"Angelcakes," came the sickly sweet voice on the other end of the phone, "where are you?"

Angel's grip tightened around his hellphone, hand shaking. Icy fear spread through his veins, and he got up from the bed, away from Alastor's comforting hand on his knee. He was restless, needed to pace. Fat Nuggets trailed at his heels, and Angel leaned down to pick him up, holding him tightly in his lower two arms.

"At the Hotel, Daddy," Angel replied truthfully, wincing as the pet name came out like nothing. "I told you."

"Don't play stupid with me, Angel. Why aren't you here?"

"Daddy, I - "

"Don't think I didn't notice you running off with that pig, babycakes." And then, more forcefully, "Did you think you could just ditch me without paying up? I own you."

There was that familiar, cold dread, pooling in his stomach and making him quake from head to toe before he even realized it. His free hand started scratching Fat Nuggets on the head, who let out a happy little snort at the attention, and it soothed his nerves somewhat. It was now or never. He couldn't keep chickening out.

"Not anymore, Val," he said softly into the receiver, still trembling. "Never again."

Staticky laughter sounded in his ear, more furious than amused. "You think that hotel can protect you from me?" he hissed. "Your soul is mine."

Angel glanced back at Alastor, seated on the edge of his bed, who only cocked his head and gestured to the phone. A cue, permission, encouragement. Angel squared his shoulders, clenching his free hand into a fist.

"No," he said, more firmly, "not anymore. Go fuck yourself! I'm not coming back, and if you try to come get me, you'll regret it. So don't even bother!"

"Is that a threat?"

"You bet your crusty cockroach ass it is," Angel spat.

He chucked the phone at the ground as hard as he could, then brought his heel down on it with a loud crunch, breathing hard. Fat Nuggets squirmed in his grasp, upset by the outburst, and Angel went back to petting him, the motion therapeutic for them both. He plopped down heavily back on the bed, shoulders sagging, and buried his face in his hands.

He couldn't believe he just did that.

Alastor reached out, giving Fat Nuggets a hesitant scratch behind the ears, and Angel let the pig free of his lap. Fat Nuggets plodded over to Alastor, turned back to Angel, and then decided to nestle between them, sinking low into the plush bed with a satisfied little snort.

"I can't believe I just did that," Angel repeated out loud, voice trembling. He didn't know if it was fear or relief making him jittery, but regardless he disliked it. "Shit, Al, I think I'm gonna be sick. Are you really sure about this?"

"It's a tad late now for regrets," Alastor said, still idly petting Fat Nuggets, peering down at him with apparent curiosity. "But if you're asking if I plan on going back on my word, the answer is no. Of course I have my own reasons for protecting you. As for on paper, you are safe here at the hotel, and as Charlie's business partner, her will is my own."

"As reassuring as that is," Angel said weakly, "I mean about Val. It's like he said - he owns me. He has my soul. He could kill me at any second! How can you be sure he won't?"

"Pride," Alastor answered simply. "Were Valentino planning on killing you, he would have done so already." Fat Nuggets gave a sudden, pleased snort, and Alastor jerked his hand back in surprise. Angel cracked a shaky smile at the sight. "No, he is a man of pride, and he will not be satisfied by simply killing you - and of course, that's already assuming he is planning your death at all, considering your loss would be a significant blow to his company. I'd wager death would be mercy compared to what he has in mind."

"Wow, thanks, Al," Angel muttered, hiding his face in his hands once more. "I feel so much better."

"My point is," Alastor continued hastily as Fat Nuggets nosed insistently at his hand to keep the pets coming, "pride is a demon overlord's downfall. Pride is what will send Valentino right into our grasp. Pride is what will bring him out of the lion's den and leave him vulnerable to your will."

"My will?" Angel echoed, peeking up at Alastor from between his fingers. Alastor's smile widened - he had Angel hooked now, and could reel him in.

"You see, my dear," Alastor mused, leaning back on the hand that wasn't occupied with making a pig very happy, "as Charlie's territory, it is her will that every demon that seeks haven here may find it. My job is to exert that will through whatever force I deem necessary. And the force I deem necessary," he continued, voice lowering to a promising murmur as he met Angel's burning gaze, "will, as the wronged party, be determined by you."

"You mean - ?"

"You have the privilege of deciding just what punishment Valentino deserves for daring to hunt you down while under the hotel's protection," Alastor confirmed easily. Angel bit his lip and stared down at his hands, wringing them anxiously, and Alastor could practically see his thoughts racing a mile a minute. "All because he has too much pride to settle this quietly."

Angel nodded, exhaling quietly. He reached out for his pig, who complained noisily at being taken from Alastor's satisfying nails, but settled easily in his owner's arms to be used as support. Angel held him close as he drew his legs up unto the bed. He scooted further away from the edge to lay on his side, facing toward Alastor with his knees brought to his chest, Fat Nuggets tucked comfortably between his tangle of long limbs.

Alastor barely refrained from furrowing his brow, not wanting to show visible worry. Angel was not the type to curl up; he enjoyed sprawling out and taking up as much space as possible in an effort to get comfortable, and especially to snatch Alastor's attention. He had never felt the need to hide behind his limbs before, to shield himself like so.

