Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Penelope is officially six weeks old. It’s been six weeks of ups and downs, tears and smiles. Both parents are still amazed every time she does something new and still have yet to leave their suite. Aside from Scarlett’s trip into Rosie’s mansion. But now that the consequences of that journey have healed and she is no longer confined to their bed the bat is getting restless. She spends more time awake now, walking back and forth through the rooms. No longer feeling the need to nap every time the baby does. Wanting nothing more than to exercise and stretch her wings.

Alastor always watches her as she bounces the baby while she sleeps or looks for something to preoccupy herself with. He has begun to notice how she looks at the bayou as if it’s a form of escape. Or rather somewhere that she would love to be. However, she hasn’t let herself cross the barrier yet. Though he can’t figure out why. He takes walks through the swamp every day. When he feeds the alligators. Or just to have some time to himself. His mother said they both needed it, when they finally confronted both Iris and Rosie about the sleeping spell they put them under. She sounded worried and remined him to remember why he married Scarlett, as if she thought he had forgotten. He hasn’t forgotten and he never will, but he was losing his patience more frequently. Something he hadn’t even realized until she pointed it out. But although Scarlett herself has asked for her own breaks several times, she has yet to give herself the opportunity. Still, he can see it in her eyes. The way they look past him and toward the trees, as she asks how big the baby gators have gotten. Or how she will just stare until he gets her attention every time she walks close to the divide between bayou and bedroom. He assumes it’d probably do her some good if she could spend at least a few hours there alone.

The new mother is too determined to be there for every need her baby has to ever listen to him or his mother. Rosie told him to make her take time to herself by proving he doesn’t need a chaperone while caring for the fawn-pup, but the idea seems absurd. Of course he doesn’t need a chaperone. Do they not realize he cared for Scarlett through her entire pregnancy? He was the one that became a single father when he found a mischievous little overlord in a dumpster. One with no discipline or ladylike manners to speak of. Just a few tics that made her develop odd habits, and a lust for killing that rivals his own. He takes care of them. He is the one responsible for it all. But he is also the one that will forever feel to blame for allowing Scarlett to feel unwanted enough to take herself from him. He has done everything he can think of to show her he wants her to stay, and he wants their family. That alone should be enough to tell Scarlett that he doesn’t need her to supervise him. He doesn’t know nor doesn’t care what other fathers are like, he is going to be the opposite of his own even if it leads to second death.

Alastor watches his girls closely having already abandoned the book he likes to hide behind, so she doesn’t catch him staring. As Scarlett sits with her knees propped up and Penelope laying on her legs. She sings to her as she holds her hands and kisses the baby. Each time Penelope makes an excited squeal, and chirps when she pulls away. He could watch them all day, and most days he does. His little girl is getting bigger and has become more aware of her surroundings. She loves her mother. Purring and cooing the moment she sees or hears her. But she whips her head in his direction the moment he speaks. She’s also now learning to flail her arms and cry to be held when either of them get close. It melts the heart he thought for sure he no longer had.

Scarlett doesn’t notice his staring while she is sitting in the nursery with her back against the dresser. Singing nursery rhymes and playing with her daughter. It’s almost tummy time for the little fawn-pup, but she’s anxious to put her down. Convinced that if she does, something terrible will happen. She has everything set up from the blanket spread out on the plush pink carpet, to the toys and things for her to look at to encourage her to hold herself up. But now she sees danger in all of it. What if she gets the carpet fibers in her mouth? Or she hurts herself straining to lift her head? What if she sits her down too close to a stuffed animal and she suffocates before they can pull it away?

“Belle.” Alastor says, as he gets up from his chair and walks to the doorway of the nursery. The room that once was his office before the little bat brought all of this into his afterlife. “It’s time for her to work her muscles. We need to keep her routine.” He checks his pocket watch knowing that they’ve been sticking to a very precise schedule. One that Scarlett has just broken by fifteen minutes. Any longer and it will be lunch time for the little fawn, and the exhausted bat will try to refuse another meal for her own nap.

“I can’t. Alastor look she’s smiling. Really smiling.” She cries, through happy tears. Ignoring her own fears for her joy at her child’s reactions.

With hot tears falling down her cheeks she watches her little fawn-pup smile and squeal at her mother every time she presses little hands to her face, and he kisses her nose. She’s overwhelmed with emotions. Happy that her baby is right on track for development. But terrified that this is just the start and she’s already growing up too fast. Her little sounds are now turning into coos and no longer only bleats and chirps. She’s getting her real voice. Before they know it she’ll learn to make different sounds for the things that she wants. She’ll learn to roll over, she’s already lifting her head when they put her on her stomach. When will she crawl, or sit up on her own? When will she want to fly? She’s too little, they can’t let her fly yet. What if she gets hurt?

Her runaway thoughts are stopped by a hand on her shoulder. Alastor, down on one knee next to her, kisses her on the cheek. “Of course she’s smiling. She is my daughter after all. But we’re keeping her on schedule.” He says firmly. Pulling his little fawn, already smiling at her father, up off of her mother’s knees. “Alright little girl, it’s time to work.” He flips her in his hold and carefully lays her on the little blanket Scarlett has laid out. Where she immediately screams and flaps her wings. Her legs kick and lift as she tries to figure out how to push herself up.

She hates it and they both know that. But they also know how important it is for her to work her muscles. Alastor stops Scarlett before she reaches for her. Reminding her that the baby needs to do this on her own. He thinks she’s being ridiculous, but he also hates to hear his child cry. Still, he knows she’ll stop the moment she lifts her head and can look around. Watching only the baby, he waits for her to shakily lift her head and stop her angry little fawn bleats. Her wings flap without her control. Just reflexes, showing she is her mother’s little bat no matter how many times he calls her his fawn. Assuming that once she calms down so will her mother, he stands and walks back out of the room. Where he can go back to his current novel and have a hot cup of coffee. But Scarlett has a different idea. Scooping the baby back up and bouncing her to calm her down.

Alastor watches with a dark glare as the defiant mother spoils her already spoiled child and goes against his advice. Shaking his head he takes his coffee outside onto the balcony. At least there he can have a smoke and enjoy the chaos of the world outside. Chaos he used to not only enjoy but create. He leans against the railing with a sigh, cigarette hanging from his lip. It isn’t their fault he can’t go about his own business. In fact, he’d feel lost without them. He just doesn’t understand why Scarlett is so insistent on doing the opposite of what he knows is best. Or why she gives in to every sound or chirp from his little starlight like she’s afraid to let her cry at all.

She’s been so nervous the past couple of weeks, though she thinks he doesn’t notice. But she doesn’t understand that he has watched every move and facial expression his little bat has made since she arrived at this hotel. Via his shadow or otherwise. Even now his shadow is standing by as she soothes the little fawn-pup and rocks her. Tummy time long forgotten. It seems she wanted an extra or early lunch today. Just as he had assumed would happen. He sighs again as he looks up towards the sky. The Radio Demon. Feared overlord and radio host. With more power and death under his belt than any other. Now a push over to a tiny little acrobat with big blue eyes and a crooked smile. But who is he kidding, he was hers long before he was Hell’s. He would have given her the world the day he saw her swing from that trapeze. If he had the world to give.

In the nursery, Scarlett rocks the baby in the rocking chair. Looking down at her as her eyes flutter shut then open wide again as she nurses. She checks her little hooves and claws to make sure they don’t need trimmed again. Then she presses a kiss to the back of her hand. She looks so much like her father. Scarlett giggles at the thought of what beautiful children they make. It was hard, she’s still healing. But she can’t help thinking that she wouldn’t mind having another. After this one is out of the baby phase. She doesn’t ever want her to grow up, but she knows she has to. Maybe this is why Iris let Alastor cling to her the way she did. When his mother had first showed up and told her stories of how big he was as an infant, Scarlett couldn’t understand why she didn’t resent him for it. But then everything stopped hurting, and Scarlett realized it was only because she herself was still resenting him for the pain of childbirth and what he had done to her. Now she wants more of these beautiful little things, so she always has someone so small to cuddle and love. Her emotions are everywhere but she’s so wrapped up in everything that she barely notices.

As Penelope purrs and falls asleep while nursing she doesn’t realize she’s starting to cry again. Alastor’s shadow does. Sliding across the walls and floor like black ink, coming to investigate. Husk told her when she first arrived to steer clear of moving shadows. Said it belongs to The Radio Demon. His little spy, and the reason he can keep the upper hand in every scenario. She was confused the first time she caught it away from its host. Following her down a hall that was otherwise unoccupied. It watched her like a puzzle it wanted to solve. First as a pest, then as a priceless artifact. It looks at her now with all the love Alastor’s eyes also reflect. Hovering, unsure of how to comprehend the tears in her eyes. “Shhh…” She gestures with her finger pressed to her lips. As if the thing can make a noise. It tries to wipe the tears, to no avail. Making her giggle in response.

“Well, while I’m glad to see those aren’t sad tears, I’d much rather not see them at all.” His staticky voice draws her expression to the doorway.

Her husband, trying to not show his concern checks his microphone for imperfections or smudges, while he leans against the door frame and his ear twitches in worry. He’s handsome when he’s worried. Or when he’s holding the baby. Or even just doing anything lately. He won’t be so handsome if he wakes up the little fawn-pup. “Quiet.” She whispers to him, as she stands to lay her in her crib. Shuffling him out the door, Scarlett turns off the light in the room. But she hardly makes it through the threshold before she runs back to check the baby. Convinced that the moment she turned her back something would happen.

Alastor watches her as she checks the infant. Petting her head, and floppy fawn ears. He moves over to the crib and places his hands on her shoulders. “She’s aright Belle. But it’s time for me to take over. Why don’t you go enjoy yourself, I can hear her just fine from the armchair.”

Scarlett looks up at him. His genuine kind smile and soft eyes are a look she knows only she will ever see. He looks sympathetic. As if he could see the storm in her mind. But she doesn’t want to take a break. She wants to watch her little one sleep. Alastor is observant, but he will keep to his own entertainment as he sits and reads. What if the tales of American serial killers are too interesting today. He might get too caught up on the Murder Castle of H. H. Holmes. Seeing it as a challenge. Before long he might forget they even have a baby at all, while trying to make renovations to the hotel just to entertain himself. All the while Penelope might roll onto her wing wrong. Or get her little hoof stuck between the bars of the crib. Scarlett’s ears tuck back, and she looks up at him with red pupilless eyes while bearing her fangs.

Alastor chuckles, delightfully. Before bending down to kiss her on the nose. He holds her chin in his hand as he pulls back just enough for her to see his own glowing red eyes. “Behave yourself and go relax in the bayou for a while, or I’ll turn you over my knee. I’ll sit in here with her if you’d prefer.” He lets her go before he waves her off to shoo her from the nursery. “If you decide to kill something, stick to something small. A doe perhaps.” Shaking his head he summons his book. Looking down at Penelope, sleeping peacefully, he whispers. “Your mother is worried for nothing, isn’t she Princess? You’re perfectly safe in Papa’s care.” When she begins to whine from the sound of his voice he reaches down to soothe her. A gentle pat he has learned calms her right down. His hand stays on her as he looks up to give Scarlett a wordless apology for almost waking the little fawn.

Scarlett rolls her eyes as she steps through the barrier between bedroom and bayou. If he wakes her now it’s his problem not hers. In fact, it would serve him right and she almost hopes the little pup gives him everything he deserves. But deep down she knows she only hopes so, so that he comes and gets her and lets her sit back in the nursery where she believes she should stay. That is until she looks around at her surroundings. The change in smell is something she’s been missing. Wet earth and moss, with a hint of salt in the air. As if this moment frozen in time might really lead to the Gulf. Stepping closer to the water, her feet sink into the mud. She left without her shoes. Mom brain, at its finest. She keeps forgetting things or doing things that don’t quite make since. Yesterday she put a jar or freshly pumped milk in the closet instead of the freezer. He picks on her every time it happens. Alastor will certainly have something to say about her tracking up the carpet when she returns.

If he’s still there, when she returns. Unless he takes this opportunity to leave for another seven years. He never seemed like the father type. She never knew he wanted any of this. What if he wants his old life back? What if that’s why he’s been taking longer walks in the bayou at night? Or why he still insists on doing his regular broadcasts while Rosie or Iris sit with the little bat. She looks back towards the room. Trying to decide if she should go back. But it seems so stupid. He wanted this baby. He wanted her, and for them to have a family. He has told her every day, since she admitted her identity, how happy he is that she came to the hotel. Happy that she came back to him. He also wanted her to take a break and offered to watch the baby while she stepped away. So, he must want her to have this time alone to help her remember how to be a person.

No, she asked for breaks. Moments where she can be her old self. To reset and clear her mind. But how could she want that? How could she want time away from her baby, unless she is a horrible mother? She never had a mother that cared about her, she had Delphine. Whose feathers still decorate Alastor’s radio tower with cattails and milkweed. Along with being used to make Niffty’s feather duster. If she lets him down will she be added to his collection? Will her wings be mounted to the wall with alligator skeletons and the other trophy pieces? She shutters at the thought and holds herself around the torso.

She reminds herself that she’s trying. She cares and wants to be the best mother her pup could have. She’s just overworking herself and Penelope’s constat fussing is making it hard to think. She just needs a break. He takes them. She didn’t leave she’s just in the bayou. All she would need to do is turn around and walk back towards the carpeted floor and large bed. But she can’t. If she goes back in that room now he will just send her out again. He will tell her she’s being ridiculous. Ridiculous, that’s what he thinks she is. Every concern she has lately is just ridiculous. But she doesn’t think so. She thinks these are all very real possibilities and concerns. Things he needs to listen to her about.

Scarlett sits on the ground and tugs her knees to her chest. Maybe she should take the time she wanted and relax. Think about things other than milestones and what each sound means. She used to love this bayou. She still does. Every corner holds a memory. Starting with the large live oak in front of her. It sits nearly on its own island with and narrow ankle-deep path that connects it to the land she is sitting on. It marked a significant point in there relationship. The first major point actually, and he positioned it so that it was the first thing he saw when he walked into his suite. Long before she came back. Because he wanted to remember her and what they had. Even when it was painful.

To the west, about half a mile, is Alastor’s cabin. A point of safety for them both and the first place he took her to hide when they found out about the pregnancy. Husk said it was to be somewhere familiar, while they got used to the idea. Or possibly to keep her safe the only way he knew how in the moment. It did make her feel safe. It made her feel wanted, just like it always used to. He loves her and the evidence of that is everywhere in this memory of the land, the way it was back then.

If the bayou were real, from there going north would lead to Lake Pontchartrain that flows into the Gulf of Mexico. Alastor told her he saw the gulf once. That it was just as blue as her eyes. She used to imagine taking his airboat all the way there. All the way to a land where they could legally marry and she could live in his home with him. Going South would take her to the Treme neighborhood and Alastor’s small cottage. Where she could hear constant jazz music playing and the drums of Haitian Voodoo rituals. She never understood how others didn’t see the beauty in the culture there. It felt so warm and inviting to her. Not cold and full of hate like the staleness of the orphanage she was raised in.

Farther down she’d be in the French Quarter where the market sits along the riverbank. The carnival wasn’t far from there sitting on the edge near Canal Street. She misses the carnival. She misses the circus. But mainly the carnival. She misses the people that she grew up with in the Hall of Mysteries. The bearded lady that helped her transition from a child to a woman. She taught her how to sit like a lady and what not to do in front of the boys. She misses the clowns that taught her how to play pranks and helped her get up to things she shouldn't have. Like putting itching powder in Armond’s costume after hours one night. They sat by when the park opened and watched him nearly scratch himself to death, at the ticket booth. Laughing and eating popcorn, as if they didn’t do a thing. They also helped her keep the carnival running passed closing time one night so Alastor could experience the magic she saw. It wasn't unusual to leave things running for maintenance so it wasn't likely anyone would say anything. But the engineers weren't around that night. 

Mostly she misses Dr Blue. He was like a father to everyone. Having been in the freakshow the longest. They all looked up to him. But Scarlett and Blue had a special bond. He took care of her like the daughter he wished he still had. Having lost both his wife and child to diphtheria in 1882. Then he lost his sight not long after. Scarlett was fascinated at the way a bland man could read, until he told her how it was only a trick. She was never to tell that he had only memorized the words from when he had his sight or that the others had read to him. The circus was the only way for a blind man to make any money back then. Scarlett was a curious child with a special gift that he nurtured and taught her how to use. Hoodoo became her hobby, and fortune telling her way to make a few extra dollars here and there.

She had many hobbies and interests. She read constantly. From every book she could get her hands on. Learning about cultures around the world. While everyone else in the circus side of the carnival was trying to attract the attention of the great traveling circuses. She didn’t want to travel or leave. Leaving would mean starting over, and she’s always been afraid of trying to fit in. Scarlett had always known she was different. She was unlike anyone she’d ever met and sometimes that was a good thing. Other times it was very lonely. She had people that cared at the carnival. She also had the amusement park side to enjoy any time she wanted. Those traveling circuses didn’t have that. They also didn’t have Alastor broadcasting through the radio every day. Speaking to everyone but stealing her heart.

Now she selfishly misses swinging from trapezes and being in the spotlight while he sits in the nursery with their baby. Looking down at herself she thinks she no longer looks like the star she once was. Her dress is worn and stained from breastmilk and who knows what else. Her stomach still holds a slight bump of weight she hasn’t yet lost. With the extra weight in her breasts, she can’t imagine trying to fit into her leotards or the vest made to bind her wings. She’s disgusting and in need of a shower no wonder he hasn’t been as affectionate. But it’s been hard to want to do anything for herself. It’s hard to leave the baby at all. That could be why she’s still sitting on the bank right between the entrance to the room and the swamp. Instead of taking the walk she’s wanted for a while now and not thinking of her child for a moment.

She looks towards the deeper water and sees the baby alligators and Prima floating near her. Prima is a good mother and Alastor comments on it frequently. Proud of the dinosaur he raised from a hatchling. She stays with her young constantly and either lets them swim on their own or lets them climb on her back while she floats through the water. It’s frustrating to say the least. She feels like the animal is taunting her. Proving that she is doing a better job than her. The little bat can’t do it any longer. She can’t sit here in wet cloths and watch as a mindless creature shows off at her superior motherly instincts.

With an aggravated huff her darker pink wings burst from her back with a harsh flap. Kicking off from the ground she flies upward above the trees. The bayou is even more beautiful from above. Small waterways work like streets and avenues, spiderwebbing out from the larger canal. She flips and tumbles through the air weaving through trees and heading right for Alastor’s hunting land. Where deer are grazing in a field. The fawns are growing and no longer have their spots but are not quite mature enough to hunt. Alastor sticks to the bucks. Weeding out the herds and keeping them from getting too big. But without a rifle she can’t take on a buck in her current state. She’d rather be in the alleys in Pentagram City. Hunting the types she usually prefers. But that would bring germs into her baby’s home.

They’ve done so well to maintain a clean home. Bringing only what their personal bayou holds in and keeping Hell out. She has worked so hard to keep Penelope safe from everything, including their friends. Her family. She hasn’t seen anyone other than Alastor, Iris, and Rosie since the day they moved back into the suite and doesn’t know what she might find when they return. Who has moved out? Who has been redeemed? The red-haired deer promises Husk is still there and Angel isn’t likely to leave him. Charlie stopped by but only spoke to Alastor a few weeks ago. Letting him know that they are doing all his typical tasks in the hotel until he feels comfortable returning to work. Who knows when he might let them socialize again.

Letting herself land on the ground at the edge of the field she watches the deer as they graze. She’s starving. She has been constantly since she started breastfeeding her child. It’s like the blood she has been consuming isn’t enough. He’s nearly doubled what he has been giving her, but she craves the battle almost as much as she does the plunder. It’s just not the same from a glass or from him. Alastor doesn’t put up a fight. He gives her his blood freely. Like an offering to something he idolizes. That makes her feel powerful. She alone has tamed The Radio Demon. She domesticated the Bayou Butcher. But what if he longs for freedom? What is he was always meant to be wild? Like these deer. What will she do when he takes it back? What if he thinks she put him under a spell? Will he send her, her magic and their pup away?

Anger fills her system. Eyes go red and wings flap. She watches the herd. Noticing a doe off to herself. She calculates each movement as they begin to abandon her. Facing away and moving out of the open and into the tree line. Deer are smarter than people think. They know she’s there and watching them for her next meal. They’re leaving this one on purpose. In hopes to preserve the bulk of the herd. An unsuspecting sacrifice. Waiting until her ears stop twitching she crouches and crawls towards the doe.

Waiting…

Waiting…

Pounce. She jumps. Sending the herd running as she sinks her fangs into flesh. The doe takes off, but Scarlett holds herself to its back as tight as she can. Wrapping her arms around its neck and squeezing her eyes shut. Letting it take her through trees and swamp. This is the reason he hates her going after the deer by herself. Because adrenaline kicks in and they bolt. He is always worried she’ll get hurt. But not tonight. He sent her after a doe. Told her to stick to something small but let her hunt without him. Does he no longer care? Her anxious mind is running away without her as the doe bleeds out and drops. The sudden jolt reminds her where she is, what she was doing. She’s now free to suck the beast dry before her mind gives her time to dwell on her fears. Blood soaks her dress and the ground. Flowing into the water. She barley tumbles far enough away before Louis jumps from the water to take her kill. The largest of the three adult gators has developed a taste for deer with Alastor preoccupied for most of the day.

Scarlett pants to catch her breath while lying on the ground. She’s filthy, soaked in blood and swamp. She can feel it in her hair and under her claws. Between her toes and on her wings. She isn’t sure what to do or how to go home like this. She can’t just walk into the hotel suite caked in muck. If he’s even the least bit disappointed he will be irate by the time she gets into their spotless bathroom. Even he snaps himself clean after his broadcasts before the mess comes into their living space. If Niffty has joined him she will have a fit. The kind that takes all day for him to calm her and to get her back on track. Out of the corner of her eye she sees movement. Causing her to jump and look closer in the direction. It’s Alastor’s shadow looking down at her with a worried expression. It slinks across the ground and comes to settle with its head in her lap. Nuzzling and rubbing its cheek against her legs.

“I’m alright. You can tell him I’m fine now. Did he send you to keep an eye on me?” She giggles, as she leans back on her hands.

The shadow nods quickly, in response. Wrapping around her as if it were trying to blind itself with her very being. She’d fight it if this wasn’t the more attention than she had gotten from its host all day. Part of her wants to be upset but she understands how unattractive she has gotten. She feels as if she has become the worst version of herself. With no energy, no hobbies, and no sex appeal. Just a mother who has given everything to her child.

“You don’t have his power. How am I going to get cleaned up enough to go home?” She asks, with a sigh. The shadow stretches its arm and points along the waterway. Right in the direction of the hunting cabin. But as far as she knows none of her clothes are in there. At least none that fit her, anyway. But it’s the best chance she has.

Getting up from the ground heads in the direction of the cabin. The shadow following close behind. Pushing open the door, it’s like stepping back in time. Her first few weeks of known pregnancy and her earthly life blending into one in the small space. It smells like Alastor. Hints of leather and aged vanilla from his cologne saturating everything. Just like the suite used to smell before they brought the baby home. He hasn’t been wearing it in favor of Penelope’s delicate senses. Or just because he hasn’t been socializing. Or is it that she just stinks too bad now and it’s ruined everything. She definitely smells awful now.

Stepping farther in to the living space she checks in drawers and in the closet. Just as she thought, nothing is left. But when she peeks into the bathroom she finds leftover soap and shampoo. That’s more than she was hoping for. She shutters when she looks back at the path of foot prints she will need to clean up after she bathes. But she doesn’t want to think of that just yet. Instead, she looks down and slips out of her ruined clothes. Putting them in the sink she rinses them cleanish before she applies soap. Once satisfied she drapes them over the side of the sink and climbs into the tub to spray herself off. Mud, swamp water, blood, and who knows what else flows down the drain as she lets the hot water work it’s magic. Large wings are cleaned in no time, followed by her hair, face and body. The wash cloth looks ruined and she throws it out instead of putting it in the hamper. But with her clothes still wet she decides to soak in a bubble bath, as she forms a plan of what to wear to get back to the suite.

Chapter Text

Alastor continues to settle his child as Scarlett walks towards the bayou. Thankfully she didn’t wake up, just started to fuss in her sleep from the sound of his voice. He is able to quiet her back down quickly. But now he sees why Scarlett wants to stay by the crib when she’s in it. She looks so peaceful but far too small for this bed. It’s quite something. She’s starting to look more like Scarlett, in the face, every day. But she will always have more of his features. His little fawn… and her little pup. A perfect combination. However, with too much pride he can’t help but admire his own traits dominating his child’s appearance. Has there ever been something more perfect? Scarlett is nearly as powerful as any overlord in Hell. Combine that with his power, and Penelope might just be the next great thing in Hell. How thrilling that the next big hit will also carry the Hartfelt name. Lucifer must be racking his brain with ideas of how to stop them. Yet the itsy bitsy King will never bring his family to its knees. He won’t allow it.

However, though he would love to watch her sleep he can’t very well do that and continue to correct her mother for the same behavior. So, as much as it irritates him, he decides he can turn on a small lap and read until her nap is over or Scarlett returns. Standing to cross the room to the rocking chair he finds another irritant. His shadow, climbing up the wall and watching the little fawn-pup with more softness than he ever wants to see on his own face. It looks pathetic and he has half a mind to fuse it back with his own being in order to cover up the obvious weakness its developing.

