Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

After Alastor made his grand appearance at the Hotel’s rebuilding, there had been a short party thrown in the newly refurbished lobby to celebrate everything they had won and everything they thought had been lost but not really. That meant him apparently, which meant he was a guest of honour of sorts, and everyone wanted to know how he survived and where he went to escape Adam. 

It had been a hard night trying to keep up the mystery of it all and not making his wound worse before he could even attempt to heal it. It was a whirlwind of chaos; sitting down at the bar for a drink only for someone to sit next to him and start pestering him with questions, finding a quiet corner for himself just for Charlie to come over and ask if he was feeling ok and if he needed to take a break, going over to his new armchair by the fireplace and easily summoning a book to send the universal message of “Fuck off, I’m reading!” then hearing a conversation make its way over to him. 

All in all, it had been a night for Alastor. 

He managed to slip into his shadows when no one was watching and make his way over to his new tower to finally settle in for the night. He kept his book with him as he made his way over to his personal fireplace and armchairs, sitting down in one of them after procuring himself a bottle of whiskey and a glass with ice cubes freshly summoned in from the bar downstairs. 

He settled down on the armchair, playing a slow melody from the radio on top of the fireplace to set a nice ambience, set his whiskey on the side table, and got back to reading his book. Less than an hour later he was knocked out cold, with his head thrown back and a book clutched tightly in his hands that lay across his stomach. 

He didn’t stir once during his sleep, and he woke up long after the sun had first shown its face in hell that day and all the residents had already had breakfast. Before he could fully register what was happening, he heard a knock at the door followed by a hesitant voice. “Hey Alastor? It’s Charlie, I don’t know if you heard me earlier, but I came by after breakfast to check in on you since you didn’t come down to eat with us. Which is totally fine if you’d rather have meals by yourself in your room!”

He heard Charlie shuffling her feet a bit as she paused her rambling before starting back up with a nervousness now present in her voice. “I’m just worried because it’s lunch now and you still haven’t come downstairs, and I noticed you left early after the party last night, which is also fine, but I’m still worried about you. I should probably get back downstairs now but please come down soon when you’re ready.” 

Alastor could hear Charlie’s steps moving further away from his door before his ears caught the sound of the elevator opening and closing and then promptly descending until even his sensitive ears could no longer catch the faint mechanical sounds.

Once Alastor is certain Charlie won’t be coming back, he rushes out of his chair and hastily drags his shadow out of the void to demand to know what happened and how he managed to fall asleep when he looks down at his chest confused. He knows he fought Adam just yesterday and nearly died trying to get away. When he was strong enough, he swapped his torn and bloodied suit for a clean and fresh one while also summoning bandages to wrap around the wound until he was able to clean it properly. He was going to do that when he had fully settled down in his new room but clearly that never happened. 

Now, instead of looking down at what should have been a murder scene with the amount of blood he’s sure he should have lost in his sleep he just sees his normal pristine suit, although a bit crumpled from being slept in. After glancing at his shadow to make sure he was definitely seeing what he thought he was, he starts unbuttoning his coat, giving it to his shadow once it's fully off and when he starts on his shirt he does so with shaking hands and lingering dread. Why is he scared of what he might find? If it healed by itself then he would never have to worry about it again! But there is something that feels off about this to Alastor, as if what he finds won’t be what it seems.

Alastor had looked away from his chest after a few buttons, relying on muscle memory to get to the bottom of his shirt. It isn’t long until he reaches the end and he closes his eyes as he hands off his shirt to his shadow. When he opens his eyes again he is looking straight ahead of him where he ends up looking right into Lucifers gaudy apple tower that he built specifically for himself after his daughter had shyly told him that he was welcome to stay at the hotel anytime he wanted. Or at least that’s what Angel Dust had cheerfully told him last night after his fifth drink at the bar when Alastor had swapped out his position to make it seem like he was mingling with everyone. 

Wanting to look away from that monstrosity is enough to make Alastor finally look down at his chest where he expects there to at least be a scar for his efforts. 

But.

There is simply nothing.

Nothing he hadn’t already seen before the battle at least. But that was before the battle. Before his fight with Adam. Where he had a scar cutting across his body from his left shoulder to the right side of his hip, viciously bleeding everywhere. 

Now, there is nothing there. No scar. No raised line or bump. There isn’t even any blood! 

He looks back towards the armchair where he woke up and considers something. As crazy as it sounds, maybe, somehow, the fight was a dream. He knows it isn’t the most sound conclusion but it’s the only one that makes even a lick of sense right now. Maybe once he goes downstairs, he can subtly ask around. If he asks Husker he at least knows for certain that he won’t go off running to tell anyone, not even that spider he’s seemed to get more friendly with of late. 

Alastor growls as he summons his clothes back onto his body, not wanting to appear downstairs later than he apparently already is. He slips into his shadows and within seconds is downstairs in the new lounge that everyone, but him, helped create. He spies Charlie at her whiteboard, preparing another lesson plan for her ridiculous idea of redemption. However, before he can go over and reassure her of his presence, he senses someone stepping in front of him and he can only guess who it is from the ridiculously oversized hat on his head. He’s about to use his cane to tip the hat over to annoy the other man, but thankfully catches himself at the last second and keeps both hands firmly behind his back. For some godforsaken reason, he left his microphone cane upstairs and curses himself internally.

Lucifer starts speaking before he can pick into why he didn’t bring his microphone with him downstairs. “Alright, look here bellhop. I don’t know what your intention is with my daughter, since you’re still here after you should’ve already had plenty of entertainment by now, but if you hurt her in any way I swear to my Father that I will kill you. Time and time again, after you keep regenerating in ways you can’t even think of. Is that clear?” Lucifer had barely tipped his head up enough for Alastor to be able to see beneath the tacky hat but he could see enough. The pure red in his eyes. The horns just beginning to peek out of his skin, pushing the hat up further. The near blinding white of his sharp teeth. It was enough for Alastor to get the picture.

“Oh, I understand perfectly sire! But I also understand that I can barely see you underneath that tacky hat, with you standing so close to me. So, I don’t understand how you expect me to hear anything you say, but! Rest assured, you will never see me harm a single hair on our dear daughter’s head.” Never mind that Alastor never intends to harm Charlie at all, but Lucifer doesn’t need to know that now does he?

Lucifer lets out a sharp breath then takes an exaggerated step back before raising his middle finger to Alastor clearly and walking over to his daughter. Alastor let out a scoff and changed directions to the bar instead. Maybe he could weasel information out of Husker earlier than planned.

He isn’t surprised to see that Husker has already started drinking, even though it is only just past 12 in the afternoon, but Husker certainly seems surprised when he sits at the bar and gestures for a drink. Husk already knows what to give him.  Other than looking mildly surprised he still does what Alastor expects him to do, the leash around his neck a big part of it no doubt. “So... you woke up late today boss.”

“What an astute observation Husker! Can’t a man lie in every now and then?”

“Yeah, but you always wake up to do your broadcast. Unless last night was just too much for you and you needed that alone time.” Even though Husk is speaking slowly and carefully picking out his words he still says too much of what’s on his mind. Maybe Alastor will finally have to start slowly cutting him off from his beloved drinks, not today though, since it got him exactly the information he wanted when he came down here.

“Hm, well maybe I had a bit too much to drink once I retired for the evening. Besides, I’m up and about now. I’m simply having a later start to the day than everyone else.” Alastor then finishes off his drink and sets it back down on the bar top. “Now, I’m afraid I must be off to reassure the princess of my presence again since she seemed quite insistent on my being down here when she came knocking on my door. Ta, Husker, dear!”

Alastor doesn’t spare a glance at him when he spins around on his chair and starts walking towards where he saw Charlie last. She seems to still be working on lesson plans, thankfully with her father nowhere in sight. Off to hide in his tower no doubt, probably falsely assuming that he wouldn’t need to fight Alastor for Charlie’s attention for the rest of the day after seeing him with Husker. Back to the matter at hand, though, Charlie was alone in the parlour with only her lesson plans for company. No angels in sight, including the fallen exorcist, but probably not for long.

Alastor swept into his shadows and appeared beside her, waiting for her to acknowledge him. However, she seemed to be so engrossed with writing her plans and brainstorming ideas that she didn’t even notice him standing right next to her. He could feel his ears start to pin back in annoyance but he managed to straighten them out before anyone would be able to notice, not that there was anyone around to notice. He cleared his throat and started speaking, regardless of if she had noticed him or not. He’d be surprised if she still didn’t know he was there now.

“Well, good morning, my dear! Haha or should I say good afternoon? My, I certainly slept in late today, didn’t I? Well, no matter, I’m here now and at your disposal.”

Once he started speaking, Charlie yelped and jumped slightly. As she turned to face him she attempted to fix him with something that was akin to a glare. Although Charlie doesn’t seem to have the confidence to hold it, as her cheeks puff out. She looked away slightly before looking back at him to speak. “Alastor! What have I told you about sneaking up on people like that! I didn’t even hear you come downstairs, let alone creep up behind me.” 

“The benefits of travelling by shadow my dear! No one will ever know you’re in the room with them before it’s too late!” He grinned at her before going to spin his cane only to realise that he still doesn’t have it with him. So instead, he just puts both of hands behind him to control their movements. “Now, what work is there to be done by yours truly today?” 

Charlie looked like she wanted to say more, but instead put on a smile and started explaining to him what he could do for the rest of the day. He might’ve had even more tasks to complete had he been awake when everyone else was. So, small mercies he supposes. 

For the rest of the day, Alastor goes through the tasks Charlie had given earlier, ticking them off as he went. She had explained to him that now Adam is dead, so Heaven will probably cancel the exterminations forever! And then there will be more sinners at their doorstep, any day now. He didn’t fully understand the logic behind what she was saying, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Because she expected so many new sinners to try their hands at redemption though, it was now his job to make sure all of the rooms were perfectly maintained with not a speck of dust in any of them. There has to be hundreds of rooms in this new hotel so he imagines it will take quite a few days to inspect every single one of them. 

Apart from that, he still had a multitude of other things to get done. Charlie did offer to cut back on them because he was late getting up, and the battle with Adam, but he would never accept pity from anyone. So he will complete all of the tasks she gave him, even if it takes all day. To start, he already knew he would be the one making dinner for everyone, so he just had to estimate when he would be finished with the rest of the tasks and determine how much time that would leave him to make dinner. Not a lot, it would seem, especially considering the room situation. Though he did decide to leave it until last, as it will just be a side task for a few weeks, no doubt. 

He had other menial tasks interspersed throughout his day, but eventually the time came to retire to his room almost regretfully, considering the amount of empty rooms still left to be checked. He would’ve happily spent the rest of the night and the following morning checking the rooms, but something was telling him that he needed to be in his own room tonight on the off chance he falls asleep again, and ends up passed out in a random guest bedroom instead of his own. 

Once his shadow had taken them inside the comfort of his room, he stepped out of it, took off his jacket and placed it neatly over the back of one armchair and then sat in the opposite one. If he was remembering correctly, this part of his evening is almost parallel to last night. Drinking his whiskey, reading a good book and a nice jazz record playing. Only this time, he’ll make sure he won’t fall victim to something as trivial as sleep. 

Remembering how unpleasant it was to wake up with his day clothes on, and knowing he won’t be leaving the privacy of his room anyway, he snaps his fingers to change into some simple pyjamas that he remembered seeing as part of a welcome pack in the rooms he had managed to check on earlier. 

Now that he’s more comfortable, he relaxes back in his chair slightly more and picks up where he left off in his book. Although, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to get more sleep. Maybe he just needs to get more energy from sleeping and then he’ll be good to stay awake for another nine decades or so. 

He barely made it two chapters before his head was turned to the side in a deep sleep.

Alastor woke up to his Maman shaking him. When he opened his eyes she was grinning down at him in a way she only ever did when his father wasn’t home. “Wake up cher, your father has gone for the day so we can do whatever you want until he comes home.” 

At the news that his father wasn't currently home Alastor grinned just as wide as his Maman and jumped out of bed, grabbing her hand as he made his way past her, out of his bedroom and into the living room. 

Once he reached the living room he turned around and gripped her hand with both of his, jumping up and down, “Can we go to the bayou Maman? Please! We haven’t been there in so long, please can we go, Maman?” He looked up at her eagerly, patiently waiting for her to give him an answer. 

She smiled down at him with fondness in her eyes and carefully brushed her fingers through his unruly curls. “Of course we can cher. But first we need to have breakfast so you don’t tire out with all your playing.” She cheerfully booped his nose, making his face scrunch up, and tugged him along to the kitchen humming a song under her breath.

Alastors eyes flew open as he screamed “Maman!”

Chapter Text

Alastor looks around his room wildly after waking up, trying to discern what just happened. He hasn’t had one since he was alive, due to not even sleeping down in Hell, but he thinks he just had a dream. A dream with his mother in. 

He hasn’t seen her since she died about a hundred years ago now. He would never admit it but seeing her again in such vivid detail, as if he was truly living that memory out for the first time, made him realise that he forgot some of her features. The freckles on her face, her vibrant green eyes that she passed down to him, how bouncy her brown curls were. But the one thing he could never forget, and is happy he got to see at least one more time, is her smile. How it could light up a room, how radiant it was. It was beautiful. 

He’s happy he got to see it, even if only for one final time. He wishes that dream could’ve lasted forever, to never wake up from it. 

He rubs his hands over his face, already wishing he could go back to sleep to see his mother again, and looks up at the clock on the mantle above the fireplace to see the time. He hopes he hasn’t slept for as long as the day before. He hasn’t thankfully, and if he’s quick he can probably go downstairs and start breakfast for everyone before people start coming into the kitchen. 

He gets up from the chair he managed to stay on all night, stretching his body to loosen his stiff muscles, and walking over to his closet to change out his clothes for fresher, unwrinkled ones. As he got changed he couldn’t keep the smile off his face, which is a ridiculous thing to say considering he can’t stop smiling because of the stitches holding his smile in place, thinking about his mother. He still can’t believe that he managed to see her again even if it was only in a dream.

