Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Of all the people Charlie Morningstar expected to show up on the Hazbin Hotel doorsteps right before the grand reopening, the last person she ever anticipated was her mother.

There have already been loads of visitors showing interest since the battle against the Exorcists just a week ago. Sinners are intrigued, rather than mocking, now that the Hazbin Hotel has proven it can give as good as it gets and repel even the worst of the angels that everyone fears. The gawkers and gossipers that gather around its gates don’t seem to have much interest in redemption, but they are fascinated and already calculating the strength and worth of the Hotel as a new political faction.

There are a few that seem genuinely interested in staying at the Hotel, at least. They’ve found their way to the doors of the hotel itself to ask about staying. Most don’t seem interested in redemption or going to Heaven even now; they don’t seem to believe Charlie’s enthusiastic speeches when she gives them. But they do seem interested in finding a safe place to stay, and a few cautiously willing to give the redemption exercises a shot if it’s the only payment needed for free, safe room and board.

Charlie finds it a little manipulative to let them in on those merits, but Angel Dust shoots her down with a laugh when she voices her concerns about taking advantage of Sinners. “Let’em come, Toots!” he hollers. “It’s what got me in the door, and look at me now!”

“He’s not wrong, hun,” Vaggie says. “Hell is all about give and take. They’re choosing to stay here willingly and give it a shot, even if it’s mostly for the room. That’s the important part. The rest will come with time.”

It still feels a little tricky, but Charlie agrees to go through with it anyway.

So when she opens the door, already taking her deep breath to begin her speech about how they’re not open yet but if they give her their contact information she’ll reach out when they’re ready, she’s expecting another Sinner knocking on their doors for safety. She does not expect to look up and see her own mother looking down at her, hands clenched almost nervously.

The deep breath Charlie had taken escapes with a wheezing hiss. She stares. Her mother stares back.

After a moment she squeaks in disbelief, “Mom?”

“Charlie,” her mother says in nearly a whisper. “Oh, Sweetheart. It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too!” Charlie says, but she can’t keep the bewildered shock from her voice. “I don’t understand...why are you here? I called you so many times...I left you so many messages…”

Her mother’s face falls. “Oh, Sweetheart,” she says again, and she sounds so helpless. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t have my phone. If you’ve been trying to reach me, I’m...I’m afraid I didn’t get those messages.”

Charlie is stunned. Didn’t have her phone? But that didn’t make sense. “I don’t understand,” she repeats meekly. She’s so happy her mother is back, but it’s so out of nowhere that it’s taking her mind time to catch up with what she’s seeing.

In fact, now that she thinks about it, her mother looks just as off as she feels. Mom’s clothing isn’t as rich as usual, and there’s no jewelry or ornamentation. Her clothes are decent, but look disheveled and a little worn. Her horns look chipped and damaged, like they haven’t been cared for recently, and her nails are short and broken. In short, she doesn’t look like the Queen of Hell; she looks like an ordinary Sinner that’s had a rough day in the Pentagram.

“It’s a long story,” her mother says with a sigh. And now that Charlie’s looking for it, she can see how exhausted her mother looks too. She’s not wearing makeup, so the dark lines under her eyes from fatigue are obvious. She looks like she could use a hot meal and a comfortable bed.

“Mom,” Charlie whispers, reaching out to take her hand slowly and carefully. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“It’s a long story,” her mother repeats. “Is it...is it okay if I come in? I’d like to sit for a bit. I know you’re probably wondering where I’ve been, and it sounds like I’ve been gone longer than I realized, so I can understand if you don’t want to see me. But…”

“Yes! Yes, of course, come on in!” Charlie says hastily, stepping back from the door to give her mom room to enter. Mom enters gratefully, and Charlie shuts and locks the door behind her, definitely unwilling to attend to any hopeful hangers on at the moment. If something happened to her mother—if something is wrong, if there’s something she needs to know about—she’ll do anything she can to help.

At this time in the afternoon, most of the staff and residents are hanging about in the new parlor, or at the new bar. Husk serves drinks to Angel and Cherri Bomb, the last of whom hasn’t quite settled on redemption yet but has stuck around to help with the last of the building and repairs. Niffty is vigorously sweeping the new parlor, even though the building is still brand new and hasn’t had much time to accumulate dust. Vaggie is also sitting in the parlor, doing some maintenance on her angelic spear and occasionally lifting it out of the way so that Niffty doesn’t accidentally behead herself when she speeds past with her broom. KeeKee is curled up on one of the sofas, Razzle is hanging new photographs and portraits donated by everyone, and Frank—the lone Egg Boi that had survived—is holding Vaggie’s maintenance kit while sitting next to her.

For all that it feels full of life again, the absences are still woefully obvious to Charlie. It’s only been two weeks since they lost Sir Pentious, and his loss is still bitterly felt. His memorial is on the wall in the lobby when one enters, and Charlie leads her mother past it while giving the portrait a soft nod. It’s a shame to not see him here with the others, arguing with Angel Dust or trying his best to flirt with Cherri Bomb.