"And you're really gonna protect me?" Angel asked, small and quiet and muffled behind his arms. Alastor straightened his lapels nonchalantly.

"His power is nothing compared to mine," Alastor replied airily, and Angel curled up tighter.

"No, I - I know." It was clipped, displeased. "That's not what I . . . " Not what he meant? Not what he wanted to hear? " . . . you'll do great, Al. Kick his ass."

His voice was dull, unenthusiastic, giving Alastor pause. It was not inconceivable that Angel would be more concerned than excited about their plan to rid themselves of Valentino, but surely he would voce some pleasure? Perhaps Alastor had said something wrong? Maybe he was pushing too hard, going too fast. Maybe Angel wasn't ready.

"I understand your concern," he said slowly, "but I assure you, Valentino is no threat. His power is in his connections, not his abilities. Were it not for his status, he would be gone already."

"That's not what I care about," Angel snapped, fingers twisting into the sheets. "I know you can take him out. I'm not questioning your power."

"Then . . . what's the issue?" The radio demon reached out, offering his hand, and after a long moment of hesitation, Angel took it. Not angry at him, at least.

Angel tugged at his hand, and Alastor let himself be pulled down onto his back, careful of his antlers, still growing within their velvet. The spider demon didn't look at him as he answered, "I just - why now? All for me? I'm not even worth it."

He was insecure, Alastor realized. Unaware of his value, fearing he would be replaced.

Alastor raised a hand to Angel's cheek, traced it with a finger until those pink eyes finally peered up at him. He spread his arms out, an invitation, and after a long moment of deliberation Angel sighed and scooted toward him. Angel buried his face in Alastor's chest, a long, weary sigh escaping him, and his fingers curled into Alastor's jacket. Fat Nuggets wriggled at the movement, but settled once Angel did, snuggled between them.

Alastor's hands went to Angel's back. He rubbed firm circles into the tense muscles there, and slowly, Angel melted into the embrace. "I will protect you," he murmured.

Angel's fingers clenched. "You promise?" he whispered, sounding so incredibly fragile. Alastor could hear with his sensitive ears the rapid thundering of Angel's heart.

"I promise. No harm will come to you. I will keep you safe."

Angel sighed again, this one remarkably shaky, and nodded against Alastor's shirt. "Okay."

They lay there like that for a long time, until Fat Nuggets' snoring had them both chuckling, until Angel's heartbeat slowed with his breathing, until the spider was slumped silently against him - until Alastor let his eyes slide closed as well, relenting and allowing sleep to take over them all.

It was, surprisingly enough, several days before Valentino came hunting for his prized Angel Dust. In person, anyway; twelve hours and twenty-seven threatening calls to the hotel phone (and twenty-seven increasingly angry rebuttals from Charlie) after Angel's resignation, the antics began.

A small band of mercenaries was sent to the hotel to convince the princess to release her charge that first day. Alastor had not needed to do anything, not even show himself - after Charlie had given a firm no, Angel is not going anywhere and they had promptly attempted to attack her, she had them roasted in hellfire with a snap of her fingers and dragged off by Razzle and Dazzle, positively fuming.

After that, Charlie had made it abundantly clear that anyone sent in search of Angel was to be treated as an enemy to the hotel, and chaos broke loose in the next few days. Vaggie impaled a few demons that tried to brute force their way in through the front door, Husk broke a heavy bottle over the head of one that snuck in under the guise of residency, and when one even tried to sneak into Angel's room through the window, an inky black tentacle came from seemingly nowhere and flung the intruder to the opposite side of the pentagram.

More phone calls, more unveiled threats. Irritation growing at the time and energy being wasted, Charlie gave their little nuisance quite the piece of her mind, declaring, "Pull up or shut up, Val!"

And so he had. After two days of silence, that sleek black limo had pulled up before the hotel, tires screeching as it skidded to a halt and door crashing loudly closed after the overlord stepped out and slammed it behind him. Charlie stood on the stoop already, tapping her little foot impatiently with her hands on her hips, and frowned as Valentino started to approach her.

"Princess," the roach spat out like venom, and Charlie raised her chin fiercely.

"You have thirty seconds to get off my property before I take drastic measures to remove you from it," she sniffed, haughtily crossing her arms, earning a sneer from the demon before her.

"You have thirty seconds to return my property before I take drastic measures to get it back," Valentino hissed. Charlie, thoroughly annoyed past the point of fear, laughed in his face, making him puff up indignantly. "I'm sure your father would love to hear that you're preventing my contracts from being fulfilled."

"I'm sure my mother would love to hear that some bottom-feeder overlord wannabe is threatening her baby," Charlie snapped right back. "Hell hath no fury like Lilith scorned. Don't make me challenge you, Valentino. Is Angel really worth so much to you?" She picked idly at the fingernails on one hand. "Or are you just too full of yourself to let him go?"

Valentino bristled, drawing to his full height, and someone close to Charlie might have noticed the way her shoulders tensed. The Princess was good at following Lucifer's teachings - you don't take shit from other demons - but she was still coming into her power, and had the sense to know that Valentino was a worthy threat. The owner of the porn industry seemed to know that, as well.

"If some baby princess thinks she has the right to challenge my claim," he ground out, baring all of his sharp, red teeth in an awful grin, "then who am I to refuse?"