“What is wrong with you. I’m already watching this one. Go keep her mother out of trouble.” He sneers in its direction, under his breath.

Within an instant the shadow wraps around the wall and slinks its way into the bayou. If anything happens to that woman he with defy all logic and find a way to skin his trusted companion. He hides his annoyed growl under radio static as he walks over to sit in the chair in the corner of the room. The sound of flipping stations shouldn’t alarm the baby as it is such a frequent sound for her. Though she will one day start to learn that he controls all radios, and she will just as quickly associate that sound with him. Just as she does his voice filter. Making it harder for them to get her to sleep when he’s around. But in the best way. Her and any other children they have will see him as a source of comfort. He will make sure of that.

He remembers his childhood and how hard it was for him to sleep at night. The moment he heard his mother he wanted her to sooth him and take away his fears. Knowing his father was in the house made it impossible to relax from such a young age. Iris taught him how to stay on the man’s good side, but no matter how hard he tried he always messed up somehow. It wasn’t till much later that he learned that his father’s hatred wasn’t something he could fix. It wasn’t his behavior that caused it, but the fact that he was his mother’s son. He hated her for something Alastor will never understand. Any little defect or quark became fuel in an already raging fire. Fear of him coming into his childhood bedroom and jerking him out of bed in a drunken fury, became his version of the buggee man. His starlight will never know that fear. The moment she cries about monsters in her closet she will learn that her father is the thing that monsters fear. She will find her own power and strength in the safety of his protective shield. There isn’t a sinner in Hell dumb enough to try and harm what he is guarding. Now that the exterminations have stopped, and his full power returned, he is unstoppable. Angelic steel be dammed, it’s useless in the hands of lesser beings.

As he settles back into the seat he looks next to him on the chest of drawers. It feels bare. Penelope isn’t big enough for many decorations to clutter or for toys to be scattered about. However, that’s no excuse to be bland and tasteless. It’s not like him at all. But he was preoccupied with Scarlett’s condition and his little fawn’s upcoming arrival when he decorated this room. Now she’s here. Sleeping in her bed and he has nothing more to worry about. So, it’s time to spruce up the space and make it feel more customized. He looks at Penelope, swaddled in a soft lime colored blanket. Draped over the rail behind her is the quilt depicting a sunset and the Southern live oak, with twisting branches expanding out and nearly brushing the ground. Niffty did a wonderful job. It looks just like the tree in the bayou and the memory he was wanting to capture. She’s too young to tell them what her interests are, but he sees the way he has already imprinted himself in this space. The bayou, and soulful jazz music already exist in the decor. But where is her mother? Scarlett loves the bayou and the music it’s known for. But these things don’t scream Little Flying Belle when he sees them. However, not to worry, he knows what does. An item that has been in his old room in Rosie’s mansion since he left. Because it was too painful to look at every day.

Snapping his fingers the carousel decoration that he once coveted, but brought him so much grief, appears on the waist-high chest. He inspects its quality assuring that nothing has fallen loose. The lights still sparkle and strobe or stay lit depending on the setting. The funhouse mirrors still reflect. Most importantly the little white horse still jumps up and down alongside the fierce lion as the marry-go-round spins on its pedestal. It’s perfect. Just as he remembers. However, now it doesn’t hurt to play. The song brings a mix of emotions. Some good, some bad, but all irreplaceable. This is his Belle. His complicated doll with a spiteful temper and a heart of glass. His acrobat, who bends and flies through the air without fear, despite how fragile she really is. The real carousel withstood hurricanes and floods. It broke but always got repaired, greeting New Orleans with its tune like a victory in the shadow of tragedy. But the small replica could so easily crumble in his hands with the right force. A poetic representation. The delicate soul being all that’s left of a woman that fooled everyone with her laughter and charm. No one knew that underneath she was one storm away from total catastrophe.

But that catastrophe has come and gone. She's his again. His girl has returned and taken the spoils of his love and given him something physical. A tiny, winged fawn that will fill their home with the missing chaos and excitement. His girl, that he adored more than himself. That he grieved himself to death over. How could he forget to add her characteristics to their infant’s room? She loves her mother, of course she needs to see her in the room meant to bring her comfort. But Scarlett isn’t only caravel rides and circus melodies. She’s a talented acrobat. With a reputation she should be proud of. Another snap and posters from Scarlett’s biggest performances are added to the walls. His favorite being his little bat balancing on her hands atop a large red ball. Her body arched with her legs curved backwards and her feet above her head. He’s always found it fascinating that she could bend in unnatural angles. A rare talent that many find sickening. Yet he knows that talent is how he found her. It lead her out of the orphanage and into the bayou, while looking for the circus. It led him to look up from the crowd, when he snuck into the big top.

He wonders what talents Penelope will have. Will she want to join her mother at the circus? Of course, he won’t allow it if she decides to risk her safety. That is one argument Scarlett will not win. Maybe she will prefer radio. Or music. He can teach her any number of the instruments he can play. Starting with piano, just as his mother taught him. Voodoo and Hoodoo alike will be a must in her upbringing. If Hellborn can affect the living, he’d enjoy seeing what she might bring to an unsuspecting séance. Teaching lessons to those playing with things they don’t understand or respect. Those are always his favorites thanks to those new ghost hunting devices that use radio frequencies. A perfectly timed get out or join us is always a hit. Certainly, his daughter will find it just as enjoyable.

But none of that will happen for quite a while. So, it seems to be nothing more than a silly thing to waste time on. Taking a moment to see through his shadows eyes he finds his darling wife still sitting along the water in the mud. Still close enough to the main room as if she’s afraid to go too far. She appears deep in thought and for a moment he worries about what he might need to stop. Though he hasn’t been as concerned with her hurting herself as he used to be. She’s too good of a mother to risk leaving them, even temporarily.  Poor thing won’t even take a proper break when he is more than capable of sitting with a sleeping child for a few hours. A thought occurs to him as he rocks in the chair. Has he given her the impression that he doesn’t care? It’s second nature for him to seem unbothered or unaffected by those around him. It’s a tool. Just like his smile. The less it seems that they are even considered in his overall, performative behavior the more they amuse him in the pathetic attention seeking display. However, he’d never imagine being so cruel to the women that he cares for the most. Including their little fawn-pup. He decides to leave that trail of thoughts before it plagues him all day. Scarlett would tell him if he wasn’t being as attentive of her and the baby. That or she’d tell Rosie, who’d likely smack him upside the head for it.

He decides he might as well go back to what he was doing before he was distracted with decorations and needless overthinking. Yet as if having timed it perfectly, he no sooner opens the book to begin reading than his little Starlight decides she has had enough of her early midday nap.  Whimpers turn to whines then to the high-pitched bleats of a very angry fawn. So demanding, for something so small with no teeth. But he’s glad to find her mother has just finished hunting for her lunch and is far enough away not to come running to tend to her. Standing he crosses the room in a single wide step and scoops the screaming infant from her bed. “Now, now I’m right here darling, no one has left you.” He soothes her. Carrying her across the room to the rocking chair. He takes the distraction his voice causes to pluck three hairs for her head. Something he’ll use later to provide her with extra protection even when out of his sight.

Still crying she tries to burrow herself into his fur but all she finds is his silk shirt. He rolls his eyes as he snaps to remove the horrible hindrance to her comfort. This started as a way for him to bond. The skin to skin that Victoria had suggested. But now she’s starting to expect it as the main form of soothing she receives from him. He can’t go out like this, and he refuses to wear cheaper fabrics. Now that he can afford the best. She’s just going to have to learn to adjust. However, all thoughts of making the infant compromise to his wardrobe are flushed out, when she starts to purr. Her delighted bat noises turn him to mush as he pets her soft ears. She’s just like his Belle, and both of them have simply bewitched him.

“That’s much better. Now look, I have something to show you.” He turns the carousel on. Music fills the space, and twinkling lights dance across the walls. Alastor watches as her eyes widen and she chirps with excitement. “Just like your mother. You know, she still gave this old carnival ride that very same look no matter how many times she road it. I’ll be adding a full sized carousel just like it to the garden when you get a little bigger. But don’t you go telling anyone that it’s just as much to see her enjoy the real thing again, as it is for her to share it with you.”

Alastor’s taps her on the nose and she smiles up at him, in response. He’d trade his soul off to the highest bidder in an instant for that smile. It both fascinates and terrifies him. He thought his weakness for her mother was bad. But this is so much worse. Oh, he will enjoy killing every demon that even looks at them wrong. In fact, now that his skin is crawling for the emotions he wants to fight, they might enjoy taking a little stroll. Just so he can prove it. But he wants more of this new phase in her development first. His microphone, leaning against the chest of drawers, begins to play the carnival music as well. Joining in with the tiny decoration. He cradles his daughter to his chest as he rocks her and whistles along to the tune.

“Well, well. So, he does still have a soft side.” His mother’s voice cuts through the tinder moment. Alastor’s back straightens the moment he hears her. Looking up with his ears tucked as if caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Good to know her motherly voice can still make him second guess his decisions. Though what could he be up to that caused that reaction? A carousel in the garden is hardly a scandal. A bit over the top and sure to spoil the little thing. But she wouldn’t expect anything else from him. Always dramatic, always performative, and full of New Orleans flare. That was her son. If he chooses to spoil the baby he can have fun with the aftermath. While she sits back and watches, the payback she thought for sure she’d never get to see.

He looks up at her and clears his throat. Falling back into the Alastor that Hell knows, and the man he works hard to be to make her proud. Sit up straight, never slouch. Never let anyone see what’s hiding behind the smile. These were tools for survival. It started with his father and how to keep from setting him off, into a blind rage. Then became a way to hide in plain sight. If he never looked guilty the people of New Orleans would never suspect him, when someone goes missing. Getting rid of the man that beat them senseless was supposed to end all of their suffering. But letting her see who he really was only increased it. Her rules tightened. She still looked at him with love but also fear. At first. Till he made her proud with how easily he hid his demons. From then on he doubled his efforts. Not wanting to lose the only person he’d ever had on his side. His mother began to relax and smile more genuinely. He swore to never let her down again. To hold firm to the lessons she taught and never let anyone see unsavory emotions.

“Alastor what else are you planning other than an amusement park in the back yard?” She asks, with her arms over her chest. As she leans against the door frame. It could be any number of things. He’s been cooped up in this suite for weeks and who knows what that might have caused. She never could get him to stay in the house as a child. The moment the schoolbooks where closed for the day he was off into the swamp to bother any poor creature that was foolish enough to let him get to close. How he never got eaten by a mama gator from getting too close to her hatchlings she’ll never know. Though thank the saints it never happened. Still, he could have behaved well enough to spare her the early grey hairs but at least he made it to adulthood with all his limbs. However, if idol hands are the devil’s workshop than an idol Alastor is Hell’s worst nightmare.

Alastor stands and summons his shirt walking passed her and out into the open main room of his suite. Trying to settle his now fussing child. “I have no idea what you’re insinuating. I said nothing of the sort. He quickly checks every room wondering why his shadow is in the cabin. Until he uses his magic to see actually through its eyes. There’s his darling Belle. Having herself a relaxing bubble bath. It’s the calmest and most rested he’s seen her since she had Penelope. Though she won’t find anything nice to wear when she leaves that bathroom. Snapping his fingers he places a new dress and pair of shoes on the bed for when she decides to rejoin them. He also locks his shadow in place and sends two of his smaller shadow minions to make sure she doesn’t fall asleep in the tub. “Mama, you can’t tell Scarlett I ever said anything about the carousel. I want it to be a surprise. She adored that thing and I… Well, this hasn’t been easy on her and I want to see her light up like that again. You should have seen her face any time she got anywhere near it. Or when it started up again after repairs. Honestly, I think she loved it more than me.”

“Baby, look at me.” She says, taking his face in her hands. She looks into red eyes for the signs she’s been missing. He’s gotten so good at following her rules that he’s even fooled her. But eyes never lie. Even if smiles and sarcasm do. Now decades later when she barely remembers the lessons she gave, her son has turned the practice into an art form. Flipping the narrative and making them work in his current environment. While she’s never been prouder of him she also feels disappointment, in herself. These ‘rules’ weren’t meant to make him hide forever. They were only meant to save him from the hangman’s noose. Or a lobotomy. Here in Hell, he is idolized and feared in a way that has put him on top. The general public sees only the killer she was trying to hide. While the real Alastor stays buried underneath. Not gone just buried. She believed that he was no longer hiding at all. That cruelty and hate were all that was left. How good it feels, to see that she was wrong?  “I saw her, and the way you couldn’t stop watching her when she talked about the carnival and all her big dreams. I don’t remember another time you looked so genuinely enchanted by something. Not the carnival equipment, but that little redhead and all her quirks. You really love her don’t you, Baby? All this time I’ve been worried sick at how short tempered you are with her and here you are planning the most beautiful gesture of love I think I’ve ever seen.”

“Short tempered?” Is he short tempered? Certainly not. Terrified maybe, stressed definitely, but he hasn’t really been angry that he has registered. Does Belle believe he’s been angry with her? Is that what all those tears were about? Hell, ever since he has gotten her back he hasn’t once felt cross at her for anything. He probably never will again after having spent 92 years grieving her loss. She could do any number of things, and he’ll forgive her the moment she smiles at him. Anything short of betraying their vows. Which he knows, she never will. “I’m nothing of the sort. I just have to make sure she’s taking care of herself. She tends to forget. If I seem firm it’s only because she never listens to me otherwise and I’m worried she’ll do something careless.”

Iris pauses. She knows Scarlett more than he gives her credit for. Hand picked her for him actually. Or at least she thought she did, until Lucifer shed light on why it’s foolish to try and bribe a cupid. She saw the sadness in that girl. All the storms and floods that came with her. Alastor wouldn’t fall for some shallow thing with no depth to speak of. He’s too intelligent and too easily bored with things. Deep down he saw himself as being broken underneath the façade. He needed someone that mirrored that. Someone he could protect and shelter. That could talk for hours about the many wonders and mysteries of the world. Though Scarlett was worse than she thought. Or Alastor was just in over his head. But the memory of what led to that girl’s death gives the Voodoo Queen a new fear. She remembers how hard it was after she had Alastor. How she wasn’t ready for motherhood. Or the loneliness she would feel, when he was too young to do anything but cry, and her husband had isolated them from anyone but him. Alastor’s explanation is enough to tell her that he isn’t convinced that the little bat’s self-harm habits are completely over. Has he lost his mind letting her wonder off to who knows where in this state?

“Alastor, where is Scarlett?” She asks. Carful of her words.

“She’s in the bayou. Taking the break that you said I should give her. More precisely she’s enjoying a bubble bath in our cabin while my little henchman keep an eye on her. I can see every move she makes and right now she’s convinced one of the shadow creatures to rub her feet, while the other is braiding her hair.” He laughs. Only his Belle would be able to command authority over his little creations. Half the time they barely listen to him, yet there they are playing spa to a pint-sized bat. “She will return in plenty of time for this one’s next feeding and to join us for a proper meal.” He gestures to Penelope, who is refusing to sleep and instead watches her grandmother’s every move.

-

In the cabin Scarlett stretches out in the massive tub. Enjoying the reprieve from motherhood for a moment. Though she is still thinking of her baby. She can’t turn it off. Wondering if she is still sleeping peacefully or if she has decided to make her father do some work. Has she covered him in spit-up or something else yet? Will his perfectly tailored suit finally hold a stain the way everything she’s worn since giving birth does? Will that frustrate him? Making him angry at her or Penelope? She sits up in the tub trying to stop the fears in her mind. Her toes feel pruned from the bath. Her breasts feel heavy as if it’s nearly time for their little starlight to eat again. She’s lost all sense of time for how long she’s been here. How could she enjoy this when he’s been left with the baby all alone, for hours? She feels selfish and like a horrible mother. What kind of mother doesn’t want to spend every second with her child? Definitely not his mother. The saint that could do no wrong. Iris probably hates her. She probably thinks that Alastor could do better and deserves someone that isn’t broken. Someone that knows how to do all the things she was capable of so easily. She’d be right. Scarlett tugs her knees to her chest and presses her face to them.

But before she seeps too deep into her thoughts a tap on her shoulder draws her attention. Alastor’s little companion points into the bedroom of the cabin. Where a new teal-colored dress and matching shoes are waiting for her. A real dress. Not the nightgowns that she has been wearing. He even provided stockings and a proper corset. Scarlett leaps out of the tub and runs to the bed still dripping wet and towel barely hanging on. She almost squeals, she’s so excited. Jumping up and down as she cheers. The little shadow minions hold hands and dance around her legs. While his actual shadow plans a way to get the pair celebrating together after dinner.

On the bed next to the dress, she finds a handwritten letter. With her name written in Alastor’s beautiful penmanship. He must not be having too difficult of a time, managing Penelope alone. Opening the letter her heart nearly jumps out of her chest. “My darling Belle, I hope your time to yourself was enjoyable. As I would hate for you to have to come back through the bayou nude I have provided you with something to remedy that. Penelope and I have been having a wonderful time while you were receiving some much-needed pampering. But unfortunately, we do require your return. Meet us on the balcony when you’re ready. I’ll see you soon, sweet girl. Yours truly, Alastor.”

Chapter Text

The cabin feels lighter for some reason. Her dark clouds are fading, and happiness is shining through. Like amber rays of sun beams coming through the windows. It feels like she’s getting ready for a date. Weeks of walking around in stained pajamas has come to an end. Will there be candlelight? Dancing? Will he hold her as she feeds Penelope and tell her all the things she wishes he would say? Or will their friends be there? Will she get to see them again? Her mind races with possibilities as she gets dressed. The new dress must have been ordered recently. It’s looser than her old clothes but tighter than the maternity wear. It’s made to make breastfeeding easier only the second dress she has that is. She’ll be able to hold Penelope and feed her without changing. It’s also lose enough to accommodate the wearable breast pump. So, she can feed and pump without worrying about stains and soaking through if she engorged enough to leak. The tiny helpers circling her feet like puranas stop to tighten her corset. The postpartum waist trainers are helping. She’s not down to her original size yet but she can tell the difference it’s making. The dress is a comfortable material. Not stiff or itchy. Smooth as silk but soft as cotton.

Once dressed the smaller creatures applaud her and Alastor’s shadow wraps himself around her. She giggles and smiles, brighter than she has in a while. Looking in the mirror behind the bathroom door she sees someone she hasn’t seen in a while. The Scarlett she thought she had lost. Her hair is French braided into pigtails. Starting behind each of her large, pointed ears and stopping right below each shoulder. With the right, supportive underthings she’s standing straighter and despite the heavy feeling in her breasts they are sitting higher. She admires the new dress. It’s draping material hugs her curves. A high waist separates the skirt from the top, which crisscrosses to wrap around and can be untied when needed. But a second layer of fabric with thin straps will keep her mostly covered and comfortable when she nurses. The shoes are aquamarine colored leather to match the dress with darker, bright teal leather toe and heel caps, and framing around the lacing. They have a French heel which he knows is her favorite style. Walking though the bayou in them won’t be easy. But if she stays on the larger stones on the path she should be able to make it back without ruining them.

Heading back to the suite Scarlett walks as quickly as she can for a woman that just gave birth six weeks ago, but with the balance of a trained acrobat. She hops from stone to stone adding her own performative flair. Dancing more than walking. Feeling lighter than air and ready to have her baby back. Each little shadow creature crawling under her legs or jumping over raised leg when she twirls. Causing her to exaggerate the movements. Giggling and smiling as if the runaway negative thoughts never existed.

Coming back into the hotel suite she smells jambalaya and beignets. It must be time for supper. Or Alastor got tired of waiting and decided to lure her home with a hot meal. She peeks into the kitchenette and sees the evidence of him being there but no Alastor in sight. The pot is still on the stove. Dishes piled up in the sink. Powdered sugar and flour dust the breakfast bar separating the rooms. Out of impulse she wets a cloth next to the sink and begins cleaning up the mess. Wiping down counters, and then the floor. As she drops down to her hands and knees she doesn’t notice Alastor’s shadow zip through the wall in search of its host.

She’s almost finished when a presence in the room alerts her senses and immediately calms her. “Belle, what in all of Hell are you doing crawling around down there?” A staticky voice pulls her from her thoughts.

She looks up to see the man she adores, bending over her with a wide teasing smile spread across his face. He’s dressed in his typical suit. No stains or wrinkles just a few rips and frays around the seam. Trophies he wears from passed battles he wants to carry with him. His hair falling around his face as he bends nearly upside-down sways with his movements. He’s gorgeous and in a playful mood. No anger or irritation to be seen. Just Alastor in his typical happy go lucky state. Penelope must have been on her best behavior. Go figure. Of course, she minds when he is in charge. But she can’t bother to find a reason for negative thoughts now. “I’m cleaning the mess you couldn’t be bothered to take care of.” She teases in return. Propping up on her knees she gives him a dangerous smile. Twisting to face him as he stands and pulling him closer by his belt loops. A wicked idea of how to thank him forms in her mind for the time she got to relax.

Alastor’s eyes go wide, and his pupils dilate. She’s beautiful. No tears or distasteful sorrow in her eyes. Instead, she looks hungry, and the little temptress wants to make him her next meal. But he can’t allow it. Not with Penelope and her grandmothers sitting right outside on the balcony. Not when she has brought all of this into his world and he hasn’t once touched her since giving birth. He can’t, he won’t. He isn’t some pathetic womanizer that only cares for his own desires and pleasure. She will not bow to him and satisfy his needs, when he can’t yet return the favor or finish what she’s starting. Not until she’s ready to take him fully again, which he knows she isn’t. “Flying Belle.” He says pushing her hands from his belt with one hand and taking her chin in the other. “Darling as beautiful as you are and as much as you think I would desire such an act, I can assure you that isn’t necessary. Now get up off the floor before you wrinkle that new dress.”

“You don’t want me to…?” Scarlett swallows the lump in her throat. Sitting back on her heels, she looks down and to the right. Staring at the knobs on the cabinets. “I’m sorry.” Feelings of bliss wash away. Replaced with fear and shame. Does he not want her anymore? Unable to find her attractive with everything he saw while she gave birth and afterwards. She doesn’t blame him. Under this dress her body still looks like a train wreck. She hasn’t yet taken a mirror to see how her most intimate region has healed, but it can’t look as appealing as it did before. Or at least she assumes. Her stomach still has dark pink lines that look like tiger stripes, and her breast are starting to get more of them too. She’s not the same. She never will be.

Alastor watches as the part of Scarlett he seeks to destroy tries to take her from him right before his eyes. Self-doubt and insecurity move in for the kill and his confident, and strong little bat is nowhere to be seen. Pin straight pupils stare down at her under heavily lidded eyes. His lip curls over his fangs in a deadly sharp smile. It won’t win. Not with him watching as it tries to take her. His dark laughter leads her to look back up in his direction. “What’s to be sorry about?” He asks in an overly cheerful tone. “I’m simply not in the mood at the moment. Besides, do you really want to put us is such a sinful position with our child, Rosie, and my mother just on the other side of the balcony door? I personally, would prefer not feeling so… exposed.” He arches an eyebrow challenging her to make the right decision.

Scarlett’s eyes widen in fear and shock. She jumps to her feet. Her cheeks blush with embarrassment as she looks passed him and at the glass door. Though the windows she can see the shadows of people. She didn’t even notice. Or remember what he had written in the letter about joining them on the balcony. She swallows hard and nods quickly. Without a word, she leaves him in the kitchen. Where he snaps his fingers, cleaning the rest of the mess. With her mind a million miles away, she tries not to think about what she almost did. The embarrassment alone is enough for her to want to hide her face for the rest of their eternity. But nothing happened. No one saw anything, and they have her baby, therefore she can’t avoid them.

Iris and Rosie are sitting around the wrought iron table. Sipping red wine and talking amongst themselves. They discuss Scarlett and what a wonderful mother they think she is. The baby is healthy and obviously well-loved in this home. Though they both express concerns of Scarlett not taking herself into consideration. Alastor let them know he had to practically force her to take a break from the baby. He’s also said that she’s been jumpier and more cautious than normal. The two women know she’s likely just experiencing the normal fears and worry that come with motherhood. Iris has felt it herself and knows firsthand what comes with it. While Rosie has watched the best and worst of postpartum emotions in her own people in Cannibal Town. She has spent the entirety of her time today, with Iris and Alastor, reassuring them that Scarlett isn’t depressed or neglecting the baby. She’s just being careful and trying to counteract the lack of motherly connection she had as a child and probably still feels. The only thing they can do is remind her she’s doing a wonderful job and encourage her to take care of herself also.

While her wine glass sits abandoned Iris is holding her granddaughter, who watches her every move. Cooing at the sound of her soft French Creole accent and southern drawl. The Voodoo Queen’s voice is deeper and more mellow than any of the other woman in the hotel. Making it relaxing to the ear. Everything she says comes out like a lullaby. But Penelope doesn’t sleep. Too preoccupied with what she might miss if she happens to drift off. She’s just like her father. Alastor also couldn’t stand the thought of not knowing what was happening around him. He clung to her side and took in just about every conversation she had until he was old enough to wonder off and play without her constant supervision. But she isn’t only Alastor’s fawn she’s also her mother’s little bat. Iris makes a comment on the baby’s eyes. How they’re just as blue as Scarlett’s and how Alastor admitted that they turn red now when she cries. Something she has never seen in Heaven, and though she’s seen Scarlett in her full bat form it’s still new. She doesn’t fully understand the depth of what it means for the infant.

