerful, however, for the time being, he wouldn't be using his powers much unless he was defending the hotel. He could lend them out semi-permanently for about a year, but is there anything Angel could give him that would make the even small decrease in his power worth it?

It would be quite a different situation if Angel Dust’s soul wasn’t already owned by Valentino because he could use him in a fight if necessary, but considering his soul was already spoken for, was there anything Angel could do to make it worth it? His greatest strength, or what he was most well known for, was his ability to fight in turf wars with a gun and his being a pornstar, and his ability to turn anything into innuendo, no matter how mundane. None of that was anything he needed. 

He opened his mouth to tell him no, but he paused. He had broken his contract with Rosie; surely, he could break Angel’s as well and bind him to him instead. If he were under his contract, it wouldn’t matter so much if Angel had some of his powers because he could pull him from anywhere to help. And he could put a clause that if he really needed all his powers, he could temporarily take them back. 

It would be a real fuck you to the Vees, and it would give him some points with Charlie if he could return him back to the hotel, even if it was under his own soul deal. Of course, Charlie didn’t need to know about the deal. Just the appearance of Angel with the suggestion he was responsible might thaw her some. Despite his fighting Vox, Charlie was still a bit angry about the way he had used his deal, even if she still had no idea what he had used it for. 

Bringing Angel back to the hotel would go a long way to soothing everyone and getting him back into position. Still, it would likely be a lot of work and would depend on the specific wording of the contract. He needed something more from him to make it worth all the effort it would take. 

“What would you give me if I considered that and a change in ownership?” He asked the spider, whose jaw dropped and eyes were wide, and he looked shocked. 

“You can do that? You for Val?” Angel said after a long moment, gesturing to him. It was unclear if he could; it would all depend on the exact wording of the contract. The Vees had lawyers, so it was probably fairly tight; however, if it was an older one, it might have more wiggle room. 

“Perhaps.” He wouldn’t make promises until he saw the exact wording of the contract. “But if I can, what can you give me?” He saw a flirty smile come onto the pornstar’s face

“Um, I can suck-” He cut himself off, the spider's eyes going wide and a little uncomfortable, seeming to realize that wasn’t exactly a positive for him. 

“Maybe you don’t appreciate my talents, but you have people who would?” Alastor considered that for a moment. Did he have any use for that particular ‘talent ’? Anything he could trade for it? Possibly? Sexual favors were plentiful, but not really with most of the people he wanted to do business with, since they usually had their own workers. But it was possible he could find some use for that particular ability somewhere, even if it made him a little uncomfortable. Still, even if he could, it wouldn’t be enough? Would he really do it just to fix up any cracks in his relationships? Alastor made a noncommittal noise. 

“I’m good in a fight,” Angel added, though it sounded more like a question than a statement. Yes, amongst sinners, he was good in a fight, but most overlords could probably take him. Maybe not any, but most. Was it worth it? 

Angel seemed to be scrambling to figure out something that would entice him. “We can talk?” He said slowly and with more than a hint of regret. Right. The whole reason this thing had come about in the first place was that he had wanted to talk to someone who understood. He was less fragile now, but if Angel was under contract, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about anything.

 While the circumstances of their patricides were undoubtedly different and perhaps Angel’s had a bit more of a heroic tint to it, unlike his, it might be useful, sometimes. Still, was that enough?   After all, he really wished to discuss it, he could talk to Husk or Nifty, even if they didn’t understand; they still couldn’t tell anyone. And yet he had reached for Angel, for understanding in his drunken state. 

Hmm. Nothing Angel could offer him would be enough. The biggest thing he would get from him was Charlie’s trust again and perhaps Vaggi, too. Also, Husk would stop sulking; he was getting so irritating. Besides, taking Voxtek or Valtek or whatever they were calling it these days down a peg by stealing their most popular pornstar would be fun as well. 

He didn’t even necessarily have to break the contract for that either. He could do it the old-fashioned way, intimidation, and Charlie would surely approve if it meant Angel could come back right?  The Vees, on the whol,e were not as scared of him as they should be.  Still, breaking the contract might be the easier way to go, depending on wording. 

Still, he needed something more to make this work for him. What could he get from Angel to make it worth all the effort? He walked slowly around him, looking the sex-worker up and down. 

Surely there had to be something else in him that would make it worth it? Angel did his best not to look uncomfortable being circled, but his lower hands slowly moved to his stomach. Angel was very much intimidated by him, but he still seemed to want the change in ownership. Interesting. 

There had to be something. 

There had been that something before the attempted extermination- but no, that had only gotten him injured. Emotion could not play a part in it, just logistics. Still, the compliments Angel Dust had given him after he tasted his jumbalya, even if it was full of double entendres, filled his mind.  

The way Husk's face lit up every time he saw the spider. The way he would talk so animatedly, even about even the most mundane of topics, though especially about his work… although not as much as he used to.  The few hesitant questions Angel Dust had thrown at him during meals, seemingly trying to get to know him. The meal he had cooked for everyone when Angel had asked if he could eat regular meat or if he had anything he couldn’t eat. Countless small interactions they had over the course of the past year. 

- No, he didn’t care about that. He didn’t care about Husk. He didn’t care about the hotel. All he wanted from the hotel was power. The last time he made a decision, at least partially based on emotion, he had almost gotten killed; never again. The only way he would help him was if it benefited him enough. 

“How about your loyalty?” He posited. Angel glared at him, putting his bottom hands on his hips. Oh, quite sassy still. The Vees hadn’t stolen all his fire- yet. 

And what would it matter if they had? He didn’t actually care for him. 

“I won’t lie and manipulate for you, that’s why I left the hotel in the first place.” Yes, it was, and it was a smart decision. If the Vees could manipulate him at any moment, could spy on them, spill all of their secrets, it was best for everybody that the pornstar stayed away. That the Vees knew about Lucifer's inability to hurt them first from Angel still annoyed him, even though he had been a prisoner when apparently Angel had overheard it. Alastor nodded, though he was a bit disappointed, but that didn’t mean Angel still couldn’t be prodded in a direction. 

“I’m not asking for either, just that you consider my point of view and you don’t lead the charge against it.”  If he could have Angel more aligned with him, then he could more easily prod Charlie in a direction of his choosing. 

“I won’t hurt them or lie or manipulate for you.” Angel crossed his arms and brought them quickly to his sides. 

“Also not asking for any of that.’He said calmly.  “I’m asking if there is an argument and you can see both points of view, you side with me.” And he could probably get something from Husk, too. Those two had been spending a lot of time together, and he was sure that if he brought his quandary up to Husk, he could probably get something their first deal hadn’t. Hm, maybe this deal would be worth it after all. There were, of course, a few things he had to check on first, including Husk and the contract, but if things aligned, he would likely follow through.   

“I’ll consider it my good fellow. You’ll have my answer in a few days; in the meantime, you may keep your abilities.”  There was naked hope in the spider's eyes, and it was not misplaced. Unless he couldn’t come up with enough benefit, he would be making this deal. Hmm, this deal could be very interesting.  

 

Later, grinning ear to ear after a promising conversation with Husk and heading back to his room, an unwanted image flashed in his mind.   Smiling silver teeth flashed, followed by his same blood red eyes, killing the authentic smile and stopping in place in the middle of a thankfully empty hall, but his base smile stayed on. A familiar cold, tense feeling spread through him. His father would be proud of him, wouldn't he. He really was his father's son. 

Notes:

I have one other story with Alastor replacing Valentino as the owner of Angel's soul, and I guess I'm a little obsessed with the idea.

I'm not an artist but I made fanart

Please let me know what you think. I accept all comments and concrit!