Charlie made a show of rolling her eyes. She turned away from him, the motion notably angering him, and sighed. "Thirty seconds is up, Val. You asked for this."

"You really think you can take me on, little girl?" Valentino growled.

"No," she replied, glancing over her shoulder, "but I have someone who can."

Skepticism dripped from his words. "Like who, princess?"

The stained glass doors of the hotel opened, the sound of radio static drifting into their ears, and out stepped none other than Alastor himself, in all his grinning glory. The color seemed to drain from Valentino's face, but he still stood tall, trying not to appear cowardly before the radio demon. Alastor took Charlie's hand like a proper gentleman, shaking his head solemnly.

"You tried, my dear," he lamented exaggeratedly, and Charlie snorted and shoved at his shoulder. "I suppose not all of us can be blessed with the brains for negotiation!"

"Alastor," Valentino seethed, fingers clenching into fists. "So we meet again."

"Oh, come now," Alastor hummed, summoning his microphone to lean on casually as Charlie backed off. "Surely my presence here doesn't surprise you? My sponsorship of this hotel is hardly a secret!"

Valentino's expression was a rather amusing mix of intense fury and poorly hidden fear. "It's generally assumed that you don't care about this cesspool," he said through gritted teeth. "We all know you're just here for the laughs, so to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Alastor raised an affronted hand to his chest, gasping as though the accusation was absolutely scandalous. "Why, my friend, what a bold claim! I never do anything less than my best for my business investments!" He paused, grin widening, and relented, "But I suppose I do have something you want, since you're so eager to cut to the chase."

Valentino's eyes narrowed to slits as the door swung open again. For a long moment, all that was visible was the shadowed lobby, and then out came Angel Dust.

The spider hung back apprehensively, top arms crossed over his chest with the second set of hands settled on his hips. Valentino's lips twisted into an ugly sneer. He took a step forward, making Angel take one back, but before he could go any further the end of Alastor's microphone was pressed firmly against the overlord's chest. Valentino peered disdainfully down at it, then down the length of the cane to Alastor's smiling face.

"Ah-ah-ah," Alastor tutted, placing more pressure on Valentino's chest and forcing him to stagger back a step, "no touching. You've lost quite the valuable soul here, haven't you, old friend?"

"I get it," Valentino snapped harshly, shoving Alastor's microphone out of his personal space. "What do you want for him, Alastor?"

"Oh, no," Alastor stopped him, amusement laced through his words. "I don't mean his bounty. I'll be taking him. If you would be so kind as to send me the contract - "

"I'm gonna stop you right there," Valentino interrupted, stepping closer into Alastor's space. He towered over the radio demon, the tips of his still-velveted antlers not even reaching Valentino's chin, but Alastor did not seem impressed by the attempt at intimidation. "What is it you want? Money? Territory? Resources?"

"You don't have anything I want," Alastor replied coldly, grin sharpening, "aside from Mr. Dust here. You would be wise to let me have him with little fuss."

Valentino barked out an ugly laugh. "Like hell I'm just gonna hand over my best cash cow for nothing," he ground out, low and threatening, and Alastor's eyes narrowed up at him.

"Let me rephrase this, then," the radio demon retorted, the static in his voice growing in volume. "Angel's soul for your own. You leave him here, and you may walk away with your life."

Valentino bristled. He glared at Angel over Alastor's shoulder, who shrunk back, then at Charlie, who raised her chin defiantly at him. He took another step toward Alastor, uncomfortably close now, and his gaze was brimming with fury as he peered down at that wide grin, the perky little ears that never even twitched backward in hesitance or fear, the remarkably branching antlers -

"You should know better than to give me such a shit deal, Alastor," Valentino mused, scowl twisting into a smirk, "especially in such a vulnerable position."

Valentino's hands shot out. Alastor did not back up, did not flinch, not even blink - to do so would show weakness.

It would have been the better choice, Alastor realized, as clawed fingers wrapped around his antlers. Immediately pain shot through his skull as the sensitive velvet was crushed under those digits, and his knees buckled, hands shooting out to dig his nails into Valentino's wrists as he let out a garbled, staticky snarl.

Distantly he could hear his name being called, but the pain seemed to shut off all other senses, as though he was being smothered. His vision grew tunneled, dark at the edges, only able to see Valentino's cruel grin before him. His ears registered little other than the pounding of his heart and his own ragged breathing, and he felt the grip of his fingers weakening on his attacker's wrists.

"You put on a great show, Al," Valentino hummed, and fuck if that condescending tone paired with the nickname reserved for his friends didn't make Alastor's blood boil, "but I'll be taking Angel home now. Won't I, babycakes?"

Alastor's grip tightened once more, earning a choked noise of surprise. Thinking was difficult past the searing, almost icy agony brought by the stress on his antlers, but he was a demon of his word and would not allow anyone to take Angel from him. And nobody, not even Lucifer himself, would ever see Alastor bow down to them, let alone such a lowly creature as Valentino.

"I was going to let you live."

Valentino deserved some recognition, of course; to process that Alastor was in velvet took some decent attention to detail, knowing velvet was cripplingly sensitive took some prior knowledge, and having the guts to try that knowledge on Alastor took balls of steel.

But Valentino was more foolhardy than daring - he had only succeeded in angering the beast.

