Chapter Text
Alastor collapsed against the torn sofa, panting, as the last sickly green suture magically affixed itself, closing the gash across his chest. Sweat beaded his face, his ever-present smile strained. A hand shakily rose up and traced down the length of his wound, ensuring all the jagged edges had been brought together.
It wasn’t healed by any standard, but the patch job would have to work for now. As much as Alastor hated leaving things half-done, he hated appearing weak more. And it had already been four days.
Eventually, Alastor’s breathing evened, the pain in his chest subsiding to a tolerable ache. Grunting, he stood, leaning heavily on his repaired staff. The twinkling lights of the hotel mocked him a little way in the distance through the shattered glass of his fallen radio tower. He growled. How dare it look so pristine whilst he rotted away just down the hill? With a deep breath, he stood tall, forcing his smile to appear more relaxed. Appearances were everything.
His arrival back to the hotel garnered about the welcome he expected. Husk was unhappy, Charlie was overly happy; Alastor had to guard his chest as she went in for a hug, trying to ignore the way the contact made his skin itch. Vaggie was perhaps less annoyed than he had predicted, but what really caught his eye was Lucifer. Upon Alastor’s appearance, the King’s smile had dropped, and while Charlie cheerfully called his name and embraced him, Lucifer rolled his eyes and leaned back as far away from the demon as he could.
“Oh, this guy.”
Alastor’s smile turned smug. Nothing was so satisfying as knowing how easily he got under the Little King’s skin.
“Al, I just knew you were coming back!” Charlie’s voice called Alastor’s attention back to her. She released her embrace, gazing at him with bright eyes. “We rebuilt your radio tower and everything! And, because I wanted everyone here to have more permanent quarters at the hotel, your new room is right below. I think it matches your personality, but–”
As Charlie chattered away, Alastor caught sight of Husk’s scowl out of the corner of his eye.
“Husker, my good friend!” He cut into Charlie’s rambling. “It’s good to see you. I’m sure you were worried about whether or not I would return.”
“I could feel your claws around my soul the whole time; this ain’t a surprise,” Husk grumbled, fishing a flask out of his pocket and taking a swig.
Angel Dust walked up behind Husk and rested his top set of arms on the former overlord's head, earning himself a side-eye. “Well, believe it or not, Alastor, I missed ya creepy smile. It’s been kinda tame without you or Pentious and the eggs floatin’ around.” He jutted his thumb back at the entrance of the hotel. “Still got Frank, though.”
“I hate to admit it, but it’s good to have you back.”
Alastor gazed down at Vaggie who uttered the admission. She gave him a begrudging smile.
“There’s been too much loss already.”
Cherri Bomb shrugged, but her expression was solemn. Niffty simply vibrated in excitement, not processing the topic of conversation at all.
Alastor hummed happily at how gleeful his little friend was to see him, but quickly cut himself off. He quietly scolded himself for becoming so sentimental. His unfortunate injury had revealed to him that he had gone a little… soft. Someone of his power couldn’t afford for his logic to be muddled by attachments. Alastor straightened his posture. It was a dangerous game he was playing, allowing himself to get close to others. For the sake of power, his connections were reasonable, but for them to develop into genuine affection? Alastor needed to be more careful.
“Dad.” Charlie’s voice called Alastor away from his thoughts once again. She approached Lucifer who still hadn’t turned to engage in conversation. “Aren’t you happy Alastor came back?”
Lucifer scoffed, crossing his arms. “Oh, sure.”
“Dad,” Charlie pushed.
Lucifer turned to meet her gaze and his irritated expression gave way to guilt. Alastor’s grin widened. He wanted to laugh at how quickly the Little King deferred to his daughter. How interesting it was for Lucifer to prove the dangers of sentiment right in front of him. Didn’t he know how easy it was for anyone, not just Alastor, to exploit such attachments?
Lucifer exhaled and pivoted to face Alastor. “Alastor,”—Lucifer grimaced as if the name left a bitter taste in his mouth—“I am rather… chuffed to see you’ve returned.”
Alastor narrowed his eyes at the contronym, but he wasn’t about to start a fight, seeing as Charlie was appeased. At least not overtly.
“Ah, yes, it truly is wonderful to be back with friends again, especially my darling Charlie,” Alastor sang with a flourish of his staff and a gentle touch on Charlie’s arm. He reveled in the way Lucifer’s eyes blew wide in undisguised anger. Little King, you are so incredibly easy, it’s almost unfair, Alastor thought.
