Chapter Text
“If you make a noise, or so much as open your mouth, I will slit your throat. Understand?”
“Huh?”
“That counts.”
Angel’s eyes shot open as something sharp dug into his neck. “What the-“ He flew backwards, spluttering on his words, head smacking against his headboard with a gruesome crack.
“What the fuck?!” He cried, voice crusted from sleep.
There was a man on his bed, on top of him, right up in his face. A human man.
Angel didn’t dare breathe, staring into a pair of livid brown eyes that appeared mildly unfocused, and entirely deranged. He couldn’t make out much in the dark, but could smell blood-he could practically taste the iron on the man’s breath.
The weight of something sharp and cold returned against his neck, prickling the skin through his fur, but still yet to pierce it.
He quickly came to terms with the fact that this must be a dream. Likely some new flavour of sex dream-or Val had probably slipped him something dodgy before bed- because humans in hell? Impossible.
“Now that I have your attention,” The man shifted his weight back from his perch against Angel’s chest. “Would you care to address yourself and inform me of my whereabouts.”
He sounded mighty posh, not anything like Angel’s usual daydreams of the gruff and brooding types-specifically nothing like the soothingly rough voice of a certain bartender…
“Uh…”
“A mammal of few words it appears,” The stranger crooned, “Perhaps he requires some help dislodging them.” The sharp thing against his neck suddenly dug in, still not breaking skin, just grating against him in a saw-like motion.
Ouch. Huh, okay so maybe not a dream.
Beyond confused, and still entirely groggy from sleep, Angel made to shove the man off of him, which proved to be a lot easier than he’d expected. He heard a pained grunt from somewhere on his floor and scrambled upwards to flick on his lamp. Warm orange light bathed the room, illuminating the bloodied face of his attacker.
The man was covered in blood, face smeared in it, hair matted and sticky with it. His clothes hung baggy off his thin frame-a simple dress shirt and trousers- stained and torn to hell. What threw Angel off the most was the man’s smile-pulled tight and taunt and crinkling his skin in a way that looked painful.
Angel opened his mouth to say something-anything, but the man launched himself at him again, catching him in a flurry of spindly limbs and gnashing teeth.
“Get the fuck offa’ me!” Angel yelled, swinging wildly. The human was surprisingly strong for how lithe he appeared, snagging a grip of Angel’s hair. He attempted to pin Angel with his legs, one hand pressed firmly against his chest, the other brandishing his weapon, a-
“Yer kiddin’”, All struggling stopped. “Is that a fucking butter knife”.
The intruder paused momentarily. His smile twitched. They stared at each other, then at the measly weapon between them.
The sleepiness had long since worn off, leaving Angel with nothing but growing confusion. Without a second thought, he reached out with all six of his limbs and pinned the human to his chest, squeezing tightly in an attempt to stop his squirming.
“HELP!” Angel yelled, voice straining. “Please I need-would you stop fucking movin’-I NEED HELP!”
He didn’t have to wait too long; soon the tell-tale scrambling of a panicked Charlie and her half asleep girlfriend filled the corridor just outside. His bedroom door flew off its hinges in one sudden blow, revealing the face of the livid Princess, complete with her demonic features.
“GET OFF HIM!” She screeched as soon as she saw the intruder, making a dive for the pair. She removed the man from Angel’s arms with little effort, like plucking an apple from a tree, and threw him halfway across the room.
Angel had very rarely seen her this pissed, and felt a little touched at the effort on his behalf. He watched from the floor as Vaggie cornered the human with her spear, shouting at him with that demanding commando tone she’d been ingrained with. The poor guy was pressed as close to the wall as possible, bloodied hands supporting his stomach-that mad smile still plastered on his face.
Hold on…
Angel flinched away as a large paw suddenly entered his field of vision. He looked to find Husk next to him, looking a strange mix of horrified and concerned.
“The fuck is going on?”
Angel just shrugged, turning back to face the man on the floor with a building dread in his stomach. It was difficult to make out the man’s features-what with him being covered in blood and all- but there was something particularly unsettling about that stubborn smile. Something familiar…
“Is that-” Husk murmured behind him, paw clasped around his neck. “There’s not fucking way.”