As raw rage rose in his chest and the static clouding his voice grew thick, the pain melted to the back of his mind. He knew it would return later, knew he would regret this show of power once this was all said and done, but for now, jerking his head sharply and hearing the sickening cracking of bone and seeing Valentino's eyes grow huge behind his obnoxious glasses and his features morph into something horrified brought satisfaction rumbling from Alastor's lips in the form of a pleased growl.

The other overlord stared down at the broken branches of bone in his hands, mortified, and then at the deer demon reaching long, clawed fingers toward his shoulders. Valentino tried to scramble backward as Alastor rose once more to his full height, still shorter than Valentino but somehow taking up so much more space, and the radio demon dug his claws into that fancy jacket and bared all his sharp teeth.

"But now I have to kill you - can't have any of your connections finding out about this, can we?"

Valentino spluttered, tried to negotiate, but burning anger boiled in Alastor's gut and destroyed any interest in further bargaining. That heat spread to his chest, spiraling down his arms, and he barely felt the discharge of fire from his hands or heard the guttural screeching in front of him. All he really processed was that for a moment longer Valentino was in front of him, face twisted in agony, and then he was gone.

"Are you okay?!"

"Holy shit - "

Something was dripping down his face, and Alastor swayed on his feet as the fog over his brain thickened. Not thick enough to keep the agony out, unfortunately. He brought a hand to his forehead, grimacing against the pain.

"Oh, Heavens, he's bleeding - "

"Go get Husk, he might know what to do - "

The sticky substance that came off on Alastor's hand did, in fact, appear to be blood. A lot of blood. He was starting to feel incredibly dizzy. There was the sound of approaching footsteps, but when Alastor tried to turn to face their source, the whole world spun with him.

Then it went black, panicked voices sinking into the darkness along with his consciousness.

"You shouldn't do that."

In the quiet, tense room, Husk's gruff voice was grating. Angel took his eyes off the troubled furrow in Alastor's brow and the unsettling lack of smile to look up at the winged cat demon, and on Alastor's other side Charlie paused in wrapping his antlers.

"Shouldn't do what?" Charlie asked, and Husk gestured to the bandages in her hand. "Husk, he's bleeding everywhere! Am I just supposed to let it happen?"

Indeed he was; they'd dragged Alastor inside as quickly as possible and to the closest spare room, unwilling to haul him all the way up to his own, and it had proven to be a good decision when the bleeding of his antlers had not stopped. The pillow was almost entirely soaked with it, and little splatters and rivulets had not managed to miss Alastor's usually tidy attire. Charlie and Angel, too, sported his blood on their clothes.

"Well," Husk started, scratching at his head, then blew out a sigh. "Well, no, the bleedin' is definitely bad. But shit, princess, wrapping the velvet like that is just gonna hurt worse. You'll be lucky to keep your head once he - fuck!"

Husk nearly leapt out of his skin suddenly, both fur and feather on end as he backed himself into the door. Angel's heart jumped into his throat as he looked back at Alastor, the source of Husk's shock, and found him hunched over in the bed. When had he awoken?

The radio's demons inched toward his antlers, fingers crooked awkwardly, and an ugly snarl tore from his throat when his fingertips came in contact with the bandages on the one Charlie had already finished wrapping. The noise caught her attention, and she jerked back at the sight of him, twitchy and radiating static and not smiling.

"Oh, fuck," Husk managed, eyes wide, and they all backed as far as possible away from the bed as Alastor growled something under his breath that Angel wasn't entirely sure were words.

Those hands reached toward his antlers once more, another staticky growl ripping through the air as his claws dug into the red-stained bandages. Charlie started to voice her protest, but Husk's iron grip on her upper arm and the minute shake of his head stopped her. All they could do was watch as those wicked-looking claws tore apart her attempt at first aid.

How were they supposed to deal with it, anyway? What were they supposed to do with Alastor bleeding everywhere like that, what bone had formed snapped grotesquely, the velvet torn like a bad hangnail, being shredded further by his own claws -

"Whoah, hold on," Angel spoke up, taking an unconscious step forward amidst Husk's warning hiss. Those glowing red orbs darted to him, the radio dials flickering, and those sharp teeth all but glinted in the light. Heavens, Alastor's face was covered in even more blood now. "You're just makin' it worse - let me help."

"Angel," Charlie whispered urgently across the room, but Angel still took another step toward the demon in the bed. He had to do something. "Angel, you don't know what he'll - "

The guttural burst of static that was Alastor's threatening growl brought with it an awful chill that crept up Angel's spine, and he stopped for a moment in his tracks from the icy fear in his veins. Whatever this demon was, it wasn't Alastor - but that strawberry weirdo was in there somewhere, and Angel would do his best to draw him out.

A terrible idea in theory, as Alastor was more likely to eat him, but their alternative was almost certain death at his hands anyway. He may as well try.

He reached out and, unsurprisingly, claws snatched his wrist and dug in. Angel sucked in a pained breath as Alastor jerked him close. Hot breath on his face made it all too real - at any point Alastor could merely kill him. It was a wonder he hadn't already.