At that moment, Niffty seemingly couldn’t control her excitement any longer. With a shrill of laughter, she exploded, jumping straight up into Alastor’s chest.
A screech of feedback pierced the air at the impact. Alastor’s eyes flashed into radio dials as his antlers shot outwards. A spike of pain radiated throughout his entire body, knocking the air from his lungs. Niffty leaped off of him immediately, and she and the demons around him stared in shock. Alastor fought to regain control of himself, his smile tight as he willed his body to relax.
His breathing was labored and he attempted to cover it by clearing his throat. “Apologies Niffty, my dear, you simply caught me unawares.” Alastor bent down and gave Niffty’s hand a quick squeeze, ignoring the ache in his chest as he did so.
The others still looked skeptical. Lucifer arched his brow.
Luckily, Charlie saved him. “I think Extermination Day has left us all a little on edge,” she sympathized. “How about dinner? I know Angel has been preparing quite the entrée for us tonight!”
“Haha! Trust me, my meatballs will knock ya socks off!”
Alastor allowed Charlie to lead him through the Vegas casino-esque entrance of the hotel. As he entered, his sight was immediately drawn to the high, sloping ceilings. The architecture was odd, but not entirely unpleasant; intricate gold trims traveled from evenly spaced loci on the edges of the circular lobby, coalescing into a sharp point at the center, and cascading into an extravagant chandelier. The off-white of the ceiling complimented the red of the surrounding walls well enough, and the metallic accents were stunning. Alastor was just beginning to appreciate it, when his eyes followed the golden pillars, down the magnificent staircase, and noticed the decorative marble horses adorning the lobby. He froze.
It was a carousel.
His lip curled. There was only one being who would choose such a ridiculous theme. Alastor shot a glance at Lucifer, finding that the King had been glowering at him the entire time. As a royal, Alastor would have expected Lucifer to have more elegant tastes.
Charlie quickly noticed Alastor had stopped in his tracks. She glanced back at him and to the lobby, perking up. “Right! You haven’t seen the hotel yet! I’ll have to give you a full tour soon, but how do you like the lobby?”
Charlie skipped behind her father, grabbing onto his shoulders. Lucifer’s scowl dropped as he smiled up at his daughter.
“A lot of the design elements came from Dad,” Charlie explained. “He’s the real reason we were able to rebuild so quickly! Gotta love what magic can do for you, amirite!”
Charlie shook her father's shoulders as she laughed. Lucifer shot Alastor a shit-eating grin, clearly drinking up the praise. Alastor narrowed his eyes.
“Yes, the foyer has quite the whimsical charm,” Alastor feigned, gesturing outward with a bow. He angled his neck and purposely met Lucifer’s gaze. “Like that of a clown.”
That struck a nerve. Lucifer looked daggers at Alastor, shaking out of Charlie’s hold and marching up right in front of the demon. Alastor smirked. He stood about two heads taller than the fallen angel, so it was quite entertaining to see the Little King attempt to intimidate him.
“So sorry that ‘joy’ isn’t a word in your vocabulary,” Lucifer scoffed. He attempted to jab his staff up into Alastor’s chest, but the demon was quick to bat it away.
“Believe me, sire, I find joy in many things, but none coincide with tacky circus decor.”
Lucifer’s eyes turned red and he bared his teeth. Alastor was sure he could see the tips of his horns peeking out. A broad smile replaced Alastor’s smirk. He was winning their little game and it was oh so satisfying.
Charlie laughed nervously as she slid between the feuding beings, hands up in a de-escalating gesture. She forced a smile at Alastor. “Well, Al, I can promise your room is much more your style! Dad even moved your bayou pocket dimension to the new location!” She shot a pointed look over her shoulder at Lucifer. “Right. Dad.”
Lucifer only scowled, looking away. Alastor’s eyes sparkled with malicious glee at how aggravated the King had become. He took a step back from Charlie and bent to the side to be closer to Lucifer’s eye level.
“How kind of you, Your Majesty! I truly appreciate the gesture,” Alastor said in mock gratitude.
Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Whatever Charlie asks of me, I do, despite whatever personal reservations I might have,” he bit out. He glared at Alastor from the corner of his eye. “It’s what dads do.”
“Really?” Alastor pondered. He straightened his back and nonchalantly twisted his staff between his claws. “My experience has taught me differently, and I’m sure, until recently, Charlie’s did too.”
“Okay!” Vaggie shouted, stealing everyone’s attention. “Let’s keep moving, please!”