By the time Alastor finished making breakfast everyone was downstairs waiting at the table for their food. They weren’t sitting idly though, since he had also started the coffee which everyone helped themselves to. He served everyone their plates and sat next to Charlie, who was at the head of the table, which her father obviously had something to say about. “Hey! What’s the bellhop doing in my seat?” 

Alastor looked up at the sound of his voice to see him standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, like some sort of petulant child. “Well you clearly weren’t showing up so I decided to step in! And besides this is where I would sit, in the previous hotel.” 

“Well it doesn’t matter where you sat before because I’m here now, and don’t act like this is the first day here! We all had breakfast together yesterday and YOU were nowhere to be found! So technically you’re sitting in my seat.” He kept coming closer to where Alastor was sitting until he leaned over the table pointing a finger in his chest. 

Alastor looked down at the finger with light disdain, but with the memory of seeing his mother again just this morning, he can’t summon anything more than that. His mind is too light because of his mother, and he can’t find it within himself to complain. He pinched the finger between two of his own and flung it away from him. “Well, I’m sure there are plenty of other seats you can choose from! Now if you don’t mind I was going to start eating.” 

Lucifer looks like he’s about to start a fight or throw himself across the table at him, but luckily Charlie intervenes before any of the food could go to waste, smashed up on the ground. “Dad, there’s a seat free on the opposite side of the table if you want to sit there instead? That is the seat that Al used to sit at at the old hotel, so he probably doesn’t want to change up his routine. That other seat is still pretty close to me.” 

Willing to do anything to please his daughter, Lucifer obviously chooses to sit on the opposite side of him instead of continuing to fight Alastor for the seat on Charlie’s immediate left. He still looks like he could be willing to fight Alastor again, but for the most part he sits down without much fuss. 

There’s not much talking done at breakfast because of that, only light mumbles spread around the table, and the second Alastor finishes his own plate he stands up, leaves everything he used for Nifty to clean once she’s done, and leaves the kitchen to do his duties around the hotel once again. 

After a post-breakfast broadcast.

Throughout most of the day, Alastor is just doing boring tasks similar to the day before so nothing of note. He does also look through many more of the guest bedrooms, but he knows that could take the better part of at least a few weeks with how many there are. It doesn’t help that he’s only dedicating a few hours per day to it. He won’t go complaining to the princess though, this is his job so he’s going to do it even if it kills him. 

Dramatics aside, his day has been pretty uneventful and it soon comes time for him to start making dinner. Unlike breakfast, which he makes every day, he only has one day a week that he makes dinner for everyone. And that day is today. 

He decides to make his mothers Jambalaya, with a different source for the meat for him, which did mean even less time to sort through the bedrooms, but it will be worth it to have his favourite meal again. 

When he presented the dish to everyone once they were all seated, most of them looked slightly disgusted when they heard about him using ‘special’ meat for the dish, although, once Charlie reminded him that not everyone shared his dietary preferences, he rightly assured them all that he only used that meat in his portion. Interestingly, Lucifer was the only one who wasn’t disgusted at the notion of the potential of ‘special’ meat being in his own dish. 

Hm. He’ll think about that later. 

Actually, who is he kidding, he’s never thinking about Lucifer when the tiny man isn’t in his immediate vicinity. And even then he only thinks about him because when Lucifer Morningstar is in a room, he is going to make sure that you know he’s in that room with you.

Regardless, he’s back in his own room now and he’s actually quite looking forward to going to sleep again. So he can dream about his mother once more and she’s even more fresh in his mind. Unless, of course, last night was just a fluke. A one-time thing. He obviously hopes that isn’t the case, but he has to be careful about getting his hopes too high. 

He’s starting to get into this new nightly routine of his though. Changing into comfier clothes this time, pouring himself a finger of whisky, grabbing a book to read and then sitting in his armchair facing the roaring fire. Now that he knows what’s waiting for him in sleep, he’s less resistant to its call. He’s not actively fighting being drawn under that endless wave. Maybe that’s why it doesn’t take him immediately like it did before. It lets him actually rest before creeping in around his vision and down into dreamland where he will hopefully see his dear mother again. 

Alastor had just put away the dishes from dinner when he heard his mothers voice call out from their living room. 

“Alastor, come on cher, the songs are starting again!”

“Coming Maman!” 

Alastor dried off his hands then made his way to the living room. He got there just as the first notes of an upbeat song started and his Maman grabbed hold of his hands in her impatience. Alastor easily took the lead from her once he was stable, laughing all the while. 

“Maman, you couldn’t have waited five seconds? I was right here you know.” 

“Hush you, if we missed the beginning then it would be harder to find a good rhythm anyway.”

“Of course. How could I forget that.” Alastor looks at her teasingly before saying noncommittally, “Or maybe you were just too impatient to wait those precious few seconds for your son to join you.”  

His mother playfully pinched his cheek before swatting him on the back of his head. “You should watch those manners, boy. I wouldn’t have even a decent dance partner if you lost all of those good manners I taught you.”

Alastor leans down to kiss her on her forehead in apology, even if he knows he could never do anything for her to be truly upset at him.

This time when Alastor wakes he doesn’t scream out for his mother as if he’s lost her all over again. Although it had certainly felt like that when he woke up yesterday, considering he didn’t know whether he would ever see her again. Those worries can mostly be laid to rest now after having another dream with his maman. 

His maman. 

Alastor can hardly believe he’s had two dreams back to back with her in them. Is this what his life here in Hell could have been like if he’d only just slept every night. What would that have been like, he wonders. He’s been here for ninety years already, that would have to be thousands of dreams he’s missed out on. 

Alastor sits up properly in the chair he fell asleep on, gathering his thoughts properly. Sure, he can admit that missing out on thousands of dreams with his mother makes him sad. But he also has an eternity before him, where millions more await him. 

It’s no good getting ahead of himself though, who knows how long this will last? If it will even last at all? No, he won’t go getting his hopes up. He’ll wait a few more days and if he is still getting these dreams, well, then he can think of a future where he gets to see his maman everyday. Even if it is only at night, over a hundred years ago. 

After his brief moment of planning for a future that might not even happen, Alastor finally starts getting ready for the day ahead. It doesn’t take him long and he’s soon back in the kitchen making breakfast for everyone. 

Just like yesterday, he finishes just as everyone is coming in and finding their seat. He sits down next to Charlie, who’s already at the head of the table, in preparation of fending off Lucifer again but it seems that he doesn’t need to worry about that anymore. Once Lucifer enters the kitchen it seems that he’s already resigned himself to sit where he was yesterday instead of using this as another chance to fight Alastor. 

Maybe Lucifer is going to start holding off on fighting Alastor every chance he gets. That would surely be a nice change of pace. 

With no fight breaking out between the two of them, everyone at the table, even him since he had no idea if Lucifer was going to suddenly pounce on him like a Lion with its prey, was slightly on edge for most of breakfast. It was a bit awkward but Alastor has never let that stop him from enjoying a good meal before. And since he made his own meal it’s guaranteed to be the best. 

The next interesting thing happens when Alastor is down in the lobby doing one of his favourite hobbies, harassing Husker. Someone knocks on the door of the entrance to the hotel. 

Alastors ears stand to attention and his back goes straight, like some unknown danger has just entered his territory. He looks back to Husker to make sure he wasn’t hearing things and the cat looked just as shocked as Alastor did so surely that meant he didn’t suddenly imagine that knock. The real saviour to his plight comes in the form of the Princess. She comes bounding down the stairs with her Angelic bodyguard trailing behind her and reminding her not to get her hopes up. 

Alastor doesn’t move from where he’s sat at the bar, trailing one finger around the rim of his glass. He’s content to watch what’s undoubtedly going to be a failure on the sidelines and then swoop in at the last moment to be the hero in Charlies story. 

What happens next isn’t what he, or anyone for that matter, is expecting. He thought it would be an attack. Or something else that’s easy to explain. Instead, when Charlie opens the door, everyone is greeted by a down on their luck sinner seeking redemption. Charlie obviously introduces them to everyone and starts showing them around the ground floor. She promises to give them a proper tour soon but that they should get used to being in a new and unfamiliar place first. 

Despite the sinner seeming quite genuine in their goal of redemption Alastor is, of course, on edge. The last sinner looking for redemption did come here with the intent of spying on them for his enemy. If this sinner came here with the same intentions then Alastor will snuff them out. 

He leaves the parlor through his shadows to get on with the rest of the days tasks, ignoring the bead of sweat that rolls down his neck when he reappears in his studio.

After his mid-day radio broadcast, Alastor went through the motions of yesterday again. Thankfully he only has to make dinner once a week, so he doesn’t have to stop whatever he’s doing to prepare the dinner. He does, however, have to contend with whatever Vaggie has cooked. 

Truthfully, he never cared much for these ‘family dinners’ that dear Charlie called them. Unless he was cooking the dinner, which only happened once a week thanks to Charlies schedule, he prepared his own dinner and brought it straight to his own room. This meant that he’s never actually had what anyone else makes for their assigned day. Well, apart from Angel Dust on Tuesday but he’d be surprised if the man couldn’t cook well considering his ancestry. The only reason he’s started coming to the dinners now is to get on Lucifers nerves. 

However, when the time comes for dinner to be served, it is much like this morning in the sense that Lucifer doesn’t even try and fight him to sit next to his precious daughter. 

Alastor can’t even pretend to be enthused with whatever Vaggie has served them all. Not in the face of Lucifer ignoring him again. 

He spent most of dinner trying to get him to pay attention to him but he couldn’t do much without drawing attention so instead he was left silently seething.

The only saving grace he had was going back to his room with the hopeful promise of more dreams of his mother. 

Reaching his room through his shadow and almost immediately changing into something comfier was practically routine at this point. So was getting his drink and a good book. For a change of pace though he decided to put on one of his records he has stashed away in memory of the dance he now remembers sharing with his mother as clear as if it happened yesterday. 

Once he’s settled into his chair he continues reading the book from where he left off last night. A few hours later his eyes slip closed into the dreamworld once more. 

Alastor was struggling to stay awake after the long day he had, but how could he go to sleep when he got to hear his Mamans voice singing to him? 

She only sings when his father isn’t at home, so it’s a rare thing. 

He wants to enjoy it for as long as he can. 

It doesn’t help that she’s stroking his hair so gently as his head lays on her lap. 

He manages to keep his eyes open for a few more minutes before he finally succumbs to sleep, with his Mamans voice the last thing he hears before he falls under. 

Alastor wakes up with a start, practically giddy. He saw her again. He saw his mother last night. Just like he had the previous two nights. That’s three nights in a row, back to back to back, that he’s seen her. It can’t be fluke after that. 

He can keep her in his dreams. 

She won’t leave him. Not ever again. 

It feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders with the realisation that he can live more easily now. Or at least as easily as one can when they’re dead. 

He gets ready with that knowledge in his head and one of the most genuine smiles he’s had in Hell on his face. If he didn’t use his shadows to get downstairs to the kitchen, he’s sure he would practically be skipping his way there. 

When he gets to the kitchen he plays a nice jazz melody on the radio, that’s sat at the counter, humming along as he cooks everything. 

As he’s placing the plates around the table for everyone he hesitates when he reaches his own seat, two plates sat heavily in his hands. He doesn’t know why he’s hesitating to place his own plate where he usually sits, but the memory of yesterday is playing through his mind. When Lucifer had just resigned himself to sitting away from his daughter again. 

Before he can too caught up in his own thoughts, the decision of where to place the remaining two plates is taken away from him, Lucifer going over to what is now probably going to be known as his seat, with the plate meant for him floating out of Alastors hand and into the Kings.

Well.

That certainly settles that, doesn’t it?

Alastors shrugs that off and settles into his own seat, digging into his breakfast. He could probably get used to this new normal; seeing his mother, not having to fight Lucifer for where to sit – except that sounds terribly boring. Him and Lucifer never fighting, never even interacting because how do you interact with someone and have a conversation with them when the only interactions you’ve had together are fights. Both verbal and physical. 

That’s certainly another thing he’ll have to think about, isn’t it? Why does he even care what types of interactions he’ll have with the tiny king? He lived at the hotel for six months before Lucifer decided to live here himself. So why can’t he live like that again? 

A few hours later, Alastor finds himself staring at a scene he should be quite used to in Hell, yet he finds it odd seeing it inside the hotel. 

He was doing something on one of the upper floors when he heard a scream. Naturally, he followed the sound of it and found himself at a balcony looking down on the scene of the crime. 

The sinner who had come to stay for redemption yesterday, was now laying on his back in the lobby with what seems to be quite a lot of bones broken if Alastor had to guess. If he fell, his skull might be cracked as well.

What had Alastor staying in place though, was Lucifer. Lucifer was rushing over, and why he didn’t just think to teleport or create a portal is beyond him, and the second he reached the sinner, his hands were glowing with a golden light. He then proceeded to roll up one of the sleeves of the sinner and touch them with those golden hands.

Alastor couldn’t notice any immediate changes at first, but within the next few minutes he could see that the body wasn’t as hurt any more. Like the body was slowly piecing itself back together with Lucifers help. 

Before he could see what the aftermath of that was, Alastor slipped into his shadows and goes back to where he was interrupted and continues his day as if nothing had happened. 

Nothing else of note happens in his day and he soon finds himself doing what is now becoming known to him as his nightly routine. 

And just like in that routine, he soon finds himself falling asleep on his armchair and having another sweet dream with his mother.

The next day Alastor was already starting to get used to waking up after having a dream with someone he believed he would never see again. He is also getting used to having a different routine in the morning after he does wake up, which he would say ends with making breakfast for the hotel. 

One part of his week that he is glad hasn’t changed though, is his visit to Rosie in Cannibal Town every Saturday. He didn’t feel like dealing with having Voxs drones following him there today so he opted for his shadows instead and when he slips out of them inside Rosies territory he feels a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and his breathing was slightly ragged. He couldn’t focus on why that was right now, not when he knew Rosie was likely closing her shop for a few hours at this very moment and preparing some light finger food to snack on. 

He made his way towards her emporium and knocked on the door. Just because she was expecting him at this time doesn’t mean he can just barge in. His mother raised a gentleman so a gentleman he shall be even if it is in Hell, which is definitely the last place she would have ever expected him to end up. Although, she did watch him murder his father when he was younger so it wouldn’t be too much of a surprise considering that. 