Angel looked back at the human- really looked at him. He noticed the colour of the man’s torn clothes, and knew who they belonged to.
“Smiles?” He croaked.
Everyone froze. Well, everyone except the intruder, who didn’t so much as turn to acknowledge him-eyes poised on Charlie, who appeared to be the biggest threat in the room.
“Charlie, Vags, back off. Give him some space.” Angel said, not quite sure what to think or say. Just stunned.
“What-why? Angel, what’s going on?” Charlie asked, concerned, but backed away all the same.
“I don’t know, I-” Angel turned to Husk instead, who stood stock still-hand still tracing his neck, staring at the man on the floor. “Can you feel him?”
“Barely.” Husk said. “But it’s him alright.”
Charlie gasped suddenly, hands coming up to her mouth. She still had a bandage wrapped across her head from the chaos that morning, a bandage much too big for her wound, courtesy of Lucifer’s fussing.
“I’m sorry to be a bore,” The human suddenly said from the floor. “But could one of you overgrown mammals please clue me in as to what is going on?”
Ah, that explained his voice-the good old transatlantic accent, just without the static. It was familiar if not a little jarring. But when paired with the menacing glint in the man’s eye, Angel could confidently say that this was their Al.
“Uhh right. Yeah, we could tell you that, and we will, but you see, what we need is -”
“How about we start with what you know.” Vaggie interrupted Charlie’s bumbling, giving her a soft smile and squeezing her hand before turning to glare at the human.
The man squinted up at her, fingers flexing against the butter knife in his palm. He appeared to take a moment to think before speaking.
“Well my dear, I know how to count to ten, and I know a really good recipe for-”
“That is not what I meant and you know it.” Vaggie growled, and this time it was Charlie who gave her hand a supportive squeeze.
“Okay sir,” The princess gave him a strained smile and lowered herself to his level. “How about we start with your name. Mine’s Charlie, it’s nice to meet you.” She held out a hand to shake which the man pointedly ignored.
“How do I know I can trust you, humanoid goat woman?” He pressed, still curled into himself and pressed against the furthest wall.
“You don’t,” Charlie sighed, giving him a pained smile. “But we’re your best bet at understanding what’s going on, and it’d help us out a great deal too.”
The human considered her for a moment, then huffed to himself. “Alastor,” He finally said. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Bingo. The room collectively drew a breath.
“Thank you Alastor,” Charlie continued, not giving away the slightest hint of familiarity or confusion as she addressed him. It was an odd sight but Angel had to give props to her for the effort-his own jaw had long since gone slack. “Can you tell us what you remember last?”
Another pause. “I was on a walk in the bayou at night. I was…hunting.” Human Alastor talked with his hands a great deal, butter knife trailing loops in the air as he spoke. “I heard dogs barking- which was admittedly odd given the time and area-and a gunshot. Then I woke up here.”
“Right…and this was on Earth?” Charlie grinned awkwardly.
The man raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “An earth I am assuming I’ve left-if the red sky is anything to go by.” His grin sharpened.
Charlie appeared to choke on whatever she was about to say, so Angel quickly jumped in, a little unnerved as Alastor’s eyes landed on him. “And where is it ya think ya are sir? Do ya recognise any of us?”
“...I believe this is hell-or the underworld, what have you.” The Knife was still swinging in his hands. “And I believe you’re all satanic spawn looking to consume me. A sacrifice perhaps? My maman told me many stories befitting your descriptions.”
Angel nearly choked on his own spit. “Eat you?!” He cried just as Charlie shouted “What?! No!”
Vaggie rolled her eyes. “We’re not gonna eat you man. You attacked us first, remember?”
“I don’t.” Alastor shrugged, all innocence, smile turning sly.
“What’s with the blood?” Husk suddenly tagged on, eyeing up the man's blood-soaked clothes. Addressing the oozing wound directly obviously made the human uncomfortable, as he shrivelled up further and scowled in Husk’s direction.
“Right! What happened, are you hurt?” Charlie suddenly pressed, rounding on the human once more, all concern and flapping hands.
“...no.” Alastor’s smile twitched.
“It’s his chest.” Husk grumbled, stepping forward, closer to Alastor’s shrunken form. “He tried hiding it yesterday. It’s likely part of the reason he freaked out so bad.”