The other absence is subtle, but worries Charlie even more, if it were possible. She knows Pentious didn’t survive the battle, after all; she had seen Adam blast his ship into nothing. She has no idea what happened to Alastor, and the fact that she doesn’t know if he’s still alive or died in the fight is worrisome. They’d found blood on the rubble from the roof, blood that wasn’t hers, and Alastor had disappeared so suddenly…

Husk and Niffty both say he’s alive. The chains to their souls are still going somewhere, and they hadn’t felt anything snap or transfer. But Alastor hadn’t come back. And they hadn’t found his body, wounded or dead, in the rubble when they cleared it away. There had been blood in the shattered remains of the radio tower that had once been his, but no sign of Alastor himself, or where he’d gone.

Charlie hopes he’s okay. She doesn’t know how else to find him. The Radio Demon had disappeared so thoroughly for seven years that no one had known where he’d gone. If Alastor doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be. She just has to hope he comes back.

She really hopes he comes back.

She shakes her head fretfully as she takes her eyes away from Pentious’ portrait and back to her mother. She can’t do anything for Alastor right now. She can help Mom, who is right here and obviously needs her.

“Mom, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel,” Charlie says, leading her over to the bar. Her mother sits gratefully, and Charlie points around to her newfound family. “Um, let me introduce you to everyone! This is Vaggie, my girlfriend. Angel is one of our residents. Cherri is his friend, she’s been helping us with repairs. Husk is our bartender, and Niffty is our housekeeper.”

Everyone waves or says their hellos with polite interest.

“Everyone,” Charlie adds, gesturing towards her mother. “This is my Mom—”

“Lilith,” a voice gasps, and there’s a sound of shattering dishware from the direction of the kitchen.

Charlie whips around in surprise. And then immediately wants to swear. Crap. Not now—!

Dad is standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen. His arms are still open wide, like he’d been holding onto a tray—one that’s shattered at his feet now, with snacks scattered everywhere. He had mentioned pulling baked goods out of the oven right before the knock at the door.

There’s a long, pregnant silence as Dad and Mom stare across the room at each other, with equally wide eyes. Everyone else looks around awkwardly, glancing at Charlie as if to ask, should we be doing something?

In all honestly, Charlie has no idea. She knows her parents are divorced. She’d been a teenager when they’d split. But they’d always tried to keep her involvement as gentle as possible, and never fought in front of her if they could prevent it. And then she hadn’t heard from Dad in years, because he rarely reached out to her—and then Mom had disappeared for more than seven years—and she just has no idea if this is going to turn into a shouting match, a loving reunion, or something ice cold.

Angel Dust finally coughs and breaks the silence, saying, “Y’okay there, Short King? Didn’t hurt yerself, did ya?”

That seems to break Dad out of his reverie for a moment. “What? Huh? Oh!” He looks around wildly, then down at his feet, spotting the broken tray and the scattered, squished pastries and cookies. “Shit. I didn’t mean to do that—sorry.”

He snaps his fingers, and time seems to reverse, the shattered tray collecting itself back together and the sweets leaping back onto its surface before the whole thing flips itself neatly upright and into Dad’s hands again. He hastily scurries over to place it on the bar counter top, letting it go like it might burn him. The action also gets him closer to Lilith, and he immediately looks awkward and unsure about if he should move or not.

“Lucifer,” Mom says after a moment. “It’s been a while. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Dad flinches like he’d been struck. He starts to fiddle with the wedding band on his finger, a nervous tic that always seems to come up whenever Mom is the point of discussion. “Yes, well—I—that is, Charlie—”

“Dad’s been helping with the hotel, Mom,” Charlie interjects, wanting to smooth things over as much as possible. “He helped me arrange things with Heaven, and he protected me from Adam, and now he’s helping rebuild the hotel so we can open to Sinners again.”

Mom’s lips are pressed together, thin, but her eyes widen as Charlie speaks. “Protected you from—what did Adam do to you, Sweetheart?”

“He tried to break the First Deal,” Dad says with a low growl. “One of his lieutenants already did. I’m sure you saw the memorial to Dazzle out front.”

Charlie can’t help but flinch at that, but she tries to maintain her composure. An arm slides around her back, and she starts as she realizes Vaggie had come over from the parlor to stand next to her. Charlie leans against her slightly, grateful for the support.

Mom’s eyes narrow. “Did he now,” she says, sounding angry and disgusted, before sighing and shaking her head. “Despite our differences, I’m glad you were there when it counted, Lucifer.”

Charlie frowns a little at that, and several of the others wince. It sounded more like a backhanded compliment more than anything else, and there’s thinly veiled bitterness in her mother’s words. But Lucifer seems to take it in stride, perking up a little.

“Of course I would,” Lucifer says. “She’s our daughter. Charlie is the most important thing in the world. And she’s really doing something good here! I want to support her.” He’s vibrating a little in place, like he wants so badly to gush about Charlie to her mom, and is only managing to hold himself back because of the present company.