Rosie opened the door and gestured him in, which in turn closed the door of his thoughts for the day. “Come on in Alastor! I’ve got everything ready.” 

“Lovely!” Alastor followed Rosie to the back of her shop where a table was set with some snacks and tea. Alastor smiled wider when he noticed that she had prepared his usual coffee for him instead of the tea that she preferred, even though he knows that Rosie would rather kill herself and keep all the meat to herself than serve the wrong thing for one of her guests. 

They both got settled into their usual seats opposite each other pretty quickly and started catching up on what had happened since the extermination. 

Rosie had lost some cannibals during the fight unfortunately so Alastor consoled her on that; she got attached to her cannibals far too quickly in Alastors opinion but he’d never tell her that. 

Alastor told her about the new sinner that had checked in two days ago. Rosie asked how the Princess was doing after the extermination and how The King was settling into the hotel. He assured her that Charlie was doing splendidly running the new hotel and the new guest is keeping her spirits up so far. His smile threatened to turn into a scowl at the mention of Lucifer though. He told her how odd the King was behaving and how he hasn’t started any fights with Alastor even when the set up for one was right there.

It seemed like Rosie started contemplating that fact before she just looked at him and told him how the King is probably just adjusting to living in a new space. Especially after living alone in a massive palace for as long as he supposedly was. Alastor supposes there is merit to what Rosie said but something doesn’t feel right about it. Well, if it’s important then he’s sure he’ll find out soon; he doesn’t have to direct all of his focus on it. 

Alastor and Rosie keep talking about their week and even about the overlord meeting tomorrow, since it will be the first one since the failed extermination. One thing that Alastor doesn’t bring up however is his dreams with his mother, those are forever his to keep to himself. He also doesn’t tell her how he woke up after the extermination to find the wound from Adam gone. He swore that he had fought the first man to near death and gained a new scar to prove it, but as he saw when he woke up the following day, nothing was there. Maybe he’s worried that Rosie will think him crazy for imagining the fight going so south. 

Regardless of his reason, he doesn’t tell her about either of those. He doesn’t think he’ll regret not telling her, he’s only ever regretted one thing and that was up above, but apart from being able to see his mother again there’s really not much to be said about the topics.

Alastor gets back to the hotel a few hours later after picking up some venison from his favourite butcher shop. He feels slightly tired but he chalks that up to a result of all of the missing sleep from the past ninety years catching up to him. He’s sure after a few more nights of sleep he’ll be less tired during the day. 

The next day was the first Sunday of the month, which meant it was an overlord meeting. It also just happened to be the first overlord meeting after the most recent extermination, which usually meant a large number of souls dead and new territory to fight over. 

He suspected that this meeting would be quite different than those in the past though. 

When he walked into the meeting room his eyes were immediately drawn to someone he’d rather never see again. 

Vox 

Vox was never in these meetings. Well, never was a little harsh on the man, he supposed. He only showed up when it was something that interested him, and that was never after an extermination. Velvette was the one who came to most of these meetings and on a rare occasion Valentino would show up. But he couldn’t even remember the last time he saw Vox here. 

Alastor wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had paused for even the briefest second at seeing him here again. Instead, he walked calmly over to where he usually sits between Rosie and Zestial and didn’t even acknowledge that Vox was in the same room as him. 

Using his shadows to get over here had taken slightly more time than he anticipated so there wasn’t long left until the meeting started, which seemed a great excuse to not look in Voxs general direction. 

Rosie nudged him under the table and leaned towards him slightly. He sighed internally at the lecture he was no doubt going to receive at ignoring everyone. He lowered one of his ears slightly so she knew that he was listening. “Al! Didn’t you see who’s decided to sit at the table again?! What are you sitting over here for like nothing’s happened? By this point a fight would’ve broken out between the two of ya if you were anywhere else.” 

“Yes, well the meeting’s about to start and besides, you know how Carmilla gets when fights break out during the meeting. She’d just tell us to take it outside and I have no intention of fighting him either way.” Alastor didn’t mention the fact that one of the many reasons he didn’t want to fight Vox at this particular moment was because he still felt rather tired from all the sleep he was catching up on.

Before Rosie could question him further, Carmilla and her daughters walked in and the meeting began. 

For the most part everyone stayed silent during the meeting unless they were called on, which Alastor liked because that meant it would already be significantly shorter than any of the other meetings they’ve had. Of course, that meant someone had to ruin the peace. And that someone was Vox, because he obviously had a reason for coming here other than sitting still and doing nothing. He does that enough in his tower, Alastor’s sure of that. 

When the meeting was coming to a close and Carmilla looked like she was about to call it to an end, Vox stood up and cleared his throat, gaining everyone’s attention. No matter that he already had it by being in the meeting room, which, again, he hasn’t been seen in in decades. 

Alastor kept his eyes firmly placed in front of him, his smile rigid in its place. 

Carmilla sighed but let him speak for the final point of the meeting. Great, all he had to do was sit here until Vox had finished promoting a new item or mindless picture show and then he’d be free to leave. 

Alastor was happy to let that be it and wait very patiently for Vox to finish so he could finally leave, even if he wasn’t in that much of a hurry to return to the hotel. If he was honest with himself right now, he would take Lucifers presence over Voxs any day even if he was confused about why he would like Lucifers company at all. 

His musings about that were cut short when Vox mentioned his name and somehow projected him. Well, a past version of him at least. It was him after Adam had managed to knock him down, with his cane split in half and clutched in one hand. If only he was skilled enough to somehow put it back together. What caught his attention next, and most likely every other overlord in the room, was the wound he very clearly had. With blood pouring all over the ground from it. 

Alastors hand started to reach up to touch where that wound would be on his own body but he pulled it back down at the last second, careful to not catch any wandering attention. How could it be that he remembered that scene exactly as it happened on the screen Vox is showcasing it from, yet when he woke up the next day there was nothing.

No blood. No wound. Nothing to show for what everyone else is now seeing as clear as day. 

He risked a glance at Vox who was grinning maniacally back at him. What was that man plotting? “Well? What are you waiting for, old pal? For me to collapse to the floor from blood loss? Because if you are, I'm afraid you’ll be waiting a long time.” 

He didn’t know if the video was faked or not but he’s not going to take off his shirt to prove that he’s as fit as a fiddle. He slowly rose from his chair and made his way towards the exit, not caring if him leaving was going to be seen as improper. “Goodbye fellow overlords, don’t fawn over me for too long.” He laughed out loud at his own joke as the doors closed behind him and he bathed himself in shadows to go back to the hotel. 

He’s a bit more tired when he returns to the hotel and he feels more sweat pool at the back of his neck but he shrugs them both off. Maybe he should try and have a small nap before dinner? It would hopefully replenish some of his energy, energy that he’d undoubtedly need to face Lucifers cooking. He saw his name at the end of the week and has been dreading it ever since. 

He should do more of his duties around the hotel though, and he still needs to get through those guest bedrooms for Charlie. That should keep him busy for the next few hours before dinner. 

Over the next few days his mothers smile is one of the only things fueling his energy, as it seems to deplete even more every day. He can’t even fathom why. He’s sleeping every day so he should be getting more energy, theoretically, but his energy just seems to falter. He’s getting tired earlier in the day but he can’t even have an afternoon nap to see if that would help since his tasks keep him busy all day. 

He still woke up at the same time every day, so he still made breakfast at the same time every day. He never had to speak to anyone after that, so he could do the rest of his tasks in relative peace. He still had dinner with everyone, even when their cooking wasn’t the best. 

His days were turning out to be pretty monotonous it seemed. 

At least until his most recent dream on Wednesday night. 

Alastor still wasn’t feeling well. 

When he woke up that morning he didn’t think anything was wrong, but then after he came home from school his Maman was shocked at how hot his forehead was. She said he just had a fever and it would pass after a few days but as he laid in his bed he was starting to doubt that. And he never doubts his Maman! 

“There there, my sweet boy. You’ll be better soon, I promise.” 

Alastor blearily opened one of his eyes to see her looking down at him, smiling sweetly. “I don’t feel better yet Maman.” 

She just shushed him and changed the rag on his head to a fresh one, with colder water. “Save your voice Alastor, you’ll wear yourself out. And besides I’ve never broken a promise to you have I?” 

Alastor went to open his mouth but at the look from his Maman he just shook his head instead. 

“Good. And remember my boy, when you’re older and you’re in pain and I’m not there to look after you, turn to those closest to you. To your friends. They will help you, I promise.”

Chapter Text

Alastor was pacing his room now. Walking back and forth in the large space in his room. Walking in circles. 

He doesn’t understand what just happened. He remembers that moment from his dream fairly well considering his age at the time being around seven years old. He remembers all the good moments he had with his mother, they were very rare when he was young. But he knows for a fact that she never said that to him. What reason would she have to anyway? He was perfectly well then and he’s perfectly well now. 

So why would his mind trick him into thinking she said that? 

Maybe that’s all this is. A trick his brain is conjuring up. He’d remember if she said something that serious right? But maybe she said it while he was falling asleep and his brain has just managed to hang onto it all this time. Yes, that would make sense. 

If it did make sense for her to even say any of that! Why would she be telling him when he hadn’t even hit puberty yet that she wouldn’t be there to look after him one day?! His mother would never say something like that. He knows it.

He can’t be dealing with any of this right now. He’s already spent too much time awake up here in his room and not downstairs making breakfast. He should be doing that instead. Hopefully that was just a fluke and tonight his dreams will just go back to normal. 

His dreams didn’t go back to normal last night. But more surprising than what did happen last night was what, or rather who, wasn’t in the weird dream. His mother. He didn’t catch even a glimpse of her, which was slightly concerning for him but then also very relieving considering what happened. 

He had just finished a kill from when he was human. He was in his bayou, naturally, and was about to feed part of the pig to the alligators lazing around. It all felt so sudden when he heard the police siren and then the officers shouts. He was still high on adrenaline after his kill and he just started running. He didn’t stop. He knew he was fast and could easily outrun any of the officers, not to mention the bayou being incredibly difficult to traverse if you haven’t spent a considerable amount of time in there. 

And yet. They kept coming closer. He remembers how fast his heart was beating as they neared him. How confused he was since he’s always been so careful. How scared he was that that would be the end of everything. 

He woke up eventually, just as he turned his head and caught a glimpse of how close the officers were to him. So close they easily could have grabbed his arm at that very moment. 

What does this mean? He’s now had two “dreams” back to back where something different happened from his mortal life. First his mother said something very strange to him, not only because she’s never said those words to him. Then last night he finished a kill only to have some police officers chase him through his own territory. 

He will never admit what that made him feel like. He’s more likely to admit to having these weird dreams happening to him, and if he follows the same logic as before then it’s more likely to be his new reality than he’d like to admit, than ever admitting that last nights ‘dream’ made him feel like how he made his own victims feel.

Prey. 

He hated the feeling more than anything, and it felt like a mockery of what Hell had turned him into when he arrived. 

Alastors eyes catch on the clock as he turned around in his pacing once again and he realised with a start that he is even later than he was yesterday. He growls low in his throat, angry at himself for letting his mind get so worked up about these dreams. People probably have them everyday and dream about things that have never happened, what is wrong with him? He can handle a few measly dreams if it means he can see his mother again. Can’t he? 

Well, as long as he doesn’t get this worked up every morning it will be. He just needs to see her again. It’s the only place he’ll ever be able to. After all, it’s not like Charlie’s redemption exercises will ever work. No sinner will ever be allowed past the pearly gates. And even if he were he knows she wouldn’t want to see him like this, condemned to the depths of Hell for the crimes he committed on Earth. The first of which was killing his father and although his dear mother watched him he doesn’t think she’d appreciate how far into depravity he fell after he watched her die. Committing endless amounts of sin on men who deserved it. 

Regardless, he would never see her in the present so the past was all he had of her and he couldn’t afford to lose that. 

When Alastor made breakfast in the old hotel, and when his dreams were normal, he made a point to start early. That way the food was all ready and served by the time each resident had made it downstairs. Although, that really only applied to six out of the seven of them since you couldn’t rely on Angel being up at a reasonable time considering his circumstances. 

All of that to say, everyone was already waiting for breakfast to be done before he was even halfway through making it. It certainly wasn’t this bad yesterday. No one seemed to mind too much that they had to wait for their food to start the day, but he could still feel eyes looking at him. He can’t tell who’s looking, and using his shadow could gain attention that he certainly doesn’t want or need, so he’ll just have to settle for not knowing for now. 

He suspected it was Charlie or even Vaggie on her girlfriends behalf, but when he turned around to start setting the plates down, not only does he see Charlies worried gaze blatantly looking at him, he sees her father glancing away as if he’s been caught. As if he was looking at Alastor in concern. No, that couldn’t be right. Why would Lucifer of all people look at Alastor like he’s worried about him? No one else seemed to have noticed Lucifer so blatantly looking at him, did he imagine it? Like he seems to be imagining things in his dreams lately? It’s the only possibility he has so he’ll have to go with it.

Despite the late start to breakfast everything still goes smoothly. No fights happen, it’s pretty calm. 

The rest of the day is calm too. He did a few more floors of checking out rooms, why did they have to make the hotel so tall? Alastor definitely would have protested against that  if he knew this is what he would be doing and if he was even there when they rebuilt the hotel, and he thinks that maybe he should invest in a bed of his own. His back has been pretty sore lately. He would ask Rosie when he visits tomorrow but then she would ask questions about his sudden need for a bed and he doesn’t exactly want to get into all of that. 

Alastor doesn’t even bother standing up when he wakes up, he just drags his hands down his face and groans. Great. His life has now come to dreaming about running away from the police when he was still human. And if that did ever happen when he was alive they’d be rotting away in the bayou, never to be seen by anyone again. Well, anyone alive at least. He’s unsure whether they would have gone to Heaven or Hell but considering all the bribes they took back then he wouldn’t be surprised if they’re down here with him. 

He gets up to check the time, and seeing that it’s when he would usually start breakfast he changes his clothes and does just that. 