“What do you-” Alastor tried to interject, but stopped as Husk got a little closer.
“Save it.” The bartender grumbled. “You’re right, this is hell-we don’t know why you’re here and neither do you. What we do know is that you’re bleeding out, and you have been for hours-days even, who the fuck knows. But I ain’t gonna let your stubborn ass fuck things up again. First you’re gonna let us clean and treat you, and then we’ll focus on trying to figure this out, okay?”
His eyes were livid pinpricks, firm and challenging, but his face spoke of a deep exhaustion Angel knew all too well. It was as though something had kicked into gear in his head, the initial shock morphing into concern, and then anger.
Husk held out a paw, crouching down next to Charlie. “Give me the knife Al.”
Alastor glared up at him, but it was becoming increasingly clear just how fragile he was. His body looked like it’d been drained of blood, dunked into it, and then dragged across a couple knives too for good measure. The poor guy was on his last legs, Angel almost felt bad for him. Almost.
Alastor stretched out a bony hand, slightly shaking with exertion, and dropped the knife into Husk’s palm, not saying a word the whole time. He appeared to come to terms with the situation, his own exhaustion, and his lack of other options, as he promptly passed out seconds later.
Angel stood twirling Alastor’s butter knife between his fingers. It turned out Alastor had ambushed Nifty in the hall, and that he’d swiped her only weapon-a butter knife. Charlie had essentially baby-proofed Niffty’s roach-hunting weapons for the safety of the new hotel guests, not that the little maid had noticed. They’d found her in the hallway, completely unharmed, but staring dreamily into the distance murmuring something about “the ultimate bad boy”.
They were currently all packed into the guest room Lucifer was staying in, mindful of the rubber ducks and sweet wrappers he had littered around the floor. It was clear the man hadn’t slept, as he had opened his bedroom door all too quickly with a crazed grin and the deepest bags Angel had ever seen beneath his eyes. The grin had quickly fallen at the sight of the human lying limp in Husk’s arms.
“So, run me through this again,” Lucifer said, pacing around the little space. “That bloodied up corpse of a man is the Radio Demon ?”
“Dad please , we don’t have time for this.” Charlie fretted at his side. “Can you heal him or not?”
“Of course I can heal him, what do you take me for? I just want to know exactly what I’m dealing with here.”
Angel rolled his eyes, stuffed the knife in his pocket, and made his way over to the unconscious man. Husk had already begun the process of unbuttoning Alastor’s shirt, carefully removing the fabric from the dried blood around his chest. Vaggie had fetched a bucket of water and was currently wringing a cloth dry, hovering over Alastor’s head.
“With all do respect yer majesty,” Angel interrupted the father-daughter discussion before Charlie could get too heated. “Smiles here is in real bad shape. I think it’d be better if we heal him now and chat later. Right?”
Lucifer looked at him with wide eyes, and then back at Charlie who gave him one firm nod. “Right.” He agreed.
The king rolled up his sleeves and approached the bed, gesturing for Vaggie to take a step back. “Sorry pal, this is gonna hurt.” He didn’t sound very sorry.
The sound of chicken crackling on a pan filled the room, chased by the sound of popping bones and the stench of something rotten. Golden light erupted from the king’s palms, near-blinding everyone in the room. Angel resisted the urge to gag, turning to shield his eyes despite his burning curiosity towards the process.
“Huh.” The king said, the light fading from his palms.
“Huh?” Angel prompted, peering down at the Radio demon that remained very much human, and very much not the Radio demon. The gaping hole that had spanned his chest and stomach had closed, leaving behind a pulsing, twisting scar that glowed a sickly gold.
“He’s healed, I mean, for the most part.” Lucifer poked at the scar tissue thoughtfully. “This was an angelic wound so it will take a few hours at least for the poison to leave his system. As for the ah, change in his appearance…I have absolutely no idea.“
“Shit, okay.” Charlie said, exasperated. “This is okay. He’s healed for now and that’s what matters. Right? We can figure out the rest later!”
“I agree,” Vaggie conceded next to her. “The best we can do for now is let him rest and get him cleaned up. Husk, you know him best. You okay to take over?” The ex-exorcist held up her cloth and bucket of water, nodding towards the blood that coated Alastor’s skin.
