Chapter Text
1977
“Did you know…?”
Vox stared down into the foamy glass of beer in front of him for a moment then smiled, really smiled, before looking up at his companions. Across the table from him, Alastor returned his smile (of course he did, he always did) and raised an eyebrow. Rosie sighed and tapped her fingers against the top of the table.
“Do we know what, Vox?”
“Wait, what?”
Alastor blinked. “You said ‘did you know…?’”
“Ha, no,” Vox chuckled, shaking his head. “I did not. I think I’d know if I did.”
“Boys,” Rosie chastised gently, already looking put-upon. “I don’t see why you didn’t wait for us to get started, Vox dear.”
“I got bored waiting,” Vox replied, leaning towards the Radio Demon with a conspiratorial grin which Alastor instantly returned. “Wanna bet that I can drink you under the table tonight?”
“Perhaps, but Vox? Please don’t order shots for the table again – I don’t even know what this is, but it looks foul.” Alastor tossed back a shot of something strangely purple and faintly luminescent, making a face at the taste. Vox tapped the rim of his glass, raising an eyebrow and Alastor rolled his eyes. “Anyways, you’ve had a head start, my dear. That hardly seems like a fair contest.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll let you catch up.” Vox eyed him closely before bringing his glass to his mouth. “Unless you’re scared you’re gonna lose. Because, hey, I get it. It’s fine, it’s groovy. Super cool, man. I’m a generous soul who’ll let you save face.”
Alastor flagged down the waitress as she tried to pass their table. “Whiskey, top shelf. Bring the entire bottle,” he said cooly, eyeing Vox for a moment before continuing. “And a bottle for my friend.”
“Oh, good,” Rosie said sarcastically, raising her glass of red wine (and blood, Vox was pretty sure there was blood in there, too, but he was a little afraid to ask outright). “It’s not a proper night out without at least one of you getting blood poisoning.”
“Not just blood poisoning.” Vox slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a very full bag of white powder that he hoped was cocaine. He couldn’t be completely sure since Valentino had given it to him, no strings attached, and he hadn’t tested it yet, so there was a fifty-fifty chance that it was just a baggie of baking soda. Val could be a dick about these kinds of things sometimes. Still. “Other kinds of poisoning, too.”
“Give me that,” Alastor snapped and snatched the bag out of Vox’s hands. He opened it and dipped a finger in to taste it before nodding. “All right. At least it’s not flour this time.”
Right. It had been flour last time, hadn’t it? Which turned out to be just as well because Alastor used it the next morning to whip up breakfast, much to Val’s amusement when Vox complained about it later.
It didn’t take them very long to drink their way through the bottles of whiskey and snort enough cocaine to make the room blur around the edges (well, Alastor snorted the cocaine... Vox found just pouring it onto his tongue and letting it dissolve in his mouth worked just as well). Rosie did try to slow them down, but Vox was in no mood to let himself be one-upped by Alastor. And before Vox knew it, Alastor’s hand was in his and they were out on the dance floor, trying to keep up with the latest song to find its way down to Hell.
Vox wasn’t completely sure how long they had been dancing when Rosie abandoned them. Well, not exactly abandoned… she said goodbye and everything. Even warned them not to get into too much trouble before Vox caught sight of her talking to Husk. The Gambling Overlord was standing near a craps table, watching the rest of the casino with a sharp eye. Alastor swung him in a wide circle, so Vox didn’t see how Husk reacted when Rosie gestured to them with what looked like an exasperated expression.
He did, however, get to focus his gaze back on Alastor’s face and giggled at the near-manic delight on the Radio Demon’s face. “Why’re you smiling so much?”
“What’s that?”
“You’re smiling.”
“I’m always smiling.”
Vox sighed and let Alastor pull him close. “You know.”
“I feel like fighting something,” Alastor replied restlessly. Vox nodded. That made sense. Al did enjoy fighting when he was hopped up on coke – and Vox liked watching him fight when he was hopped up on coke. Even liked to help sometimes, too, if the mood struck him.
Which it had tonight.