When he went to travel through his shadows to Rosies later that day he was confused as to why he was only able to travel about halfway there. He’s usually able to travel any distance he wants, he’s never been limited in his powers before. Why couldn’t he go farther than this. He decides to try and use his shadows again, quickly so no one spots him failing at using his powers, and is able to reach the border or her town but not any further. It will have to do for now, but he’ll look into it when he gets back to his room at the hotel. 

His tea time with Rosie is pleasant as always but seeing as this is the second week in a row where he has hid something from her, he feels slightly bad. He’s certainly not going to tell her anything, all it would do is make her worried for him when there’s nothing either of them can do about it. 

There isn’t an overlord meeting tomorrow, so they don’t have to theorise on how badly it will go down. They can talk about whatever they want, which they always do. They can catch up on everything they’ve both done over the past week, which they always do. Except for the past two weeks where Alastor hasn’t told her everything. No matter how badly the guilt will no doubt wear him down for the rest of eternity at these weekly tea dates he won’t tell her. He can’t tell her. Like he said before, he refuses to make his dear friend worry for something out of both of their control. 

Getting back to the hotel was a challenge. Somehow the distance his shadows took him were shorter than that morning, which was very worrying. He didn’t let the clear frustration and exhaustion show on his face when he entered, and thankfully there was no one who could see him return. He risked using his shadows to get to his room, which used to be so easy, and only manages to get halfway up the building. He slips out of the shadows near the elevator and Alastor is suddenly faced with a decision that could shape the rest of his afterlife. 

To take the elevator or not to take the elevator? That is the question. He could leave it, but at the rate his powers seem to be mysteriously disappearing he might be crawling back by the end of the week. Or maybe a few more days considering tomorrow is the last day of the week. If he does take the elevator he knows there will be no going back. Everyone in the hotel will soon find out that Alastor, the Great Radio Demon, needs to use the elevator. Something no demon with his powerset would even dare entertain using. 

He glances at the floor number, 25, and sighs internally. His floor is 50 and he’d rather not waste any more of his powers than necessary to get there. He hopes no one else is planning to use the elevator as that would surely be a shock for all involved. 

Alastor has never had a need to use the elevators before, since he used to be able to just slip into his shadows whenever he needed to traverse the hotel, so he’s surprised by how fast and efficient it is. It’s not as fast as his shadows but within minutes he’s already in his room and walking to his bayou.

He needs to know what’s happening with his powers and his bayou is the perfect place to test his limitations. 

He removes his coat and folds it over the top of his chair as he passes by, not stopping his brisk walk until he’s standing so far in his bayou he can barely see his actual hotel room. He’s in a slight clearing so that he has space but does he even know what he is going to do? 

No, he doesn’t. He knows that he couldn’t use his shadows properly but what does he do when he just keeps getting worse results? He would suggest to himself to get more sleep, if exhaustion was the issue, but he doesn’t even have the comfort of his mothers smile or her laugh or her arms or anything about her anymore! 

No. He can’t think like that. There’s still one more sleep before that can be a certainty. After that… Well he can think about the after if he ever gets there. Right now he needs to test how far his limits go.

He lets his shadow grow out from under him and as it keeps on growing, spreading darkness over every single inch of this sacred place, it doesn’t ever show any signs of stopping. Curious. He commands it to come back to him in a single second and he still feels perfectly fine. Why did it only happen when he went into his shadows? He lets himself be consumed by them once again and reappears a few trees over panting and gasping for breath. 

He sits down so he can lean back against the tree. Why did that just happen? It can’t be because he’s exhausted, he’s sleeping every day now so theoretically he should be feeling like he has more energy every day and yet this has happened. Has he been using his shadows to travel to places more frequently than usual? Maybe that’s why. 

He summons his tentacles from his back to see if this strange phenomenon has spread to other parts of his powers. He hasn’t had a need to use these much in the weeks following the last extermination, so surely he still has free reign with them. 

He manages to get quite far with them and make them bigger, but they don’t reach as far as he remembers. It’s certainly not as bad as when he tried travelling within his shadows. Hopefully a good sleep will fix whatever is going on.

He didn’t realise how long he took testing his new limits so he ended up being slightly late for Niftys day of cooking dinner for everyone. He’s given her some cooking lessons over the years so by now she is a decent cook. She still has areas to improve upon, and he told her as such so that she can learn how to get better, but she is far better than some of the other residents taking a turn at cooking. 

He’s back in his room now, changed into different clothes, and staring into his fireplace. Part of him really doesn’t want to sleep, even though he knows that he’ll just get dragged into one anyway, because he doesn’t want to face another one of these dreams without his mother in them. But another part of him wants to just get it over with so he can be back in Hell quicker and forget whatever stupid dream he has to live through. It will be his only time living through them and he’d rather forget they ever existed in the first place. 

He sighs and reaches for his whiskey. It’s going to be a long night no matter what option he chooses. 

He wishes he could just have the peaceful dreams of last week again. 

Alastor was sitting at his mothers bedside in what could possibly be her deathbed. God, he doesn’t want to think like that. But it’s true isn’t it? She’s been getting weaker every day and he even paid a small fee for a doctor to have an assessment of her to see if they knew what was wrong. 

He didn’t know. The doctor that he paid a full months wages for, didn’t even know what was wrong with her. How much longer she could have to live, if anyone could even call what she was doing now living. How much longer he had with her, the only person he’s loved his entire life. He knows he’ll never love another after this. It’s too painful watching them lose everything they are before they’re even gone. 

Alastor clutches one of his mothers hands tighter in his as he feels a single tear slip out of his eye and land on her bed. He can’t do this. He can’t watch her die, it will kill him just as much. The only reason he’s even entertaining these thoughts is because his mother is asleep. He can let his mask fall just a bit. Once she wakes up he’ll have to put it back up though, he has to be strong for her. It’s a selfish thought but he doesn’t want her to see him like this. Especially if it’s going to be her last memories of him. He looks outside quickly, only allowing his gaze to wander long enough to find out the time, and sees the sun has long set. 

Maybe he should get some sleep himself. He’ll just rest his eyes. For a few minutes. Then he can keep watch over his mother in case there’s any changes. 

Alastor opens his eyes to sunlight. Bright. He hears birds chirping in the distance. He feels his mothers hand in his and he squeezes it just for the comfort of knowing she’s still here with him. He feels a squeeze back and looks up through bleary eyes at his mothers radiant smile looking back at him. He smiles at her and then sits up. 

“How are you feeling Mama? You look a bit better.” 

She laughs then, and he’s glad to hear it another time. “A bit?! I’m so much more than a bit better, my sweet! I feel more alive than I have in years! Even before that weird illness overtook me I never felt this good.” 

“That’s good. I’m glad.” He kisses the back of his mothers hand and then looks up at her with slight concern. “I’m going to call the doctor and let him know how you’re feeling, ok Mama? I’ll feel better myself once I know you’re definitely cured of whatever illness that was.”

“Of course. Go and call the doctor.” 

Once Alastor called the doctor he was quick to say that he’d be over soon to see for himself. And once he was here and checked his mother for anything that might still be wrong, he reassured both Alastor and his mother that whatever was taking over her body before has gone. Just like that. He was stunned but he showed the doctor out and returned to his mother. She was ok. And according to the doctor she could live a long and healthy life. 

Alastor goes back to his mother and hugs her tight. He doesn’t want to ever let go but he’s comforted by the fact that she won’t have to leave him for quite a while. 

“I love you mama. So much.”

As soon as Alastor woke up he knew he was crying. He felt the hot, salty tears rolling down his cheeks but he didn’t do anything to get rid of them. He felt a warmth around his middle and saw his shadow wrapped around him. Had his shadow experienced the same thing he just did? Did his shadow have dreams? He knows that he and his shadow are connected somehow but does it extend further than he thought?

He’ll ask it soon. Right now he just wants to lie with an old wound reopened. 

He should’ve known that he wouldn’t have a normal dream again. Not after what they’ve been like the past two nights. But to turn one of his worst days into someone else's best day. To see it through their eyes. He wants to scream but he holds himself back. Barely. He could almost call it a nightmare but it didn’t end how nightmares usually end. If he was just shown how it actually happened then Alastor definitely would’ve called it a nightmare. But instead of waking up to a cold hand pressed against his own, a face that would never smile again, a house that would never hear the sweetest laughter, he woke up to the opposite. 

He hated that day and he still does. But he hates this dream even more, where he lives through the tease of another life that could have been his in another life only to wake up and remind himself that he never had that. The illness killed her before he even woke up. 

He looks down at his shadow again. “Did you see all of that? In the dream.” The shadow looks up at him sadly before shaking its head and rubbing its face over Alastors chest like an over affectionate cat. So his shadow can’t see any of the dreams he’s had. Great. 

He looks up at the clock and he doesn’t seem to be too late starting his day today so he begins on that, having to pull his shadow away by force since it refused to let go. 

Breakfast seemed more lively once everyone started coming in, everyone was a few minutes late and he won’t pretend to have no idea why, probably in part due to him finishing breakfast before anyone sat down. He didn’t stay for long as he has a very busy day ahead of him. He’s finally going to obtain a bed for himself. His back felt terrible when he stood up and he knows a good mattress will help with it, and what better mattress to have than from the hotel itself! 

Alastor didn’t have many floors left to check so it wasn’t that much longer that he found himself on the floor directly below his own. It would be so easy to just take one now that he is so close to his goal, but he holds himself back. He checks each room, making sure everything is in place. Then he finally reaches it. The end of something he never thought he’d finish when Charlie had asked him to do this all those weeks ago now. But he’s standing outside the final room and he realises he doesn’t need to check anything in it if he’s just going to steal the most crucial part of the room. Well, he’d be shocked if they ever had enough guests that they would need to resort to using these top floors. Alastor shrugs his shoulders to himself and hums a jaunty tune as he walks into the room. 

Alastor stands at the foot of the bed, prepared to snap his fingers and have the entire bed be transported into his bayou, but he pauses. His powers are a bit unpredictable right now. Does he have to do this manually? Ugh, that will take forever. He definitely won’t be able to have the bedframe if that’s the case. 

Alastor soon finds himself in another precarious situation involving the elevator, and he’d much rather have been caught any of the other times he’s had to take the elevator than this time. He somehow managed to drag the mattress all the way to the elevator with some pillows and the duvet still on top, and now he’s stuffed all of that and himself inside the elevator. Just to go one story up that somehow feels like an eternity to get there. 

Thankfully no one sees him and he’s quick to drag everything back out and towards his room. He looks straight ahead at Lucifers door just to make sure he wasn’t being watched and after seeing no one around he closes his own door. 

He doesn’t feel like dragging the mattress too much further so he just drags it to a corner in his main room and leaves it like that. 

He still has plenty of time left in the day so he decides to put on a radio show. With his powers becoming more unpredictable and less reliable he needs to make sure that everyone remembers his rightful place in the food chain. Right at the top, and he won’t let anything change that. 

He wanted to instill more fear in everyone so he started to do what he always does; make his antlers bigger, grow slightly bigger himself and increase the radio feedback on his voice. Only of those fully worked however, he didn’t address the failure on his part, he just kept doing the radio show until he was finished. 

Once he was finished he stormed out of his radio tower, his shadow hot on his heels, and marched straight into the bayou. He wanted to let out his frustrations the only way he knew how but considering what just happened he knew that would only make even angrier. 

He was able to fully control the static surrounding his voice but he couldn’t grow his antlers much bigger than five or six extra tines. And he couldn’t get much bigger himself. 

He let out a scream as he summoned his tentacles and thrashed them about, letting them break whatever he wanted. He’s always been able to repair the damages. Why can’t he just figure out why this is happening to him?! 

He suddenly drops to knees, unable to keep up the tentacles around him and having to pull them back into himself. He slams one of his fists into the ground before he leans back. He wishes there was an easy solution to this. That he could just ask someone and have all the answers he wants, but he knows that even if it were possible his ego and pride would never allow him to let anyone know that he was ever damaged in any capacity. That the great Radio Demon could be brought to his knees while having his powers stripped from him. 

No. No one will know about this. He will make sure that not a single soul in all of Hell ever finds out about this.

The next four days passed relatively quickly, even if he was by himself for most of the days on the off chance that someone wanted him to use his powers for something, and the only thing that Alastor really managed to use to separate the days were the dreams that kept getting increasingly weird. He didn’t really want to relive any of them, not because he was particularly scared in them but because they were near replicas of scenarios that happened to him while alive except there was always something different in them. Whether it was being chased by cops, seeing his mother practically rise from the dead or even as mundane as seeing his father at home at a time he never was. 

As soon as the dreams were over he shut them out of his memory. He feels weird thinking about them when they never even happened to him in the first place. 

Today is the fifth day since he technically stole a bed that’s been surprisingly comfortable for him to sleep on. Charlie seemed to find out almost immediately after it happened, as the next time he saw her she was asking him if he knew what happened to the bed. He played on not knowing anything about it, suggesting that maybe it happened when he hosted his radio broadcast. He also promised her that he would find out what had happened to it. He won’t tell her anything, obviously, since he’s the one who stole it. Maybe she’ll forget after a bit of no luck.

The fact that it’s been five days since then also means it’s Friday today and somehow Charlie has managed to convince him to join whatever silly little redemption exercise she’s hosting right now. He wasn’t really listening when she explained it to him if he was being honest, and now he feels himself regretting that decision a lot.

They were doing a paired exercise today and Charlie had supposedly chosen people at random, yet he found himself at the back of the room sitting next to her father of all people. 

He’s leaning back in his chair with his arms across his chest. He looked at the clock on the back wall for the fifth time in as many minutes, noting that it’s been five minutes since Charlie had given them their instructions for the exercise. It was going by awfully slowly. 

“You know if you actually told me something you liked, this would go by a whole lot faster.” 

His ears wanted to pin back at being found out but he held them in place, barely. “Well why don’t you tell me something that you like? This has to work both ways you know.” He didn’t want Lucifer to tell him anything about himself, he didn’t even really want to talk to him at all! But he was tricked into doing something that’s forcing them to work together so he’ll listen for the information he needs and then he’s sure he can just block Lucifer out entirely. 