“Sure.”
The others began to filter out of the room, but Angel stayed put. He hesitated for a moment before approaching Husk and grabbing an extra cloth. They silently got to work together, starting with Alastor’s face and hair. Angel manoeuvred the bucket of water up to the man’s head, and dunked the matted hair into it. He worked his fingers through the strands, lacing them through knots and messaging his knuckles against the man’s scalp. He watched as the water rippled into a deep red.
Al’s hair was a dark brown-made up of beautiful loose curls. Angel hadn’t seen or touched human hair in nearly a century, and the sensation had an almost painful nostalgia burrowing into his gut. His own hair had been wavy and blonde, the kind of blonde that faded to golden-brown as an adult. Same as his sister.
Shaking off the thought, Angel rinsed the man’s hair dry and peered over at Husk. The bartender had made a decent amount of progress, as Alastor’s face and neck were now clean of blood and gunk.
“Funny, I didn’t picture him looking like that.” Angel said, analysing the human’s sleeping features. Alastor’s skin was a very light brown-almost passable as tan-with freckles lightly dusting his nose and hollowed cheeks. His features were sharp-clean cut cheek bones, a pointed chin, and a sharp nose that was softened by its slope. He was clean shaven, in a way that suggested he’d never been able to grow a beard in the first place.
“What did you picture?” Husk asked after a minute.
“I dunno. Something…less human I guess. He seemed like one of those hell-born types to me. Not so…”
“Yeah.” Husk agreed quietly, and continued to clean the man’s arms. His chest was exposed, all bony with protruding ribs and littered with little scars. Freckles mapped his shoulders and arms, skin wrapped tightly around sharp bones and lean muscle.
“You okay?” Angel prompted, noticing the glazed look in the bartender’s eyes.
Husk seemed to snap out of his stupor, blinking up at Angel, mouth twitching into a frown.
“Yeah, why?”
“Nothin’ you just seem a little out of it.” Angel considered his words. “This must be…weird for you, y’know Al owning your soul and all.”
When Husker didn’t say anything he continued.
“It might be a good opportunity to, y’know, escape- or somethin’. The soul bond’s weaker right? This might be yer chance.”
He didn’t expect Husk’s face to crumple.
“What’re you trying to say? You think I’d leave him like this? Or what, kill him?”
“Fuck no, not that! I’m just sayin’ if this was Val then-“
“Well it’s not, okay.” Husk snapped quietly. His ears were pinned back, but his frown seemed to melt as he met Angel’s eyes.
“Look, things with Al are…complicated. He’s a right psycho that’s for sure, but I know that in his own fucked way he’d look out for me if I was the one…y’know.”
He paused. When he spoke his voice was soft.
“Besides. I kinda like this place. Stayin’ and taking care of this one ain’t so bad with good company.” Husk gave him a small, sad smile, and Angel felt his heart jump.
“Yeah, that we can agree on.” Angel said, just as quietly.
They continued to work in silence, something heavy in the air. Every now and again Angel’s eyes would drift to Husk’s face-watching as he furrowed his brows and bit the inside of his cheek in concentration. He’d look at Alastor too, noticing little things like the fine creases of his forehead, the scar on his temple, and the curve of his lips-the ever present smile lurking even in sleep.
Once they’d finished cleaning him up, Husk draped a blanket over the sleeping man, and tucked a pillow under his head. He made a show of being a little rough with it, but the action spoke for itself.
“You down for a drink or five?” Angel gave him a tired grin. It was 5 in the morning-the other’s were likely asleep.
“Always.” Husk smirked, clapping him on the back. He flicked the light off as they left Lucifer’s room, but left the door open a crack, grumbling something like “we should keep an eye on him.”
They drank til dawn, gossiping about the new sinners and whatever random rubbish Angel’s tired, drunken brain could whip up. Not a word was shed on the slumbering human upstairs.
The two remained blissfully unaware of the drone listening in from the distance. They missed the creak of a bedroom door, and the thump against a wall as the drone was shittily driven into Lucifer’s bedroom, primed to spy but not ready for the sight it would be met with.