Rosie tells her that it just means she’s more vampire than Wendigo. But it’s too early to know if she might also be able to shapeshift like her father. Though she doubts it. The chance of her being both is nearly impossible. Alastor will just have to wait for their next child if he wants that. With a chuckle she makes a remark about how he had fooled her for years into thinking that he didn’t want any of this. Then he brought Niffty home like a stray cat and fell easily into the role of father figure. Now he has a carbon copy of himself with Scarlett’s wings and appetite. It’s everything they both wanted for their red-hared deer. He’s truly happy, and they can’t get enough of it. Rosie sits closest to the door with her wine glass full of red wine in hand. Glancing over her shoulder to see Scarlett walking from the kitchenette, she shushes Iris before the little bat makes it outside to them.

“Well, there she is, and don’t you look darling. Scarlett, sweety did you enjoy your time to yourself?” Rosie asks. Scarlett just nods in response. Not sure what to say without giving away that she almost did the unthinkable with them having a clear view inside the room. Rosie gives her a questionable expression, but motions for her to have a seat while Iris passes her Penelope. “Now, don’t you worry. Alastor did a wonderful job managing the little tot on his own. You can relax anytime you need for as long as you need. As long as you come back to her. I’m sure she missed you.” Rosie adds trying to calm whatever is happening in Scarlett’s mind. As she gives Iris a look referencing what they were discussing earlier.

Rosie has been counseling new mothers for decades. There are no orphanages in Cannibal Town, but not all mothers are cut out for the task. Babies instead get moved around and placed into homes of those that can handle it. Something she’s quite proud of managing. While Iris can only pull from her own experience and the emotional tolls becoming a mother had on her. Both know what to look for and when to step in, if need be. They also know that Alastor is only doing what he thinks is best. Taking the knowledge he has obtained from the books he has read and creating a healthy environment for a fresh soul that can still get sick in Hell. He sterilizes everything to the point that the hotel suite smells more like white vinegar than the incense and cologne it wore before. But there’s more to it than that. His emotions will show when he’s finally ready for their advice, but he didn’t sacrifice his body for nine months. He isn’t the one anyone should be concerned about. Scarlett has been going above and beyond in her parenting. Trying to outdo what she never had. However, he’s kept her from everything she knows. No circus, no trapeze, none of the family that she has found here. He means well but the poor little bat needs more visitors than just them, and that’s now plain to see in her expression. Maybe it is time to get these two out and back into the social areas of the hotel.

Scarlett cradles Penelope and all embarrassment and negative emotions slip away like the tide. Her little girl is happy and smiling. In a clean dress, which matches hers. So that’s why he bought her new clothes. He must have a copy of the catalog somewhere around here and has been buying them more matching dresses for these little surprises. The thought makes her tear up. He’s so ready for all of this. Ready to watch the baby alone just like he was ready to take care of her through her pregnancy and healing. Looking through the windows she can see him plating up their meals and getting her a glass of sweet tea from the fridge. His tail is flicking under his coat. A soft gentle sway indicates his cheerful mood. It makes her want to giggle at the thought of him never wanting others to notice it. While it’s hard not to, when it swings to whatever tune he’s whistling to himself.

Penelope draws her attention back down when she starts to cry and roots against her chest. “Oh, she’s hungry. I’ll have to go back inside, it’s too hot out here for the wrap. She hates it anyway.” Scarlett says as she goes to stand.

“Well of course she hates it. How would you feel if someone made you eat under a blanket?” Iris asks, with a playful tone. “But you don’t have to go inside it’s just us sweetheart. There’s no shame in feeding your baby. However, you choose to do it. If you don’t want to sit inside alone no one can make you.” She watches Scarlett’s eyes as she contemplates her options and tries to settle the hungry little fawn-pup. Looking back and forth between Iris, Rosie, and Alastor who is still standing in the kitchenette. As if wanting someone to tell her what the right answer is.

“Are you sure?” Scarlett asks, franticly trying to stop the baby’s cries. “I mean, I don’t know what Alastor would prefer. I’ve stayed covered anytime anyone can see, but now that she’s more alert she won’t eat under that thing. All she does is scream. I want to stay out here but I’d be exposed.”

Bouncing Penelope in her arms she feels like the walls are closing in. She wants to feed her out here in the warm air. Away from the suite, that has seemed way too clean and too stale for far too long. Alastor is so private with things like this. No not private. Strict. He doesn’t even like to have his own shirt off when they walk into the room and he has nothing worth hiding. To feed the baby her entire breast will be visible, she’s not facing the street but she’s still outside. No one but Alastor and the doctors that have examined her in Hell have ever seen her chest before. She understands that Rosie and Iris won’t be looking at her really, but they’ll still see. Is it wrong? It didn’t feel wrong when she dreamed of being able to feed her without hiding. Nor does she think it’s wrong for anyone else to do it. But no one else is married to The Radio Demon. No one else has heard him threaten to the carve eyes out of the skulls of men for simply looking them for too long. No one else has heard the screams from the next room of men that made comments he didn’t like about them.

Seeing her panic and watching the wheels turn in her mind as the baby continues to scream and claw at her mother, Iris grabs the little bat by the wrist. “Scarlett you listen to me. This isn’t his decision. No matter what, whatever you feel comfortable with is what you should do. No one can force you to cover up just like no one force you to feel exposed if you don’t want to be. If he has anything to say about it he will just have to take that up with me. You’re doing a wonderful job of taking care of her. We trust whatever you think is best. Don’t we Rose?” She looks over to Rosie for support.

“Rizzy’s right sweetie.” Rosie adds. Standing to adjust Scarlett’s chair to make sure she’s fully out of view from anyone out in the courtyard.  “I know Alastor and how he thinks. I can promise you his main concern is someone mistreating you or turning it into something sexual. Not that you shouldn’t feed her while at the table. No one will be looking at you like that here. Besides, your meal will be cold by the time she finishes. Wouldn’t you rather us all eat together as a family? He’s fine. But if not I will hand you may fan, and you can smack him with it.” She places the fan on the table in front of her just in case, and shuffles Iris over to block the bat from the side.

“No one is hitting him with anything.” Iris says, snatching the fan and pointing it at her partner. “This isn’t the answer to everything.”

“Oh, relax. You have your way of dealing with him, I have mine. He’s a grown man he can handle a silk fan.” Rosie laughs in response. Thinking of all the times she’s delt with Alastor in softer ways. Being the mother he needed when his was too far away for him to reach. Iris will only blame herself for how he turned out and she doesn’t need to know about his darkest days. When he was still grieving both her and his little bat while refusing to tell anyone of Scarlett’s existence. Rosie had made the comment more than once that he was going to get himself killed a second time going after overlords without gaining control of his own power. But now that she thinks back to it, that was probably his plan.

While they are distracted by bickering over the correct way to train a murder deer Scarlett finally feels confident enough to try and feed her child out in the open. Slipping one side of her dress open and unclasping her nursing bra. Quieting Penelope the moment she can latch. It hurts at first, as it has been for the past week. The bigger she’s getting the more force she’s able to apply. But the moment she starts purring it’s like tranquilizer of serenity. Scarlett finally relaxes and purrs along with her baby. Suddenly it doesn’t matter what Alastor thinks or whether or not he approves. She is doing what her pup needs and getting to enjoy some new scenery in the process. No longer cooped up and hidden from the world she’s missed.

Hell, outside the suite, smells like brimstone and iron. But it’s nostalgic in a sad clown sort of way. She hadn’t yet stepped foot on this balcony since the day they brought Penelope home, but she used to sit out here every day. Sitting on the hill on the edge of this district it’s easy to see the entirety of Pentagram City. Part of her wants to turn around and watch the world below them. She can also faintly hear the circus from here. Hidden under car horns and screams. She wants to take Penelope to see it as soon as she’s big enough. She wants to return to work. Or at least she thought she did. Until she got a moment to herself and came back to this. Their little Starlight. Hers and the man she spent 92 years dreaming of and wanting to escape to. She was just tired. Overworked and needing a break but refusing to take one. Afraid that if she did she would be the talk of the hotel, for how horrible a mother she is. But Iris isn’t acting like she hates her. She’s kind and gentle as always. Making Scarlett feel ashamed of the thoughts she had about her. Rosie, and her strong personality, is giving Scarlett the push she always needs. Not giving her time to overthink, before acting and helping her move forward in whatever they are doing at the moment. Both seem to be on her side and not against her like she feared.

But her body reacts the moment the door clicks open. Tinsing up and making Penelope let go and fight to latch again as a response. Whining against her chest. Alastor walks out onto the balcony, tray in hand. With Niffty close behind. “Now, now, no reason to stop talking just because we’ve brought our feast. It makes it seem like you are keeping secrets. What do you say Niffty? They look awful guilty to me.” He laughs as he sits everything down and starts passing out bowls. The little cyclops looks at Scarlett curiously and climbs into the chair next to her for a better look. Waiting for either Alastor to react or someone to say something about her feeding the fawn-pup without a cover up.

Niffty looks back and forth between Scarlett and Alastor as he sets the table around them and sits a large plate of beignets in the middle. She’s confused. Breastfeeding was seen as something embarrassing that should be hidden when she was alive. It wasn’t done in the open much less at the dinner table. She vaguely remembers talking to other young brides after she was fist married, about the newer trend of choosing to use formula to feed their babies. Where before it was mostly used in place of, for mothers that couldn’t produce their own milk. This allowed for woman to focus more on other things like working outside the home and hobbies. Woman’s rights were on the rise and many young brides wanted to be more than just homemakers. But no one could bear the thought of being seen while breastfeeding so brazenly. Even their husbands agreed with not wanting to have to see it. She doesn’t remember that those men were also not so kind to their wives. Alastor is so firm in his opinions on nudity, manners, and behaving properly, but he isn’t even acknowledging this. It's as if he hasn’t even noticed that they can see everything.

“Mama are you allowed to that out here?” she asks. While leaning over the edge of the chair’s armrest.

Alastor looks over to Niffty with a challenging expression. As if daring her to ask it again. He then looks at Scarlett, who’s working on covering herself and trying to settle Penelope while refusing to move her to the other side like she needs. She looks horrified and ready to bolt back inside, suddenly uncomfortable with her decision. “And why shouldn’t she be? This is the way the baby needs to eat. There are no men at this table, and she’s perfectly covered otherwise. Now if she just decided to sit here topless I’d question it, but there’s nothing inappropriate about this.” He responds in a firmer tone. Pointing for her to take her seat next to Rosie. Across the table and away from her mother bat as a punishment.

He looks at Rosie with a familiar plead in his eyes. The one he uses to silently ask for her help when Niffty needs a woman’s guidance. At the same time, he adds a protective barrier around the balcony. When he sees several hotel guests settle outside on the courtyard below. Just in case one happens to look up and gets too curious at what they might be able to see. He has no problem with his Flying Belle’s decision, but he will still make sure she’s protected from unwelcome eyes.

Turning to Scarlett he does damage control, already feeling her heartbeat rise in his own chest from their soul bond. “Are you comfortable, darling?” He asks, as he leans over and places a kiss to the top of her head. One hand squeezes her shoulder, the other pets his little Starlight’s head. “Don’t mind it, you’ve done nothing wrong. I wouldn’t buy you dresses made for this if I expected you to run off to a private room every time she needs to eat. Just don’t think of trying this uncovered in the lobby or the bar, where the general public frequents. That’s all I ask. I’ll have too many men to kill to tend to your needs if you do, and Husker has finally been doing what he’s told lately. It’d be a shame to lose my best employee.” Picking up her glass he holds it up for her to take a drink while he helps her loosen the other side of her nursing bra. Encouraging her to continue, while the others at the table explain to Niffty what she did wrong. “She’s been a little restless today. But certainly nothing I can’t handle. However, she seems perfectly content now that you’re holding her. Isn’t that right Mama?”

Iris smiles at her son as she agrees, commenting on how happy the baby seems since Scarlett joined them. Quickly picking up on what he’s trying to do. Penelope has been fine, but he wants Scarlett to feel needed after being away from her for a few hours. To make her feel as if Penelope missed her. Of course, the baby missed her mother. But the evidence isn’t as pronounced this young as it will be when she’s old enough to talk. However, their attempt works. Scarlett beams in response and purrs a little louder. Rosie looks over to Iris with a look of ‘I told you so’ and the Voodoo Queen rolls her eyes. But she smiles softly at her and squeezes her hand.

The leader of Cannibal Town, and self-proclaimed expert in all things Alastor, was right. He is taking this all better than everyone thought. Everyone except Rosie. She seemed to know all along how much he cares for the little bat and their child. Wanting to be their protector and sole source of comfort. What she fails to realize is that it was Iris’s words during his teen years that built this. Teaching him about courtships and how to be respectful and considerate of the woman he might one day marry. She assumed he had forgotten most of it by now. But just like everything else, she is learning that he has exceeded expectation and has turned her lessons into the guidebook for everything he does.

Iris watches with pride as he helps Scarlett eat while Penelope takes her time. She now sees the man he used to be before Hell. How kind and gentle he was with the little acrobat when they first began courting. She continues to hold Rosie’s hand under the table as she glows with pride she hasn’t felt in a while. This is the man Rosie was telling her was still there. But he has lost the beaten down aura he still held up until her death. This is a man that has found his truth, no matter how sadistic that truth is. He commands authority and has the power to keep his family safe here. Without forgetting what he felt in life. This is love and she couldn’t be happier than to see him experience it.

He holds the bowl up where his Belle can reach, with one of his shadowy black tendrils. Knowing how the feisty little bat will respond if he tries to feed her. She hated every second of losing her independence after giving birth. She’d try to tear him to shreds if he took anymore of that away. She’d lose, but it isn’t worth the fight to begin with. Still, he keeps an eye on her just to be sure she’s managing it on her own, while eating his own meal and joining in on the conversation. Ready to stop and help her if she needs him.

Niffty stays silent except for when she finally asks for a beignet. Understanding that she’s one more mistake away from a real punishment from Alastor. Who’s playing nice, pretending he isn’t an expert in psychological torture while his mother is watching. Rosie’s eyes say it all in how she looks at him when he sweetly hands her two. She pets the cyclops’ head and comments on her good behavior with a hint of venom in her tone. It’s not the young girl’s fault if she’s never been exposed to this and doesn’t know what is or isn’t appropriate. Especially when Alastor is the one making the rules. Iris backs her up in praising Niffty, while also making sure Scarlett knows that she was more than likely just concerned at seeing something new.

Scarlett takes a deep breath and sighs. A happy sigh, knowing that this is her family. Her little fawn-pup and the girl that Alastor adopted long ago. Niffty’s not a child but he treats her like one, and he probably always will. She has her Alastor, the husband she always wanted him to be, and he loves her more than she ever thought was possible. But like a dream turned reality, they also have Alastor’s mother. Rosie has never looked happier. Scarlett’s little Penelope will have not one grandmother, but two. Who don’t hate her or think that she’s a horrible mother. Her father isn’t here, but she knows who he is now. She has his letter. Iris can take a letter to him when she returns to Heaven for her meeting with Sarah. He may even write back. It’s not allowed but she gets the feeling Iris doesn’t care. She’s a lot like Alastor in some ways, or he’s a lot like her. Either way she’s just happy to see him get to have her close again. She is finally part of a real family. It’s not in the most ideal of places and it took over a lifetime to get here. But she has it and that’s all that matters.

However, under the surface she is worried that this is all too good to be true. That something might happen if she isn’t careful and she’ll lose everything. It sits in the back of her mind reminding her to approach everything with caution. Yet she doesn’t show it. Smiling and being present in the moment, avoiding the feeling of dread crawling up her back. The fear of what’s waiting around each corner. Though she sees how Rosie is watching her. Scrutinizing every muscle movement as if she is something needing to be studied.

Chapter Text

Nightfall in Hell has a life all its own. Clubs, bars, cassinos it has it all. The entertainment district comes alive at night, despite the lack of a certain overlord. That’s the thing about Hell. Once one sleazeball is gone there’s no shortage of others ready to take their place. The streets glow with neon lights. Billboards advertise products and places. Profiting off the deadly sins in every demon’s soul. Sin city takes on a new name in the land of the damned. While Princess Morningstar promises redemption, a large part of Hells population just wants to continue taking advantage of what they have down here.

Cherri has been to about six different clubs tonight. Just trying to find satisfaction or the next big thrill. Tired of therapy and talking about feelings with the princess. Drag one demon into a bathroom here. Snort a line off a dancer’s abs there. The climb up from rock bottom never felt so good. But she’ll crash before dawn. Angel will find her at their normal meeting place, covered in bleeding mascara, spilled liquor, and grenadine.

It’s too early for the Hotel to quiet down just yet. Not with a steady flow of guests in and out. The bar is still in full swing while Husk waits for Angel to finish work. Still a couple of hours away from last call. He’s showing off with a few new tricks, hoping to gain enough tips for a decent diamond before one of them gets redeemed. He still wants his spider to get to Heaven, but while he’s here he might as well give him something to remember him by. At least till the cat can join him that is. Niffty is still wide-awake, crawling up walls and bouncing across picture frames on the hunt. Knowing there has to be some pest or creature she hasn’t found yet, hiding up there. Charlie and Vaggie are snuggled together in one of the rec-rooms. Watching a movie with a few new guests. Working on team building through musicals. While Lucifer reads next to the fireplace in his suite. Enjoying his reprieve from the fuzziness of radio waves while it lasts. Before the metallic taste comes back and gives him a reason to second guess the aesthetic of the building in favor of moving his suite and office elsewhere. Though the dad in him can’t help but stay close by just in case the kids need him for something. Not like Alastor will ask, but if he senses danger he’s only a few feet away.

Down the hall the little family in the Hartfelt suite should all be asleep. But they aren’t. Alastor is lying on his back on the large canopy bed, one leg hanging off the side and his arm draped over his face. He’s been out for hours, and for once he isn’t on guard for every pin drop in the room. A gentle staticky snore can be heard with each breath he takes. Finally feeling relaxed by Belle’s good mood the past two weeks, he lets himself get the rest he’s been needing. Confident that with continued breaks she might just be on the up and up. Beside him, his little fawn-pup is wrapped in a swaddle on the pink blanket away from pillows and the thick, heavy duvet. The pacifier in her mouth covering everything but her eyes. Her father’s snoring is acting as a lullaby. Keeping her calm as she sleeps off her most recent meal.

Rolling onto his side Alastor instinctively wraps his arm around the baby, petting her little ear and placing a kiss to her forehead as he checks that she’s alright. Just as he does every night, he reaches out to pet Scarlett as well. But he can’t find her. Instead, he feels her empty pillow. He pats lower on the bed but it’s cold and also empty. Opening one eye he looks to see if she’s just rolled too far to the edge. “Are you alright, Belle?” he huskily mutters in the darkness. But there’s no answer. She’s not in bed. Sitting up he realizes that he can hear the faint sounds of metal sliding against metal and soft cursing. His ears twitch at the sound while he rubs the sleep from his eyes. That’s when he also notices the smell of burnt toast. Assuming he can’t have a stroke in Hell he looks towards the kitchenette. There’s his feisty little bat.

“Now what is she doing?” he asks to no one, as he lefts the baby to his chest. Causing her to drop the pacifier and start to whimper. “I know, I know. But I’ll be right back. As soon as I keep your mother from burning down the hotel.” Bouncing Penelope, he settles her back to sleep before putting her safely in the bassinette. Motioning for his shadow to keep its eyes on her.

Scarlett is standing at the stove unaware of what’s happening behind her. Flipping what has to be the fifth failed attempt onto a plate of disasters. All burnt, though some look more edible than others. She hisses out a few choice words before trying to scrape the remains off the pan. There’s no oil or butter in site. Just a dry pan, half a loaf of bread, and a pack of sliced cheese Scattered across the counters on either side of the range. Once again she stacks a sandwich together and throws it in the pan. That she has set to high heat. Then suddenly everything disappears right in front of her. “Not again.” She growls under her breath, smacking her hands against the counter. Chartering and squeaking as if her eyes have betrayed her and echolocation will make them come back. But she’s starting to feel convinced she’s losing her mind and has hallucinated the whole thing. Until she touches the hot stove and angerly chirps in pain.

Alastor grabs her in an instant. Guilt sitting in for clearing everything away but not letting her know he was the culprit. Though for his afterlife he can’t understand why she would put her hand on the electric burner. It was still red for crying out loud. He pulls her over to the sink and forces her hand under the cool water. Hoping it’s cold enough to easy the burn. “Shhh, you’re alright. I’m sorry, I should have said something.” He says, with his lips pressed between her large ears. “But, Flying Belle, if you wanted to wake me you could have just touched my arm or said my name. You didn’t need to create smoke signals.” A laugh track plays from his microphone hanging on the rack beside the bed.

Scarlett’s ears drop as the water eases the pain she feels. She felt the static and should have sensed he was behind her, but her nerves have been all over the place lately. He could have been on Mars, and she’d still think she felt him in the room. But he’s right here. He’s swaying her and humming against her skull while water runs over her hand. Being so tender and gentle. Or is he falling asleep? “Hey, wake up. Or at least let me go before you bring us both crashing to the floor. Also, I wasn’t sending you smoke signals, I’m trying to learn to cook.”

She tries to wiggle away but he has her trapped. His face pressed between her ears. Both arms wrapped around her. She’s pinned between him and the island separating the kitchenette and the rest of the suite. Like she’s caught in a trap. Her heart races and she considers biting her way free. Fangs at the ready she calculates which arm she thinks will bleed more. What artery she needs to hit to satisfy. Anything to keep from being held here for too long. Anything for a taste of blood.

“Hmm.” Alastor hums against her. Before he realizes what she just said. Pulling back, he releases her while he tries to make sense of it all. How exactly was she trying to teach herself to cook when she doesn’t even know the basic principles? She was just throwing things into a burning skillet. As if she was throwing a fish back into a stream. He’s not even one hundred percent sure that the little sandwiches where staying together when they landed. But he didn’t ask for a wife who can cook. He would have sent her packing the night of their first date, if he wanted that. It’s a wonder she never starved to death before he came around. No, he just wanted Belle and all the quirks he had missed. He does the cooking, and she keeps him entertained. It’s a fair trade off in his book. “Belle, darling, I don’t need you to cook.” He laughs. “What were you even trying to make anyway?”

“Grilled cheese?” She says like a question as if unsure of herself. She’s eaten grilled cheese sandwiches before. The circus had them a lot. She knows for sure that they are just made of bread and cheese. So why is she now not sure if that’s correct? Like there’s some mystery ingredient that she missed. Of course, he would know it if there was. He makes all off this look easy. Everything he touches becomes appetizing. Even when he fed her human meat all she could do was ask for seconds. Mostly because she had been eating it for who knows how long already and because it was the only thing they had. People were starving every day. The carnival wasn’t paying any more and she couldn’t exactly fend for herself.

Puzzled he snaps his fingers to bring back the items he sent away. Where did she get cheese? He inspects the package of brightly colored yellow squares. All wrapped in plastic. The package reads cheese product. This isn’t cheese. It’s a health code violation at best. “Did you go downstairs by yourself? I told you I wanted you to wait. Belle, you have to pace yourself.”

“Of course not, I wouldn’t leave her alone to get cheese. I’m not a bad mother. I was thinking about making grilled cheese sandwiches and that was what was in the fridge.” Her eyes turn red as she glares at him. She isn’t as fragile as he believes. She could do cartwheels down those stairs if she wanted to. They’re staying cooped up in this stagnant suite because the baby can’t be around others not her. But she won’t leave her. Ever. Penelope is safe with her she knows what she’s doing now. She isn’t crying anymore, and he can stop bringing up that depression nonsense the book mentioned. She isn’t depressed. In fact, she’s never felt better.

“It most certainly was not in that fridge. It doesn’t even belong on this floor.” he thinks to himself before sending it away in a puff of smoke. Though if she was thinking of that monstrosity and it appeared he can almost guarantee it got there via magic. Her magic. How delightful. She’s wishing things into existence now. This could be fun. But first he has to make sure this little catastrophe never happens again. So that she doesn’t hurt herself or worse hurt Penelope. “No one is accusing you of poor parenting. You’re a wonderful mother, and she wasn’t alone, I was right here. So put the fangs away and do whatever it is that you do to turn those beautiful eyes of yours blue. But you need to be careful. I don’t know what Charlie has allowed to seek redemption. Therefore, I want you to stay in this room until I’ve done the proper checks. You also shouldn’t be cooking without someone to show you how. If you wanted a grilled cheese sandwich, though I don’t understand why, I would have gladly made one for you. With actual cheese not whatever that was.” He taps her on the nose before letting the backs of his claws caress her cheek. She looks as if she’s a million miles away. The lights are on; there’s just nobody home.

Scarlett zones out. He was here. He was right beside the baby the whole time. She knows that. She would never have left Penelope in bed by herself. But when he questioned her she felt alone. As if she’s doing all of this alone. When he hasn’t left her side. She isn’t hungry and doesn’t want the sandwich she wanted to practice. So that when the little fawn-pup is big enough she can make them for her. What else will her baby eat if she’s hungry and Scarlett has to come up with something? “I don’t want it, I just need to know how to make it. For when she can eat actual food. How can I feed her if I don’t know how to cook.” She blurts out at him.