“Great idea! We should fight…” He looked around the room. Across the room, he caught the eye of an ominously massive demon with the temper of rabid mongoose. Big Leroy was notorious for being the biggest, meanest (even meaner than Husk and that… was saying something), and baddest sonuvabitch in the whole of the Entertainment District. And Alastor certainly wasn’t to be underestimated but even he reassessed the situation if Big Leroy was involved. Vox slapped his hand against the Radio Demon’s shoulder and Alastor blinked his eyes open again. “We should fight Big Leroy.”
Alastor’s eyes widened. “Vox.” He looked at Big Leroy who looked back and slowly blinked his eyes out of turn. “Vox!”
“Yeah, doll.”
“He is very big.”
“So? So?” Vox leaned in, expression serious. Alastor tipped his head forward, letting his forehead touch Vox’s, brows furrowed in concentration. “We could take him. Together, you know? Because I’m strong. Like a fucking ox, Al. Right? Fucking… strong.”
“A small ox, Vox. Heh. Did you hear that? Vox the Ox. Oxen? Are you plural, Vox?”
“What?” Vox scoffed. “No, a big one. Like a manly ox.”
“Your face is very breakable,” Al reminded him and flicked the center of his screen. Vox wrinkled his non-existent nose in consternation. “Just… plink!”
“No, it’s not!” Vox scowled and leaned back. He thought about whether he wanted to feel put out and decided against it. “I can fuck his… ha-ha, his mother!” Alastor let out an offended trumpet blat. “No, wait, shut up. I can fuck… uh… his shit up. Yeah! Fuck, yeah. Fuck his shit all the way up. We can do him together.”
“Okay,” Alastor said, clearly unconvinced. That was all right – Vox was persuasive.
“So… okay.”
“This is very stupid.” Alastor adjusted his monocle, squinting at Vox. “Vox. It’s… very.”
“You only live once,” Vox whispered hopefully and Alastor squeezed his shoulder with a sigh.
“And die a few thousand times more.”
Vox nodded sagely. He knew a thing or two about dying. “And how.”
Things didn’t start out good, Vox had to admit, and they rapidly went downhill from there. The media demons strode over (well, stumbled, really – they very nearly ended up crawling over to Big Leroy, especially once Alastor inadvertently tripped Vox with his cane and had to grab him by the back of his sweater to prevent him from smashing his face on Husk’s tiled floor) to Big Leroy and Vox took great care to announce their intention to fight the massive Sinner. A hush fell over the casino as Vox stared up at Big Leroy, hands on his hips, and in the distance, he thought he could hear Husk curse.
See, what made Big Leroy so scary was simple – magic didn’t work on him. Vox knew. He’d tried to hypnotize the bastard a few times and had only survived because Alastor dropped them through the Void before Big Leroy’s fist could close around his head. Even his electricity didn’t do a damn thing and forget about Alastor’s shadows. Most of the time, Big Leroy didn’t even seem to notice when magic was used on him and when he did… well, it just made him angrier.
He managed to swing and land the first punch, but the alcohol must’ve slowed his reflexes (or evened them out because whoo buddy, the coke gave him razor sharp focus) because he was knocked to the ground within seconds of initiating the brawl, skidding across the floor and smacking his head against a slot machine. Above him, the machine let out a trombone’s whomp-whomp and the spinning tiles declared him a loser. Vox scowled and rubbed his head, resolving to talk to Husk about that. Once he was done fighting, of course. He couldn’t get distracted now.
“Vox!”
He blinked and returned his attention Big Leroy in time to watch him swing the Radio Demon up by his throat with effortless ease. Alastor kicked his legs, claws scratching at the massive demon’s arm. Vox gasped – he had not meant for Alastor to get caught while he was being casually insulted by gaming machines.
“No, wait. Hold on – I’ll save you, Al!” he called, scrambling up from the floor. His hand landed in something wet. Oh. He took a second to examine the sticky substance on his palm, wondering what it was, and raised it close to his face. He… could try licking it, but that didn’t seem like it would be the best idea. But he had to know, didn’t he? His mouth opened hesitantly, and Vox started to cringe before his tongue even snaked past his teeth. “Ugh…”
[Vox!]
Oh, shit. Vox dropped his hand and ran towards Big Leroy, waving his hands above his head.
[Hey! Motherfucker! Drop him… you jerkface.]