"Hey, now," Angel managed through a shaky exhale. The nails tore easily through his jacket and into his skin, but he tried hard not to think about it, because those teeth so close to his face meant he would have a lot more to worry about than a couple scars if he didn't get this right. "Just let me get those bandages off. You're not doin' a great job of that yourself."

Alastor's grip did not relent, but after a long moment of staring into those vibrating radio dials and coming to terms with his certain death, Angel realized Alastor was leaning away from him. Hesitantly he moved his hand, and found that while Alastor did not let go, he did move with him. A warning, then - if he hurt Alastor at all, he would regret it.

Angel desperately hoped the removal of the bandage scraps wouldn't hurt too badly.

He delicately hooked one finger under one of the pieces, plastered now to the velvet by blood. The grip around Angel's wrist tightened as he pulled, but when the piece of bandage came off with little incident, the grip relaxed somewhat. Angel let himself relax with it. One down, several to go, but Alastor seemed to trust now that Angel was not going to make it worse.

At some point, as Angel continued to peel away the bandages, Charlie slowly approached. Alastor let her be, as well, when she proved to just be gathering some cloth to stem the blood flow the best she could, carefully avoiding touching any more of the remaining velvet. Angel could not prevent it, himself, but somehow Alastor had not gutted him yet for the occasional brush of his knuckles against that sensitive material.

It was so soft. The parts of it that weren't bloody, anyway. At least Angel had finally answered that question. And Alastor seemed to be drooping under the attention, the hostility in the air lulling enough that Husk finally felt he could move, escaping the room as silently as he could. If Angel didn't know better, he would think the radio demon was falling asleep what with the way his shoulders started to sag.

Then Alastor's hand jerked, and for an insufferably long instant, amongst Charlie's startled gasp, Angel was sure he would look down to find his own missing. Just his luck, wasn't it, so close to finishing that task - but his wrist was free, and Angel had to search a moment to find Alastor's hand fisted in the bloody sheets.

"Al?" Angel ventured. One of those usually fluffy ears, now matted with blood, twitched.

"Did I harm anyone?"

It was hoarse, but notably clear of static and remarkably precise and so very Alastor that Angel thought he might start weeping on the spot from the sheer relief coursing through his system. As it was, he barely withheld an ugly sniff, his legs feeling suddenly like jelly and voice very determined to quake.

"Just that shrimp-dick fucker," he replied, letting a relieved smile cross his face. Of course he hadn't felt the adrenaline in the moment, but now that all was clear, Angel's fingers trembled no matter how hard he tried to control it. "Wasn't much of him to clean up once you finished with him."

"No residents?" Alastor asked, and though Angel could see his profile and the familiar smile curving his lips, it was something empty. It lacked his usual good humor, and that was almost as anxiety-inducing as he had been when out of his mind.

"We're all fine," Angel promised, but Alastor barked out a laugh.

"Yet I have your blood on my hands."

Angel opened his mouth to protest - it was his fault, he'd been stupid, sure, but what was he supposed to do? - but Alastor grabbed one of his wrists, an unharmed one, and yanked Angel down to his level until they were nose-to-nose. Those radio dials were still present, and Angel found himself wondering if Alastor couldn't help it at the moment. Perhaps he could not settle until some time had passed, until he was fully himself again.

"Al - "

"I could have killed you," Alastor snarled, interrupting Angel's attempt to speak. "Why would you do something so foolish?!"

Indignance made Angel bristle, and he butted foreheads with Alastor, no longer intimidated by the hot breath on his face or the ticking dials that usually signified danger. "So I shoulda just sat there and watched you fuck yourself up worse, right?" he snapped right back. "Jeez, Al, I thought you were gonna bleed out!"

"I would have been fine," Alastor ground out. Heavens, he sounded furious, and yet somehow Angel could not bring himself to care. "You put yourself - and everyone else, might I add - in grave danger. It was careless and stupid!"

"Well, how was I supposed to know?" Angel protested, throwing the hands Alastor wasn't holding up in the air indignantly. "You didn't exactly leave any emergency back-up plans to follow!" He pulled back, breathing hard, and ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the stinging in his eyes. "Fuck me for trying to help, yeah? It was the least I could do after you took care of Val."

"Angel - "

"Enough," Charlie broke through sternly, and Angel tugged his hand free of Alastor's grasp, huffing and turning away with his arms crossed. "I don't know if either of you have noticed, but someone is still bleeding profusely here."

The cloth she had pressed to one of his antlers was absolutely soaked with blood. Alastor blinked a few times until the dials were gone, replaced by his usual pupils, and Charlie visibly relaxed at the sight. "The bleeding itself causes no issue. They're mostly blood at this stage, so of course there's some . . . leakage."

"That's great to hear, and all," Charlie replied, placing a hand on her hip, "but I'm not gonna have you bleeding all over my hotel, mister - Niffty would have a meltdown! So what are we gonna do about it?"

"Well," Alastor mused, "you could always cauterize them."

Charlie blinked down at him, taking in the stiff smile, and Angel whipped his head around to stare. "Whoah," the spider spoke up, sounding notably less angry and more concerned. "Are you sure about that? That's gonna hurt like a bitch."

"No worse than breaking my antlers off, I'm sure," Alastor replied dryly, and Angel snapped his mouth shut, pressing his lips into a thin line.