Alastor’s ears tuck in aggravation. “Sweet girl. It’s late, how long have you been up?” He asks, pinching the bridge of his nose. Penelope is eight weeks old. She won’t be eating solids in the morning, and he sure as Hell isn’t letting Scarlett feed her something labeled cheese product. Especially when he can cook them anything their heart’s desire. “Let’s go back to sleep, and we can cook all the ridiculous things you want tomorrow. I’ll stay up with her next round, but you need to get some sleep.” He places his hand on the back of her elbow to guide her across the room. Ready to tuck his defiant little bat back into bed and put the little fawn-pup between them. 

Scarlett spins away from him. Knowing if he can’t touch her he can’t make her lay down. It feels like all she’s done is lay down for weeks. She can’t stand it anymore. She’s tired of being tired. Tired of not having any exercise. Tired of this room. But most importantly she’s tired of him saying no to her like he can’t even fathom the thought of intimacy with her and treating her like she’s made of glass. “No! Alastor I’m not tired.” She protests, flapping her wings as they emerge and flying up towards the ceiling. “I have all this extra energy that I don’t know what to do with. If you force me to lay down now I’ll explode. Little bits of bat all over the walls. Is that what you want.” She exaggerates the motions of her hands. Mimicking an explosion.

Grabbing her leg with one of his shadow appendages he brings her back down to the ground. As gently as he can manage while she’s twisting and contorting like she has no bones. “You won’t explode my little drama queen. Though what a fun thing to watch. However, if it’s really that bad I guess we can stay up for a little while longer. As long as you promise not to try cooking without me.”  He bends at the waist looking down at her sitting on the floor. Patting her on the head he smiles wide and plots how he can get her to sleep at least a little tonight.

Quickly thinking she pulls him down into a kiss. Wrapping her arms around him so he can’t get free. It’s slow at first while he fights to get onto his knees. One gentle peck turns to two then three. Each one, more tender and longer than the one before. He cups her cheek and tilts her chin. Bringing her into a better angle. Giving him more access to her. She opens her mouth to him. Letting her tongue brush his bottom lip. Before they both progress at the same time. Tongues sliding across tongues. Fangs try not to rip each other open. Till one of her longer vampire bat fangs catch his lip, and her eyes go red again behind strawberry-colored lids. His blood is her favorite. Electrically charged, fizzing with static and power. So much power. If he turns her down again tonight she’ll kill him. Well maybe not. But she will demand answers.

The kiss is intense. Making his motor run and reminding him why it’s always been different with Scarlett. She’s his drug. His answer to a lifetime of questions. But he’s too rough. He loses it. All control out the window. So easily bored he has to make it interesting. They can’t just have normal sex. He’d never give in if it was ordinary. What’s the point? He sees no appeal in the same old mondain motions with no excitement. If he can’t push her to her breaking point and watch her fall apart in the most beautiful way he doesn’t want it. It’s never that with this girl. She gave her soul to him in the heat of it because he had her so far gone. Just the way he likes her.

But when the fog clears he knows he should feel ashamed. Though he never lets that stop him. She’s the reason he can’t open the door to the suite without a touch of blush dusting his cheeks. The reason he has to clear his throat, every time someone taps the knocker. But he doesn’t regret it. They have their little fawn-pup because of his foolishness. He’ll end up giving her another tonight if she doesn’t slow down. He can’t do that. But maybe it won’t result in that this soon. Is she ready for this again? He just got his girl back from the hormones post birth. He can’t build her up just to tear her back down. He will one day, just not until he knows she can handle it. But she’s bored, full of spice and energy. He can go slow. Be careful. Gentle, like he was the first time. He opens his eyes looking down at her. She started this tonight. She’s been trying to start it for weeks. He isn’t forcing her for his own greed. This isn’t greed, gluttony, or even lust. It’s love that he can show by giving her what she needs.

As if on cue the moment she nudges forward to crawl over his wife Penelope begins to cry. Not a soft whimper that she will put herself back to sleep with. A loud cry, with combined bleats and chirps. Sounds unique to her, that no creature has ever made. To her parents it has been music. The healthy cry of a Hellborn bat/deer. But right now, it’s unwelcome. Both freeze hoping she’ll go back to sleep. But they know it’s all in vain. With a quick kiss to her forehead Alastor stands to get the baby. “I’ll take care of her. You just relax.”

With a snap he summons a warm glass bottle. Holding it with a black tendril as he makes sure Penelope is clean and comfortable. Scarlett watches from the floor, frustrated and confused. While he seems completely unaffected. Her chest hurts from being so close and having it ripped away. But also, because she feels the need to nurse with Penelope crying like that. Shouldn’t she be feeding her? Why is he doing it when she’s right here? She can feed her baby. There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s no longer overwhelmed or exhausted. Instead, she’s full of joy. Deep down she hopes the sadness she was feeling before hasn’t changed his feelings toward her. That she didn’t ruin anything with brokenness.

She tries to stop him, by saying he doesn’t have to. But he simply summons the breast pump for her. Telling her to pump so she doesn’t get too uncomfortable. Sitting up into her chair by the fireplace with the breast pump in place she feels conflicted. Every part of her loves watching him care for their child but at the same time it seems odd when she’s wide awake and capable. How many breaks does he want to give her? Is she just supposed to sit here and do nothing? The pump is hands free and cordless. There’s no reason to. Besides, even when she feeds her he bonds with them both. “Do you need anything? I can help.” She asks. Ready to get him a cup of coffee or a glass of water.

“Little Flying Belle, don’t you even think of waiting on me. She’s my child just as much as she is yours. I can feed her while you just relax. Would you like something to read, or are you just that full of energy that sitting there with your feet up is painful?” He looks over to her while she fidgets and twists in her chair. “Your mother is just lost when anyone else tries care for you.” He teases the baby in his arms. “But she needs to realize we’re already pros at this, aren’t we?”

“How am I supposed to know you don’t need anything. You always bring me snacks or something to drink, and what do mean you’re a pro at this? I’ve been the one feeding her.” She pouts. Getting up and walking heel toe around the sitting area. She balances on her toes as he turns to face the bassinette.

Silently sneaking up behind him she reaches out to flick his tail playfully. But she doesn’t quite reach him. “Don’t you dare. Belle, darling, you do understand that I am feeding her when I let you sleep. She isn’t getting this plump by skipping any meals.” He turns to sit on the edge of her side of the bed. He loves this side of her. So playful and bubbly. Always considerate and kind. His Flying Belle. She’s all smiles and he can sense a prank on the way. He wonders what she might conjure up this time. Though they get dangerous when she’s like this. Like him she craves entertainment. But she also craves adrenaline. No not craves. She’s addicted. He snaps his fingers with his free hand still holding the bottle with a tentacle. Suddenly a balancing beam manifests low to the floor.

Scarlett rolls her eyes, hopping up onto the wooden beam. “She’s not plump. She’s perfect.”

“Of course she’s perfect, but that doesn’t make her any less plump.” He says, rubbing the baby’s belly.

Once they get her back to sleep and Scarlett cleans and stores the pump, Alastor wraps his arms around her. He whispers words meant only for her. Things he can’t bear to say loud enough for others’ ears. Words of love, things he swore he’d tell her every chance he got if he ever got her back. While also reminding her that he will rip any demon to shreds if they even look at her. She’s his and no one else’s. The little bat purrs in his embrace and tilts her head to kiss him on the cheek. Hell seems brighter. The shadows she was under have left. It’s been a while. The clock on the mantle says 3:30. He will try to get her to sleep soon. Forcing her in bed where she will lay for hours staring at the canopy. Unless she can convince him to let her have more exercise.

Chapter Text

Alastor watches Scarlett from the kitchenette, as she balances on the wooden balancing beam. Still lying across the floor. She’s so much like her old self right now, yet there’s still something different. She’s almost too hyper. Especially considering he’s only been letting her sleep through one feeding a night, so it doesn’t reduce her milk supply. The little fawn-pup is still waking up three to four times each night and even when he tells her to go back to sleep he knows it still wakes her up. Though he’s seen this before. Years before Hell. It comes at the end of her lows. She’ll be on cloud nine for a while then she’ll even out again. This side of her is playful and a little unsophisticated, but he prefers it to the lows that make her cut. Though if it is like before, they are in for a few long nights. It shouldn’t be a problem for him, but he worries how it might affect her.

He shakes his head as he turns to put the percolator on the stove. Debating on letting her have the trapeze back if she can prove she’s feeling ready for it. Though he thinks she’d suffocate from her own chest if she tries to hang upside down now. Poor little thing. At least she can’t fit into any of her leotards or the vest to bind her wings otherwise she might want to go back to that ridiculous circus. He’s not ready, and he hopes he can convince her to never go back. She’ll need a place to exercise and somewhere to get her adrenaline rush, but he’d like that to be away from places where she might get hurt. As well as other overlords, after what happened with Vox.

Scarlett turns to look in his direction. His frame blocks out the only light on in room. a dark shadow trimmed in a yellow glow from the bulb burning over the range. Even with small antlers he looks menacing, leaning over the stove. She can see why in the dark, he would be something terrifying. But not to her. Though she should feel ashamed of what she’s thinking right now. In her eyes he isn’t at all terrifying at all, but he is so fucking attractive. She softly giggles to herself at the thought of his hands on her. His claws and teeth in her delicate flesh. Of him holding her down as he bites into her neck and shoulder. Her body, writhing underneath. Looking down she tightens his sleep shirt, that she’s wearing, around her waist. It’s not what it was but with her chest heavier she thinks it could be attractive enough to tempt him. But Alastor isn’t like other men. He isn’t after her looks or physical body at all. They’ve always had a very different love language. One she hasn’t quite felt up to, until now.

He taps his claws against the counter as he waits for his coffee to percolate. Remembering his mother constantly warning him that a watched pot never boils. He still does it and it always leaves him irritated. When he knows, if he’d just go sit down the time won’t feel as long. But he was so unfairly woken up by her attempts at culinary disgrace. If he sits in that chair without a cup of coffee now he might drift off before the damn thing finishes. Then he’d be the one burning down the hotel. Oh, how fun that would be if not for his wife and child needing to be safely protected from the flames. Destroying Lucifer’s creation would be so entertaining. Chuckling to himself as he imagines chaos and carnage happening around him. Until his thoughts are stopped by a soft thump.

Turning he sees Scarlett lying on the floor, his heart drops to his stomach. Coffee forgotten he runs into the room, hitting his knees hard against the carpeted floor next to her. “Belle? Belle, darling wake up. What’s wrong? Belle listen to me.” He demands. Shaking her by the shoulders and clearing the hair out of her face. His ears ring as panic and dread set in his bones. Until she starts laughing uncontrollably.

Pranks, that’s their love language. It’s always been pranks. He plays them on her, she plays them on him, and they both play them on others. He always calls her type of humor sadistic, as if his is any better. Everyone in the hotel is probably tankful that they’ve kept to themselves for weeks. At least they are temporarily free from Alastor’s consistent need to entertain himself. Though she just thinks they’re all no fun. Who wouldn’t want to be part of the prank war? She’s laughing so hard she snorts as she tries to catch her breath and stay quiet enough not to wake Penelope. But she can’t help it. His face is priceless with his mouth agape, smile trying so hard to fall. It would if not for the magical stitching holding it in place.

Alastor’s eye twitches as he realizes he fell for a prank after just thinking he knew one was coming. But the relief he feels contracts all frustration. Feisty little bat. She’s going to pay for this one. He grabs her wrists with one hand and pulls them up over her head. Flipping her onto her stomach. “What a terrible trick.” He whispers in her ear, as the other hand makes swift contact to her backside. He knows she loves it. He’d never do it otherwise. But he also wants it to be a punishment. Watching her fangs dig into her own arm, trying to fight the noise she makes, he tsks. “Now who told you to cover your mouth. I think that deserves another.” He spanks her again and she lets go. Burying her face in the carpet instead. “You listen to me. We can play this little game of pranks all you want, but I strictly forbid you from making me think you or our child have been hurt in any way. Do you understand me?” When she answers with a nod he licks the blood from her arm. How dare she try and harm herself like that? Even if she was just trying not to make any noise. Unacceptable. Though her blood is his favorite treat and it’s been so long since he’s had a taste.

With a quick kiss to her cheek, he lets go and walks away. While she lays face down with the sleep shirt pushed up to her waist. That didn’t go the way she thought, though she isn’t exactly mad about it. But where the Hell did he just go and where are her tap pants? “That sneaky bastard.” She mumbles into the carpet. He’s been denying her for weeks now he’s practically striped her and had the nerve to walk away. Her thighs squeeze together as she tries to calm herself, but her good mood has speared the need for him to grow.

By the time she stands, she turns to find him in his favorite chair. With a cup of coffee, spinning her tap pant around his claw. “Very funny, now give them back.” She demands, holding out her hand.

“I’m terribly sorry my dear, but I don’t have the slightest clue what you mean.” He says, before taking a sip. Simultaneously sending her underwear away in a burst of green flames. Serves her right for the mean little stunt she just pulled. He smirks, completely unaware of how his own subconscious has taken the reins and is pushing for what he keeps telling himself to avoid. Lust’s voice nonexistent, working with actions this time.

“Is that so, Mon trésor? You don’t know what I might be missing?” She hikes up the shirt she’s wearing and crawls into his lap. With her knees on either side of his thighs. Watching as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. She smiles wide, her fangs poking over her bottom lip.

His mind starts short-circuiting. Neurons misfire as he realizes what he’s done. His sweet Flying Belle, so playful and temping. But she doesn’t understand that she’s playing with fire. He wants to slam her down on the bed and bury himself in her warmth, however, he doesn’t want to go too far. He doesn't want to push. Because his body is lying to him. This isn’t something he can’t exist without. It’s just the sins in each of their souls. Damn Hell and it’s cruel games. “Belle, easy.” His words say no, but he pulls her closer with his hands on her hips. Mostly because he doesn’t want her to fall off of him but also to block his view of how bare she is under that silk shirt.

Tip toeing her fingers up and over his abdomen she lets her claws scratch his skin. Dark beige, though lighter with death, still a beautiful shade. His waist is thin with a trail of light brown fur leading her path. Teasing touches travel up from his navel into the thick fur on his chest, she leans forward to whisper. “Now why would I do a thing like that. Remember you started this. If you wanted me to behave you would have left me dressed.”

“We can’t.” He shakes his head, trying to snap logic back into his own mind. She’s only eight weeks postpartum. Her body has been though unimaginable pain that he is still recovering from simply watching. There’s no way in his mind that she can handle this yet. She’ll cry, just like she did their first time. He doesn’t want to hurt her. Though there is a part of him that wants to break her so beautifully, he won’t let it. It’s the same part that loves the screams of his victims. That feeds on pain. It can’t have his Belle.

“We can.” Scarlett traces her fingertips over a roadmap of old scars across his bare chest and shoulders. Pressing her lips to the ones that look deeper. Scars that could have taken him away for good, while she was stubbornly refusing to come out of hiding. He won’t talk about it, but she saw the news broadcasts. The one under his fur nearly from shoulder to hip, the same as the freckles across her body, had to have come from Adam. She moves the fur to look more closely. It’s rough to the touch but long since healed. If there’s anything about Alastor that she hates it’s that he thinks he’s indestructible. But he isn’t. None of them are to angelic steel.

As if reading her mind, he pulls her hands away and brings them to his lips. His dulled clawed hand, so much larger than hers. Holding them both to his lips, as he looks at her under heavy lids. “I’m not going anywhere. Don’t you dare start thinking of a few measly scars as if they are anything else but the reminders of victorious battles. I’m not leaving you two, ever.” Dropping her hands, he grabs her by the chin. Tilting her gaze to make her look him in eyes. “Belle, look at me. I mean that. These scars are nothing. I’ll remind you that you have your own, and I’m far more worried about those than either of us need to be about these.”

She ignores him. Refusing to acknowledge the faint white marks on her wrists and thighs. He doesn’t need to know about how many nights she has spent covered in her own blood when she couldn’t get her emotions under control. They’re nearly invisible on her pale pink skin but it doesn’t make her forget. Like she sometimes hopes. Pushing his hand away she touches the biggest scar again “Is this one from…?”

“Another unworthy foe that soon met his demise that I can’t recall the name of. Of course. They’ve all been so uneventful.” He spins his wrist while breaking eye contact. Performative and exaggerated movements shake a splash of coffee over the rim of his mug, held by the other hand. The hot liquid lands on the arm of the chair. Next to her naked thigh.

He’s lying and she knows he is. He must think she’s stupid. But maybe he isn’t as obvious to those that aren’t madly in love with him. She knows that the moment his voice feels forced, with a heavy transatlantic flare and pretentious undertones, he is hiding something. Away from an audience New Orleans slips back in. His bravado evens out and comes off more relaxed, though still just as arrogant. But Scarlett has always secretly liked it. It’s just him and she fell in love with his radio personality before she met the man underneath. He’s either ashamed of losing or he got a reality check and realized he was in a losing battle. She’d bet everything she has on it being the first one.

Ignoring the way her eyebrow arches as if questioning his words he sips his coffee. Though he makes no effort to make her get up or even tell her to dress. His left hand returns to her hip, holding her in place. That’s when it sets in that she argued his point that they can’t do this. She said they can as if unafraid of it. Eight weeks ago, he believed that she would never allow him to touch her again. Five weeks ago, she was still crying anytime she moved. Now she’s practicing balancing and moving about as if it all never happened. Things heal fast in Hell, but he was told not this. That childbirth comes with more than just physical pain. Victoria told him to be patient and give her time to feel ready for intimacy. Alastor doesn’t need sex to feel fulfilled in his marriage. Belle alone is enough. Her smile, her laugh, her spontaneity, the way she thinks, and always finds ways to bring new ideas into things he thought he had exhausted. She’s his light and he never wants to return to darkness. He wants to build her a carnival and return to that moment in time where she was happiest. Pressing his lips to her forehead as she lays against his chest, he sits down his coffee to run dulled claws up and down her spine.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” He whispers next to her ear. “Does it still hurt?” His claws leave her hip and run up her thigh. Pushing the sleep shirt up as he continues up to her waist.

“Not anymore.” She breathes against his neck. Her lips press gently to his throat as he swallows.

Soft open-mouthed kisses lead up to his jaw before he nudges her away to nuzzle against her neck. Breathing her in and surrounding himself in the scent of mangoes and hibiscus. Being transported back to New Orleans. Away from Hell away from pain. Where only they exist. Her arms wrap around his neck and her hands weave through his hair. Scratching the base of his ears. He grunts against her and pulls her tighter. Forcing her cunt against his growing cock. Scarlett whines, loud and higher pitched. A sound he knows never means pain. “Shhh. We have to stay quiet. Belle, I know you want to give me all your beautiful screams but not tonight.” She’ll sing his praises, just silently if he can help it.

Her claws scrape against his scalp, as she adjusts in his lap. Nodding quickly with her forehead pressed to his. She knows she needs to stay quiet. Penelope could wake up at any minute. But she needs him to continue. Her Hellish body needs it. Now that she’s healed she needs the pleasure and release he gives. She wants the way he makes her fly. Nothing compares. She’d even trade the circus for eternity in Alastor’s stars. Her lips find his in a messy clash of teeth and tongues. One hand in her hair keeping her close, he grips the thick burgundy curls as they twist around his fingers. She feels the moment he loses control in the way he tastes the inside of her mouth. His other hand spins around her thigh. A dulled clawed thumb pushing down over her cunt. Teasing and circling her clit, as she writhes against him.

Applying more pressure, he times the rocks of her hips. Ears flat against his skull he listens to each breath and the moans she’s trying to hide. The little bat is close to the edge, and he is all too happy to keep pushing. His cock strains against his silk pants, leaving a wet stain from the tip. Exaggerated by the dripping of her cunt hovering above. In a moment of bravery, ready to see what she can take, he twists his hand to push his fingers towards her opening. Gently one finger slips into her. Pumping with the rhythm of his thumb. Huffing out his own heavy breath he asks if he’s causing any pain. Thanking every Voodoo spirit that he can name, as she shakes her answer against his shoulder. She’s right there. Balancing on the edge but refusing to fall. He starts coaching. Whispering “That’s it, just let it happen. I’ve got you darling.” While adding a second finger.

Scarlett gasps, feeling so full, as his fingers stretch her open. It’s been so long, and though her body has healed it feels a lot like the first time. Not pain, but not as easy as it was after she’d got used to it. Though it could be the way she’s tensing up. He keeps telling her to relax and she’s trying. But it all feels so new. Again. Then suddenly he rolls his fingers forward and the damn breaks. She loses her footing and falls under the current. Stars flashing behind her eyes. Her fangs pierce into his shoulder, sending iron rich blood into her mouth keeping her from screaming out his name. Her claws grip his upper arms. Not piercing, as they’ve been cut and rounded since the day the baby was born. Just holding him in place until her soul can return to her body. Coming back down to the reality that is post orgasmic bliss.

He rubs his nose over her cheek and jaw. Chuckling as his tail whips against the chair. Letting her pant and collapse into him, he pulls his fingers free. Inspecting them for blood before popping them both into his mouth. He’ll hold her down and taste her next time but now he needs his own bliss before he explodes. But damn does she taste divine. “When you’re ready Belle I believe it’s time we learn how to use these.” He holds out a pack of condoms that he summoned from the items in the convenience store in the hotel lobby.

Scarlett sits back on his lap and looks at the small black box, ashamed to admit that she’s never really seen them. Not in life or in death. Though she knows what they are for. In Pride the risk of pregnancy isn’t really an issue for most. But Angel told her many souls still use them as a barrier from mess or just as a boundary for personal preference. Apparently they’re common in the brothels and kink clubs. She never thought she’d need them with Alastor being her only partner, but now they know how easy it is for them to conceive. Still the porn star didn’t skip out on any detail when answering every question she might have had about sex. Filling in every blank left behind in her lack of upbringing and education. The nuns never even told her about her menstrual cycle and the acrobats and people in the freakshow assumed she knew all she needed to.

Taking one of the little purple packages out of the box to inspect it, she flips it over in her hands and squeezes the rolled edge. “Angel said the correct way was for me to put it on you with my mouth. But he said they don’t taste very good.” With one hand she slips the front of his pants down to free him and teasingly wraps her fingers around him. Pumping until he’s hard again.

Alastor digs sharp claws into the arm on his chair with one hand. Ripping the upholstery and causing little bits of fluff to poke free. Trying to maintain control as she pumps her hand up and down his shaft. Her thumb coming up to press into the underside of his tip. When did she get so good at this? With the other hand lets two of his fingers catch under her fangs. “I can think of two reasons why that is a horrible idea. Also please do not discuss our sex life with Angel. If you have questions we can find our answers together.”

She rolls her eyes, knowing this was long before they had a sex life. Letting go of him she opens the little foil package. Scrunching her eyebrows at the greasy feeling of the lubricant. She’s also shocked that the condom itself is a bright red color. Not sure what she was expecting it to look like. She wants to try putting it in her mouth but he’s right. The whole point is for the small piece of latex to not have any holes. She looks back at the bassinet that his shadow is hovering above. As if on babysitting duty. She doesn’t want another one yet. She just wants him to worship her like he used to. She wants to feel him possess her the way he did before her pregnancy was discovered.

Alastor watches her look at the thing as if it’s alien technology. Unsure of what to do with it or how it works. It seems Angel has told her something foolish but didn’t actually teach her anything. Who would have guessed? He chuckles to himself. The spider is as useless as he assumed. Taking the condom from her, he slides it down over his cock. Hissing at how tight it squeezes him. Wondering if these things come in sizes and he picked the wrong one. Leave it to the incompetent Hotel owners to buy something not suitable for the guests they claim to care for. However, with it securely in place his arms wrap around her. He can’t do this here. Not her first time after the baby. Acting quickly, they dissolve into inky black smoke. Reappearing on the bed. Both bare as he hovers above her. She’s so beautiful, and he takes a moment just to admire that. Wondering how he got so lucky. Pale pink dusted with blush and freckles. He would never have been able to keep them safe from this if he had ever gotten to see this view in life. She’s lucky she was so timid and shy back then.

Lying on her back she stares up at him with deep sapphire bule eyes as his eyes rake over her. Her stomach tries to settle from the shadow travel that she hates. But also, from him looking down at what she feels are imperfections. He has bathed her and seen her bare many times since Penelope’s birth but not in a moment of ecstasy. Not when she wants to feel as if she’s nothing but perfection. Pastel pink tarnished with dark pink stretch marks on her stomach and breasts. Wrapping her arms around her stomach she tries to block his view. Before pulling her knees to her chest.

He tuts and shakes his head. Pushing her legs out and to the mattress and pulling her arms up and over her head. Clawed hands gripping tightly to her elbows. “My little Flying Belle. How many times do I need to remind you not to hide from me? I see nothing that needs to be covered.”

Kisses trail from her neck to her clavicle. Before he nuzzles down between her breast, and his tongue licks a trail up the underside of both. Reminding himself that they may be sore, and that he should stay away from her poor, abused nipples. But they feel so heavy, and he wants nothing more than to sink his fangs into the swollen flesh. Though there are so many other places he can bite. His kisses continue down her ribs, counting each one that he can feel. Before he gets to her stomach. It’s softer than it was. Thicker as she hasn’t lost all the baby weight just yet. But that’s hardly what he would consider a bad thing. Just something he makes note of being different. She was too thin before anyway. The softness draws him in, and he takes his time. Switching between open-mothed kisses and licks. Part of him knows that the moment her thighs drape over his shoulders, he’d dive in and spend all night with his face buried in her core.