“No, Vox,” Alastor coughed, resorting to slapping Big Leroy’s arms as the massive Sinner swung him up into the air. “He can’t… can’t hear you!”
“Right.” Vox shook his head. Of course not. “Put him down! I insist.”
Alastor screamed a little (in a perfectly manly fashion, Vox felt) as Big Leroy tossed him away and lumbered toward Vox. Oh, fuck… this may have been a bad idea, now that he was faced with nine feet of angry, magic-resistant Sinner. His head craned back to keep eye contact with Big Leroy, and he swallowed.
“Wanna… oh, god… wanna dance, asshole?” Vox asked, shrinking back when Big Leroy caught the front of his sweater and yanked him off his feet. “Whoa, shit! I did not mean… sorry! Sorry, Big Leroy! We… we fucked up, man!”
A shot rang out close by and Vox shouted in surprise when he felt Big Leroy’s grip loosen. Blood sprayed out behind the big Sinner’s head, a single gunshot in his forehead smoking cartoonishly. For a moment, Vox wondered if he had done that somehow before he caught a glimpse of Husk’s wing in his peripheral vision. Before he could crash to the ground, a hand caught the back of his collar and lowered him… not gently, exactly, but at least it wasn’t a freefall.
Vox whirled around in surprise to find Husk glowering at him, magic crackling around the Gambling Overlord in red and black sparks and whorls. Before he could thank Husk for saving him, the other man reached around and smacked him upside the head.
“Fucking dumbass motherfuckers, both of you. I swear to fuck,” Husk hissed. Vox was suddenly aware that the casino had broken out in a series of fistfights while he and Alastor had been fighting Big Leroy. “Stay there.”
“Oh, Vox!”
Vox found himself caught up in Alastor’s arms and returned the hug with enthusiasm. “I beat him, Al! Did you… fucking… fucking see it?”
Alastor kissed him on the side of his boxy head and Vox blushed instantly. “You were very brave.”
“I know!”
“THAT’S ENOUGH.”
Vox sagged against Alastor, trying to press his palm against his mouth to stifle the sudden laughter bubbling up from his chest. Oh, no – he couldn’t stop it! And it was getting harder to hold it in when Husk shot them an angry, dangerous look. Vox buried his face against Alastor’s chest, shoulders shaking helplessly.
“Shh,” Alastor snickered, patting the back of Vox’s head. “You’re making Husk angry.”
“This is a casino, not a fucking fight club,” the Gambling Overlord boomed. “If you want to fight, get the fuck out. Otherwise, I’m putting more bullets in brains, and I can’t promise they won’t be angelic ones.”
“He’s so mean,” Vox giggled.
“Oh, no!” Alastor gasped and spun Vox around by the shoulders, facing away from the Radio Demon. “He’s coming back. Vox! Stand up straight!”
With the room still spinning around him (which Vox was chalking up to a heady mixture of whiskey, cocaine, and concussion – he was fairly certain he had one of those now, too), Vox stood as straight he could while Husk made his way over to them. His wings flared out on either side of him - Husk looked pissed.
Oh, dear.
“Oh, deer,” Vox breathed, and Alastor promptly dissolved into another fit of giggles.
“You two,” Husk snarled, pointing a claw at them. Vox pressed his hand flat against his chest, raising his eyebrows with faux confusion. The Gambling Overlord leveled his pistol at the Television Overlord’s face and stared him down for a full ten seconds before Vox hiccoughed helplessly. Husk rolled his eyes. “Holy shit. Get the fuck out.”
“He’s letting us go, Al,” Vox stage whispered and turned to the side to catch Alastor’s lapel in one clawed fist. “Hurry before he changes his mind.”
“Really, truly decent of you, Husker.” Alastor didn’t even flinch when Husk fired a bullet an inch from his foot, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Al was, Vox thought, also very brave. “All right. Fine. We can tell when we’re not wanted.”
“Not even a little bit wanted,” Vox supplied helpfully. “Fucking… fucking rude, is what it is.”
“Let us take our leave… Vox! We’re going.” Alastor raised his hand and gestured to the ceiling. “Vox, where is my coat?”
Vox whipped around, dragging Alastor with him. “I don’t… I don’t see it.”