"All right," he said stiffly, and after a moment he tore his eyes away from Alastor and headed toward the door. "Charlie can take care of that, so I guess I'll go deal with this." He raised his tattered, bleeding wrist for emphasis as he opened the door.

"I have first-aid right here," Charlie started to say, but Angel ignored her. The door slammed loudly shut behind him, making her wince. She glanced back down at Alastor, but he seemed to have no response, staring distantly at the wall. She sighed. "Well . . . I guess I should get to it, then. Try not to gut me for this, okay?"

Alastor hummed idle agreement, not so much as twitching when Charlie summoned fire in her hand and pressed it to the torn end of the closest antler. It was almost as though he wasn't there at all.

Fuck that guy, was the mantra Angel hissed in his head over and over as the days passed by. Fuckin' dickhead.

He should have known. Of course Alastor would be all dashing, Angel's knight in shining armor, when they thought the showdown would be uneventful. Of course the moment things went tits-up, that sweet façade would melt into bitterness. Of course Alastor would blame him for what happened - nothing would have happened at all without Angel's presence. At the confrontation, at the hotel, in Alastor's life.

Of course, he was right.

Alastor hadn't said anything to him directly; no, that wasn't necessary, not with all the biting comments, the inscrutable looks Angel caught him casting his direction, the way he seemed unable to get over the mismatched antlers sprouting from his head. Irritability hung over Alastor like a cloud, and was especially present in the way he interacted with others, ready to snap someone's fingers in a handshake at the slightest mention of this new deformity.

Angel tried so, so hard not to blame himself, at first. Tried to think back to Alastor's kind words, to his reassurances. Tried to tell himself that this was Valentino's fault for playing dirty, sometimes even Alastor's fault for trying to keep Angel safe, but every time it traced back to Angel. If he wasn't around, Alastor wouldn't have been put in that position at all.

Angel had no doubt that Alastor wanted nothing to do with him at this point. Angel had done this to him.

So he avoided the radio demon; at first he had only remained in Alastor's presence when others were around, anyone else he could focus on or talk to. When that proved to be too much, keep Alastor too close, Angel started leaving any room Alastor entered. When it started to feel like he was making his escape so often there was no point in venturing out, Angel holed up in his room, spending most of his time there.

It wasn't so bad. There was Fat Nuggets to keep him company, and sometimes Charlie, when she brought food up to him. The hotel was quiet anytime he ventured out, most of the patrons asleep. Without Valentino around, he didn't have to stress over money, and without Alastor to keep him occupied . . .

. . . okay, it was lonely. But what did Angel even have anymore? His job down the drain, his partner - if he could even call Alastor that anymore - upset with him, his only shelter a shithole that just wanted him around as some kind of poster child - Angel had little to do with himself at that point.

All he did anymore was lounge around in his room, brood, and scroll whatever his old colleagues were posting on their social medias. Angel himself hadn't posted anything in days. So many demons had reached out to him, former coworkers asking what happened, thanking him, asking about Alastor, and it was just a chilling reminder that Valentino's death meant Angel was Alastor's property, now.

Just another reason to steer clear.

But Angel couldn't stay holed up forever. Charlie started getting pushy, Vaggie started to visit him (even if just to kick him in the ass and insist he get out and do something), Niffty started commenting on how everyone was missing the flashy spider's presence, and even Husk sent the message that all his stupid pretty pink drinks were collecting dust. Days turned into a week of insistence, until Angel found himself shoving Charlie out the door as she protested.

"Come on, Angel, I'll let you drink as much as you want - "

"I got it, toots, I'm comin'," Angel grumbled, pushing her out into the hall. He let the closest thing to a smile anyone had seen from him in days cross his face, and he added, "But since you offered, tell Husk to mix up something for me!"

Charlie's whole face lit up, to the point Angel could almost see the stars in her eyes. She reached for whatever of Angel's hands she could, which wound up being the top right and middle left, and squeezed them excitedly. "Great! Everyone's going to be so excited to see you again!"

Almost everyone, Angel thought glumly, but he ruffled Charlie's meticulously styled hair fondly anyway and disappeared back into his room to make himself presentable.

First came the dust bath, and Angel found himself so bedraggled that he almost wanted to just dump the dust in his tub and roll around in it. He barely refrained, telling himself it would just waste product, but he still stared longingly at the tub as he brushed the fine sand into his fur. The process of doing his makeup was familiar, muscle memory, and it was comforting. He almost felt a little better.

His trademark outfit hung in his closet, clean and unworn for weeks, now. Angel had been living primarily in pajamas. He hesitated to pick the clothes out - a reminder of his job with Valentino - but settled on the fact that it was what the others would expect to see him in, what they would perceive as normalcy. He could go shopping later.

It took a few more seconds of hyping himself up in front of his door and debating whether or not he should bring Fat Nuggets for emotional support (and ultimately deciding that he probably shouldn't risk bringing his tiny, vulnerable pig right to a carnivore he had beef with), but eventually he turned the handle and forced himself to step over the threshold.

The winding hallways of the hotel stretched out intimidatingly before him, but he bravely set forth down them, taking the familiar path to the lobby that he hadn't walked in ages.

Every step seemed to weigh him down. Some part of him - rather, most of him - wondered if this wasn't a bad idea. He had stayed in his room for a reason. Now that he was out, though, it felt impossible to go back, so he continued the trek until he was emerging from the winding halls into the lobby.