However, they’re on a time crunch. Racing the clock, and he has another goal in mind. With a snap a taller of Alastor’s minions rolls the bassinet into the nursery. Taking over as a babysitter to give the couple more privacy. An extension of his own soul, he knows it’s the safest option. Though his shadow follows just in case. Hopefully between the two of them he won’t be distracted and can focus solely on his little bat.

Scarlett arches and moans under him. Unaware of the change in the room. The wanton noises she makes come unashamed, as his mouth trails over her body. Her knees raise to frame around him and help anchor her to the bed. Grounding her and keeping her from feeling as if she might float away. He’s driving her mad. Teasing and deliberately avoiding what she needs. Her body squeezes around nothing begging for something to fill her. All the while she feels so empty but can’t get the words out.

He lifts his head to look up at her. Smile wide and antlers wider. He knows how he must look and what that does to her. To others in Hell, The Radio Demon’s darker form brings nothing but dread and fear. But not to his little bat. She loves it. But she isn’t looking at him. Her eyes tightly shut her head trashing back and forth. Moaning and whining like she needs help communicating what she wants. “Now, now. Use your words darling. I know you can. What do you need?” He crawls back up her body. Hovering over her face and waiting for the answer. Shushing her whines and brushing the backs of his knuckles over her cheek.

“More.” She breathes, when she feels him press against her cunt.

Alastor doesn’t have to be told twice. Pushing forward and sheathing himself in her core. She’s so tight, squeezing around him with a grip that has him seeing stars. “Fuck.” He huffs into the pillow beside her. His own desperate whimper escaping before he can bite into her shoulder and neck. Grounding himself as he bottoms out as far as he can go. While her sweet blood bubbles to the surface from the wounds, he licks and presses his lips to them. “Shh. You’re alright.” He soothes when he hears her take a sharp breath. Propping up on his elbow he looks her over. Wiping away the tears he knew would be there. However, he wasn’t expecting her to look so miserable. Her eyebrows scrunched, her hands griping the sheets like it’s her only lifeline. “We don’t have to.” He reminds her. Alastor panics. He knew he was too much for her and they never should have tried this tonight. “It’s alright we’ll stop.”

“No! No, please don’t stop.” She grabs his arm. Keeping him from raising up and withdrawing. “Just give me a minute. Don’t move.” It’s uncomfortable, just like it was the first time. But if he just waits she knows she’ll get used to it. Stopping just prolongs it. Making her more uncomfortable when it will just feel the same next time. All of this is only because of her healing process. Making her wonder if it’s not partly phycological. They’ve gone months in between before and never had a problem. Is it like this for everyone? She wraps her legs around him holding him in place. The soft swift wag of his tail tickling her calves calms her down and lets euphoria fill her bloodstream. Her hands press to the sides of his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks. “I’m alright. I promise.”

After more convincing for him, more soothing for her, and just enough time for her to relax and get used to his size he gently pulls back and slams forward again. Catching her lips when she goes to scream he swallows her sounds. Keeping her quiet. The door to Rosie’s mansion is right over there and he isn’t exactly sure how soundproof it is. This late Lucifer is no doubt down the hall, and their little fawn-pup is just on the other side of her nursery door. The last thing he needs is for a crying baby and the bursting open of two doors to be the end of tonight’s entertainment. Especially considering he couldn’t be bothered to get them under the duvet or close the canopy curtains. They’re both just nude and fully exposed to the large room. Though once she falls into the kiss and returns it, he forgets about all of that. Finding his rhythm and pulling her legs up further on his hips.

Each thrust gains force, as he get more comfortable in what she can handle. In and out, over and over, moving them up the bed. Where his antlers finally damage the new headboard. “Scarlett, Flying Belle, you have to stay quiet.” He grunts roughly into her ear. Pushing her chin up with his thumb he returns to her neck. Kissing, sucking, and biting the tender flesh as he ruts into her with all he has.

“Yes Monsieur.” She whispers. Causing him to lose rhythm, only for a second. She wants to giggle, feeling quite proud of how that phrase affects him. But she can’t find the ability with her eyes crossing every time he drives into her.

Scarlett’s mind is reeling. Her body swept away, with the feeling of flying. It’s everything she missed and everything she’s been wanting. Her claws dig into his back. Long scratches raking shallow red valleys in his skin. Her hips roll with each of his forceful thrusts. Pulling him back every time he withdraws. Both of them making desperate whines with the effort it takes to stay quiet. His weight presses down on her keeping her breast from bouncing, and though it mildly stings, she thinks the bounce would feel worse. Though Scarlett has never been afraid of pain. Part of her enjoys the pressure and wants to pull him closer. Another part wants his claws to sharpen and rip though her flesh. Just to know what it would feel like.

Alastor hisses at the feeling of her claws in his back. The animalistic need to mark each other wins every time. He’ll tease her horribly for then when he showers later. But for right now he can’t do anything but allow it to happen. Digging through the silk sheets with his own claws he curses into her shoulder. With the squeeze of the condom and her tight grip he knows he isn’t going to last much longer. Currently he’s just hoping he gets her there before he does. Never wanting to have to live through that embarrassment. His thrust lose all rhythm coming erratically and with differentiating force. As if he is the embodiment of a radio switching stations.

Her fangs fight to reach his neck. Knowing what he needs from her, and what will get them there. The moment blood touches her tongue her eyes go red. Her orgasm not far behind. Breathing harshly through her nose she tries her best not to scream. While he doubles his efforts, falling into his own release. He holds her tightly. Claws cutting through her shoulder and thigh, as he spills himself into her. A mess of praises, curses, and languages falling from his lips. Mostly French Creole that with his slurring of words she barely understands. With the sudden rush of emotions, pain, and release she nearly blacks out. Coming to as he peppers her with kisses, and words of love.

“That’s my girl. It’s alright I’m here.” He whispers. His right-hand hovering over her right shoulder, healing the wounds he made. With a kiss to her forehead he pulls out, trying to wrap his head around the strange sensation. Grimacing down at the thing still attached to him, he remembers. It’s worse than he thought. But he will have to get used to it. Trying not to gag he snaps to dispose of all traces of latex and seed. How do people prefer this over the other way? At least then the mess was mostly on her and he didn’t have to think about it. His thoughts judge, before even trying to rationalize why others might prefer it the other way. However, he gives up quickly. Others feeling or preferences with sex have never been his concern. The thought of others engaging in the act turns his stomach and he has more important things to think about right now. Summoning a wet washcloth, he cleans them both up and heals her thigh as well. Kissing the wounds and apologizing for the pain he caused; while also blaming her for making it get to that point.

All mere moments before Penelope starts to cry. Her little bleats and chirps fill the room and change the atmosphere in an instant. Looking towards the nursery he chuckles to himself. “What perfect timing you have, my dear.” His tone laced in sardonic venom. “Belle, I think someone wants her mother.” He adds. Before looking down at a sound asleep vampire bat. Rolling his eyes he snaps to dress her and himself. Scowling at how the baby is getting louder, not quieter. As she would if the one put in charge was doing its job. Climbing out of the bed he mumbles once more. “I guess I’m doing two feedings tonight.” Though he isn’t really mad. In fact, there’s nothing more he’d rather have than his healthy child and her astonishing mother.

Chapter Text

Soft jazz plays from the radio on the mantle. Soothing lullabies that Alastor has kept playing every night for the past eight weeks. Scarlett has teased him about putting all of Hell to sleep every night. Saying that he’s Hell’s dad now not just Penelope’s. Believing that the songs broadcast throughout Hell and not just from their personal station. Though he knows he’d never risk letting Hell think they were asleep and defenseless. Not after reading some of the things the local papers had to say of what The Radio Demon having a family might change. Especially for those he used to torment. Crickets and frogs chirp in the bayou, adding to the sounds Scarlett finds so comforting and familiar. The bed smells like hibiscus shampoo, Alastor’s cologne, and clean laundry. She’s wrapped tightly in warmth and safety by strong arms. Still hanging on to the last bits of sleep but not fighting as hard. She softly starts to stir in the dark room. Pressing closer to her husband’s bare chest. She feels rested, warm and content.

Though the room is dark, it has to be daylight by now. However, she knows the man she married, and none of that matters if he is wanting them to sleep. It seems to have worked for Penelope, who she has just realized isn’t in between them. Panic and dread hit her like a tidal wave. Filling her with energy. She bolts upward, trying to claw her way free. Where is her baby? What happened? Did she roll off the bed? Or worse, are they lying on her? Has she done the unthinkable and harmed the little piece of Heaven she was granted by choosing Hell? She can’t remember going to bed. Or even laying down. So, she doesn’t remember where Penelope was to begin with. All she remembers is putting her in her bassinette before her and Alastor… Oh.

“Hush, Belle. Hold still it’s alright, I’m watching her.” Alastor’s voice cuts through her fears. Strong arms hold her in place so she can’t get too far away from him. He’s been awake for hours. Switching back and forth between watching his wife or watching their little starlight sucking her thumb in her sleep. He saw the change in Scarlett’s breathing the moment she started to wake up. But he didn’t let go. Until the baby wants her there’s no need for him to let go. It’s been long enough since he has gotten to hold her like this.

“She’s fine?” The little bat asks. Still twisting in his arms so she see for herself.

He gives in, loosening his grip only because it’s only a matter of time before the fangs come out. Knowing she won’t settle back down until she can put eyes on the little tot. “In the bassinette. She likes it, Belle, don’t worry. She’s perfectly safe.”

Scarlett flips over and crawls on her knees to the edge of the bed. Peering over the bassinette, she finds her little fawn-pup. On her back, sucking her thumb and pulling at the curled hair under her ear. One of her wings are out and spread across the thin mattress. But the other is tucked close to her back, like her mother’s. She looks so peaceful. Nothing bad happened in the night, while he let her sleep. She’s been cared for just the way Alastor keeps reminding her he can. The way he keeps showing her he can. So, why does she always try to beat him to it? Why does she want to be the one doing everything for her baby? The little bat runs her hand over the baby’s stomach. The little thing is getting plump, like he said. But that doesn’t get him off the hook for saying it. She’ll still make a big deal of it and tease him relentlessly. Because that’s more fun than just letting it go. She checks that she’s dry. Checks her little hooves, then her claws and debates if she should stop her from sucking her thumb. Before she was born they talked about preventing it to keep her fangs straight when she gets older. But tonight’s the first time she’s seen her do it. Now it looks so cute she can’t bear to take it away.

“Don’t you dare. She isn’t hurting anything and that’s the calmest she’s been all night.” His words cut through her thoughts. Knowing exactly what she was thinking. His shadow swoops in and rubs its nose to hers playfully. Making her giggle in response. “Stop that.” Alastor commands. Irritated that the separated piece of his soul is trying to get her attention. “You have been given a task and that wasn’t shamelessly flirting with my wife.” Speaking to it as if it were a completely separate being and not an extension of himself.

“She was upset. Why didn’t you wake me? I could have comforted her.” Scarlett pets her daughter’s head and runs her fingers over her ear. She thinks of all of the nights as a child that she cried herself to sleep, with an empty stomach and no parents to love her. Ms. Lablanc was so cold. She didn’t care much for the girls that weren’t strong enough to get by without tears. Told them that attention seeking behavior was the worst sin of all. As if a child is supposed to know the difference between a real problem and just wanting attention. What’s so bad about wanting attention in the first place? Penelope will never know that pain. She won’t allow it.

“Not at all Cher, she was just whimpering a bit. Like she always does before she falls asleep. This time just took a little longer. I think she knew it was no longer night and was just wanting to be up. But you still need real sleep. Come here.” He holds out the blanket. Expecting her to settle close to him again. Deep down he knows she wants to put Penelope between them. But selfishly he wants to hold her instead.

“I’m fine. She’s probably sad that I wasn’t holding her. Did you even hold her when she was crying?” She asks, ready to scold him and cradle her neglected child. As if either of them would really allow her to feel neglect after the childhoods they both endured.

“What kind of question is that. Of course I held her. Now I said come here, Belle.” He doesn’t give her time to pull the baby from her bed or even tell him she wants to. Instead, he grabs her by the waist and pulls her over to him. Wrapping her in the blankets and tucking her close to his chest. She fits so perfectly here. Like she was always meant to be in his arms. But something in him has known that since before he ever touched her. The moment he saw her jump from one trapeze to the next he knew he wanted his arms around her. He’d never felt anything like it. Never wanted to touch anyone in the ways he wanted her. He doesn’t need sleep. His body doesn’t crave it like hers does. But he worries when she fights it. Any small change reminds him of the pain he felt when he realized what she was doing to herself, and what she was hiding. So, he forces himself to sleep now. Forces the long hours of stillness just holding her and making up for lost time.

Scarlett settles close to him. Burying her face in his chest. Breathing in the scent of aged vanilla and leather. Mixed with soap that smells like forest and rain. Her arms wrap around him and pull him tighter. Every dream she ever had of being here and feeling him this close, never compared to the real thing. She never knew safety until he pulled her close the first time. Until he started to care. Not in the orphanage, not even in the carnival. But it all used to feel too good to be true. Now here she is. His wife and the mother of his child. Their souls bound as one through a tie only Lucifer himself can break. Who knew fairytales could happen in Hell.

“I missed this.” She breathes into his chest.

“That’s because this is where you have always belonged my darling.” Alastor kisses her between the ears and holds her tighter. While his shadow keeps on eye on the baby, just in case.

It’s quiet for a while, neither of them wanting to break it. Alastor holding them suspended in a never-ending night. Despite the time of the Hell around them. Scarlett’s body confused. Not knowing rather to keep her awake or make her sleep. Though she knows Penelope will decide for them before too long. But for now, she’s all too happy to just lay here in his arms. Thinking about the past. About why it took this long for them to get here.

It was taboo by society back then. Yet that never mattered to her. It never made since, and she just tried to ignore the rules that were in her mind too stupid to follow. Still, she knows they only looked the other way because of what she didn’t have. A redheaded orphan that became part of the freakshow. Before she knew it wasn’t the spectacular thing she believed it to be. Moving up into the role of acrobat didn’t change who she was. Who she would always be. Nothing but circus trash in the eyes of debutants and the well to dos. Not worth the breath that filled her lungs. She remembers the words of one such man. Asking Alastor if he went shopping for a dame like picking a mutt from the pound. As if he expected her to bark, instead of having the ability to speak. Telling the radio host that no one cared if he was courting her because she doesn’t matter anyway. She felt ashamed. As if her presence was enough to damage everything he worked for. Ruining his reputation and risking his place among the stars.

Despite the atmosphere of the south, he was loved by most in New Orleans. She was not an exception to that. He was easy to love. Well educated, funny, with an infectious personality. Never running out of ways to charm them through the microphone, and always ready to teach her something new. But there were still laws he had to follow, still those that couldn’t see past their own hate to see the man he was. He held back and was careful when they were out. Part of her knew why, but that didn’t stop the doubt in her mind. She would never understand the things he went through. She had her own troubles, but they weren’t equal to his. However, she didn’t understand why these things started to begin with. She knew the world’s history through novels she’d read, but never the why or where it started. Because she refused to. Terrified that if she tried too hard to understand that kind of hate she would become something just as awful. As if it were a disease she could catch. In his home or deep in the bayou he never held back. He became a different man. One she knows was only ever meant for her to see. But that was what made it so dangerous. Because there was always risk of losing that side of him and never feeling that love again.

She thinks for a moment before she speaks. Remembering the Hurricane that hit Louisiana in 1930. The night she killed in self-defense. He became less guarded after she knew who he was. Just as she did when he found out her secret, hidden under her gloves. The moment he pulled her into his lap and put his mouth and hands on her something changed. The way he touched her changed. How he held her and how often he kissed her. His darker side became a comfort when it was combined with the feeling of being wanted. “Mon trésor, would you have held me this way that night. If I would have surrendered myself instead?”

Alastor’s hand that was tracing dualled claws up and down her back stops. He looks down at her confused. What on earth kind of question is that? She wouldn’t have had to give herself to him for this type of reward. Has it been so long since he held her while conscious that she forgot this was what he did every night before the baby? This isn’t only because of what they did a few hours ago. It just wasn’t proper back then to lay in bed with her without taking the proper steps. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel cheap or used. He wanted much more than one night of this, but no idea how to tell her without putting himself on the line. Rejection was too big a risk when she was the only thing keeping him somewhat sane. Now she’s asking as if the only reason he wouldn’t was because she wasn’t ready for them to make love. What has her twisted little mind created of their past. Or were his intentions really that hidden. “My Flying Belle. Let me make one thing exceptionally clear. If it had been socially acceptable I would have brought you home with me the day our lips first met, and held you like this every night for the rest of our lives. Rather you surrendered yourself or not. That never mattered to me. I would have been happy just to hold you. Once we descended into Hell, if I were lucky enough to still have you down here I would have continued. All 92 years that you stole from us. Just as I will every year we have to come. I’m afraid you will become sick of me long before I ever consider letting you go. Does that answer your question, my dear? Furthermore, if you ever imply that this is only a reward given for taking your clothes off I’ll see to it that you are never made to do it again.”

She nods in response. Pressed to his chest. Hearing and feeling the way his heart beats faster. Drama queen. He didn’t have to give a speech, she was only asking. Just wanted him to say he would have. It feels so nice to be in his arms now, to feel the love no one in Hell would ever understand that he is capable of. She assumes most of it is now just a side effect of what her suicide caused. But sometimes knowing he would have held her before makes it feel more him. More genuine. “I don’t deserve all that fuss, I hope you know that. You just like making grand gestures and adding dramatic flair to your words. But I’m not made of gold the way you make it sound. I would have been just as happy with a yes.” She knows what she fell in love with. What is Alastor without his flair? But she doesn’t need it to make her feel special. His arms around her are enough.

“I swear, if you call yourself circus trash again we’re getting up so I can turn you over my knee. I told you last time that if I ever heard you put yourself down in such a way I’d burn that whole section of this district to the ground, just on principal.” He grabs her by the chin and makes her look at him. “Scarlett I’m serious. You have no idea what you are to me and what you have always been. If I have to make a few heads roll to prove it I’m more than happy to do so. You’re diamonds Flying Belle. The nerve calling yourself simple gold, where do you get these ideas of yours?” He kisses her on the nose. Hoping that his words have satisfied whatever it is she was wanting to get out of this, and that she will finally go back to sleep. Until Penelope gives up and demands he let her mother feed her this time. But he should know better by now.

Scarlett flips him onto his back before straddling his waist. The look of shock tells her he didn't think she would be so forward this soon. But she's had a taste of pleasure through all the pain of recovery and it’s like a drug. She’s addicted to it. Not just the release it brings but the way it makes her feel about herself. The little bat can't stand to listen to her own tears anymore. Overcompensating with lust instead. Even if he won’t tell her the truth, at least he’s saying all the right things in truth’s place. Things that make her want to show him just how grateful she is. Maybe if he kisses her in the right places also, she can forget how she’s been acting the past few months. Anything she can do to keep from feeling like a lost cause. With Ms. Lablanc’s words in her head. “Stop that crying, no one wants to listen to a girl cry all day. There are bigger problems in the world then you have with a roof over your head and clothes on your back.” Deep down she feels she has to force it. Pull a full 180 and show him she's fine now. So, he stops catering to her. Like he thinks she’ll cut again if he doesn’t say every word as if it were written in a bad novel.

Her mind is on a warpath, and she has to stop it before it destroys. Setting her back instead of forward, on her road to recovery after pregnancy and childbirth. She wants to change direction. Go back to the bliss of being in his arms and forget that she now thinks he’s embellishing his words. Filling her full of fluff and lies like she can’t handle the truth. She isn’t a child. She doesn’t need to be lied to, to be protected. Though she doesn’t want to be mad either. She just wants him to prove his words and make her believe them.

Alastor's hands slide up her thighs. Lifting her slightly as he props himself up with shadowy black vines. What in all of Hell has gotten into this girl? One minute she’s asking ridiculous questions. The next she’s hiking up her skirt and climbing into his lap. Was she not satisfied enough a few hours ago? “Aren't you sore Belle? Don't force yourself. I don't want to hurt you.” His way of letting her know he isn’t quite sure about round two. Not just for her own comfort level, but because he nearly ripped her to pieces once tonight. He isn’t trying to finish the job.

Ignoring him she pushes him back down. He growls before catching himself and she hates what that sound does to her. “You’re only saying these things because the risks are gone. I’m already your wife and the mother of your child. But don't lie to me Alastor. You never wanted all this back then. We couldn't have it. The laws wouldn't allow it, and you hated children. It's perfectly alright to admit that things have changed. It won't hurt my feelings to know this only exists because we now know what it feels like to be apart.” It will though. It will crush her, and she will never forgive him for it. But now that her mind has convinced her he’s lying, and he didn’t immediately put his mouth on her, she can’t let it go. At least then she won’t feel bad for ripping into his throat with her fangs. Red eyes stare down at him daring him to try and pacify her with a lie again. But all she can do is admire the man she married.

She brushes the hair from his face and smiles down at him. That silly little half smile where her fang pokes out over her lip. When she was alive that tooth was crooked, making her lip curl at it when she laughed. A characteristic that showed her poor status and lack of dental care. She was embarrassed by it, but he always loved it. Because it was something that was so authentically her. Like her freckles that still dust her cheeks and chest. That night during the hurricane all he could think about was finally seeing how far those freckles go down. A shameful thought that plagued his mind more than he'd ever admit. But for every shameful thought there were a million pure ones to match. Thoughts of spending a lifetime with her. Of deep meaningful conversations and meals, they'd share. Of growing old with this woman and never letting her go. His whole world is looking him square in the eye and telling him he never dreamed of this life. As if he never grieved himself sick for her and the children they never got to have.

“Flying Belle.” He brushes his hand over her cheek tenderly. “That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Cher I wanted all of this. I never would have wasted my time courting you if I didn't. I was perfectly happy to be alone, until I found you. You changed everything I once believed about myself. You were worth all the risks. Don't forget that our engagement was only delayed. I had planned it long before I lost you.” He taps her on the nose before continuing. “And on another note, I only hate other people's children. Because they are mostly poorly raised and disrespectful. But not ours. She's perfect and I want all the foolish things that come with being her father.”

Scarlett looks down ashamed. Searching his eyes for the lie. But there's nothing. Red eyes, heavily lidded under red dusted shadow, shine with truth and pure intentions. For once. His smile soft and kind. Then it hits her. It was never him that held them back when they were alone. It was her. She ran into his room and locked the door that night. She stopped him every time kisses got too intense after. She said they'd never love a child that was created between them. All for what? She wanted to be proven wrong. To wear his ring and his last name. Just as she is right now. She looks down at the wedding band that matches his. Behind it sits the replica of his mother’s ring and she remembers how he told her she would have to settle for the copy made here in Hell. How the real thing was out of his reach but right where it always belonged. She knew instantly why for 92 years she felt as if something was missing from that finger. Or why she arrived in a white silk gown she’d never seen. Not many sinners arrive in white. But they almost always show up in what they were buried in.

Deep down back then she wanted to have all of this. But on the surface she never wanted to make a mistake she couldn't undo. No, she was terrified of it. Afraid of being one of the girls whispered about at the carnival. Who had either a back-alley operation, or a child with no name. She was afraid that the group no one wanted to talk about would come for him and hurt him because of her. She couldn't bear the thoughts. She hated the world for its foolishness and hate. She hated how many times she cut while crying at the words she heard others say. About her, or the people that she felt were so kind and simply misunderstood. But mostly she didn't want to end up like her mother. Turning a child away and throwing them in an orphanage to be forgotten. Like yesterday's trash. Because she felt she wasn’t fit to give them what they needed. Sometimes when he isn't looking she thinks she might be worse. Because she still craves the feeling of a blade. Even though she’s pretending it isn’t real. She knows the relief it brings. How the tears stop, and the burn takes everything with it. A child doesn't need that. But she wants to get better. To try and keep her baby safe and free of knowing who her mother once was. She wants to be everything her mother wasn't. But is that enough?

“I don't think I would have let us have this. I didn't want to be like Delphine. I still don't want to end up like that.” She whispers. The playfulness her voice just had, lost in her throat. Hidden under the hatred for a decision she doesn’t fully understand.

“And you never will. The difference is that you love Penelope. I'm so sorry darling. You didn't do anything wrong; she just wasn't capable of caring for anyone but herself. She was nothing but a waste of elegant feathers. But now look where those feathers are, and what happens when someone upsets my girl.” He gestures to the mounted tail feathers hanging on the wall. She knows there are matching ones in a pot in the radio tower’s recording booth, and in Niffty’s feather duster. Trophies are all that’s left of the woman that never wanted his bride. “I’m here now. I always will be. Don't cry.” His thumb reaches up to wipe away tears that never fall. Worried if this isn’t somehow worse. At least when she cries he knows she isn’t holding anything in. Or it could be that she really does understand that she can’t change what was done to her. Sitting up he pulls her tighter to his chest. “Now tell me you didn’t mean it before I have to decide the proper punishment for something this absurd. Tell me that you don’t think I’d lie to you about how much I have always loved you. Flying Belle, when will you believe me? When will we stop repeating this discussion?”