“He’s fucking wearing it!” A firm hand bunched into the back of Vox’s sweater and despite his efforts to cling to Alastor, he was separated from the Radio Demon. He tried protesting as he was marched to the back door and shoved through with a shocking lack of ceremony. How dare he! Vox spun around, sputtering with indignation only to have his jacket tossed in his face, completely covering his head. “Just fucking stay out – the two of you are menaces to society and to me, in particular.”
Vox clawed his jacket off his head and watched sadly as it fell into a dingy puddle in front of him. “Oh, no.”
“That’s spilled milk,” Alastor sighed, and Vox turned to him. Delighted that he had made it out of the casino in one piece. Husk was mad.
“You’re alive!”
“I am!” Alastor hooked his claws in the front of Vox’s sweater and swung him around almost fast enough to make the copious amount of whiskey in Vox’s belly make a dramatic exit. He shoved the younger Sinner against the bricked wall of the alleyway behind Husk’s casino and Vox’s breath slammed out of him with an audible oof. Was something scratching the back of his head, he wondered and looked up in confusion. “Vox!”
“Yeah. What’s happening?” He dragged his eyes away from the row of irritable pigeons glaring down at them. Alastor’s face was very close to his own and Vox blinked, his smile softening helplessly. “Hey, Al.”
Alastor unhooked one of his hands and brought it up to rest on the side of Vox’s head. That was nice. Very nice. Eyes fluttering shut, Vox leaned into the warmth of the Radio Demon’s hand like a puppy, making no effort to hide his contentment.
“You’re my… my best friend,” Alastor said earnestly, and Vox’s eyes opened once more. “Truly. My very, very best friend.”
“You’re mine, too.” Vox put his hand on Alastor’s waist, tentatively, and pulled him just a little closer. “I think… no. No, I know! I know I love you… Al. Alastor.”
“Yes, darling?” Alastor hummed, bleary eyes refocusing on Vox as he processed the younger Sinner’s last statement. “I do, too.”
“Do what?”
“Love you. All… all the time, Vox.”
“Wow,” Vox breathed. Warmth bloomed in his chest, spreading up into his head. He could feel his screen heating up with a blush and his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he studied Alastor’s mouth closely. He probably wasn’t going to remember any of this in the morning, so he might as well make the most of it. “I wanna kiss you now.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Oh.” That was… sad. Vox felt his heart sink a little, but then Alastor grabbed the other side of his head with a sharp-clawed hand and his heart recovered. Alastor’s thumbs smoothed over the shiny wooden surface of his casing lovingly and he didn’t get the uncomfortable chill down his spine that Doctor Bell had conditioned into him all those years ago. Alastor was probably not going to tear his head off, though… one could never be too careful with cannibals. Vox placed a hand over Alastor’s and smiled softly at his friend. “S’okay.”
“It’s not okay! It’s not, Vox, and you… can’t,” Alastor declared. Vox waited patiently while the wheels continued turning in Alastor’s head. They were both very fucked up right now, he mused, his gaze drifting back to the angry pigeons above them. They looked mad. “Because I’m… I’m kissing you now.”
"Huh?" Vox blinked in confusion, lowering his eyes back down to Alastor’s face. “Really?”
Alastor stuck his tongue in his mouth with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm – Vox had to jerk his head back a little to avoid being suffocated. His head thumped dully against the bricked alleyway wall. But! Then he got the hang of it, they got the hang of it, and the kiss turned soft and warm and yearning. Vox groaned softly.
Settling his hands on the Radio Demon’s waist, he melted against the wall with a whimper, pulling Alastor flush against him. This was good and very nice, and Vox was certain that Husk had done him a favor by kicking them out. Alastor’s hand dropped down from the side of his head and rested on Vox’s shoulder before he pulled away. “See?”
“S’good,” Vox agreed with a nod. “We should – oh, no.”
Alastor was decent enough to turn away from him before proceeding to empty his stomach on the alley’s rubbish infused pavement. Vox leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes with a triumphant sigh. He didn’t need to throw up.
He waited patiently for Alastor to finish before opening his eyes and straightening up – mostly. After giving Alastor’s back a soothing pat, he waited for his friend to stand back up, glancing around the alleyway with only vague interest. One of the pigeons had landed on a dumpster and stared at Vox with aloof judgement that he took offense to.