“Come on! This isn’t an eye for an eye type of deal, you just have to tell me one thing that you like! It could be anything; a colour, an animal, even a person.” 

“Well you withholding what you like from me is rather contrary to denying that fact isn’t it?” 

“Fine! I’ll tell you what my favourite animal is and you can do something with that, and I’ll just work on something for you with the zero information you’ve given me. Sound fair?” 

“Very!” Alastor looked at Lucifer properly then as he slowly put everything he needed in front of him on their shared desk. Charlie had left quite a few options of material available for the sinners to choose from. Alastor had taken one of everything. He’s decided on using the clay, despite how messy it’s bound to be, so he leaves that in front of him. “So! Tell me sire, what is the King of Hells favourite animal?”

“Ducks. They’re my favourite.” Lucifer turned to look at him in turn and Alastor is struck by the sincerity in his eyes. He’s telling the truth. He would’ve guessed that he would say something ferocious or savage. Not one of the most peaceful and least dangerous animals out there. Even ducks born down here in Hell are just mildly annoying at best. 

“Ducks. I suppose I can work with that.” He eyes Lucifer out of the corner of his eyes as he tries to recall what they look like on Earth. He gets the tools he needs and puts them in a separate area. Lucifer doesn’t seem to be doing anything though, just looking at him curiously as if he can guess anything about him by just staring. 

Hopefully he gets bored soon and stops looking at him. It’s distracting. 

Lucifer does eventually look away from him and starts fiddling with whatever’s on his side of the desk. Only a few minutes later however, Lucifer turns back to him and starts talking again. “If you won’t tell me a favourite thing of yours then why not tell me something you enjoyed when you were alive?” 

Alastor looks back to him and grins wide, showing off all his teeth. “You do know how I ended up down here don’t you? I was a serial killer when I was alive, and technically still am, what do you think I enjoyed when I was alive?” 

Lucifer looks slightly sheepish but not put off like people usually are. “Yeah, you got me there. But you’ve got to give me something for this.” 

Alastor sighs before getting back to his own project. He can’t believe he’s actually going to tell him something from when he was alive. He starts carving indents into the clay and can practically feel the disappointment from Lucifer, no doubt thinking he was going to stay silent about it once again. He starts to tell his little story regardless. 

“It’s true that when I was alive I enjoyed hunting down and killing those who did not deserve to live. But I don’t know if you know this sire, I lived near a bayou in Louisiana, New Orleans to be specific, and from that came one of my favourite parts of my killings. Once I’d hunted them down, and carved meat off their bones to save, and I’d chopped them all down to pieces I would take them somewhere. I would bring their dead bodies to that same bayou and feed them to the animals that had made their homes there. Sometimes I would simply bury them in the ground, but most times I would feed them to alligators.” He stops what he’s doing briefly to look at Lucifer and grin wide again. “Did you like that little story your majesty? Did you get any useful information from it?” 

Once again Lucifer doesn’t look the slightest bit phased from what he said. He thought that would’ve made him squeamish and want to run away. At least then he could have an excuse to leave as well. But he actually looks interested in what Alastor just said. Why does that make him feel weird inside? Is it a consequence of losing his powers maybe?

He’s brought out of his thoughts by Lucifer looking at him with a bright smile. “Yes actually. I know what I can make for you now. Thanks! You can go back to yours, I won’t bother you anymore.” 

And he doesn’t. 

Alastor spends the rest of the time finishing the clay duck for Lucifer in blissful silence. At least in their little corner, the same could not be said for the rest of the room. Throughout that time he keeps sneaking glances at Lucifer, who seems to have made it impossible for him to see what he’s making, and the man is utterly entranced with what he’s doing. The same feeling from before keeps coming to him every time he looks at the king so he stops looking after a while. 

He finishes the duck with a bit of time to spare so he gets up to put it in the area Charlie marked for any clay projects to go. She said something about them needing to be burned? He’ll have to ask Charlie if he can watch everything burn when she puts them in. For now he goes back to his desk since Charlie won’t let them leave until she tells them they can. 

By the time he gets back Lucifer has finished whatever he was making. He’s still hiding it from view which doesn’t make sense if it’s for him anyway. Lucifer was eyeing him as he walked back across the room and when he sits down Lucifer looks very excited for whatever it is. “Ok I’ve finished mine! Close your eyes and hold your hands out so I can give it to you.” 

Alastor raised an eyebrow at that. He wanted him to close his eyes and hold his hands out like some sort of child? “Whyever would I do that for when you can just hand me whatever it is you’ve made?” 

“Uhh, it’s for the element of surprise, asshole. Well it’s your loss if you don’t want to be surprised I guess, but Charlie always loved it.” His tone sounded wistful at the end, which makes sense if it’s true that he hasn’t seen her in years if not decades. Lucifer starts undoing whatever he did that has kept what he made hidden from Alastors view, and before he knows what he’s doing he closes his eyes and holds out one hand, palm up. He lets his shadow come out so he can be alerted more easily if something bad happens, but other than that he has no sense of what’s happening. 

Lucifer doesn’t make a sound other than a small, surprised gasp when he must have looked back. It takes a few more seconds than Alastor was expecting, he nearly opened his eyes to see if something had happened and his shadow simply hadn’t told him. Before he has a chance to however, something soft is placed in his outstretched hand. Just as he opens his eyes to see the mystery object he hears Lucifer say “Ok, you can open your eyes now!” 

Sitting on his palm is something he hasn’t seen in nearly a century. Unless you count the dreams he’s been having, which in this instance Alastor doesn’t. It’s an alligator, exactly as he remembers them looking. It’s bigger than his hand but due to the shape it doesn’t fall off. Before he can look at it any longer he lets his shadows consume it and keep it with them. He hopes doing that doesn’t take too much energy from him, but he hasn’t used his powers at all today so hopefully nothing too bad happens. He looks at Lucifer and expresses his thanks. 

Charlie soon lets everyone know that they can leave if they’ve finished. As everyone leaves, Alastor approaches Charlie to ask if he can watch the clay projects be put in the burning contraption. Interestingly, Lucifer doesn’t approach them himself to pester Alastor about spending time with his daughter. He just leaves. Hm. He’s not sure how he feels about that. 

Charlie tells him that he can watch but she’s not sure how exciting it will be for him. Well, he’ll be the judge of what is and isn’t exciting for him. 

Charlie was right. It was not exciting in the slightest. Not that he’d tell her that, once the process was done he took Lucifers duck and left. There wasn’t any fire in that contraption at all! He was quite disappointed in that, but now he’s learnt his lesson and won’t get too excited when he hears that he can watch something burn. 

He has to take the elevator again to get up to his floor, and he isn’t taking his luck for granted. Not one single sinner, or fallen Angel, has ever taken it at the same time as him. When he gets to the top he turns towards his room on instinct but at a tug from his shadow he stops. He looks at it questioningly before it points to the duck still in Alastor's grasp. 

Ah yes. He forgot he grabbed that on the way out. He looks behind him at Lucifers door and back down at the duck. Well there’s no harm in giving it to him now, he has no reason to hold onto it for longer than needed anyway. 

Due to the length of the corridor it takes him about a minute to reach the other end without the help of his shadows. Once he is standing in front of the large, golden, double doors he promptly knocks twice and steps back. He’s never looked too closely at Lucifers doors before, but they do look beautiful. Snakes line the outside, with a shining red apple directly in the centre with six wings sprouting from the back, also in gold. It seems the apple is the only thing that’s not in gold. Looking a bit closer the snakes all seem to have ruby red eyes. 

He’s interrupted by Lucifer opening the doors. He doesn’t have his coat on anymore or his hat and his shirtsleeves are rolled up. “Oh. What do you need Alastor?” He seems like he was expecting someone else but he doesn’t close the door in front of Alastor's face, which is a good sign. 

“The clay project I finished earlier is done so I thought I’d give it to you since we live on the same floor anyway.” 

“Oh. That’s actually very kind of you Alastor. Thank you. I was just going to pick it up after dinner, you didn’t have to do this for me.”

“Well, I did. Here you go Sire.” He thrusts the duck into Lucifers chest and turns around, speed walking back to his own room. He can’t believe Lucifer! Calling him kind. No one else would ever dare to call him kind, and for good reason. 

He’s a sinner who deserves to be in Hell. He’s not kind.

After dinner Alastor feels like he rushes back to his room just so he didn’t run into Lucifer. He didn’t, thankfully. When he does get back to his room and he starts going through his not so new routine he remembers the alligator Lucifer made for him and he brings it out of his shadows. He felt slightly dizzy after bringing it out but he’s sitting down anyway so he doesn’t have to worry about falling over. 

The alligator seemed to be a plush toy based on the material and the give when he squeezed slightly. It was green, but not green like emeralds or fresh grass. It was a darker shade of green like a dark forest or the water in the bayou he grew up in. It was the same exact shade he remembers the alligators looking like. 

He didn’t tell Lucifer directly but alligators are one of his favourite animals. He only wishes he could have them here in his replicated attempt of his precious bayou. 

He stands up and walks over to his bookshelf. He thinks it would look nice sat here on one of the higher shelves. He drapes it carefully in front of the books he has up there, its tail dropping at the end to hang off the edge of the shelf. 

He steps back and admires it for a few moments. Yes. It looks quite nice up there. 

He starts walking over to his bed in the corner of his room, just wanting to go to sleep after the long day. He collapses on the bed and drawers the covers up to him. The only light in the room is coming from the pocket dimension bayou and the fireplace so he doesn’t have to worry about either of them. 

He turns on his side to face away from both of the lights. It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep and his last thought before doing so, as it has been every night, is that his dreams start being kinder to him again. 

Chapter Text

Alastor shoots up in bed, his hands desperately trying to claw all over his face, his body, anywhere he could reach, but his shadow immediately materialises in front of him and pulls his hands away from his body. Alastor can tell that his shadow is confused by what he’s doing but all he can focus on is the gunshot still ringing in his pinned back ears and the phantom touch of dogs tearing at and biting at his quickly dying body. 

He hasn’t thought about that night since he came to Hell immediately after it happened. His death. Is this what a nightmare feels like? To want to claw off every cell of your own body. Shaking and terrified in his bed. He never had nightmares when he was alive. He was too hard headed for them. But now, when he’s lived for over one hundred years, most of which has been in Hell, he has his first taste of one. He decides that he doesn’t like them very much.

He hasn’t calmed down much in the few minutes he’s been awake but his shadow must think he has because his hands are released gently. He’s the one looking up in confusion at his shadow now, and it just points at the clock on the mantle. Ah. He’s a lot later in getting up then ever has been. Never mind him starting breakfast, he should be nearly finished by now. 

Maybe he shouldn’t bother today then? He doesn’t feel like doing much of anything if he’s being honest with himself. The nightmare that he just experienced made sure of that. He gets up from the mattress and walks over to where he has his alcohol stashed near the mantle. He pours himself a few fingers of rye and downs it all. He goes to pour himself another glass when his shadow stops him again. 

He snarls at it but it doesn’t flinch. It just holds up his calendar and points to the day that today supposedly is. He frowns in confusion for a second, ready to dismiss his shadow without a second thought when he catches the circle around the date. The writing inside the circle. A Saturday. When he sees Rosie for their weekly tea dates. That’s today. Fuck. 

He can’t see Rosie like this. His hands haven’t even stopped shaking, it’s a miracle he managed to pour that first glass of rye. He puts the empty glass down on the table before he starts making his way to his bayou. As he crosses over the border between his room and the pocket dimension he feels his hooves melt into the soft earth and the tension in his body starts disappearing entirely. 

No matter what state of stress Alastor has been in in both his human and sinner lives, just simply being in the bayou has managed to relax him and it seems that this situation is no exception. He walks pretty far into the bayou and when he finally turns around to see exactly how far he has walked, he could only just make out the interior of his hotel room between the trees. He turns back around so he can safely sit back against a tree and sit there for a while. 

Alastor didn’t manage to sit in peace for very long before his mind reminded him of something. The nightmare he had last night was real. It was something that he had lived through. Unlike all of the weird dreams he’s been having for the past week, which all started as something real but very quickly deviated from the truth. But if his mind truly is capable of showing him the truth, as it did in the beginning, then who’s to say he hasn’t been shown the truth this entire time? 

They always started with something that Alastor was able to remember from his mortal life after all, so maybe Alastor just simply forgot how those memories ended? It wouldn’t make sense to have dreams that he was able to remember completely then show him dreams that never happened just to be shown the truth again. Either all of it is the truth or none of it is. And Alastor knows for a fact that the nightmare he had last night was one hundred percent correct in what happened to him. 

Alastor shudders at just the thought of what he could be shown next. Over the past few weeks these dreams have slowly become worse to live through, so no doubt now that he can really call what he just lived through last night a nightmare, they are going to be getting even worse. 

Alastor stays in own world for hours. He hears multiple knocks on his door but he ignores them all. He doesn’t want to see anyone like this. He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this. 

He occasionally moves. How he’s sitting. Where he’s sitting. He doesn’t let himself be consumed by any of his terrible thoughts, instead letting his mind go entirely blank for possibly the first time in a very long time. Maybe the first time since he’s been down here. 

At one point he finds himself sitting by the lake, with his hooves dipping in the water. The water is entirely still. There are no animals swimming around endlessly in it. Alastor misses it. He misses all the life that used to be present in the bayou. But because this is Hell and Alastor is a Sinner, no life grows here. He was able to include trees and foliage. But wildlife? Animals? Alastor has never been able to include them in his little pocket dimension. 

He stares down at his reflection in the water. There are no ripples to scatter it away. He gets up and moves somewhere else. 

Alastor somehow spent the entire day in his bayou. Forgetting everything outside it even existed for the few hours he was in there. He doesn’t bother trying to find something to eat. He can eat something tomorrow, maybe he can actually wake up on time again and cook breakfast like he used to. That would stop any concerns being asked his way before they even had time to be thought. 

Just like last night he goes to bed before he does anything that used to bring him a sense of comfort. Reading by the fire, having a nice drink of whiskey. He looks down with a hint of disgust at what he’s wearing. He didn’t even bother getting changed when he woke up, so he’s still wearing the comfier clothes he wore last night when he went to bed. He’ll have to see about getting these washed soon and find something else to wear tomorrow. 