“I don’t want it to all be my fault.” She sighs into his neck. “I want it to all be true. But then I also want it to be a lie. Because that means I didn’t waste everyone’s time with my broken mind. I don’t know what I want.” She feels like her head is underwater. Little bits of clarity pull air into her lungs and fog pushes it back out. She wants to be held and told pretty things, while also being told that the delay in their happiness wasn’t her fault. That he didn’t spend years loving her in silence while she spent years thinking he’d never give her the time of day. She wants to get over this and feel normal again before he gets tired of it and leaves her. But she also wants him to realize something feels wrong. She wants to put Angel and his movies to shame with what she can do with Alastor. Because that will help her forget the emotions she can’t drop. But she also hurts and doesn’t want to walk with a limp all week. It’s exhausting, no she’s exhausting.

Alastor laughs to himself. She got one thing right, at least. “Belle, you never know what you want. However, if you think I don’t find that completely fascinating you’re wrong. It’s always quite entertaining to try and guess. Our eternity will never be boring that’s for sure.” He teases, pressing his lips to her forehead and catching her hand before she slaps him. There’s the fire he was hoping for. “Don’t you worry about all that. But Sweetheart what do you need to get over? Did I do something? Or are you pushing yourself too hard again?” The way she hides her face tells him all he needs to know. “Darling you just had a baby two months ago.” He tilts her chin pulling her back to look at him. “Your body is healed, yes. But that doesn’t mean everything goes back to normal. Look at me.” He instructs when she looks down. Sapphire blue eyes nearly take his breath away when she meets his gaze. The eyes that made him want to deny everything he knew about what he was. What The Radio Demon was. She returned to him and within a few months he was Alastor again. Human and capable of weakness. He should hate her for it, but he only loves her just as much as he did the day he lost her. Or maybe more, it’s hard to tell. “Did you really think everything would just go back to the way it was, already?”

“I thought you’d want that.” She whispers, ashamed of her own words. Because they aren’t exactly true. She did think he’d be over all of her ups and downs by now. But really it’s her who can’t stand herself and wants to be the acrobat and practical jokester she used to be. The woman who Hell doesn’t know because she’s nothing more than a performer with a stage name and no human emotions anyone can see. Till she came back to him and he drew them out of hiding. Then he got her pregnant and everything became a game of guessing what made the bat cry this time. Part of her knows she’ll feel a shift and be on a high tomorrow. But the lows feel never ending, when she’s sick of it.

He scoffs into her hair when she lays back against his chest. “When have I ever given you that idea? Scarlett Hell is a big, beautiful adventure and you married the most powerful overlord of all. We can do what we want when we want, and we have no shortage on time to do it. This isn’t punishment for people like you and me it’s a nightmarish playground of endless horrors. Better yet, I’m in no hurry to return to Charlie’s little project and you won’t be going back to that circus for quite a while. So, what’s the rush? I can still host my radio show and keep those I’m tasked with in line. While you just focus on enjoying that precious creature you’ve created for us and stop trying to race to an imaginary finish line. You’re the only sinner I know of in any hurry, as if time is running out. Might I remind you that, as long as you don’t do anything stupid, you are immortal my dear. Just let me take care of keeping you two safe, everything else is simply eternity. Now if you can behave yourself and stop this nonsense, I’ll let you feast on my next guest. Will that make you feel better?” He teases. Assuming her lack of actual prey and exercise might be to blame. A deer just isn’t substantial when the typical source is more satisfying to watch squirm. Begging for freedom or death. Whichever one they think will be quicker. But the punishment must fit the crime and there’s no shortage of guilty souls in Hell.

Scarlett lets out a small giggle. It would make her feel better actually. Just seeing the radio tower might even be enough. She can stay quiet. As long as someone watches Penelope and she doesn’t have to pump. The mechanical sounds of the little motors might show up on the recording and all of Hell will be treated to the sounds of her being milked like a dairy cow. That’s almost as embarrassing as giving birth with an audience was. Even if that audience was only two medical professionals, Alastor, and a quick glance from Niffty. That’s still more people than she’s ever let live for trying to take a peek. She wants to say something witty. Tease him for being equal parts romantic and sadistic all in one conversation but she never gets the chance.

A loud thunderous boom from an explosion changes the atmosphere of the room. They go from cuddling to scrambling. Scarlett rolls off his lap and rushes to scoop her crying child from the bassinette. The sound of Cherri’s bombs aren’t new, but they sound closer to the hotel then normal. As if trying to stop something right outside the front door. Alastor’s shadows clear and the bright red morning sun fills the room. Amplified but the flashing of whatever is going on in front of the porte-cochère. Rocking Penelope in her arms she settles her first. Before turning to ask what is happening. Though when she does she only catches a glimpse of him. Fully dressed looking out the French doors with a mixture of anger and hunger in his eyes. Than just as quickly he fades into an inky black pool of smoke and condensation on the floor before disappearing entirely. The sound of a deep voice calling his name as if looking for him in the chaos pulls her towards the doors as well. But two small creatures made of Alastor’s magic pull her back while one barricades the iron and glass doors.

Outside Alastor reappears. Thirty feet tall, with large extended antlers growing from his scalp and black tentacles bursting free from his back. A group of demons stand in front of him with guns drawn. Demanding answers on why they haven’t been redeemed yet. Calling the princess a liar and her father a useless coward that never helped stop the exterminations to begin with. They’ve only been guests of the hotel for about a week but are tired of playing nicely and participating in doing good deeds with no actual rewards.

Some were once part of the mob while the ones leading the charge spent their last days as part of a prison gang. Feeding on misinformation and hate for anyone that they could blame for the way the world works. Thinking they found salvation in the validation of poor opinions. Typical cult behavior. But either way they all wound up here with at least one murder under their belts. Now Charlie is promising them things they can’t see. Hatred for believing the lies once before only to have it backfire in their face’s has bubbled out into a full-blown riot. He’d feel sorry for them if he had the compassion to do so. But these things are better on a full stomach. Besides redemption for sinners, though now proven to be possible, is just silly for what can be found down here. Forgiveness isn’t going to solve every problem. They don’t want Heaven. They want to be in a place where they are told they were right, and others suffer the consequences. If they aren’t leaving on good behavior why not have a little fun before getting rid of them himself?

The screams are loud and oh so satisfying to The Radio Demon. His microphone broadcasts them through every radio in Hell. Reminding everyone that marriage and fatherhood haven’t softened him. His teeth are still just as sharp; his claws can cut through steel with ease. Proving once and for all that he and his family are not to be interrupted. If he is worried if his mother will be disappointed, it isn’t showing. He isn’t holding back. Covered in more blood and bits of flesh than he has been the entire time she’s been here. Right on the front lawn, not hidden away in his tower.

Meanwhile Scarlett holds Penelope close to her chest on the floor next to the bed. Feeding her baby and preparing for her daily exercises. Knowing the sounds outside mean he is having the time of his afterlife, and he’ll come back when he’s finished. Or the last victim runs off. Alastor at the end of the day is just Alastor. He loves her completely, but he has always been a little bit off. Both of them are really. She’s needs blood to survive now here in Hell, and he just enjoys the complexity of being a serial killer that kills killers. But she has known that about him since 1930. After her first kill and a hurricane changed their lives. Making them secretly New Orleans most dangerous pair. Nearly a century later she’s right back where she belongs. With no plans to ever leave. His wife, the mother of his child, and the bat he called diamonds. Not just gold.

Chapter Text

When Alastor returns home it will be through the door from the 11^th floor hallway. Because he will take the time to walk back into the hotel and survey everything that they might have missed the past few weeks. He plays it off in front of the crowd of onlookers and old friends. Showing no emotion and only smiles. Pretending to simply show off his ruined suit and create a spectacle out of flaunting what he has just done. Though he also enjoys the terrified looks and horrified gasps as blood drips through the lobby. What he’s really doing is making sure any new guests that might have survived know who he is, and what will happen if they come near his Belle or his starlight.

“Al, are you ok? Thank you for handling that, but we haven’t seen you in weeks. How’s Scarlett and the baby? When can we visit? Al?” Charlie says, following him as he enters through the front doors.

He doesn’t answer. Just twirls his staff and takes purposeful steps towards the stairs.

“Hon, maybe we should give him some space. We have to review the other applicants to make sure that doesn’t happen again. Anyone connected to them needs to be interviewed before we let them stay.” Vaggie tries to pull her away. Unsure about Alastor’s reaction and fierce look in his eyes.

“Geeze Smiles could have warned me before you started eating people. I had this handled but now you got blood all over the place.” Angel adds. Taking off his hat and making sure the blood isn’t in his hair. Before wiping down his guns.

“So, you can do that, but not your actual job? We’ve had three meetings on what to add to the courtyard but no facility manager to sign off on his choice. You’d think if you wanted paid you’d take the time to put you name on a piece of paper.” Lucifer takes a sip of coffee. Annoyed that his daughter refused to allow him to add the duck fountain he designed, until Alastor approved. Stating that he might prefer something more child-friendly for Penelope. What’s more child-friendly than ducks? Besides it will be years before they need a playground.

Alastor still doesn’t say a word. Knowing whatever they put in the empty space will be changed when he adds the carousel and any other carnival attraction Belle might want. But he also wants to think. So, he patiently walks instead of using his powers. He stops on every floor on his way up. Walking each hall and whistling along with the chants from his microphone. Lulling each and every tenant to exit their rooms. He won’t be satisfied until he smells fear on each and every one of them. Covering the fact that he was forced into his emotions by the little bat upstairs. She better believe him now. He has no idea what else he can do to convince her. He started out his morning feeling raw and exposed. But now the metallic scent of fear sooths it and makes him feel in control.

They know who he is. Who he prefers to be. Away from the voice of his father echoing in his skull. Telling him to be a man and toughen up. Stop clinging to his mother. Learn to hunt and kill like he isn’t some broken mistake. In the end Alastor become twice the hunter that man ever was. He just prefers a different type of prey. Killing that bastard felt good. Killing them all felt good. He knew it was wrong, but if the urge was there he might as well make the best of it. They went after the innocent. That was the difference. That’s still the difference. He isn’t broken. He’s the answer. With enough time he could have stopped the exterminations himself. Gotten rid of the worst and left only the ones that were unfairly judged. The ones whose sins never harmed anyone but themselves. He should be thanked. Given a title higher than overlord. But the King couldn’t understand greatness if it bit him in the ass. So, he walks through these halls. Reminding Hell who he is, and what he can do.

While giving Scarlett time to remember as well. But in a completely different way. So many times, throughout her pregnancy, she needed the reminder that she was more than she ever believed. Though that’s really not new. Poor little thing. He knows the doubts in her mind don’t really involve him. It’s just her inability to believe that she deserves it. Though it could also be the way her mind falls into a state of blues right after they get a little too carried away. The more marks he leaves the worse she falls. Then she is all smiles and giggles when it wares off. He shakes his head and chuckles under his breath. “That’s probably exactly what happened. I forgot to make her eat before she fell asleep.” He mumbles, under his breath in the stairwell. Sugar seems to always remedy the side effects.

Blood drips from his coat onto the carpet of the halls. Niffty chases his long strides, cleaning up after him. The only one not being affected by his whistling or microphone’s song. While everyone stands outside of doors in shock, of him coming out of hiding to do all of that without a single word. Honestly, he wouldn’t need to lull them to come out and be judged. Just him not talking might be enough of a surprise to make them want to see for themselves. Normally he never stops. Something that comes natural to a radio host of his talents. Weather that be from typical gossip or marveling over his own accomplishments. It doesn’t matter. Alastor just never seems to know when to stop.

Unless he is on a mission that requires fine tuning. They aren’t mindless zombies the way mind control of a certain TV used to work. They are in full control to run or make decisions. However, they are all drawn to the sound. Curiosity killed the cat and all that jazz. The chant keeps them calm, the whistle brings them in. But their minds are clear enough to understand what they are seeing. A wendigo covered in the blood of former hotel guests that stepped out of line. With the power to do the same to them if he feels the need. Followed happily by the one that killed Adam with a single dagger. Despite the princess’s words this is not a place of safety. It is not a home to take advantage of a foolish girl’s kindness. This is a place for those that want to change. Who want to find Heaven under the watchful eye of Hell’s strongest overlord.

Floor by floor he makes his way to the top. Never acknowledging Niffty and her scrubbing. Or even the muck covering his clothes. Normally he isn’t so careless with his nicer things. He does have class and there’s no need to get this filthy with a simple feast. But this was a special occasion. They needed to see it. They needed to know who he is to them. Because Belle made him show her who he is to her. He’s been hiding for so long that those words came out without a fight. So easily that he almost forgot what Hell knows. What Hell has to know. So that he can keep being who he has built and laugh in the faces of anyone who dears to question him.

He goes quiet again as he enters the room. Whistling stops and microphone goes silent. Afraid that his little starlight might be asleep and his show tunes might disturb her. But she isn’t sleeping. She’s in her mother’s arms, smiling and babbling away. While Scarlett tells her how pretty she is and how happy she is to have her. Rubbing her nose against Penelope’s like she’s trying to show his little fawn that she is still a bat as well. She is just as much a vampire bat as she will ever be a fawn, he knows that. However, he can still tease his wife that she has more of his physical traits. Until she starts to fly. Her little wings flap as her mother coos over her, flapping her own much larger wings as if showing her how. He’s not sure if he should be concerned. Or when the tiny wings might be strong enough to support her weight.

“There’s my girls.” He says, while slipping off his coat and tie sending them off be washed in hopes he hasn’t completely ruined them. The pictures from his coat pocket find their place on the armoire. Loosening his cufflinks and vest he walks over to stand next to Scarlett, still sitting on the floor. They’re both still in their nightgowns she must have fed the baby then immediately started whatever game they are playing. His Belle looks so happy, but it’s odd to see her using her wings with a smile on her face. “Belle, shouldn’t we be more careful about her doing that. I wouldn’t want her to carry herself away too soon.” His way of warning that he isn’t comfortable with what he’s seeing.

Scarlett giggles but doesn’t look up. Thinking he’s just speaking as someone that has never had wings to fly with. She isn’t sure how his shadows work. Sometimes they’re attached sometimes they come from the ground. Either way she assumes they don’t have muscles that he had to learn to use. “She’s too young to actually fly Alastor. We’re just exercising the muscles needed for flying aren’t we?” She coos, to the little fawn-pup. “Show Papa how good you’re doing.” Scarlett flaps her wings and Penelope flaps hers as well. Uncontrolled and more of a reaction to her excitement from hearing her mother’s wings. Not an answer to a request. But she is rewarded as if the little thing did any of it on purpose. The little bat squeals and kisses her baby making a fuss over her. Thrilled that she is learning, doing new things every day.

She’s happier than he had expected. Making his theory of all that confusion earlier just being the fall after their games make sense. But it’s also giving him pause to make a mental note of the shift. That isn’t the first time since Penelope’s birth that she’s gone from one extreme to the other in a matter of minutes. But before he can focus on it he gets more worried for his little fawn, with how fast she was flapping her wings with her mother. “I don’t know that I trust this. She can’t even hold her own head up yet. Let’s wait for her to start crawling before we teach her to fly.”

“Well according to you she’s too plump to lift herself off the ground anyway.” She teases. Knowing damn well the baby isn’t just going to take off with those unfocused movements. Or with her mother holding onto her as tightly as she is. He’s just silly when he’s met with something he doesn’t understand. Wanting to stop it from happening or pass it off as something unnecessary. Until he can figure out everything he needs to know. She’ll wake up to him reading a book on bats and birds, and he will tell her he was just looking for something to pass the time. Pretending he isn’t researching the topic. “Besides, what do you want me to do, tie her wings down? She needs to learn how to use them just like everything else.”  

“I never said she was too plump.” He says, more offended than anything else. Dropping his monocle on the ground, that he was cleaning with his sleeve. “Tell me you aren’t upset over that now. Belle what has gotten into you?” He sneers, ready for another shift in her mood. But it never comes. Instead, she laughs and scrunches her nose at him in a playful jest. “You evil little thing.” He places his hand on his chest to fake his shock. “And yet, they call me sadistic. Though I’m glad you have found your sense of humor. But yes, I think tying them down would make me feel a lot better. That’s why her clothes are made to tuck them.” He kneels down to be eye level with her. Watching as Penelope smiles and flaps her limbs and wings when he gets closer. Her happy little noises shift to frustration, when he doesn’t reach for her.

Scarlett keeps focusing on her baby. Who is babbling and drooling trying to get her father’s attention now that she can see and hear him more clearly. Scarlett knows she wants him to hold her. Because anytime he walks over, and she bleats and chirps, he takes her into his arms and sings to her. But cruelly he isn’t scooping her out of Scarlett’s hold. Instead, he is removing his accessories and seeing what needs to be cleaned and what can be put away. All while standing firm on his opinions.

“Aww, Mon trésor, look at how happy she is now that you’re back. She wants you to hold her.” She still hasn’t really looked at Alastor yet. But she doesn’t need to. She can smell him. Actually, she can smell what he’s covered in. She knows that with him, he will always come back from a fight either spotless or filthy. She could have won a bet on which one it would be this time. Still, she teases him and acts as if she doesn’t know.

Meanwhile the feared overlord is torn between taking the time to really clean up or just snap his fingers to remove the mess. So that he can hold his little girl. But he held Scarlett instead of bathing earlier and he really just wants to be clean now. “I missed you too my little starlight, but Papa need a shower before he holds you. I’ll be right out Flying Belle.” He squeezes her shoulder as he stands. Turning to walk into the bathroom.

-

The hot shower is almost too relaxing. Water cascading down over his ears and back. Burning slightly in the shallow marks left by Scarlett’s claws. He’ll tease her about them when he returns to the room. He’ll flop on the bed face down without his shirt and tell her they left him weakened. Pretending that’s why he made such a mess of the pathetic souls out on the lawn. She won’t believe him but that doesn’t matter. He can play wounded and show her the evidence of her marks on his skin. Afterwords while calling him a big baby for it she will still soothe his bruised ego and rub his back the way he won’t ever admit to loving. Using the lotions he bought, purposely for such an act, but told her they were just a gift for her. He should feel guilty for wanting her to take care of him for once, but she’s proven that she isn’t in pain anymore and wants to feel needed. Really he’d just be doing her a favor.

As steam fills the room he squeezes shampoo into his hand. Lathering it into suds in his hair, ears, and tail. Carefully scratching around the base of each antler. Moving down he works it into the fur on his chest. Remembering how Scarlett scolded him for not using the proper products. She stated that it would feel much softer if he used shampoo and conditioner on the thick fur, instead of his body wash meant for skin. He only complies because he likes the way she touches it in her sleep. Or when they’re cuddling together.

Eyes closed he lifts his head towards the running water as it rinses the soap from his face and body. Leaving a trail of red suds circling the drain around his hooves. He doesn’t hear the shower door open or the sound of anyone entering while he scrubs his face with his hands. But he nearly jumps out of his own skin when two small arms wrap around his waist from behind. He’d have ripped her to pieces if he didn’t look down to see pink skin and hear her infectious giggling. But how the Hell did she sneak up on him? Hell’s apex predator, turned into a frightened alley cat. Normally he can hear a pin drop in the radio tower from this shower, even with the water running. But somehow the woman he shares a heartbeat with not only made it into the room but disrobed and got into the shower stall without him even noticing.

He turns in her embrace and looks down at sparkling sapphire bule eyes. Calming every nerve in his body and the thoughts he had to lecture her on her actions. “Belle, what are you doing? Who is watching the baby?” He runs his hand through her hair.

He knows that smile. It’s the same one he was given when he pulled her into the maze of mirrors in the funhouse. When he slowly danced with her, in his living room. After he proposed and before he said I do. It’s a smile that means she’s in love and begging him not to break her heart. What does she think he’s done? Or is she just glad he came back upstairs? How does he tell her that she never has to worry about that and make her believe him? He wonders if she can read his eyes as well. Does he have a look that reads “what did I do to deserve you”. Or is there one that tells her he is worried about her? That’s probably what she is seeing now.

“Iris came to check on you.” She says, with her face now pressed to his abs. “She said you scared everyone downstairs when you wouldn’t speak to them. But she offered to take her instead while I come see if you needed any help. When I said you were showering.” Her arms squeeze tighter, now worried he might have gotten hurt and isn’t telling anyone. He didn’t even kiss her before running off to be alone. Any number of things could have happened during that little impromptu broadcast. But Charlie didn’t answer when she called the front desk to ask what she saw.

“Woman are you crazy?” He pulls her off to make her look back up at him. “Tell me you didn’t tell her your plan to shower with me.” His mother is probably furious, thinking he’s got this girl servicing him like a whore. While she is made to babysit. Oh, now what is he going to do? He can’t look her in the eye after this. He will have to avoid the woman that raised him until she returns to Heaven, or he ceases to exist. Whichever one comes first. Honestly he is hoping Belle just kills him for leaving her without an explanation and he never has to make it out of this room.

Scarlett curls her lip over her fangs and lets her eyes go red. “Are you kidding? If it wasn’t for Penelope I’d be trying to convince her that I’m still a virgin and we’ve never done anything unholy.” He knows better. She can’t even hear the topic of sex come up without blushing and choaking on her own spit. Angel’s education was given to her while she hid behind her pillow, and he talked as if he were discussing the weather. She avoided his eyes for a week after and he still teases her for it. At least he did. What does Alastor even think she would even say? “Oh, here hold Penelope while I go give your son a blow job in the shower.” That idiot. She’d rather die, again. “All I said was that I was going to make sure you weren’t wounded. But when she went back into their room I thought this was a better idea instead. I missed us bathing together.”

“Except I nearly killed you. How did you even get in here without a sound?” He looks down at her with glowing read eyes. The annoyance in his tone growing by the second.

Scarlett thinks back to the moment she walked into the bathroom. Her plan was to scare him. She always tries but it never works. His shadow being the main obstacle, but she didn’t see it when she walked in. Instead, she tip-toed over and slipped her silk gown off her shoulders. Silently slid open the glass door and snuck in behind him. She was so focused. Wanting to be as quiet as possible and catch him off guard but it never works. No matter how quiet she thinks she is he always knows she’s there. But not this time. It worked. She scared him. Why does that make her more nervous? What is he hiding?

“It worked, I really scared you? How did I scare you? What happened out there? Don’t try to play tough, are you hurt?” She demands.

Silly thing. He finds if fascinating that she still finds it possible that anyone could hurt him. Even Adam’s blow was more annoying than anything else. It kept him down for longer than he will ever admit but he’s still standing. These weren’t angels, they weren’t even overlords. They were roaches that Niffty could have handled. But he wanted a chance to send a message and to see what Charlie got herself into. He also wanted to kill something while avoiding his emotions for a moment and take time to think. But if she snuck up on him without doing anything new that could be another example of her powers showing themselves. So far it seems anything she wants is appearing or happening. How fun. His beautiful little overlord. With a Hellborn’s passport. She can go anywhere in Hell now that she is here on her own decision. Combining that her wishes are now so easily accessible could be great for the future of his career. The’ll be unstoppable in no time.

“You surprised me, yes. I just wasn’t expecting it but don’t flatter yourself.” Alastor says, taking her chin in his hand. “It takes more than that for me to feel any fear. I’m also completely fine. They were as useless as you would expect. Niffty could have handled that on her own.”

“Niffty killed Adam.” Scarlett deadpans, in response.

“True, but only after I weakened him.” He boasts, pressing red claws to his chest. “You have nothing to worry about. I was trying to scare the other residents; Charlie and the others were just collateral damage.” Laughing to himself he thinks of what they all might have been thinking. Are they down there now shaking and waiting for him to come back? Deciding which one of them he might kill first. It’s so outside of the realm of probability in his mind that he can’t even bring himself to consider that they might actually be worried about him. “Now, since you’re here, would you like me to wash your hair?”

Scarlett pulls herself tighter to him again and nods against his abdomen. Ignoring the water falling from his chest and trailing around her face. Alastor doesn’t say anything else before pulling them farther under the water. Getting her hair wet before lathering it with shampoo and scratching his claws against her skull. She loudly purrs and presses her lips the line of fur leading down his abs. Looking up she sees him softly smiling down at her. With nothing but love and curiosity in his eyes. working his fingertips into the base of her ears. All the while she can’t look away, even when drips of water fall on her face and near her eyes.

He’s gorgeous. Always has been. But it’s different here, with him holding her against his body, under the running water. As he washes her hair and locks her gaze in an intimacy that goes above anything Angel prepared her for. She would’ve been a mess to see him like this back then. Yet now it’s something so engrained into their relationship that she feels lost without it. This is what she wanted. This is what was missing earlier that had her feeling so off. That had her asking stupid questions and accusing him of telling her lies. She missed the aftercare. The promise that Alastor had made to her. The pampering that comes after he loses himself and sinks his claws and teeth too deep. Though thanks to Penelope keeping them working round the clock her body gave in before her mind did. Sending her on a runaway train ride of accusations and confusion. However, he’s making up for all of that now.

Lifting her up the red-haired deer makes her wrap her legs around him. Her wings flap in the water knowing what comes next. He chuckles and lets her cling to him as he fills a washcloth with soap and continues to bathe her. Being extra careful of the paper-thin skin of her leathery wings. She’ll get all the tender treatment she wants, and he knows that even if he says he’ll stop he never will. How many times did he wish for this when she wasn’t here? How many nights did he swear to give her everything she ever asked for if he ever got her back? Too many to count, that’s the answer. Then he lost her again and he replayed every bath, every night he held her, every dance on repeat for three days. His own never-ending second Hell. No matter how irritated or annoyed he might get with her. No matter how angry for having to voice his emotions and be that weak man he once was all over again, he will always end it like this. Holding her and remembering why he feels so strongly about it.