"Angel!"

Charlie pulled him into a bone-crushing hug the moment he came through the doorway. There went normalcy, he thought, but patted her gently on the back anyway. The lobby was as plain and uninteresting as always; Niffty sat dusting off a bookcase, Vaggie was lounging on a couch with a stack of boring-looking paperwork nearby, and Husk was still ever-present at the bar, wiping out a glass that probably hadn't even been used just to look busy.

"Hey, freakshow," the bartender called out before Charlie could say anything more to Angel. Husk gestured to a tall glass of familiarly obnoxious pink liquor on the bartop. "Gonna drink?"

"Hell yeah," Angel confirmed enthusiastically, disentangling himself from Charlie and sliding into the barstool. Husk dropped a ridiculously pink straw into the glass before pushing it into his waiting hands, and eagerly Angel downed almost half the glass immediately. "Fuck, I missed this - Husk, baby, have I ever told you you're my favorite asshole here?"

"When you think it'll get you another drink," the cat demon snorted. "Save it for when you're drunker."

"Will do," Angel replied happily, sipping more of the absurdly fruity drink, unable to help the pleased little way his legs swayed in the air. The buzz was such a familiar comfort that he could almost forget why he had been avoiding it in the first place, especially when the object of his aversion seemed to be missing from the reunion.

He had missed this. At some point, it had become impossible to avoid Alastor unless he was in his own quarters. Honestly, it was a surprise Angel's luck hadn't yet run out - where was the Radio Demon now, when before it had almost seemed he was hunting Angel down? It was almost ominous, how he hadn't seen hide nor hair of him - almost as though . . .

. . . as though they all knew that was what Angel was hiding from.

Wasn't that embarrassing? Of course Angel hadn't exactly been hiding it, but he had done his best to not broadcast it to the others. Had Alastor mentioned it? Why would he? It implied some level of concern, and Angel had been so certain the man loathed him, was hunting him down to . . .

To what? He couldn't hurt Angel under Charlie's roof. Wouldn't dare even dream of it unless he had scrapped all interest in the Hotel, and were that the case, it would not still be standing. Perhaps Angel had . . . misunderstood? But if not to punish him, then why - ?

"What's that stupid look for, huh?" came Husk's gruff tone through his internal dialogue, and Angel blinked up at him, realizing his gaze had fallen to his drink.

"That's just my face, babe," was the only stupid retort Angel could come up with, and Husk snorted, topping off the drink with some kind of cupcake vodka.

"Yeah, okay - well, wipe that look off of it. You look weird."

"I think what he's trying to say is that you should smile!" Charlie chirped, pointing to her cheeks where she wore one of her own. "After all, you're never fully dressed without one!"

Any smile her chipper attitude had brought slid right off his face at the familiar phrase. It felt almost painfully like a test - like she had intentionally spouted his favorite saying word-for-word just to see how Angel would respond. He spun his glass between his hands, suddenly very uncertain if he wanted to drink any more. If he even wanted to stick around any longer.

"Yeah, well," he joked feebly, "I haven't been fully dressed for weeks, toots. This is as close as you're gonna get."

He tried to linger, tried to move on from the awkward conversation, but when nobody seemed to have a response to that he could bear the discomfort no longer. He pushed away from the bar and slid quickly from his stool, leaving his drink behind as he headed for the hallway.

"I, uh, really need to get bag to Nugs," he offered up awkwardly when Charlie made a noise of protest. He backed toward the hallway, not watching where he was going, his hands held up placatingly as he made his escape. "He's probably getting lonely up there - "

"Angel, wait - " Charlie protested, reaching out uselessly, and Angel could only wonder why for a full second before his back hit something soft.

And warm. And alive - or as alive as one could be in Hell.

"Angel! What a coincidence to bump into you here - literally!"

The ice in his veins made it impossible to move for a long moment, and though when he turned and had to look down to see Alastor grinning up at him, he still felt so incredibly small in his presence. Vulnerable.

He averted his gaze as meekly as he could muster and tried to slip past the deer with an almost-silent sorry, but svelte fingers wrapping around one of his wrists - the one that had been injured before - had him flinching perhaps too violently and jerking his hand back to his chest. In its wake saw Alastor's smile faltering ever so slightly, one of his hands still outstretched, and Angel tried hard not to let the anxiety in his chest climb up into his throat and escape as a pathetic sound.

"Angel." Alastor started, but Angel backpedaled another step when the Radio Demon inched closer.

"I , ah - I'm gonna go." The words were clumsy on his tongue, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. Heavens, Alastor could probably hear it, too. " . . . see ya."

He made his escape, backing toward a corner and hurrying down one of the dark corridors and out of sight, and he had the nerve to hope that Alastor would leave it. That he would respect Angel's need for space in a way his own had never been. But it seemed the weeks had shortened Alastor's patience, and with little warning but a faint warbled sound an inky blackness opened up before Angel, and as he skidded to a halt with a yelp Alastor stepped out from its depths.

"I just want to talk," he said calmly before anything else, putting his hands between them placatingly, and Angel wrapped his own arms around himself and took a subconscious step back. Alastor's face fell at the motion, and he added, "Angel, please. A conversation only, and then you can go back to avoiding me if you still wish. I don't intend to keep you against your will."