“Fuck off, bird,” he muttered and looked down at Alastor. “Wow. You threw up a lot, Al.”
“I know,” Alastor groaned miserably and finally straightened back up, only to sag against Vox. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Me either.” Vox pushed against the Radio Demon until he was standing upright on his own. He frowned thoughtfully and, after a moment’s consideration, reached out to straighten his friend’s tie. “But I didn’t throw up. So.”
“Doesn’t mean… mean you’re better than me,” Alastor said sourly, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. Vox sniffed and looked away for a moment.
“A little better,” he whispered quietly enough for Alastor to ignore him if he chose. There was an awkward silence, and the pigeon cooed mockingly. Which was uncalled for, Vox felt. He huffed and patted Alastor’s cheek. “S’okay, though. You’re good at things, too.”
“Huh.” Alastor seemed to consider that. “We should… oh… Vox, let’s go home.”
Vox nodded sagely, but that was before Alastor’s hand clasped together with his, lacing their fingers together. He was pretty sure that his screen had that dopey love-struck expression that Rosie had once pointed out to him. But it really was okay if Alastor saw the little hearts in his pupils – he’d seen them before, after all. Vox tilted his head and smiled.
He should tell him, even if they were only supposed to be friends. Enough time had passed and maybe Alastor had changed his mind. And they’d kissed like that again, like they had before and Vox suddenly knew, just knew, that Alastor had changed his mind. He squeezed the Radio Demon’s fingers with his own, feeling a fresh blush start to spread across his screen, the warmth of it strangely comforting this time.
He was going to tell Al everything, he was!
“Hey. Hey, Al, listen…”
Alastor’s eyes widened and, unnervingly, so did his smile. Vox froze. Because he knew what the Radio Demon had planned for him when Alastor dropped his hand and caught his waist with one clawed hand. He shrieked in panic and tried to jerk himself free. A cold rush of air swept his clothing forward and Alastor grabbed him in a bear hug.
“Wheee!” Alastor cackled and tumbled them backwards into the Void.
Vox screamed until there was no more air in his lungs.
*
Present Day
Four hundred and eighty years.
That’s how long Will had been in Hell. Four hundred and eighty years. Add another fifty-three years before that (for the long, frankly exhausting time he had spent in the living world), and it was a safe bet to say that he had seen just about everything. Well, just about everything that Earth and Hell had to offer – what was beyond Heaven’s gates were still a mystery (and always would be), but Will was content with his lot.
He’d been born into privilege and had died with it, too. Hobnobbed with richest and most powerful men of his day, had watched kings run through wives like water through a sieve, and had died a quick death in his own bed. No trip up Tower Green like so many of his peers, which was a blessing since he never could abide the sting of a blade, no matter the size. And, as luck would have it, he did get to have one final conversation with good old Hal before the mobs tore him apart – though Will quickly distanced himself and begged ignorance when anyone asked if he knew he who he had been talking to.
See, Will was nothing if not a clever and pragmatic man. He knew better than to boast when he fell into Hell. Knew better than to tell everyone his full name, or any of the now useless titles he had inherited or had bestowed upon him while he was alive. He was clever enough to slink into the shadows and remain unobtrusively anonymous for nearly five hundred years, learning to blend in and pick up the latest speech patterns and dialects until he barely remembered that he had once looked down on men like the one he was today.
Ah, but he’d survived this long and those other men of his status and stature… well, they were gone, little more than annotations in the annals of Hellish tomes buried under dust as old as he was.
He’d been around long enough to have learned the favorite haunts for those up to no good and, if ever someone thought that they had discovered someplace completely novel to conduct their nefarious business, Will could assure them with great confidence that they had not. It had all been done before and it would be all done again. If Hell had taught him nothing else, it was that damnation was eternal, cyclical, and generally void of novelty.
Which was why, when he happened to stumble into a dark alley (how dull and predictable) to find a very tall, very beautiful, and very terrible woman looming over a slight yet unaffected Imp, Will slid into the shadows to remain unnoticed. Safe to watch from his hiding place, at least until the immediate danger passed.
And he knew danger when he saw it.