He won’t worry about that right now though. Even though he did nothing all day he’s exhausted and he just wants to sleep. So he does. It never takes him long to fall under its clutches these days. The only time he can recall sleep taking a while to reach him was when was alive. Ever since he’s slept in Hell it’s been easy for him. 

Alastor has never been much of a risk taker. Not when he was alive and not while he’s been dead. He knows plenty of people would certainly like to call him a risk taker, but he truthfully doesn’t do something unless he knows for certain that he will come out on top. 

What he’s doing right now might lend truth to those people however. 

When he arrived in Hell he was fascinated with the exterminations. A horde of supposed Angelic like beings flying down to Hell once a year to slaughter hundreds, if not, thousands of Sinners. He certainly liked the idea when it was presented to him. Every single one of these Sinners deserves it in his opinion. 

That was before he had to witness one for himself. He had befriended Rosie by the time the next extermination came around, so he was safe inside the walls of her home. He watched through the gaps in the curtains as those same Angels he used to be fascinated with brutally murdered Sinners. Defenceless Sinners. All of them were out there powerless and helpless. 

He’s never felt pity for those who didn’t deserve it. But he thinks in that moment… he might have felt something close to it.

Now decades later Alastor very much hates the exterminations. 

He used to hide himself away when he was still powerless himself in the face of the Exterminators, although they are Angels so does anyone really hold the power to stop them? Ever since he became a well known Overlord and he had considerable power under his name, he thought himself invincible. 

He would find new ways to watch them and taunt them every year. Never getting too close, but close enough that they could see him before being distracted by more Sinners running from them. By the time they looked up Alastor would always be gone. 

He might have timed it wrong this year. 

He thought everything would go as it always does. He would find an Angel to taunt, stay on their trail, wait until they have quite a few Sinners near them, show himself and then leave once they choose to take out the majority over the minority. 

This one, it seems, chose the minority. Pity for him he supposes. 

He raced through the streets of Pentagram City. He needs to lose them so that he can wait out this extermination. He chances a look through his shadow to find them still hot on his heels. As he runs into an alleyway with a dead end he finally turns around himself to see who will be the one to take out the Radio Demon. He could’ve sworn they were closer but they are only just entering the alley. 

He wonders if he has enough time to escape with his shadows? A quick glance at his own makes it spring into action, wrapping itself around Alastor so thoroughly he has no chance of seeing any light spill through. He closes his eyes as he relaxes into the familiar feeling. 

When he opens them again he finds himself in his radio tower entirely unscathed. He lets out a sigh of relief. No one will ever know that he had a moment of weakness. And if they question him, well, he’s always been famous down here for a reason hasn’t he? They can just provide to that.

Alastor woke up confused. He knew something different had happened that day. That was the start of his seven year sabbatical. Hadn’t he gotten hurt and someone saved him? Yes, as much as he hates to admit it, that sounds more accurate than what the nightmare showed him. 

But hadn’t he also realised yesterday that these nightmares are most likely true? This is too confusing for him to be dealing with before he’s had a drink or breakfast. Or both.

Speaking of breakfast, hopefully he woke up with enough time to make it this morning. He sits up, stretching his arms, and looks at the clock. He couldn’t see very well without his monocle but he could make out the lines enough to tell that it’s still early. Too early for any of the other residents to even think about waking up. 

Good. 

Alastor sets about getting changed and ready for the day and before long he’s downstairs in the kitchen cooking again. Even though he’s only missed cooking for yesterdays breakfast it still feels nice to come again. He always feels closer to his mother when he cooks. He hopes he never has to give it up. 

Hours after breakfast was finished, Alastor was down in the lounge catching up on yesterday's paper. He was content to just sit in that armchair for the rest of the day, but then he heard someone knock on the door to the hotel. Charlie soon came running to it, muttering under her breath about even more new guests. That was something that surprised Alastor; the amount of new guests they’ve had since that first one all those weeks ago. 

Even just having one new guest since the extermination was a surprise to Alastor, but they’ve had Sinners checking in nearly every other day. 

Before he could lament any further about all the new guests, Charlie opened the door and the new guest came striding in before she could welcome them. Except it wasn’t a new guest at all, at least Alastor hopes she isn’t a new guest because he would be having a very serious conversation with her if she was, it was Rosie. 

Alastor could guess as to why she has suddenly shown up and he would rather not have that conversation where anyone could be listening in. So to ensure that doesn’t happen, he stands up after banishing the paper and walks up to her offering his arm to hold. “Why Rosie! What a delight to see you here at the hotel! If you’re wanting a look around the place I can offer my services as a tour guide.” 

“I would love to have a tour of this charming place Al.” 

Alastor walks off with her on his arm before Charlie can offer a rebuttal of some kind. He takes her to the elevator so they can go straight to his room. If they’re having this conversation it’s not going to be in some random hallway, it will be somewhere he is familiar with. Thankfully Rosie has never been one for his shadow travel so she doesn’t comment on the peculiar travel. 

It doesn’t take them long to reach the top floor and he is soon closing the door behind Rosie as she makes herself comfortable in the chair opposite the one he always favours. 

He goes to sit in his own chair and once he is Rosie immediately starts speaking, not even giving him a moment to settle himself. “Where were you yesterday? You’ve never missed a single one of our tea dates, at least not without telling me in advance why you won’t be there. So what happened yesterday? You seem perfectly ok right now.” 

“Goodness, that’s a lot of questions. Firstly, my apologies for missing out on our tea date yesterday, I truly did not mean to miss out on it. I will endeavour to make sure that never happens again. Maybe we could make up for it now? It is slightly later than when we would normally hold our tea date but that shouldn’t be too bad.”

“Hm, don’t think I didn’t notice you dodging the main question there! I have to get back to the shop now, I can only leave one of the assistants in charge for so long before there’s a riot. You will come next week and we will talk like we always do ok? I won’t forget this.” She stands up and Alastor is quick to follow, opening the door for her and following her out. 

“I never expected you to my dear.” He follows her all the way down to the front of the hotel, where he opens the front door for her and says goodbye. Once he closes it behind her, wishing her safe travels and no pesky nuisances to deal with on her way back, the urge to slip into his shadows is strong but he holds himself back and calmly goes back over to where he was catching up on the news. 

It wouldn’t do to appear out of control of his own powers and emotions, even if they are more true than he’d like to admit, so he has to return to what he was doing before Rosie appeared. He discreetly checks the nearest clock to him and sighs internally. There are still several hours until dinner. Maybe he could just slip away before then and no one would notice? It is the kings turn to cook today so he could just say he doesn’t want to eat anything that fool makes. 

It’s worth a shot at least. 

The shot wasn’t worth it. He still had to have dinner which meant even more time to wait until he could retreat into the safety of his room. 

It doesn’t matter anymore though, as he is here in his room. However, now that he’s here that means it’s another hour closer until he falls asleep to some nonsense nightmare that could make him want to claw something out of his body. It doesn’t matter wether it’s his eyes, his skin or even his fucking brain. Hopefully these to will pass and he'll go back to a no sleep schedule. Even if it means saying goodbye to his mother for a second time, although considering she hasn’t been in his dreams, bad or relatively good, that time might have already come. 

He knows logically that these nightmares can only get worse. The question is if he can withstand the truth they show him. 

Alastor watched as Charlie wallowed in her self pity. He wasn’t the best at dealing with people like this, but he knew that the information he was about to offer to her would bring her out of this. He knew she would fight after hearing it. 

He kept needling her and listening as she complained about her problems. When she turned to him however, and asked how he could possibly be happy every waking moment, he could do nothing but give her advice. For free no less! 

So he told her how valuable a smile was, but all she did in turn was scowl harder at him and push herself towards the window. 

She then started complaining about the upcoming extermination that’s starting at the hotel. And no doubt moving into the city afterwards, unless they can somehow stop it. Which is where he comes in with his very valuable information! 

He offered to give her the information if she made a deal with him. And, naturally, she was hesitant to accept. She soon reached out her hand though after being reassured that she wouldn’t have to harm anyone. All she asked for in return was a truthful answer to one question of hers, because of course she couldn’t be satisfied with just the information about the angels. But, to be fair, he would probably do the same in her position. 

They shook hands. His antlers stretching to fill the length of the room. Their magic swirling around together. Her demonic form rising to the surface. And then. 

A question. 

One question that no one in all of Hell should know about. 

“Why does Rosie own your soul?”

Alastors smile threatened to drop entirely. He went to step back, but her hand in his tightened its grip and he went still. 

No. 

No one should know that. 

How does she know?!

Alastor sat up on his bed, breathing heavily. How does Charlie know about his deal with Lilith? She assured him that no one would find out, and he knows that when he returned he made sure that no one suspected anything. 

So how the fuck did her own daughter find out?! And why hasn’t he worried more about this in the months he’s known that Charlie knows?! No doubt she told her paramour as well. 

He never trusted any of them when he arrived at the Hazbin Hotel, but he thought that they at least made good entertainment. Now though, he can’t trust anyone. Who knows what else people know about him? It’ll be better to not let them know a single thing about him. 

Alastor quietly made breakfast that morning, like he does every morning. And isn't it something that The Radio Demon is the one who makes breakfast every single day without a break? Always with his back turned, and anything could happen like that couldn’t it? Especially now that his powers are leaving him for some inexplicable reason. How could he have ever trusted that these sinners, and a fallen angel and an exorcist angel and a nephilim, would never think that it would be the perfect opportunity to kill him is beyond him. He doesn’t know what he was thinking.

Regardless, he is still making them breakfast because he knows a change in schedule can be suspicious. After he made it he didn’t bother sticking around, instead deciding that his time would be better spent elsewhere. Namely, his radio tower. 

He spent the entire day there, doing an endless broadcast. He didn’t even stop when he knew that dinner would be ready for him. How could he when Charlie was cooking today? She has never been the best, but you don’t need to be good at cooking to know how to poison something. Or tie someone to a chair and question them. There are a number of things that he is, quite frankly, scared could happen to him were he to be left alone with Charlie. Maybe she won’t even wait till they are alone and just kill him as soon as he walks through the door. 

He’s not taking any chances. 

He raced through the streets of Pentagram City.

He wonders if he has enough time to escape with his shadow?

And if they question him, well, he’s always been famous down here for a reason hasn’t he? They can just provide to that.

He’s had that one before. That was the second nightmare he had. Why has it been repeated? None of the other dreams he’s had over the past few weeks have ever been repeated. Is this the end then? Maybe that’s the last new nightmare he’ll have and now he’ll only see things that he’s already seen. At least there won’t be any surprises if that’s the case. 

He refuses to spend more time worrying over what any of it means when he needs to make breakfast before he has a chance to be alone with anyone. Thankfully he woke up at a decent time so he should have plenty of time in the kitchen before anyone wakes up. 

Alastor was just finishing putting the food on the plates for people to choose from when he heard the door open. His whole body tensed and his ears flicked towards the sound. He wants to escape but he knows realistically that he doesn’t have enough power for his shadows to take him back to his room. 

Surprisingly he only heard one pair of footsteps; the residents of the hotel usually travel in pairs or more. Even more surprisingly, he felt his body relax slightly when he realised who was in the kitchen with him. He turned around, ready to give an excuse for once again not being present at breakfast, when he caught sight of Lucifer looking at him. 

Why was he relaxed around the king of hell?! He could easily trick him into something just like his daughter had all those months ago. Does his body not realise how dangerous he is?! 

“Hey are you ok Alastor? I know we haven’t always gotten along with each other but I don’t want to see you hurt. And to be honest you haven’t looked the best the past few days.” Lucifer looks at him with such sincerity that Alastor can’t help but believe him.

Despite that small trust in the shorter man, Alastor won’t tell him a thing. No one will ever know about his internal conflicts and what he dreams of at night. He won’t allow a single soul to know. 

So, Alastor makes his grin wider and slightly increases the pitch in radio static covering his voice. “Of course I’m ok sire! I have everything I could ever want. A radio show that is incredibly popular in the Pride Ring, a king that won’t leave me alone, a sentient shadow to spy on people; just to name a few. Maybe you should get your eyes checked if you think I don’t look ‘ok’? Now if you’ll excuse me I need to leave and take care of some important business. Bye, bye!”

Lucifer doesn’t follow him when he leaves the room in a rush, which he is thankful for. He doesn’t know if he bought the lie but one can certainly hope! Now, to find some ‘important business’ to take care of or go back to his room for the rest of the day? He doesn’t know why he bothered asking himself that question when the answer is very obvious. He can just do another broadcast that lasts for the entire day. Maybe he can have his screams as background noise the entire time? Or the screams could be what’s playing the entire time?

Hm, he’s sure he can at least mix it up for a bit of fun.

With that decision firmly decided, he finishes the trek to his room and almost sighs in relief when he's back in the safety of it. Now, time for a bit of screaming and some fun music to force on everyone!

Alastor watched as Charlie wallowed in her self pity. 

He offered to give her the information if she made a deal with him.

“Why does Rosie own your soul?”

He knew it was coming, at least he could guess after the last nightmare he had, but it still hurt to relive it. Charlie didn’t say the name of the person who owns his soul, but he’s certain that she knows regardless. 

Thinking more about that, Alastor can’t fully remember who owns his soul, which makes it even more confusing as to how Charlie knows but not him. He doesn’t know why he can’t remember, maybe it’s part of the deal he made? That he won’t be able to remember anything relating to them? But that still doesn’t answer why Charlie of all people knows about it! 

Ugh, this whole thing is frustrating him! He just wishes he knew why this is happening to him and how he can stop it. 

For now, all he can do is avoid Charlie and maybe the rest of the hotel as well. Hm, there’s no point seeing anyone outside of the hotel in the state he’s in either so he might as well just stay in the hotel for the foreseeable future. It’s not like he’s left it in a while anyway. 

So he’ll stay inside the hotel and avoid everyone who lives here. Sounds like a great plan! Although, there is one person who Alastor wouldn’t mind seeing every now and then. Lucifer. For some reason he felt safe in the mans presence, something he never even thought was possible just a few weeks ago. He trusts Lucifer to some degree. Something that absolutely cannot be said about anyone else in the hotel now. 