She ushered Alastor towards a wing of the hotel, which he allowed. He felt Lucifer’s glare bore into him from behind, and a self-satisfied smile settled on his lips. Aside from Charlie’s frantic whispers to her fuming father, an uneasy silence had settled over the other demons. Alastor could taste the tension– and it was delicious.
Alastor was led through an archway into a beautiful dining area. He was once again greeted with tall ceilings, although not as grand as the lobby’s. The room was more classic in design, with immense windows making up the wall to one side, allowing red light to illuminate the space. The apple and snake motifs in the stained glass portions of the arched tops were evidence of Lucifer’s input and Alastor rolled his eyes. The prideful Devil truly lived up to his cardinal sin. About twenty or so tables were placed within the room with a few booths lining the wall opposite to the windows. A small stage, empty save for a grand piano in the corner, was situated towards the back of the room, and a buffet table towards the front. Based on the appearance as a whole, Alastor could only assume the room was meant to function as a dining area for residents as well as a functional restaurant.
Vaggie continued to guide the group through the restaurant, through the large commercial kitchen, and into a smaller, more traditional kitchen and dining area. The room catered to a very different aesthetic than what Alastor had seen so far, with warm red-brown wood and homey decorations. Alastor realized with pleasant surprise that it was the kitchen from the old hotel, down to the table. It was nice to see something of the old building survived.
“Ah, now this is familiar!” Alastor sang. He pushed past Vaggie breathing in the aroma of Angel’s cooking. While Alastor would have much rathered a fresh plate of sinner flesh, he was far too weakened from days of hunger and healing to be picky at the moment. His mouth watered at the idea of any meal, even as far as a vegan one.
Immediately, Alastor took up his position at the head of the table. It wasn’t often that the Hazbin Hotel residents ate a meal together, but when they did, namely when Charlie forced a bonding dinner on them, there was an unspoken seating arrangement. Alastor would sit at the head of the table, as far away from encroaching elbows as he could. No one questioned it; there was a respect aspect to it, with Alastor being as powerful an overlord as he was. Niffty would sit to his left, an arrangement he preferred, seeing as the little sinner was the only one who would regularly invade his space, and Alastor was right-handed. Husk would begrudgingly sit to his right. Angel would sit in between Husk and Pentious, Vaggie next to Niffty and Charlie.
“Save my spot, Whiskers, it’s time to serve up a feast!” Angel called out, heading in the direction of the food.
The mood seemed to lighten at that and everyone filled into their usual chairs.
Then Cherri Bomb walked in carrying the egg, Frank. “Alright, Angie, you’ve been hyping this shit up all day, don’t let me down now!”
Angel shot her an offended look as he pulled a tray of garlic bread from the oven. “Hon, please, you’ve had my cookin' before! Ya know I don’t disappoint.”
As Cherri took up Sir Pentious’ old seat, Frank in her lap, Alastor realized there was only one seat Lucifer could take: the other head of the table. Directly across from him. His smile turned dark. This would be interesting.
Both Charlie and Lucifer lagged behind in conversation, but when they finally entered, Lucifer glared at Alastor, taking his seat opposite at the head of the table. Alastor pointedly ignored the Little King, choosing instead to watch as Angel impressively loaded all six of his arms up with trays of food.
With a flourish, Angel spun around and set down the platters in the center of the table. “Alright sinners, we’ve got pasta and meatballs, garlic bread, and an Italian salad for the weirdos who want it. I'd say bon appetit, but I ain't French, so buon appetito!"
A pleasant spirit settled over the group as they filled up their plates, and an easy conversation ensued. Alastor had to admit Angel was quite the chef, especially the meatballs. However, as the dinner went on, a needling ache began to work its way into his chest. He quickly dropped out of conversation, focusing on directing his power to his wound in a feeble attempt to heal it. He covered for his silence with slow bites of his dinner.
Then Lucifer spoke. “So. Alastor.”
Alastor flicked his ear but didn’t look up, still chewing his food.
“Mind telling us why you only showed up after we’d rebuilt the hotel?”
Silence. Everyone at the table froze, forks halfway to mouths, mid-bite.
Alastor finished chewing and swallowed purposely before meeting Lucifer’s gaze. The fallen angel had a 'gotcha' expression plastered across his face and Alastor resisted the urge to sneer.
“Unfortunately,” Alastor answered deliberately, “I was dealt a rather serious injury during the battle. Much to my personal chagrin, I needed a little bit of time to… recuperate.”