“Yeah, we definitely don’t do that,” the Imp said, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow. “Kind of goes against the laws of nature and divinity and all that shit.”
The woman smiled, lethal in its intent, if Will had to guess. “Since when do Hellborn care about divinity?”
“I don’t give two flying fucks about it, but I bet the higher-ups do.” Will glanced between the two and pressed himself a little tighter into shadows when something dark and slippery loosened itself from the wall behind the woman. The Imp stared at it uneasily, his expression morphing from exasperation to ill-disguised worry. “I don’t even think it’s possible.”
“You won’t know until you try.” The woman held her hand and the thing slithered up around her body to settle around her shoulders like a deeply terrible stole. Its face, if it could even be called that by the most generous observer, split open to reveal rows of needle thin teeth extending down into its throat. Will flinched at the low, almost inaudible, rattle echoing from its gaping maw and the little Imp stared at it in mute horror. The woman clicked her tongue against her teeth and the Imp jerked his gaze from the monster back to her face. “And if you refuse to try… well, let’s just say that my sister has developed quite the taste for Hellhound flesh.”
Fury replaced fear on the Imp’s face, and he pointed a finger at the woman. “Don’t you dare.”
She chuckled and stroked the monster’s face, seemingly unaffected. “Oh, aren’t you a sweet little thing? So needlessly protective.” Her dark eyes scanned the alley suddenly and Will covered his mouth to avoid making any sound as her gaze raked over the shadows he was hidden in. “Do the job and I’ll have no reason to lay a finger on your daughter.”
“And… and if it’s not possible to drag a living human down into Hell?” the Imp asked, eyes once more fixed on the creature. Not that Will could blame him – in the dim light of the alleyway, its eyes had begun to a glow eerie, sickly yellow that made Will’s skin crawl.
“Well, I suppose if it simply isn’t possible, you’ll just have to do the next best thing.”
“Which would be…?”
“Kill the child, of course.” The Imp frowned and took a step back, protest dying on his tongue when the monster slithered down the woman’s body to the ground. It quickly wrapped itself in a circle around his feet, not touching the small Hellborn, but close enough that Will could see panic growing in the Imp’s eyes. “Hope it falls to Hell instead of ascending to Heaven. And, if that doesn’t work, we’ll just have to sit down together and discuss how you’ll help me moving forward, won’t we?”
The Imp rubbed the back of his neck and swallowed roughly. Will felt an unwanted surge of sympathy at his discomfort and hoped this conversation would wrap up soon, for both their sakes.
“You leave Loona out of this,” the Imp said quietly. “I won’t bring her with me, and I won’t have her be a part of this.”
“Do the job and she won’t even know we spoke,” the woman promised, extending a hand towards him. Will wanted to call out and tell him not to agree to this terrible deal.
“I’ll think about it.” Will breathed a sigh of relief. Why, he wasn’t quite sure – he certainly had no skin in this game, but still… there was something about the woman’s dark eyes that made him think that it would be best if the Imp walked away and didn’t look back. Left this particular deal on the table. “And I’ll let you know if I.M.P. will take the case.”
“I’ll give you twenty-four hours to decide.” She smiled. “Plenty of time, don’t you agree?”
“Whatever.” The Imp narrowed his eyes. “But if you even think about calling Loona’s phone again, I’ll report your whole freaky thing to the highest authority that’ll listen to me.”
She hummed pleasantly and the monster slithered back to her side. Will watched them part ways and waited for a long time in the shadows before he dared move again. Stepping back out of the shadows, Will glanced around carefully before closing his eyes and committing everything to memory. He hadn’t survived this long without keeping very careful track of who and what to avoid – and these two were definitely on the avoid-at-all-costs list.
He brushed off his coat and began to walk out towards the mouth of the alley.
“Fuck!” he shouted as sharp claws plunged into his arm.
Will barely had time to react before he found himself slammed against the rough brick of the alley, mouth covered by the terrible monster’s needle filled jaws. He screamed helplessly, catching sight of the woman’s black eyes before those terrible teeth latched onto his lips and began to suck.
“Oh, don’t struggle so,” she said gently as Will’s consciousness began to slip away in a haze of blood and pain. “Your time in Hell is quite finished, Lord William.”