“I believe I’m spoiling you. I had a whole plan to tease you about the marks you left down my back and now look. Here I am washing you off like your helpless.” Alastor teases, into one of her large, pointed ears.

“I did that to you?” She presses against his shoulders and looks him in the eye. “I thought it was from the fight?” The raised purple welts on his back looked like battle scars. She thought for sure someone out there had gotten ahold of him and tried to rip him to shreds. Her cheeks turn bright red when she remembers raking her claws down his back, in their bed. But they aren’t long enough to cut. Just enough to scrape.

“HA. They never got the chance. I take down other overlords, you really thought a few cowardly sinners could lay a hand on me?”

Scarlett rolls her eyes as she grabs the washcloth he used on himself and starts running it gently over his back. As far as she can reach while still being held by him. Mostly she’s just squeezing the soapy water on him. But he was mostly done, before she made it in here. Still, she wants to make up for what she did. It’s not the first of the deepest marks she’s left on him. But he will still play it up and act like a wounded animal now that she’s seen it, and she already knows where this is going. Any little thing that happens for the rest of the day and night will be used as a steppingstone to bring this up again. Where she will feel bad and give in. The big baby. At least his tail flicking against her ankles says he is at least enjoying what she’s trying to do.

Getting them out of the shower he wraps her in her robe and dons his as well. Slipping his hooves into his slippers Alastor sits her on the edge of the sink to do her hair. The day is wasted. Though his mother will get Penelope calmed down after her so-called exercises. She always does even when they can’t. Probably just comes with experience, and they’ll be pros at this with the next one. With enough luck he can also get Scarlett to sleep in between feedings until tomorrow. While he reads everything he can find about baby Hellborn bat demons and flying. However, mostly because he just wants his wife to relax. She was doing great. Happy and full of life. What happened, and how does he get that back? Sleep is the only thing he can think of. Or maybe some visitors. He can run back downstairs and let Charlie know he might allow it soon. If they can prove themselves worthy of such a treat, by handling the new guests appropriately. Otherwise, he will be too full to even think of what to prepare for Scarlett’s dinner. She’ll be stuck with his leftovers.

“Are you alright? You seem distracted.” Scarlett asks, as the third lock of curly hair falls from a misplaced hairpin. “I can do that myself if I need to.” When she tries to reach up, he swats her hands away. Reminding her that on their first night together, he told her that he would bathe her, do her hair, and any other silly thing she might want. As a form of comforting after moments when he is rougher or not as kind. Setting in stone that his discipline and sadistic ways will always come with a reward for her good behavior.

“I’m fine.” He argues. “As long as you promise you aren’t feeling down anymore.” Taking her face in his hands, he looks more seriously into her eyes. While it takes everything she has not to laugh in his face. His eyes shine with intensity, but his words are muffled and slurred. Spoken through gritted fangs holding hairpins like toothpicks, or long weeds. Giving the impression of county folk in old movies. She can’t take him seriously. At least she doesn’t want to. “I’m never letting you go darling. What does it matter if you delayed our time together as long as we’re happy now?” Damnit she had better tell him. It better be the truth, and he better accept it, if she knows what’s good for her. Because they have a child together and he has put too much into this to have her second guessing or backpedaling. He’ll summon her chain if he has to. Just to remind her why she is never leaving. Why is isn’t her choice.

“Sometimes I think it was too cruel, and you shouldn’t have forgiven me.”

The red-haired deer is nearly in shock, dropping every hairpin as his mouth opens to speak but nothing comes out. He shouldn’t have forgiven her, she’s right. But he did and he would, a million times over. Not because he doesn’t think it was cruel. Only because by the time she showed up, he had already formed a plan to infiltrate Heaven and look for her. He had already decided any excuse she had was worth accepting. He had spent enough days in his own melancholy wastefulness to know that nothing she could say would matter or make him reconsider. He’s pathetic, and he hates it. But damn does he love her.

“How about every time you think that, instead of letting it fester, you just give me a back rub like you did after our engagement?” Alastor chuckles. Playing if off as if he isn’t completely serious.

He’s been trying to get her to do that ever since. Up until he found out there was a fawn in her womb. He carried her up to this suite over his shoulder. Then threw her down on a bed covered in rose petals, like she was a sack of flour he had just purchased to make beignets. They had their fun for hours that night and by the time they’d finished his back was too sore for him to move. So, as he lay on his stomach complaining of the irritating feeling, she straddled his hips and worked her limber little fingers into his muscles. Loosening knots and making him nearly bleat like a fawn. He had to keep his face buried in the pillow to hide any and all embarrassing noises. Though if he could purr he would have, and he wouldn’t have cared. But his tail flicking and swatting at her backside as she sat on top of him was enough to show his appreciation.

“Is this your way of asking me for a massage?” She perks up. Ears standing taller and her nose wrinkling under her wide smile. She loved the way he enjoyed it before. As well as just getting to feel the strong yet lean muscles of his back. She’s always been amazed by how much strength he hid in such a slender frame. Besides it feels good to give back. Let herself take over and pamper him for a while. To feel needed and wanted. She can rub his back. If he rubs her feet until she falls asleep.

“Only if that’s what you want.” Alastor teases, rubbing his nose against her.

Snapping his fingers he conjures the lotion he recently bought to sit on the bedside table. He’ll carry her to bed once they’re somewhat dressed, then he’ll get Penelope from her grandmothers. One or two massages later he will get both his girls to sleep. Niffty will join them once her chores are done, and while Scarlett holds Penelope their oldest daughter will lay against her back. He’ll just sit and watch all three of them after he rummages through the library for the right book and all will be well in the morning. He hopes.

Chapter Text

Another week has gone by. Another week of excellent highs for Scarlett and growing for Penelope. All the while Alastor is caught in emotions he isn't used to. He spends most of his time just watching them. When he isn't in the radio tower or attending meetings he’s avoided for far too long now. She's a terrific mother. Attentive and protective. Everything he knew she would be. But she's almost too happy, too hyper. It's wrong on some level he can't quite comprehend. She should be unbearably tired. She should still want excess sleep. Instead, she wants exercise and activities when the baby sleeps. She's also exhibiting some strange behavior. Strange even compared to her normal quirks and odd habits. Penelope is only nine weeks old, and her mother is already planning much of her early education. Requesting catalogs of toy stores in the Greed Ring. Pondering over what is just wasteful fun and what can be used to teach colors and shapes. They probably already have every children's book known to man cramped in the bookshelf of the nursery. While boxes upon boxes of toys she can't even use yet are packed away in the walk-in closet. With more on the way. 

As if Charlie and Lucifer haven't also been leaving presents at their door for days now trying to get invited inside. Everything from new dresses and little shoes, to raddles and hand painted rubber ducks. The hotel staff seem desperate to see what's happening in their suite. Making foolish attempts at catching a glimpse of his world. His girls. But that’s just the thing. They are his, not theirs. He is the only one with any right to their time. The only one that can give the final say, for them to actually get close to his wife and daughter. The power trip alone is almost too delicious to handle. Add in the fact that he can smell fear on anyone that has actually flagged him down outside his suite and he might as well be a kid in a candy store with a pocket full of nickels. He'll keep making them work for it just so he can find out at what point they break. When do they demand it? Giving up on these wide-eyed delusions of kindness to behave like the demons he knows they are. Besides they haven't yet proved themselves worthy. There were no phone calls or letters. No well wishes or serious questions about how they are doing. They left them and carried on as if their facility manager wasn’t at his wits’ end in how to navigate this new chapter. Not that he cares but it wasn’t fair to his Flying Belle. All they’ve done to prove they still remember her at all is a random assortment of gifts and rumors. Whispered words in the halls of them wondering about the small family living in the 11^th floor suite.

But they must have realized their mistake because gifts keep coming. Angel has even sent some things to them. But those were meant for Scarlett in an attempt to piss him off. However, Alastor destroyed them before she even got the chance to look. He doesn’t even know why he opened it, he should have known what that spider would consider entertaining. The box contained distasteful things needed by women whose husbands can't satisfy. Though it did make him laugh at how small the toys looked compared to what he has to give. Does he not think she can handle a proper sized cock? Or does he think the red-haired deer is that pathetically small?

If someone were to ask Alastor his opinion he would say these gifts speak more about Angel then he cares to know. What a shame for his fans. One would think someone with as many awards as he has for taking of his clothes would be above average. Though come to think of it he doesn't really know what average is. He just assumed he was only slightly above based on the offhand comments he has received from two overly vocal sex workers he'd rather forget. Certainly, he wouldn't be blessed with something others desire when he had no care to ever use it. At least before her. But these little phallic shaped toys were pathetic in comparison. No wonder his poor little acrobat cries when he's too rough. Either way his Belle will never need plastic or silicone in his place. Even if she is currently so persistent to be pleased.

Every time he breathes too loudly there she is, giving him those eyes and that wicked smile. Angel's gift has sparked curiosity that they haven't been quiet enough. Causing him to think too much and worry about the image he is showing the hotel of who he is. Or does he know something Alastor doesn’t? Are all women this needy post healing? Then again maybe the “gifts” were small on purpose. Maybe they were meant as a warmup before she was given the real thing. In that case Angel knows way more than he should and that will need to be delt with. An easy task that he can handle after supper. He hopes. If Belle gives him time to slip away for long enough. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so harsh and let her keep the little sex toys. Afterall, he’s never really seen one before, and doesn’t know if there is an appeal in allowing her to entertain herself. It would at least give him a moment to carry on his normal activities outside of baby chores and keeping her from getting too restless.

All week he's been overwhelmed with trying to keep up with her. It’s like she can't get enough. Meanwhile he's doing all he can not to crumble under the weight of her demands. Avoiding making eye contact for fear she might strip herself down just from a simple look. The past week has been one long marathon of her sneaky little temptress ways. Where she crawls into his lap, purring and slipping her hands in his trousers, until he's too hard not to touch her. Or bending over furniture and practicing acrobatics with hardly any clothing on. Pretending to have forgotten her tap pants. As if that's just something you forget about before hanging upside down in a dress. It's also happening far too often. Once is a mistake. Twice could be the new mother fatigue and memory loss. Three times is a devilish plot to rid him of what's left of his sanity. 

The worst part is he could very easily say no. She would listen and give him space, if he requested it. But he won't. Because dammit Lust craves her. No Alastor craves her. While Lust feeds off that craving. He only complains when he has enough forethought to remember he once said he'd go his whole existence without and be just fine. But blue eyes and sharp fangs proved that to be a lie. He loves her. He'd give her anything she asked for but he's starting to wonder if she's in heat and unsatisfied with him being a different Hellish form. Maybe she's requiring another bat. Though the idea is ridiculous. They're still people after all, and he wouldn't let another man near her even if it did give him some peace and quiet for the next month or two. So instead, he has resorted to hiding from her. Shamelessly like a man on the run. Only instead of cops it’s a little bat with an unending appetite for pleasure. However, if the blood he smelled on her earlier is what he assumes he may be off the hook. For at least a week anyway.

Currently he's quietly sitting in his office, trying not to disturb two of his girls’ nap. While Niffty clings and circles him. Organizing the sewing kit and picking up the scrap fabric and excess tread he drops. His belt is fixed so tightly it’s as if he was trying to form his own chastity guard. Subconsciously keeping anyone but himself from loosening his pants. The radio tower is actively broadcasting jazz while his sound desk is protected by shadows. The extra mic sits by his side so he can add commentary where it’s needed in between. Marking that he is indeed working if she happens to come looking. The voodoo doll in his hand is almost perfect. Tucking the hairs plucked from Penelope's head inside with the stuffing he can guarantee it will serve its purpose. Keeping her safe and guarded though magic. The way any good father would. If he possessed such greatness.

Marveling over it he barely notices the click from the door. But he feels the change of her walking into the room in an instant. Her energy it like a tranquilizer straight to his very soul. She soothes, like she's his missing piece. Hell is Heaven when she's near. Even when she's been driving him crazy. Even when he’s selfishly trying to salvage what he once was before she returned. The doll gets sent to his desk drawer before she notices two broken radios replace the sewing kit and fabrics. Better that she does not know what he's been up to. His practices are his and she will just have to trust him.

When Scarlett walks in the room she has Penelope in her arms. Sound asleep laying against her chest. She’s curled tightly in a ball sucking her thumb and letting her wings fall open from her back. They’re both in red but not exactly matching. Penelope is in her pajamas while Scarlett is still dressed for the day. Though she forgot her shoes in the room. She didn’t even notice until she felt the rough texture of the carpet in the radio tower recording booth. Overuse of the carpet shampooer has left it lacking in quality and softness. But she just shook it off and continued on her quest to find her husband.

Alastor immediately reaches to take his daughter. Cradling her and glowing with pride as she purrs against his chest. He may be an overlord. He may want Hell to fear him and cower under his control. But to the three in this room, he wants to be nothing but comfort. So, they know they are free to exist away from the suffering and plage that is Hell. They are safe as long as he is around. However, the woman he gave his heart to is really testing his patients. “Belle what are you doing up? You're fighting sleep again.”

“I'm not fighting anything. I'm just not tired. But she's out and I'm bored.” She protests, as she sets up the playpen for Penelope to lay in. The little bat slept enough. Ten minutes to be exact. Afterwards she paced around the room. Looking for something to do. Hanging from the trapeze felt boring. There’s nothing on the shelves she hasn’t read. The boxes of gifts and purchased items are too intimidating. There’s nothing new and exciting just more of the same. Even the bayou has run out of excitement. Though his radio tower and office are now in the list of rooms she can frequent. Giving her at least a little more freedom. She likes the windows in the main room. Where she can see nearly everything below them and out among the pentagram. She stares at the big top mostly. Standing tall among the other buildings in this district.

However, the little bat refuses to admit she needs to get out and at least watch the others perform. It feels wrong. Like she’s the worst mother imaginable. Staying in is for her baby. It’s to keep her safe and free of new germs and whatever else can affect newborns in Pride. Unsure of all that is new, the parents are trying their best. They didn’t have to ask, Lucifer sent the doctor from her soul’s renewal back for Penelope’s first checkup. She weighed and measured her and gave her a few vaccines. Everything is up to date, but Alastor still thinks they should be careful. Though he wouldn’t actually know what vaccines she got. The moment a syringe came out someone dissolved into the floor and hid in his office until she left. Scarlett would still be fuming over it, but he returned shortly after and refused to put the baby down all evening.

The big bad Radio Demon is adorable when he’s got Penelope in his arms. He sang a song he must have made up on the spot to her and rubbed the spots where she was given her shots. Apologizing as if he had been the one to inflect pain. Scarlett couldn’t do anything but watch and wish she had a camera to get a picture of him being so gentle. Instead, she pretended to be asleep so he wouldn’t know he had an audience. She wonders how many gentle moments he gave Niffty that everyone, but the little cyclops herself, has missed. Did he ever hold her like that or comfort her? She wouldn’t cry over pain, but she might have other fears. Like the breakdowns if something isn’t organized perfectly. He silently maintains order and cleanliness like it disturbs him when she knows he wasn’t always so particular. That could just be from a father trying to keep his daughter calm and happy. He mentioned that the hotel was in disarray when they arrived and Niffty’s services where greatly needed. But Scarlett wonders how that went. Did she even sit down before it was spotless?

Alastor’s words pull her from her thoughts, as he remembers she’s still in the room and it’s not just him and his little starlight. Spinning his chair to face her. “Bored? You've made our closet so over stimulating I doubt you could ever really be bored again. Or have you realized we have neither the room nor a child old enough to play with such things.”

“That's not funny.” Scarlett turns to him with her arms crossed under her chest.

“That's because it wasn't meant to be. The truth is hardly ever funny my dear.” He answers, tucking Penelope’s wings into her pajamas and zipping the openings meant to accommodate them.

“We’ll use them.” She answers sitting in a W position at his feet with her hands on his knees. “But wouldn’t it be wonderful to start early so she takes to learning new things naturally. Think of what great things she can accomplish if we take this seriously.”

Alastor looks down at a bule eyes full of wonder, a half smile that makes his chest tight, and burgundy hair that was once a fiery red. She’s so hopeful and passionate about this. Wanting to be their daughter’s teacher so badly. She’s such a good mother and he’s never been prouder since the day he watched her bring this child into his world. Niffty sits next to her trying to mimic the position of her legs and he realizes he’s been showing her acrobatics and contortion when he isn’t home. Though his little psychopath can’t bend the way her mother bat finds as natural as breathing. He's still convinced that his little acrobat was born and manifested in Hell with no tendons or ligaments to be found. His unnatural movements come from magic and shadows. Scarlett just bends that way. She always has. Before he can open his mouth to speak she’s already correcting her. Telling her not to try things that might hurt and forcing her to sit properly. How spectacular that the woman who had no role models and no mother has fallen into the role so easily. Niffty has been more well behaved since the day Scarlett arrived. Following everything she does and listening better than she ever has. Penelope will be the pinnacle of what Hellborn children should be, and the first Hellborn overlord if he has any say in it. They’ve already confirmed that children born from human souls are different and can have their parents’ power. Everything else is just logistics and paperwork.

“My sweet little Flying Belle. This child will do great things no matter when her education begins. But darling she’s only nine weeks old. Enjoy the newborn phase and for the love of Hell please stop ordering things until we need them. She isn’t a human child. We have plenty of time before she’s writing essays and picking a career.” He watches her face fall in disappointment. Brushing her hair back and over one of her ears, he lets his claws linger to caress her cheek before he continues. “But I’m so proud of you for wanting to raise her with a proper education. She’ll be as strong and independent as her mother. With a knack for anatomy and radio equipment.” He can’t help but boast about what he will encourage in their little girl.

Scarlett rolls her eyes and stands from the floor. Taking the baby out of his arms, she puts her in the playpen behind him. To finish her nap. Penelope chirps slightly in her sleep, and kicks until she settles back down. They are on the cusp of sleep regression and another round of cluster feeding and both parents are well aware. She’s already not happy going down for her nap unless one of them straps her to their chest. Alastor usually comments that she’s awful small to be making such big demands. That comes when he’s already shirtless and letting her cling to his fur. Grumbling over things he choses to allow. He’s not doing anything but spoiling the little fawn-pup. Scarlett can’t wait until she’s big enough to follow him around. She wonders how evident his spoiling will be then. Turning back to him she places a kiss on his forehead before hopping up onto the edge of his desk. Putting her bare feet on the chair between his legs.

“What are you doing in here anyway?”

“That is none of your concern. I'm simply working.” He motions to his short-handled desk microphone. Flipped to the off position currently. “Now if you want to stay I will ask that you keep yourselves quiet so I can do that.” Taking the speaker from his desk, and a screwdriver, he begins to tighten down wires. Connecting everything in the housing. Pretending that this was the thing he was fixing the entire time. Niffty already knows the rules that they don’t speak about Voodoo. So, she doesn’t say a thing. Instead, she’s trying to get into the playpen with the baby.

Scarlett looks at the microphone. Confused to see it here in his office, instead of the recording booth. The one on his staff is used to broadcast when he is anywhere but the tower. That’s part of its power. But he prefers the feel of the real equipment when he’s actually hosting anything except screams. “Your broadcasting, from in here? What about the sound desk and all the fancy buttons?” She prefers to watch from there. In what she calls his natural environment. He looks completely at home adjusting knops and switches. Things she can never remember what does what. Or why radio requires so many. Twist this to that number, push these up, and flip this. It’s all fascinating and he looks so attractive at the controls. But not today. He’s in this dark room with no windows and only tall lamps. Fiddling with broken radios and broadcasting from a single boring microphone.

“That's the beauty of magic Flying Belle. I can control the sound desk from anywhere. Just by imagining it. Kind of how you have just made things appear by thinking of them. Though unfortunately these things aren't going to fix themselves, so I now can keep my hands busy in between.” He passes it all off as nothing important. Not looking at her just focusing on his broken radio. The placement of her feet is enough to tell him what she actually wants. Though with Niffty still in the room as a buffer he at least knows she will behave herself. With any luck, Penelope will wake up and she will take them both back into the suite with her.

“Can you show me how to fix these?” Scarlett asks, picking up one of the broken housings from his desk. Rolling it back and forth in her hands.

“Why? So that you can take them apart in your spare time? I think not. You can fiddle with your own things and leave my defenseless radios alone.” He points his screwdriver at her and motions for her to put it back. What a noisy little thing she’s being today. Is she that lonely that that she would really be interested in repairing his broken equipment? Or is she stalling in hopes that he’ll give in to letting her crawl into his lap?

“Please.” 

“No.” Sighing he snaps his fingers and removes the broken mess of light bulbs, wires, and metal. Realizing that he is neither going to get these things fixed nor getting to finish hosting anything after his records end. He is now at the mercy of a very hungry vampire bat. “Now, what would you like to do my darling.”

Alastor reaches up to take her hands and for a moment it feels like a trap. He’s been avoiding her all day. Saying he needed to meet with the hotel staff this morning. Taking his mother for a ride in the old Model A after lunch. Suddenly remembering that she had never had the opportunity to ride in car in her lifetime and refusing to hear Scarlett out on rather or not Heavan has cars. She isn’t sure what she did, but she knows it’s something. Meanwhile she just wants to show him how much she missed him. How much she appreciates him.

She feels trapped but he’s been making it so much easier. Telling her beautiful things while he sets her soul free and makes her forget everything but how to cry out his name. For a while she almost forgot the thrills of a trapeze or tightrope. She didn’t crave the smell of popcorn and cotton candy. Lost in a sea of silk that smells of aged vanilla and leather. Bound by the shadows he kills with like a sinful present only he can open. It’s invigorating. But all day she thought he was angry with her. That she had done something wrong. Yet here he is holding her hands and looking into her eyes with actual concern. Wanting to pay attention to her again, and she knows just the way to repay him.

“Niffty could you give us a moment. I think I heard Husk looking for you when I was in the hall.” Her eyes flash red to the smaller demon that is still tittering on the edge of the playpen, watching the little fawn-pup sleep. Within an instant she’s out of the room. Either for excitement in the opportunity to play with the cat or fear of becoming her mother’s next meal for bothering the baby. Either way she’s gone, and Penelope is still sound asleep.  

“Lying to her is a mean little trick. You'd better hope that cat is decent when she finds him. Otherwise, she'll have gossip I'd rather not know about. I barely got her to stop talking after the last time a group was caught in a promiscuous position outside of their bedrooms.” He physically has to shake off the thought before his overactive imagination seeks to destroy.

After what Angel left in front of their door, he’d rather not know what goes on between the two of them. Though he can guarantee that no one in this hotel is more fun to play with than his acrobat. What a shame that she’s all his. He’d pretend to feel bad about keeping the best thing Hell has all to himself, but he really doesn’t care. Afterall, he is the best overlord Hell has. Therefore, doesn’t he deserve the best wife? Besides, she isn’t just some demon he found and married. She’s not a concubine here only for his needs. She’s his eternity. His Cajun Queen that he has known in all ways one can know another person. They’ve shared laughs, smiles, and tears in life and in death. They’ll share everything in this small portion of safety he has created for them. She’s a lady with more class in her soul than all the demons in this hotel combined and she best start acting like it.

“Better it be them, than her walking in on us.” She whispers, as she slips off the desk and lands on her knees in front of him. His face is priceless. She’s going to need one of those fancy little pocket phones with a built-in camera if he keeps doing things that need to be captured so quickly. The polaroid just isn’t fast enough, and she can’t just keep it in her hand. Caught moments need to be almost frozen it time, when trying to get the perfect angle Changing the flash bulb between shots wastes even more. Yet Angel takes pictures so quickly that half the time people don’t even realize they’ve made it into his camera roll. Alastor’s look of shock and alarm is worth remembering. However, he’d never agree to her having such a thing. Nor does she really want it. She’s just been obsessed recently with wanting pictures.

“Mrs. Hartfelt, this is not a brothel. What are you doing?” His hand slides up into her hair. Preventing her from moving closer. He knows damn well that the smell of iron blocking the hint of mangoes on her skin means she won’t want to be touched. So why on earth is she trying to make him into a meal?

“Alastor, don't worry about it. Now shut up and speak to your audience.” She chuckles. A mischievous glint in her eyes. She knows he will have to pick up the microphone soon. Even if it’s just to do a sign off or stall when he switches records. He’ll be talking to Hell while she is under his desk getting all his attention.

His hand in her hair grips tighter. Pulling her up off her knees, not quite standing but close. She’s scruffed like a cat, till her head tips back and she can only look into his eyes. Leaving her neck open and vulnerable, he thinks about leaning forward to bite. Or pulling her up into his lap. She hisses at the pain, but he knows her sounds. He knows exactly how rough he can be before she stops thanking him for it. Her hands griping harder against his thighs says he hasn't reached that point yet. “I hope you realize the absurdity of what you just said.”

With a snap from the other hand a tall figure appears behind him. A second version of himself but black and gray like his other minions. Scarlett recognizes the form as one of the shadows that tossed her around the dance floor the night of Charlie's sweetheart's ball. But this version has no trace of Alastor's mischief or spirit. Instead, he focuses only on the playpen as he hums a lullaby and lifts the baby into his arms. The little bat reaches out for her baby as she's carried away from the room. Concerned at what this creation might be planning. While sharp fangs scrape across her neck.