Angel bit back the retort of you already are. It felt like a markedly poor idea to criticize him, trapped alone in the hall like so. Instead, Angel trusted himself only with a short nod, and when Alastor nodded back, lowering his arms back to his sides and clearing his throat, some of the tension eased from Angel's shoulders.

"It's painfully clear to anyone with eyes that the air needs cleared between us," Alastor said, and Angel's eyes honed in on the oddly nervous way he fiddled with his wristcuffs. "At first I thought you were merely angry with me after our argument, but after a while I realized that wasn't the case. I don't know what I did to frighten you, Angel, but I want to apologize."

"Why is this only coming up now?" Angel asked suspiciously, arms tightening around himself. The fear was waning, but it had been literal weeks since they'd spoken, and Angel wasn't positive he wanted to start back up now. But Alastor only blinked at him a couple times, looking baffled.

"I tried to speak with you," he replied with a note of confusion, "several times. You always ran when I came near. I thought perhaps you needed time alone, but then you spent so long in your room, and we . . . I want answers. We don't have to - to be together, anymore, but I at least would like to know what I did wrong."

"Al - " Angel protested weakly, resolve crumbling, "Al, no. You haven't - you didn't do anything. I just . . . thought you were mad. You always looked so angry, and you have every right to be, and - it's all my fault."

"All your fault?" Alastor echoed, only sounding more baffled. "I have been less than pleasant, and I apologize for that, but I assure you that no part of it is your fault."

"Not my fault?" Disbelief worked itself into Angel's tone in the form of a humorless laugh. "None of this would have happened if I wasn't around. Valentino never would've shown his ugly mug, and your antlers - " He did not miss the subconscious way Alastor's ear twitched, brushing against one of the broken prongs. "Heavens, Al, you've been fuming ever since it happened. I did that. I'm the reason that happened."

"Goodness, Angel, no." Alastor's voice was firm, and he took a step toward Angel. It took everything ounce of willpower the spider had not to back up. He allowed Alastor to take one of his hands, delicately prying it from where his fingers dug into his own arm. "Heavens, no. Of course I'm displeased with the state of my antlers, but that's my own fault. How could it be anyone else's?"

"But I'm the one that put you in that position in the first place - "

"Do you remember what I said about pride?" Alastor interrupted him, and Angel puffed his cheeks out in a pout but let him speak. "That it's an overlord's downfall? I knew what Valentino was going to do before he did it. I could have prevented it, but I thought it would have made me look weak! Pride was my own downfall. I criticized Valentino for the same foolish mistake I made myself, and I'm incredibly lucky it only cost me my ego. If I hadn't come to my senses . . . "

His fingers tightened around Angel's hand, and Angel didn't have the heart to try to complete the sentence himself. The relief rising in his throat, feeling painfully similar to anxiety, brought tears pricking at his eyes, and he determinedly held them at bay to preserve his makeup. This was the first time applying it in weeks, after all.

"You really don't blame me?"

Alastor brought Angel's hand to his mouth and brushed a gentle kiss to his knuckles. "Not one bit, my dear."

"Not even for putting everyone in danger?" Angel meekly added, not forgetting the argument after Alastor's awakening. But the Radio Demon hesitated before taking another of Angel's hands.

"I was concerned, and it made me admittedly unreasonable," he confessed. "While it's true that approaching me in such a state was incredibly foolish, I've since taken time to consider the situation further, and it's very possible you saved many souls through your bravado. Had you not been there to calm me down, I don't know what I would have done."

A pause, Angel's heart stuttering with an unfathomable burst of emotion. "Oh." They stood there a moment longer in quiet, neither seeming to know what to say, until Angel worked up the courage to ask, "So what now?"

"Well," Alastor started, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "I have been wanting to discuss your contract now that your soul has fallen under my ownership - "

"No way," Angel all but moaned melodramatically. "No serious stuff! This is enough for the next decade. I just wanna curl up in bed for another week. Maybe cry a little."

"It can wait until next week," Alastor agreed with an amiable chuckle. He paused, then added, "Is there room for a plus two?"

Once, Angel wouldn't have hesitated, wouldn't have let the answer sit on his tongue for so long, but he could not shake the fragility still in his heart. While there was closure in their talk, a ten-minute conversation did not erase the shaky feelings spanning many weeks. But finally he relented, smile soft.

"I think I'd like that."

No jokes, no diverting feelings with humor. The walk up to his room was so short, almost dreamlike, as though hardly even real, and the comfortable way they settled onto the bed together was so familiar it had emotion welling up in his throat and pricking at his eyes once more. He buried his face in Alastor's coat, hardly caring if any of his makeup rubbed off, and sank into the embrace when Alastor's hands rubbed small circles along his spine.

"I never thanked you," he whispered, and Alastor hummed a vague response. Already, he sounded so tired, and Angel related immensely.

"I would do it again in an instant," his partner replied honestly, so genuine Angel's fingers tightened subconsciously in his coat. In concern or gratitude, he didn't know.

" . . . maybe dodge next time, though," he ventured, and Alastor's chuckle rumbled deep in his chest and soothed Angel's frayed nerves.

"I'll make sure to remember that."