Charlie, who had been staring at her father in horror, looked to Alastor with a mix of guilt and sympathy. The look was far too close to pity for his liking. His skin crawled.
“Ah, of course.” Lucifer gave an exaggerated nod before tapping his chin in thought. “Who were you fighting again? Someone powerful if they were able to strike you down, I’m sure!”
Alastor narrowed his eyes. The ache in his chest grew.
“Oh, that’s right!” Lucifer’s voice rang with wicked triumph. “It was Adam! The guy I bested without breaking a sweat!”
Vaggie’s facepalm played in harmony with the thump of Charlie’s head hitting the table.
Swallowing a growl, Alastor tightened his smile. “Yes, well, I’m glad I could keep Adam occupied while Charlie and the others dealt with the Exorcists in your absence.”
Lucifer’s grin dropped.
“But since we’re on the topic,” Alastor continued, rubbing his chest in an attempt to quell the pain, “may I ask why it took so long for you to arrive at the battle? Seeing as your power so easily overwhelmed Adam, we certainly could have used you. Perhaps suffered fewer losses. Who knows, maybe Sir Pentious would have been joining us for dinner.”
“Alastor,” came Vaggie’s warning.
Alastor ignored it.
“I promise you,” Lucifer began darkly, “whatever I was doing would've accomplished more good than you ever will in your life and damnation combined.”
“I helped found this hotel and supported Charlie’s dream when very few did,” Alastor shot back easily, a pang of pain almost taking his breath away. “I think that’s quite a bit of good, so why don't you share with the group?”
Lucifer slammed his fist on the table, red bleeding into the pale yellow of his sclera.
“Dad,” Charlie uttered the warning this time.
Lucifer didn’t seem to hear. “What I was doing was none of your business, you piece of shit! I’m the King of Hell, I can do as I damn please!”
“Of which I’m sure includes neglecting your daughter—”
Fire erupted between Lucifer’s horns as he shot to his feet, his chair screeching against the tile as it was whipped back by his tail. His eyes burned red and he glared at Alastor.
“Enough!” Charlie yelled, leaping to her feet as well, matching her father’s demonic appearance.
Lucifer turned his burning gaze on his daughter and the fire immediately died. Alastor would have laughed at the way Lucifer looked to the table in shame if he weren’t so afraid the very act would rip his chest apart.
Charlie turned her red-eyed stare on Alastor, who met her gaze, unmoved aside from his slightly labored breathing.
“Can we not have a normal dinner?” she scolded. Charlie turned back to her father, leaning down to force him to look at her. “Is it really that hard to be civil?”
A wave of pain washed through Alastor and he grabbed at his chest, forcing himself to stay upright. “It’s fine, Charlie, I was just finishing up. Please, enjoy the rest of your meal.”
Vaggie stared at him incredulously as he stood. “Alastor, you’re at fault here too—”
Alastor wasn't listening. He faded into shadows, willing himself to find his quarters and reappearing there within seconds. Another wave of agony overtook him and he stumbled forward, catching himself on an armchair. His head pounded alongside the throbbing of his chest. Discerning a fireplace in the dimness, he flicked his fingers, flooding the room with greenish-yellow light as a fire blazed to life. With a grunt, Alastor pulled himself into the armchair, snapping away his jacket and shirt to expose his wound. The scarred borders of his gash were angry and inflamed, and while the stitches held strong, blackened blood oozed from between them. Alastor let his head fall back against the back of the chair, trying to calm his heavy breathing.
Healing magic didn't come easily to Alastor, it never did for sinners, but as an Overlord, his power was usually enough to rectify any injury with ease, even if it was dealt by angelic steel. This was different. Whatever Adam did to him was more damaging than he could have expected. The wound festered. Every attempt to heal it only kept the pain at bay for a short while before it consumed him again, worse than before.
Closing his eyes, Alastor focused his energy on his chest. The effort provided very little relief, but it was enough for him to finally breathe again. Inhaling deeply, he trailed his claws down the wound, feeling the heat of an infection he didn't know how to fight. He growled, opening his eyes and sneering at the offending injury.
"This isn't working."
He hated to admit it. He hated feeling weak, but there was no doubt the wound was only worsening beneath the surface. Already, Alastor felt drained from his attempts. His gaze settled on the flames beside him as fatigue clouded his mind. What was he going to do? What could he do? His eyes closed, a pained smile etched into his face as he fell into a deep sleep.