When had his afterlife got so complicated that he’s willingly trusting the king of Hell over literally every other sinner? 

Just like Alastor planned, he didn’t talk to anyone at all, all day. He made sure that no one saw him either so they could conveniently stop him and possibly attack him. It was hard at times, considering he can’t use any of his powers right now, but he survived another day. 

He still made breakfast in the morning, but he left before he suspected anyone was even awake. Even the king, despite him being in the kitchen yesterday just as he finished. 

Then, when it was time for dinner, he was easily able to make it without anyone walking in on him. After all, he did tell everyone when he started doing this that he wasn’t to be disturbed whilst cooking dinner. Thankfully, threatening them all of those months ago was worth it. 

Looking at the dirty plate and cutlery makes him wish he had access to his powers just so that he could transport them to sink in the kitchen and not deal with them himself. He supposes he will just have to take them with him in the morning when he goes down to prepare breakfast. 

Now, there is only one thing left to do. Sleep. He is by no means looking forward to it, but he knows by now that if he doesn’t sleep willingly his body could just force him into it like when this started. He hates himself for giving in to his body's whims, but at least he has control over himself. If only he could control what he saw when he slept. 

Alastor got home from school just as it was getting dark. That was good because his maman hates when he’s outside after dark. 

When he walks inside he hears strange noises. He can’t fully understand them but it sounds like it’s coming from his parents room. 

He keeps his ears listening for anything discernible as he takes his shoes off, when he hears a scream. It sounded like maman! 

Alastors father had taken him hunting a few times in the bayou, so he knew how to shoot with his rifle. He takes that rifle from the living room and rushes to his parents room. 

He stops dead in his tracks when he gets there. All he can focus on is his father; holding a knife, blood dripping from the point of it, splattered all over his shirt. Alastor sees red. And not just the red of the blood that he is certain is his mothers. 

His father turns his head to him, a crazed glint in his eye, and starts to get off the bed. Towards Alastor. Still holding the knife. 

Alastor doesn’t hesitate when he pulls the trigger. 

His father comes to a stop and staggers back, clutching at his chest as if he could stop the blood from rushing out. When he reaches the wall he slides down, creating a thick line of blood following in his wake, and drops his hand to the ground. Dead. 

Alastor immediately drops the gun and rushes to his mothers side. He can’t stop the flow of tears when he reaches her. Her dress is all rumpled, her hands are crossed above her head and when he grabs one to hold tightly he crumples inward. She’s already gone.

When Alastor wakes up, he knows he’s already been screaming for quite a bit. He can’t help himself from curling up on his side and screaming out his frustrations. He wishes he didn’t kill his father quite so quickly when he found the man in Hell. And with angelic steel no less. He would’ve loved to keep torturing him for an eternity. 

He stays in the same position for possibly hours, but he doesn’t care. Once again he has the realisation that he doesn’t remember that happening. He remembers killing his father, he’d never forget that, but his brain must have blocked out his mother dying. He’d like to say he wouldn’t forget that happening either, but maybe it was too traumatising for a fourteen year old. 

When he comes back to his senses a bit later, he also has the realisation that he was screaming when he woke up. Possibly loud enough for the entire hotel to hear. He runs a hand over his face, cursing his stupidity. He can’t change what happened, but hopefully no one knew that it was him. He’ll have to move the bed far into his bayou, where he knows sound can’t easily reach into the main part of his room, which will be a challenge. 

Better now than later, when his energy is at its highest. Alastor groans as he rises from the mattress and walks over to his liquor cabinet. He’ll just have a shot of whiskey now to strengthen him. 

It took so long for Alastor to drag the mattress into the deep part of his bayou, that when he returned to that main part of his room he could smell fresh food. Can he really smell food from all the way up here? His question is answered in the form of a plate of hot food placed on his desk. 

He growls and prepares to throw it away when he catches sight of a note. He nearly tears it up, when he sees the name at the bottom. Lucifer. Why would he send Alastor food? They were hardly friends after all. He brings his eyes to the top of the note so he can read it. 

To Alastor,

I’m going to start this off by saying that I know we aren’t the best of friends. Maybe we’ve gotten better at not being at each other's throats the past month, so who knows how things could go. 

Now, for the purpose of this note. I’m sure you’ve already noticed the food this note is accompanied with. In truth, I’m a little worried about you Alastor. I know you’ve been having food in your room, so I’m not worried about how much food you are eating. I am worried about you however, as crazy as it sounds. Hardly anyone has seen you for the past week, and when they do you don’t exactly stop to say hello. 

I’m not going to force you into anything. But just know that if you ever need to talk, you have a, somewhat, friend that you can talk to. 

Lucifer

Does Lucifer want to be friends with him? It’s hard to tell. He started the note by saying that they aren’t friends, but it doesn't seem like Lucifer is itching to get back to their fighting. 

Alastor looks at the food again and realises that he hasn’t ate anything the whole day. Thinking about the note and what it means can wait until after he’s got food in his stomach. He places the note delicately next to the alligator plush Lucifer made for him on the bookshelf. 

Later, after Alastor had finished eating, he finds himself back in his bayou. 

It’s not an odd place for him to be, but now that his bed is in this area it feels more like he’s walking to his death. He knows the routine by now. He’ll go to sleep, have a nightmare, wake up and question everything he knows about that memory. Although, after the two repeated nightmares he’s had, maybe he’ll have another one tonight? At least then he’ll know what to expect.

Last night's nightmare wasn’t a repeated one. Maybe that means whatever he has next will be new as well. And if that’s the case, it’s more likely that this is the beginning of a cycle. One that he knows he won’t like. One where he has a new nightmare for a few nights and then has to relive older ones. 

He’s already dreading the next nightmare he has and can only think as he’s pulled once more into sleep that it can’t be any worse than having to watch his mother die again.

Alastor was on Vox’s floor of the Vees tower sharing a drink with him while they listened to music. From Alastors time, not Vox’s, because there was never anything good that Vox tried to introduce him to. Alastor was on his third drink when Vox turned to him. “Hey Al, I’ve been meaning to tell you something recently. A confession of sorts if you will.” He sounded nervous, which wasn’t like the man he knew at all. 

“Well don’t keep a man waiting! What have you been meaning to tell me, my good man?”

“I guess I’ll just lay it all out. I love you Alastor. And not in a platonic, friendship sort of way. In a romantic way. I’m in love with you, and I probably have been since the moment I met you. Will you go out with me?” He had such a hopeful look on his face and as much as Alastor didn’t want to disappoint someone he’s come to know as one of his closest friends down here… he just couldn’t return the sentiment. 

“I’m sorry Vox but no I can’t go out with you. And as for loving you, I could probably love you platonically one day, but not romantically. You know I’ve never been one for romance, it’s all so trivial and meaningless. Nothing good ever comes from it. I’m sure you’ll get over it in no time though my good man!” Alastor didn’t like the way Vox was looking at him now. As if he’d been slapped but was being careful about how much it truly hurt. Ugh, he had never been good at comforting people and he doubts it would kick in now. 

He stands up from the couch they’d been sat on for the last few hours, intending to put his glass by the sink and then leaving the tower altogether. What happens instead is Vox intercepting him before he even makes it to the kitchen, with a crazed look on his face. “Hey Al, where do you think you’re going?” 

“I was just going to put the glass back and then make my way back home. It is getting awfully late after all!” He goes to step past Vox, making his intentions of still going to the kitchen quite clear, when a firm grip is suddenly on his upper arm, strong enough that he would have to use his own strength to get out of it. He looks up at Vox stunned. He’s never treated him this way before.

“I don’t think you should leave just yet Al. I mean this is Hell! Can’t we stay up as late as we want? Besides, I still have quite the night planned for us. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me now would you?” He tightened his hold on Alastor for a few seconds to get the message across before he relaxed considerably when he didn’t fight back. “Now, I have something I wanted to show you. Come with me.” It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t a question. It was a demand. A demand that Alastor couldn’t listen to. 

He nodded his head, with the best smile he could fake, and waited for Vox to turn around and start walking, before he turned in the opposite direction and started running. He knew where the exit was, he’s been through it countless times before, and he could see it within his sights. All he had to do was keep running, and not stop until he made it out of here. He could nearly touch the door! Just a few more seconds. One of his hands reaches out, but as his fingertips touch the edge of the handle his legs are pulled out from under him. His head hits the floor so hard he feels dizzy, the sound of smashed glass ringing in his ears, as he looks behind him expecting Vox to be right there. But he isn’t. In fact he can’t see him at all, which is even  more worrying. He tries to twist his body so that he’s at least on his back, but as soon as he tries to so much as move anything other than his head he feels electricity race through his body. It wasn’t enough to make him scream but it was so unexpected that it pulls a startled gasp from him. 

Vox’s voice sounds like it’s coming from another room. Or maybe he hit his head so hard he just can’t hear anything properly. “Yeah, you probably shouldn’t move for a while. Don’t want to get electrocuted again do you?” He feels hands suddenly grasp his shoulders and twist him to his back where he stares up at Vox. He looks almost disappointed when he starts speaking again, “Y’know I thought this would be a lot easier. I’d confess my undying love for you, you’d say how much you love me and then we’d go to my room to have sex. It’s such a pity that you had to go and complicate things. Now, I’m going to be kind and let you pick where I’ll take you. Would you rather be taken here on the floor like a bitch in heat or on a nice and comfortable bed where I can take care of you properly?” 

No. He won’t let this happen to him. He can’t. He growls in Vox’s face and doesn’t let any of the fear he feels deep inside his heart show on his own face. “I won’t let myself be taken at all! What has gotten into you Vox? I thought we were friends.” Vox seems to ignore the question altogether, instead focusing on the first part. 

“You won’t be taken hm? Well maybe I just need to convince you.” Alastor’s confused by that statement, even when Vox grasps his chin with one hand and brings their heads closer together. When Vox stares intensely at him and his left eye starts swirling Alastor finally understands. He’s going to be hypnotized. He closes his eyes before Vox has a chance to do anything, then his own hands are moving before he realises what he’s doing, scrambling at the hand holding him up to let him go. 

It takes less than a second for him to feel thick wires wrap around his arms, pinning them to his back, and then for good measure it seems, another traps his legs as well. He still refuses to open his eyes, even when Vox’s hand tightens considerably, no doubt trying to force them open. Alastor suddenly feels a large shock go through his entire body, bigger than what he felt earlier, causing his eyes to snap open with a strangled gasp. 

The only thing in his vision is a swirling red eye that slowly moves farther away until Vox's entire face can be seen. He thinks Vox is talking but the static in his head is making it hard to hear anything at the moment. One of his ears is suddenly grabbed causing the other to shoot up with it for fear of breaking something and Vox moves until he’s whispering in his ear. Despite how close Vox is he can’t make out anything other than not being able to fight, whatever that means he’s not sure. 

Vox moves away from him then and stands up, causing Alastor to fall down without the support that was keeping him up all this time, and he-

Alastor wakes up with a scream. An occurrence that has now, unfortunately, began to be rather commonplace. He sits up hesitantly in the bed he dragged through his beloved bayou yesterday clutching his chest, taking big lungfuls of air to get his breathing back on track. He wraps his other arm around himself and his shadow curls around him to offer its own comfort. 

He hasn’t had that nightmare before. 

No doubt he’ll have it again soon. 

As he tries to calm his racing heartbeat, flashes of the nightmares, his memories from over a decade ago now, race through his mind. 

Electricity coursing through his veins comes to him first. 

Next he feels the urge to claw his eyes out, remembering how easily he had fallen into the hypnosis Vox used on him. A red swirling eye invading his vision. 

He feels thick wires crawling over his skin. 

A tongue invading the privacy of his mouth. 

He shakes his head to try and clear the memories from his head, but he also has no doubt that they’ll come creeping back throughout the day. 

Why?

Why is this happening to him? 

It’s a question he’s asked himself countless times over the weeks that this strange occurrence has been happening to him, but he’s never come up with a suitable answer. Or any answer at all really. 

He wants to say that the nightmare wasn’t as bad as yesterday's one, but he knows he’ll be lying to himself if he does. While watching his mother die in his arms was one of the worst things he’s ever had to live through, what Vox did to him might be even worse. In the back of his mind he thinks that selfishly, he would rather watch his mother die than feel Vox do anything to him again. 

Alastor didn’t leave his room all day. He once again didn’t want to face anyone, so he just stayed in his room. At some point he realised that tomorrow is Saturday, which would mean having to see Rosie again. 

He’s never minded seeing Rosie on any given day, but she can’t know what’s happening to him. He doesn’t think she’d tell anyone but he can’t be too careful. He can’t trust anyone after all. 

No. He can’t see her tomorrow either. And if she tries to talk to him on Sunday again, then he’ll just refuse her. Maybe claim some important business he has to attend to. Hopefully she believes that. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if she doesn’t. 

Other than worrying about seeing Rosie again, the rest of the day is largely uneventful. He walks through the bayou to try and calm his mind, only being able to frustrate himself more as he saw the clear destruction that still hasn’t been cleared away. When he let out his anger, what felt like years ago now, he thought that the bayou would immediately right itself to how it was before. Whatever’s affecting his powers must be stopping his bayou from changing as well. 

He needs to find out what’s happening soon, or he’ll go crazy. If he hasn’t already. 

When Alastor first arrived in Hell, he didn’t know what was going on or where he was. Realistically, he knew he was dead. Who wouldn’t be after getting their brains blown out and their body torn to shreds by a pack of rabid dogs. That didn’t stop the confusion of waking up in an unfamiliar world. Not to mention the animal, or more accurately deer, features he now sports. 

He wasn’t left in the dark for too long thankfully. A kind woman helped him settle in at her territory. It was there he learned that her name was Rosie and she was the leader of the town she took him to. Cannibal Town. 

In the few months that Alastor was staying in Cannibal Town to get used to Hell, he’d like to say that he thrived there. He got along well with everyone who lived there and it was easy to get used to his new powers and shadow. He thought he could get used to living like that, but then something changed. 

He doesn’t know when, but it did. Between him and Rosie. He thought they were getting along well, but when he was planning on leaving she asked him for something. 