“He won't hurt her.” He whispers into her skin. “That one has even less of his own mind then the rest and no effect from the sins. Making him the least dangerous thing in this pit.” He says, while letting his sharp golden fangs tease her neck and shoulder. Each word poses the risk of slicing her to pieces. But he knows exactly what he’s doing. “It’s distasteful, seeing that wearing my form. But he is useful, so I guess that grants him a pass. He feels nothing but care for our daughter. That being the only part of me he was made from. Since you've been so spontaneous and haven’t given me proper time to arrange for a sitter, I decided we needed a nanny. Who better than someone that can't disobey me, who looks like someone our starlight already trusts?” He knows she won’t be fooled for long but he’s hopeful. Meanwhile, her mother is another story. He can tell she has her doubts in someone or something else holding the little fawn-pup. However, that’s the price she must pay. A proper placed bite brings her back to the game she started. As he gives in to the words of the Sin of Lust in his mind. Demanding that he see where she plans to take this.

“Not to mention someone you won't have to kill after hearing what happens in this room.” She gasps. Griping his shoulders now and arching in his hold.

“That’s my girl.” He praises her, wrapping his arm around her waist. As he licks the blood from her wound. “Now what makes you think I would continue to broadcast instead of just ending the show? I assume you aren’t letting me get back to work anytime soon.”

“Someone delivered this. It seemed important.” She pulls a letter from her dress and hands it to him. Watching as he gently drops her back down and looks over the piece of paper. Scarlett already read it. It’s a script that came with a hefty check. Though the money isn’t the part she knows will intrigue him. It’s the content of the advertisement they want him to read. “Hell is waiting, Mr. Radio Host.”

A sponsor. He doesn’t get them often and when he does he rarely agrees based on the things people sell in Hell. But this one is quite interesting indeed. Fitting is the better word. For what he broadcasts. Think of all the new clients and voices it could lead to. He’ll definitely be keeping tabs on this organization now that they’ve foolishly made themselves known. Looking down at his wife already messing with his belt he realizes he has no choice. This is a paid time slot. Besides it will keep her entertained and let him still work, what’s the worst that could happen? Meanwhile the fact that he’s more than a little worked up at the thought and wanting more of her is pushed back in his mind. Refusing to admit that he has enjoyed all of this as much as she has.

“You're going to be the second death of me.” 

Chapter Text

For a moment the energy of the room shifts. Neither of them say a word or know where to go from here. Scarlett has a clear idea of what she thinks they both want but there’s something darker just out of sight. While Alastor isn’t so sure. He adores her. He wants a future made of laying her down in silk sheets and hearing her sing so beautifully. But not all at once. Not every day. They went years without, and he never once felt unfulfilled in what they had. There’s so much more to her. Yet this week she’s behaving as if this is all she is made of. He knows better. He also knows her enough to know this is just her running on empty. Filling the space with something easy when deep conversations and philosophical ideas can’t form in her tired mind. When has she last eaten? When did she last have enough blood? He's given her glassfuls, but did she really drink it? Every time he has been pulled away before making sure. Or he ran off in an effort not to break her heart by not being in the mood.

Looking down at her he can see that she looks paler than normal. The dark circles under her eyes match his. She’s also getting thinner. Almost back to her size prebaby. He hasn’t noticed until now. Though her size never mattered to him as long as she was fed. However, it appears that in all the things that come with having a new baby a few things have been slipping past him. Maybe she feels neglected. Believing that he’s doing the one thing he swore he never would and thinking of other woman. What a jealous thing. He would never. For one because Scarlett is the best there is, and for two because all it would do is get some innocent doll made into her lunch. He created a monster in turning this one into a cannibal. But he doesn’t want anyone else. He’s just tired and can’t give her any more than he already has this week even if he wanted to. But is he really to blame? This is new to him too. Penelope and parenthood is more than he had prepared for. Scarlett is being more than he prepared for. Poor things, it’s not their fault. But what is he to do? They need him to be awake though every feeding and diaper change just in case. It certainly has nothing to do with that fact that he is worried about her stretching too thin. Or that he might miss a milestone if he sleeps through the night.

Scarlett looks up at Alastor, her fangs hanging over her lip as she smiles. Claws pulling at his belt. He’ll be so happy with her soon. Alastor looks down at her, eyebrow arched as if questioning, is she really going to do this? All the while she’s shaking with anticipation. Getting to repay every time he put her first. Every night that she was at his mercy and his to play with. But now he is hers. She can hear jazz music pumping through the gramophone horn in the room. Amplified through Hell by radio waves and transmitting through speakers in stores and homes. Hell’s favorite DJ, the prude that they know, sits at a large oak desk with her between his knees. It’s a treat to know him this way. To be the secret he keeps when others question how they even fell pregnant in the first place. If they only knew what she does.

She wants him to take control. To set her free the way he does when he commands her every move. Leaving her to forget the worrying and overstimulated buzz that has taken over. Her skin itches or is it burning. Maybe it’s both. If she gets her mouth on him he will do most of this. Pushing in deeper and deeper until rational thoughts cease. Till all she will know how to do is take his orders and follow direction. Like starting over with a clean slate. She’d give anything to not have to feel or think right now. Though part of her knows that this comes with a price. He can’t return the favor at the moment. She doesn’t want him too. Therefore, her jaw will ache, her cramps will get worse, and she will get nothing in return. But that isn’t what this is about. It’s to show him she is better. That everything can go back to normal. That nothing is wrong.

Scarlett tells herself that nothing is wrong. That this isn’t caused solely by Lust or a means to regulate the only way she can think of. She lies that she has never felt better. Never felt more alive. It will be true once he sits her free. She’ll continue chasing this high and pining for the euphoria it brings, until she can’t anymore. Every time she thinks she’s falling she has found a way to climb. Though she’s pretending not to know that her mood swings have gotten worse. Refusing to talk to anyone about what’s hiding under the surface. Afraid that it might be too much. He might give up and realize how broken she truly is. How uncontrolled she is. Like a hurricane raging and growing. But so far she’s kept him in the eye of the storm. The calm before destruction. With hope these highs mean it will fizzle out if she just ignores it. Lust, Greed, Gluttony; she can get by in letting them win. Floating through until it passes. Giving Alastor what she is thinking is the best version of his little bat. Or the one her victims used to want her to be.

Loosening his belt, she lets it fall open. Jumping slightly as the metal buckle clatters against the armrest of his chair. Then just as quickly it fastens again. She looks at it, confused. Reaching back to try again only for the same thing to happen. On the third time he stops her. Already tired of her not getting the hint. Unaware that she can’t tell if his magic is correcting it, or if she hallucinated unbuckling the thing to begin with. “Now, tell me my dear Flying Belle, you didn’t actually think I’d let you do that while I’m on air. Did you? Scarlett the entire Pride Ring listens to this show. Including Mama and Rosie. Besides, haven’t you had enough?”

“You don’t want me to?” She asks, perplexed and weak. Unsure of how to continue. Does this mean he doesn’t want her? Or that he’s figured out that she is basically on autopilot. As if someone else is behind the wheel. The sins in her soul manning the ship. While she floats somewhere in the foreground of her mind. Every muscle in her body receives a rush of adrenaline and her jaw feels tight. How dare he? She’s not broken. She’s not, she knows she’s not. Why wouldn’t he want this? Every man wants this. Don’t they? “I don’t understand?”

Getting up off the floor she stands there between his outstretched thighs. Waiting for direction or a hint of how to salvage her marriage. Immediately believing that he is about to throw her out for the mental blocks and mood swings. A phenomenon that she can’t name. One that she has experienced before but not in long time. Where everything she knows about herself is just out of reach and a new Scarlett is standing in her place. Before it was risks at the carnival and involvement in his crimes. Field dressing a victim without flinching. But now it’s sex. Constant sex to hide the irritability and fears. The visions of things that might happen or that she thinks are happening. While Scarlett just wants to feel normal. But everything is a tug-of-war between worrying about every danger to her fawn-pup and trying to convince her husband to make her forget. Her body burns. Pure energy rushing through her veins telling her to run. But instead, she’s locked in his gaze. Red eyes watching her. Looking for signs of cracks in the porcelain he paints her to be. She’s not porcelain. She’s more like painted plastic.

“What did I do wrong?” The little bat whispers.

She didn't do anything wrong, but part of him wants to let her think she did. Mostly because he is pissed off, but not at her. He's pissed that she proves how everything he knew about himself is false. That she is the exception to every rule, which is Alastor. He lets her get by with things he'd never tolerate otherwise. He lets her feed from him, as if he isn't Hell's strongest overlord and the one whose blood is hardly ever shed. One kiss or purr from her and he's ready to behave like any other rake or demon of loose morals. Giving up his own firm opinions on sex, to lay with her. His acrobat has put him through the wringer and somehow he still wants more. But not this week. Or the next. He has to have a limit. He has to prove to her that they can do more when alone then deprived acts of carnal pleasure. Dammit he's had enough.

But she looks worried. So afraid that she has upset him or done the unthinkable. That broken fear is the last thing he wants to see in her eyes. Even if he is angry for whatever reason he’d take it back the moment a tear leaves those sapphire blues. He’d purr words of love, holding and kissing her till she’s all smiles and mischievous giggles again. Taking back everything, he previously told himself of not letting her have her way forever. Just so she never leaves again. She’s changed him, but so what? He’s a better man with her around. A better man then he ever was when she was gone. He just needs his girl back. The one that wants more than this. That never fails to run out of things to say or add to a conversation. The one that likes to discuss old novels and poems. Who sees Hell for the land of wonder and power he knows it to be.

“Wrong? Belle, don’t be ridiculous.” Alastor reaches out to take one of her hands. Her palm is sweating, and she feels clammy to the touch when the back of his other hand touches her arm. He makes a mental note but chooses not to say anything before he reads too deeply into it. “You’ve done nothing wrong. But I need you to remember that there are plenty of ways we can spend our time together. With our clothes on. Now come along. I do still have an advertisement to broadcast for this… what was it called?” Checking the letter again he looks for the name of the company. “Oh yes I.M.P. how clever.”

Standing from his chair he leads her through the door to the main recording booth of the radio tower. The red sun is setting, leaving a crimson hued glow through the large windows. This is one of those rare times in the day where Hell rivals the beauty of the bayou. Scarlett’s pink skin glows in this light. Reminding him of a day long ago when their lips met for the first time. He pulls her close wrapping his arms around her and pressing his lips to her forehead. With a whisper in French Creole. Letting her go he moves over to his sound desk. Waving his microphone over the frame he frees it from shadows. Taking his seat, he immediately begins to adjust the knobs and switches. Preparing to switch from jazz to his own broadcast. He looks up at her once to see if she’s ready to sit quietly. Noticing that she has moved over to sit in front of one of the tall windows. That’s enough for him. She knows that the moment he speaks she isn’t to make a sound. Checking the record player wired into the sound desk he sees that the tone arm is close to the center. Flipping a switch, he routs the sound from the speaker horn in the room to his headphones. Making it easier for him to time his intro.

One switch stops the next record from falling. Another flips on the short-handled microphone in his hand. A deep breath and Alastor changes his tone to the one that Hell is familiar with. “Well folks that was the great Louis Armstrong with another great hit from a bygone era. I certainly hope you enjoyed it. Up next we have the sultry voice of Billie Holiday. But first. Have you been wronged in life and want a way to even the score? Has Hell brought you nothing but anger. Why not give I.M.P. a call? An experienced hit man is waiting to take your cash, in exchange for murder. Now isn't that just fun. With access to the human world your target can get what they have coming to them. That number is 666-IMP-HELL. I repeat 666-IMP-HELL. Call today.”

Sitting down the script and the microphone he crosses his hands under his chin. A chuckle reverberates from his chest. Thoughts of the fun he could have with this, in his mind. “What do you think folks? This up-and-coming company seems quite interesting if you ask me. I certainly wouldn’t mind an interview with one of their clients. Just to see if they were satisfied of course. Though I can’t guarantee the safety of anyone in this recording booth. Not when there are such lovely screams to be broadcasted.”

As he continues to talk about Pride Ring gossip and the weather for the week, Scarlett stares out the window. Below she can see guests coming in and out of the hotel. Angel and Cherri seem to be going out for the night. They are dressed for the clubs in the entertainment district and are taking a cab, so they must be going somewhere far. Lucifer is placing something around the statue of Dazzle. Decorations for a party or celebration of some sort. One she will have to miss. The windows of the radio tower are slanted ever so slightly outward. Scarlett leans forward to see more of the street below and starts to feel like she’s falling. Catching herself against the glass with a flap of her wings. Alastor glares over his microphone from the swift flap that was undoubtably heard through his broadcast. But he continues to speak as if he hadn’t heard it.  

While Scarlett is swept away by an undercurrent of runaway thoughts. She pictures herself falling from 11 stories up. Tumbling and sailing through the air. Would it hurt? Or would she even realize she’s hit the ground. What if she was holding Penelope? Is this room even safe? Are the windows strong enough to hold them? Should she have him replace them with steel? Something the little fawn-pup can’t fall through when she’s old enough to start toddling around. What if Scarlett herself loses her grip with reality and throws herself off the balcony or worse, though this very window? It wouldn’t be the first time she’s thought of something like that. For years in the circus the thoughts of not catching a trapeze, or just letting go, crossed her mind. Night after night, before Alastor was hers again. When she had nothing to live for. Now she has everything and the thought of losing it has her walking on eggshells. How many times this week did she sleepwalk when caring for the baby? What if her dreams become nightmares and she does something horrible without knowing?

Tears stream down her cheeks, as she leans against the glass. Longing to be at whatever kind of party they are throwing. Dancing and forgetting her sorrows and cares. Being the girl Alastor adores, not the wife and mother of his child he’s stuck with. When did this happen? What went wrong that she can’t do something as simple as being herself anymore? When did motherhood become a prison? Or when did her mind finally break? Now, picturing horrible things and wanting an escape from it all. But does she really want an escape or is she just missing her friends? She loves her baby and every thought of her getting hurt has come unwanted. Met with fears of how to keep it from happening. She’d never harm her. But she wants to be a part of the hotel again. Afraid that they all might forget about her.

So caught up in thoughts and chaos she doesn’t realize that her husband has stopped talking. Or that jazz music has started to play again. However, he doesn’t need her to notice as he has his own way of getting her attention. A black shadow appendage wraps itself around her waist and lifts her from the floor as if she’s weightless. Depositing her onto his lap on the sofa in the center of the room. Scarlett wastes no time wrapping her arms around him and burrowing into his neck and shoulder. Feeling the soothing comfort of him petting her head and running his dulled claws up and down her back.

“Belle, you know I never could stand to see you cry darling. What in Hell has happened down there to cause this? I mean I understand that Lucifer is ugly, his looks frighten me too, but it isn’t worth crying over.” His microphone on his staff plays a laugh track, while leaning against the arm of the sofa. Meanwhile he chuckles at his own joke.

“Lucifer is so ugly, when he went to a freakshow they let him in for free." The microphone chatters back to him. A joke at Scarlett’s expense but too funny not to add to a moment in need of laughter.

“Alastor!” Scarlett gasps and presses against his chest. “That’s horrible.” She tries to stand up and walk away. Not wanting to hear anymore about how ugly or grotesque he believes the people in the freakshows to be. Has he forgotten that she was once such a performer? Or has his humor gone to his head? He isn’t nearly as funny as he believes himself to be.  

However, he hasn’t yet let go of her with the black tendril held around her waist. She isn’t getting up until he gets a proper reaction to his efforts of making her laugh. Or until she admits to being exhausted and starving. In which case he can take care of both. “Oh now, that one came from him. I had nothing to do with it. Besides, I’m only joking. Come on now give us a smile? No more tears today and that’s final.” He says, pulling at her cheeks and trying to turn her frown into a smirk.

“You can’t just order me not to cry.” Batting his hands away she tries once again to get off of his lap. To no avail. Alastor refuses to let her go. But she isn’t going to sit here and let him lie to her. Acting as if he doesn’t have full control of that thing he carries around everywhere he goes. It’s the source of his power yes, but not of its own mind. Completely. It’s more an extension of his soul. Every once in a while it quips as if acting on its own but it’s as much smoke and mirrors as it is really magic. He’s the one pulling the strings at the end of the day.

“Well, I tried making you laugh but it seems your humor has disappeared.” He says, flicking his wrist to emphasize his words. “If you’re not going to tell me what’s wrong then I’m going to assume it’s due to the lack of sleep or proper nutrition you’ve been getting.” He wants her to admit it. To tell him she’s in need of blood and real sleep. That she’s running on fumes, sputtering and stalling out like his Model A used to do before magic kept the tank full.

“I’ve had quite enough of both, thank you very much.” She crosses her arms and faces away from him.

She hasn’t been tired or hungry. What does he expect her to do? Force herself. That wouldn’t go over very well. She’s been too busy. There’s so much she needs to do to feel human again when Penelope naps. Then whenever the baby is awake it feels like she’s doing something new. Something Scarlett is terrified of missing. But she has eaten enough and is getting sleep when she can. After he wears her out. It’s easy to fall asleep when they’re bathing in a hot bath and he’s doing all the work to get her clean. That’s what she wants most. To be in his arms and let him soothe her in such a way. Whispering words of love like apologies for letting his darker side take control. Scarlett isn’t afraid of his darkness, but damn does she love the way he makes up for it.

“When did you last finish a glass of blood?” That’s it he’s had enough of her stubbornness. She’s going to tell him the truth or he’s flipping her across his lap and punishing her the way she deserves. Though that won’t get them anywhere. The little masochist that she is, will enjoy it way too much. She’d think it’s a reward and they’d end up making the radio tower smell like sex and sin. They’d do exactly what he’s been avoiding.

“Tuesday.” She says, matter-of-factly. “See I’m fine.”

“Belle, It’s Friday.” Tilting her chin to face him, he looks her over more thoroughly. Even before Lucifer’s spell, going without blood would be dangerous to her. Now that her body thinks she’s Hellborn it could be worse. He’s not sure, none of them really know much about it. Other than the fact that she won’t age. But can conceive and is free from the extra torture Hell sneaks in every once in a while. However, two days without blood is unacceptable when he’s right here to give her everything she’d ever need.

“What? No, it isn’t.” She demands. “Alastor I have plenty enough reason to believe I’m going crazy without your bad jokes. That’s not funny.” It isn’t Friday. Is it? It can’t be. That would mean she has lost time. That she hasn’t eaten. Hasn’t brushed her teeth. When did they bathe? What day was that? No. He’s making that up. He has to be. Right?

“Alright, alright. Don’t you worry.” He says. Already slipping off his jacket and rolling up his sleeve. “I’ll let it go. But will you drink for me first? Just a little. Before we go check on our little monster and her new nanny.” He kisses her cheek before tightening his sleeve garter to form a tourniquet. “Go ahead Flying Belle, bite.”

He holds his arm out to her. Watching as she tries to decipher what happened to the two days she lost and where she lost them. She’s starving, he knows she is, but she’s holding back. Being so stubborn and refusing to do as she’s told. How typical of his queen to put herself at risk just to prove herself right. Even when she’s completely wrong. He rolls his eyes as he summons his hunting knife out of thin air. Twisting the elk antler handle between his fingers. Pausing to give her one more chance to just bite and stop fighting it. Though she doesn’t move. Pushing the blade into his skin he pierces through his forearm. Letting deep red blood bubble to the surface. Just enough to cause the reaction he wants. Her eyes go red, her wings flap from her back, and his little bat forgets her table manners.

Scarlett’s senses ignite like a fire raging in her soul. Her large red pupilless eyes look up at him before going back to look at the fresh cut. Her nose flares, at the smell of iron in the air. Leaning in, holding his arm firmly, her trimmed claws dig into the flesh of his arm. While her mouth presses to his wound. One long swipe of her tongue collets the red liquid and samples the flavor. Before her fangs push into a larger vein making him bleed more, as she licks and sucks the red elixir. Letting his electrified blood tingle against her tongue. Her mouth is covered and it’s dripping down her chin. But she doesn’t care. The little bat was much hungrier than she thought she was. Parched and weakened from forgetting to put herself first. By the time she finishes she nearly collapses against his chest. Full and exhausted. But she’ll need to feed Penelope again soon. She trusts Alastor and the nanny he made. However, she isn’t letting that thing burn though the stockpile of frozen milk. Nor does she want to look at that breast pump tonight.  

After bandaging his arm, he uses his handkerchief to wipe her face. Pulling it from his coat, still draped over the back of the sofa. Smiling softer at her, he does his best to clean the mess while she lays on half her face. Satisfied that she has gotten enough to eat, finally. Dulled claws run through her hair as she lays against him. Nearly putting her to sleep. “Do you think their victims deserve it? The I.M.P. company, I mean.” She whispers.

Alastor has considered the same thing. Hoping that they have some tact and aren’t just killing anyone simply because they’re getting paid. The moment one of their victims makes it to the pearly gates he wants to know about it. Even he has standards in what voices make it onto the airwaves. But blades for hire are reckless and rarely have a code of honor to follow. “Well, I should hope so. Otherwise, they did a very foolish thing putting themselves on my radar. Still, I haven’t yet decided if I care enough to question it.”

Scarlett sits up and looks at him. What is he saying? That he doesn’t care if they are going after innocent people? What if they kill children? Her first thought was that he would investigate this company and scare them into following the rules that he created. Not advertise for them and say oh well, kill anyone you want. “What if they’re innocent?”

“Is anyone ever truly innocent my dear? Alastor replies, summoning the coffee cart and a fresh mug.  

“I think some people are.” Scarlett twists and pulls at her dress the way she does when she’s nervous. “Not here but the ones still up there. In the living world. It wasn’t all bad. We just haven’t seen pure souls in a long time.”

Pulling her claws away from fraying the material he squeezes her hand reassuringly. “I’m more curious at how they are accessing the living world. It would be nice to see how New Orleans has changed don’t you think? Maybe these little imps might want to come for a visit to the Hazbin Hotel. To answer a few questions.”

“We’re going to have visitors?” She perks up. Ears standing tall and masking how tired she is. Excited and happy to meet someone new. She starts planning what dress she’d wear. What heels and accessories. Things she hasn’t put on in months. They’d meet in one of the common areas in the hotel. Not his radio tower unless he plans to kill them afterwords. No one but her and a select few that he tolerates has ever walked out of here alive. This could be an opportunity for her to see everyone again.

“Potentially.” His words pull her from her thoughts. “If you can stop dropping to your knees every time I approach you, like your trying to prove that you are your mother’s daughter.” He holds her chin in his hands and rubs his nose against hers, laughing along with the laugh track from his microphone.

While the little bat looks at him appalled. How could he say something like that? Who does he think he is?  She was just trying to show her appreciation for the things he does for her. Trying to feel like a woman again, not just a being made only to be milked and care for the baby. Standing from his lap Scarlett brushes down her skirt and takes the coffee percolator from the tray. Still hot and full aside from what is in his mug. Scarlett smirks at him as she pours the entire thing in his lap. Staining the couch and covering his suit and the floor.  Before tossing it at his chest and walking out the door.

In the hall she spots Lucifer heading into his office. He waves nervously after taking in her appearance. Her eyes are red again, wings out, blood smeared across her cheek. She probably look deranged or rabid. But she doesn’t care. If she weren’t so mad that she was shaking, she would corner him in the hall and force him to socialize. Just to know what is happening throughout the hotel. What she’s missed and if they ever mention them. A couple of months has felt like an eternity. But she is angry, and she wants to hold her baby. So that will have to wait. However, the choice gets made for her before she can take another step. Her wide smile framed in large bloody fangs make his eyes go wide before he pushes through the wooden door. She understands he wouldn’t be afraid of her, but instead it’s more likely that he just doesn’t want to get involved. What she doesn’t see is him watching her through the peephole like he just witnessed a woman leaving the scene of the crime. After killing her husband.

Meanwhile Alastor sits in his place, chest heaving with his suit covered in fresh coffee. Black eyes and large antlers give away that he’s battling not running into the suite and shaking that woman until she tells him what the Hell has gotten into her. However, he’s too angry for that. No matter how fisty his little bat gets, he’ll never hurt her. Never let his anger out on her. Besides, as clever as it was maybe that did take it too far this time. She’s nothing like her mother. She’d never be. But that was the point and what made him find it so humorous. His Scarlett, his Flying Belle, is his queen. No matter what she’s doing. However, now he’s gone and upset her. It’s hard to tell what she’s capable of after that display. With a wave he sends his shadow to go watch her, and make sure she behaves herself. All before standing and snaping his fingers, to clear the mess she caused. Giving himself a clean suit and drying his skin. Though he will smell like rich coffee until he showers. Either way he needs to calm down and give her time to as well before that can happen. So, reeking of black coffee it is.

Walking back over to the sound desk he decides to continue his broadcast. Adding an hour for storytelling. Summoning a book that will remind him of why he still adores the woman that just covered him in hot liquid and stormed off like the brat she is. He cracks open the spine and debates on who he could take his aggression out on instead. Should it be Angel? Or does Husker deserve a visit? Maybe Charlie and Lucifer need a reminder of who is really in charge in this establishment? Oh, why not Vaggie, that little pest is bound to have done something to deserve his wrath. Slamming the book shut he gives a quit outro and cuts the hours long broadcast that has taken up most of the day. Sending dead air to anyone still tuned in to his station. All before getting up and heading downstairs.