A deal. For his soul. He was drunk when she asked him. So he doesn’t remember much of what happened or what caused her to ask. But he knows he accepted the deal. Whether it was a bet that was equal, or she didn’t even give him anything he doesn’t know. But he knows he lost. Because he remembers waking up the next day in the same bed he’s been in for months with a chain around his neck.

Why did he ever think he could trust Rosie? Somehow, he has the memory of trusting her implicitly ever since he’s been in Hell. But now, he is reminded of why he never should’ve trusted her. Or anyone. But how did he forget that she owned his soul in the first place? And somehow Charlie managed to find out about it, which has confused him since the moment he had that nightmare for the first time. 

Just another reason why he shouldn’t let himself see anyone until whatever’s happened has fixed itself. So he might just live with his thoughts again for the day instead of leaving his room. 

After a few hours of not doing much in the main part of his room, and just trying to stay calm, he decided to walk through his bayou and actually think of the facts that have happened in the past month. 

He remembers fighting Adam and disappearing before he could get hurt. Then when he reappeared there was a party to celebrate the end of the extermination, and for him since everyone thought him dead. Although he very much doubts that anyone at that party would have been sad if he actually was dead. 

Then he started having dreams of his sweet, lovely mother. He cherished every moment he got to spend with her, but then things took a turn. There were moments in the dreams that didn’t happen quite as he remembered them, but then again he was fairly young in a lot of them so maybe they just slipped his mind. 

And now he has been having nightmares daily, for a week. Every time he’s forced to go to sleep he relives the worst moments of his human life and quite a few memories he’s doubted actually happened to him, but if he’s being shown them they must be real then right? Why would his mind conjure horrific nightmares in such vivid and excruciating detail if he hadn’t actually lived through those moments? 

He’s not so sure about what to think of what’s happening to him. 

Right now he’s prowling through his bayou desperately trying to think of memories through his own volition that he hasn’t been shown in his sleep during the past month that this infection has clawed its way through the barriers of his mind. 

A particular memory suddenly comes rushing to him as if he lived it yesterday. He’s sixteen, or maybe eighteen?, and his mother is teaching him a new creole recipe for him to master, like he’s done with all the other recipes she’s taught him over the years. 

Once they finish making the dish for dinner they set up the table and start talking about things going on in New Orleans and what they plan to do-

Wait no that can’t be right. 

His mother is dead. 

He watched that disgusting man kill him before his very eyes and then he shot him straight through the heart - as if he even had one to begin with. The nightmare from a few days ago made sure he wouldn’t forget about it after all.

Ugh. This is going nowhere. How is he supposed to tell the difference between reality and his nightmares if his nightmares are the ones telling him the truth nowadays.

He’ll keep trying to come up with something that he knows to be the truth. He won’t stop until he does. 

Alastor got home from school just as it was getting dark. 

He takes the rifle from the living room and rushes to his parents room. 

Alastor sees red. 

Alastor immediately drops the gun and rushes to his mothers side. 

She’s already gone.

Once Alastor has had time to get his bearing after just waking up, he disregards the repeated nightmare. He knew he had a chance of seeing that one again, and while it did still hurt, he won’t let himself dwell on the past this morning. 

He has come to a decision. He won’t be leaving his room until he’s back to how he was before the extermination. Back when he could tell what was real or not real. When he still had his powers. He hasn’t used them in possibly weeks, but he knows there’s no point. 

How he’s going to do that, he has no idea. He’s never heard of anything like this happening before – although it’s not like anyone will ever know what’s happened to him, so there’s a chance some other sinner has been in this position but just never mentioned it. 

First things first however, he needs to lock this room. He has a key, as does everyone, but he doubts that would be enough to keep anyone out if they truly wanted to come in. Hopefully the key will be enough for now. He doesn’t think he has it in him to put any wards up to stop people coming in. 

After locking the door and walking back through the bayou Alastor has a thought. Maybe, just like what happened with the normal dreams and the nearly nightmares, this too will pass. It’s a logical conclusion after all. Maybe it will happen sooner than he originally thought; the other two periods lasted for a week each and it’s now been around a week since the nightmares started. 

Yes. All he needs to do is wait this out. He’ll just be stuck in his room for a few days and then everything will be back to normal! Everything will be perfectly fine. Exactly as it was before. He’ll just trust no one for the rest of his time in Hell, because he now knows who he can’t trust anymore. 

He wants to believe he can trust Lucifer though. The king would never hurt him. Right?

Alastor was on Vox’s floor of the Vees tower sharing a drink with him while they listened to music. 

“I love you Alastor.”

He looks up at Vox stunned. He’s never treated him this way before.

Vox’s voice sounds like it’s coming from another room. 

No. He won’t let this happen to him.

He thinks Vox is talking but the static in his head is making it hard to hear anything at the moment.

Waking up after having that nightmare leaves Alastor feeling nauseated. He swears it hasn’t even been that long since he first had it and now he’s tormented with it again! He wants to throw up whatever food he’s consumed last, but he pushes the feeling down in favour of walking out of the bayou. 

He’s on a mission now. He remembers dazedly reading a note or letter of some kind from Lucifer. He wants to read it again. To remember the contents. He knows that whatever Lucifer said made him feel comforted but also confused. He wants that comfort back, and he trusts that Lucifer will give it to him. Lucifer would never hurt him. 

He walks over to his desk, he knows he first saw the note there. The only thing he sees however, is his broken cane and some small stacks of papers. He carelessly swipes them off the desk, not thinking of any use for them. He quickly scans through the ruined papers on the floor and dismisses them once he knows the note isn’t hidden there. 

He slams his claws down on the table, creating deep gouges in the wood, and growls lowly in his throat. Where is that note?! He swears he saw it on his desk! Did it perhaps fall into one of the drawers? Yes, that makes sense. He quickly pulls out all of the drawers and scans through them to no avail. 

He throws them on the ground once he’s finished with them and runs his hands through his hair. He’ll find it. He has to. He looks around his room for somewhere else the note could’ve ended up at, when he sees his whiskey glasses sat at the table. He’s having a drink first. 

He slowly walks over to his preferred chair and sits down. He can’t remember the last time he had a drink. Maybe it will help him calm down? It will help him if he drinks, yes. 

He pours himself a few fingers of the whiskey and nearly downs it in one gulp. He barely restrains himself from doing so, and shakily rests both hands on the armrests after placing his glass back on the table. With the alcohol now out of his reach again, his mind strays back to Lucifer's note. His claws sink further in the chair the longer he thinks about it. He just wants to find it! He rips his claws out, leaving the stuffing to fly everywhere, and grabs onto his glass again. He drains the rest of the whiskey and then smashes it on the floor. He grabs the decanter and throws that on the floor as well. 

He looks down at what he’s done and a crazed laugh bubbles out of his throat. He’s never going to find the note is he? The only reasonable answers to him not being able to find it is that he either burned it or tore it up. Or a far more chilling explanation; Lucifer never gave him a note. But he knows he remembers seeing it. He does! 

He stumbles out of the ruined chair and walks blindly back to his bayou, clutching at his hair as he does. He numbly notes that the glass is sinking into his hooves, likely leaving blood stains across the floor, but he doesn’t care. 

He just wants to read Lucifer's note again.

When Alastor returned to Hell he anticipated Vox making a public display of it. What hedidn’t anticipate was what would be said during said public display. 

It started out normally. He went live on that picture box of his, trying to bring Alastor down. He missed the start of whatever Vox was saying about him, but he’s sure it was all mindless nonsense. 

When he returned to his radio tower at the hotel he decided to join in on this game. He disgraced Vox. He wasn’t doing anything worse than what had been said about him though, it was all done in equal measure. 

At a certain point though, things took a turn. A turn to somewhere that Alastor had frankly forgotten about. That night. 

Vox brought it up so casually. As if Alastor had enjoyed any of it. Alastor was speechless at first but he changed the topic easily soon enough. 

Once everything was done and ended and he wasn’t speaking live to millions of sinners across the pride ring, he went back down to his room. He went through his shadow for fear of anyone talking to him. 

When he was safe in his bayou he allowed himself to think back on that night. Was what Vox said real? Did he enjoy it? No. He’s sure he remembers saying no. Right? He knows he did. So why was Vox trying to make everyone in Hell think that he wanted any of it?

Another reminder of that night. Will it never end? He hopes it does. 

Alastor was having a great day! He didn’t have school today so he and his maman got to play all day! And he hasn’t seen his father all day! His maman said that he was staying away from home for later than normal, so they could have dinner early and alone together instead of waiting for him to come home. 

He wasn’t old enough to help make dinner yet, but he could still give his maman useful things! He’ll give her everything she needs! 

When dinner was ready he happily sat down opposite her and held her hands as they thanked the Lord. Alastor didn’t understand why he would thank someone he hasn’t met yet, but it makes his maman happy so he’ll keep doing it. 

They ate in silence - apart from when Alastor asked a question, then it wasn’t really that quiet - and everything was good. 

Well. Everything was good, until his father came home. 

Alastor didn’t understand what was happening, but suddenly his mother was pushing him away from the table and into a closet in the hall. His maman didn’t look that scared, so it must not be that bad right? She closed the door, and he could hear her rushing back to the kitchen. 

He was about to step out and try and help her, but then he heard it. His fathers voice. Even though he couldn’t hear the words, he was familiar enough with the way he spoke to recognise him. He knew now why his maman had pushed him in here. Bad things always happened when his parents were alone. 

At the sound of his maman’s hushed cries and a hand sitting skin he sank down. He hid in the corner as far back as he could and held his hands over his ears. He could still make out some sounds and put his head against his knees where they were tucked up against his chin. He wanted to cry but he knew worse things would follow if his father found him like that. So he stayed silent. Even if it hurt him. He makes a silent promise to his father that he’ll hurt him worse he and his maman have ever been hurt.

These nightmares are starting to feel more real. There’s nothing in him that doubts the realness of that nightmare. He hates that. He wants to question them. Doesn’t he? Or would it be better to know that everything he’s seen all happened at one point in time, instead of going crazy questioning how much of any of it actually happened. He doesn’t know the answer to that. He just wants everything to go back to normal. If anything ever was normal for him. 

Alastor has been in Heaven for a while now and hasn’t done anything too productive. His master sent him here - for what reason he still doesn’t know. 

He’s been hiding out in a house that looks like it hasn’t been used since it was built. In the years that he’s been staying in it no one has ever walked this way, so he’s confident he won’t be found out. 

He does need to get outside again though. He’s been inside for too long. 

When he goes out he usually sticks to the background so he has less chances of being noticed. Something feels off about today though. 

He’s wondered out far enough to where he guesses the winners usually socialise with each other. There’s a lot of winners out here. 

Once he realises what he’s done he goes to head back, deeming this enough outside time for now, when he sees her. 

He doesn’t know how he knows but he does. She’s facing away from him, so he can only see the back of her head, but he recognises her. 

His mother. 

Here in Heaven where he knew she would be. 

Before his brain catches up he’s already running towards her and calling out for her. When she turns around he nearly does the same. He could’ve just acted like it wasn’t him who called her maman. But once she whispers his name right back at him… he freezes. 

He stays exactly where he is as he waits for his mother to walk over to him. 

When she does reach him, her hands gently cradle his face. “Alastor? Is that really you?” 

He holds her hands in his own, holding them close to his face. “Yes, maman. It’s really me. I thought I would never see you again.” 

“What happened? Have you just died? It’s been too long for you to still look this young if you have.”

He hesitates for a few moments before he finally answers. “No. I haven’t just died. I… I haven’t been up here for very long.” He brings one of his hands to hold her cheek before he reveals where he’s been. “When I died I went to Hell maman.” 

Before he can say anything else she’s already ripped her hands away from him. “Hell?! How could the sweet boy I raised have ended up in hell of all places?!” She starts stepping away from him, holding her hands close to her face as if she’s been burned. 

When Alastor moves towards her, her steps away from him get faster. As if she wants nothing to do with him. “Stay away from me! I want nothing to do with a devil!” After that she fully turns from him and runs away. And Alastor just stares after her. 

What was he thinking, initiating a conversation with her? Of course she wouldn’t want anything to do with him.

Alastor runs away himself before anyone can follow him.

Alastor curls up further into himself from where he’s laying at the base of a tall tree. He doesn’t want to think about his mother anymore. 

That’s a lie. He just wants the good memories of her back. Before he was reminded of all the terrible ones he has of her. 

Being likened to the devil by his mother made him remember Lucifer. He wants to see Lucifer again. He wants that note back, even if it wasn’t real. 

Lucifer would never hurt him. He knows this. 

Alastor was running in his bayou again. He was only running this time though because he’s being chased. 

He can hear the dogs catching up to him.

He can hear shouts behind him, getting closer. 

He hits the ground hard as he watches blood pool on the hard mud below his face. 

As he’s losing consciousness he feels the savage dogs biting and clawing at him.

Oh, it’s that one again. He hasn’t thought of that one in what feels like an entire lifetime. He thinks he remembers hating it, but after everything else he’s been reminded of he isn’t sure what he thinks about it anymore. 

When Alastor first arrived in Hell, he wasn’t sure what was going on or where he was. 

He wasn’t left in the dark for too long thankfully. 

He thought he could get used to living like that, but then something changed. 

… she asked him for something. A deal. For his soul. 

But he knows he lost. Because he remembers waking up the next day in the same bed he’s been staying in for months with a chain around his neck.

He thinks that one might be one of his least favourite nightmares he’s had. Or maybe he should be thankful for it. It reminded him that he can’t trust Rosie anymore. That he’s never been able to trust her. He hates himself for thinking that there was ever a time when he thought she could be trusted. 

At least there’s one person he can trust. 

At this rate he doesn’t think he’ll ever see him again though. He doesn’t know when this torture will end. 

Alastor doesn’t know how long he’s been in here. But he thinks there have been a lot of nightmares that he’s had in this bayou. So it must be a long time. 

He was getting tired of letting this happen to him though. He wants it all to just be over! 

He growls loudly as he swipes his claws over yet another tree that he passes by. After that his hands return to his hair, to keep tugging on it, as he continues his relentless pacing. 

What can he do to stop this?!