Even so, Charlie can’t help but flush a little with embarrassment, but also a little pride. Dad hadn’t believed in her cause at all just a few months ago. Now he was on her side, and wanted to support her dream of rehabilitating Sinners. She wishes he’d been around more often in her life, but the fact that he’s here now, doing his best to support her, still means a great deal to her.

Mom regards Lucifer with a look Charlie can’t quite place. It’s something analyzing, like she’s trying to figure Dad out, but Charlie can’t begin to imagine what for. They’d been together for so long...but then, with the recent divorce, maybe both of them had realized neither one knew each other nearly so well as they thought.

Dad seems to recognize it too, at least somewhat. He squirms a little under Mom’s scrutiny, before saying, “I hope you’ve been well, Lily?”

“Lilith,” her mother corrects immediately, which causes Dad to flinch a little again. “And...yes, you too.”

The silence grows even more awkward and uncomfortable. Husk studiously begins cleaning behind the bar on the opposite side of Mom and Dad. Angel and Cherri make a show of looking at their phones and pretending to not pay attention. Vaggie squeezes Charlie a little around the waist. The only one who seems indifferent to the whole affair is Niffty, who’s now vigorously dusting things in the parlor without a shred of care about the conversation.

Charlie doesn’t know what to say either. Dad is twisting the ring on his finger again, awkward and unsure, not quite able to meet Mom’s eyes. Mom is treating him politely, but there’s something cold and distant in it, and Charlie’s starting to get the impression that maybe Mom hadn’t expected Dad to be here at all. They’re keeping it civil, but not especially friendly.

Angel Dust finally coughs, loudly and obviously, and says, “Hey, Short King, been meaning to ask you for help with that thing.”

Dad’s head snaps up in surprise, and away from Mom. “Thing? What thing?”

“Remember?” Angel says, gesturing vaguely in the air. “I wanted to renovate my room some. Move some things around and get some stuff set up. With all the structural stuff you said I gotta take some extra precautions, remember? You gotta reinforce wall stuff, or somethin’. I dunno, I’m not the builder here.”

“Oh. That.” Dad glances at Mom again, shifting from foot to foot. He looks like he wants to stay and also like he desperately wants to run at the same time. “I—is now really the best time?”

“Why not? The lady just got in, let her get a drink and get settled,” Angel says. “We’re a lot to adjust to all at once, remember how you were when ya came to visit that one time?”

“Oh,” Dad says. “I...guess. That’s true. I, uh—you don’t mind, Lily—Lilith? Don’t want to be rude, after all—”

“It’s fine with me,” Mom says curtly. She bites the words out like she’s trying hard to stay patient and polite, but really doesn’t have the energy to deal with Dad. Charlie can’t help but wilt a little at that, and clutches at Vaggie’s hand. She knows her parents split up for a reason, and it was probably even healthy for them, but it still hurts to see them struggling to get along like this. Like even being in each others’ presence is difficult.

“Right. Right! Okay then! Let’s...let’s get those things set up in your room! Renovations, so good at those!”

“Sure thing, Short King,” Angel says. He neatly slips off the bar stool and slips one of his lower arms around Dad’s shoulders to discreetly steer him for the main staircase. Once Dad is being led away, still fiddling with his ring, Angel glances over one shoulder and throws a thumbs-up with a second set of hands. You’re Welcome, he mouths, before turning back to Dad. “Now let me tell ya what I got in mind. Ever seen a sex swing before, ‘cause I’m gonna need this thing sturdy—”

They disappear up the stairs. After a moment, Cherri Bomb says, “Y’know what, I’m gonna go with’em. I think I need a couple pics of the King outfittin’ all of Angel’s gear. Gonna be good no matter what.” And she hops off her own bar stool, hastily scurrying after the others and escaping the awkward vibes of the room.

Charlie breathes a sigh of relief. Even if she does not want to see any photos of her Dad helping with Angel’s bedroom reconstruction and the dubious equipment there, she still says, “I’m gonna have to thank him later.”

“Your friend is clever,” Mom notes. “I’ll need to thank him as well. In all honesty, I had...not expected your father to be here when I arrived. I wasn’t quite prepared.”

“He’s living here right now,” Charlie says. “So he’ll be around a lot, but, um...the hotel is really big! I could give you a room on the opposite side—we could have a talk about boundaries—or, um—”

“How about we start with a drink,” Husk interrupts. “Can I get you anything, Your Majesty?”

“Nothing alcoholic, please,” Lilith says, glancing at the bottles behind Husk. “It’s been a difficult time, and I’d rather have my wits about me.”

“Mocktail fine?”

“Certainly. Surprise me.”

Husk nods, setting to work collecting ingredients to mix the drink. Charlie and Vaggie take the chance to sit at the bar, taking the stools Angel and Cherri had vacated.

“What do you mean by it being a difficult time, Mom?” Charlie asks, putting a hand on her mother’s arm. “Is everything okay? Are you safe?”

“I am now, I’m sure,” Mom says. “It’s just been difficult to get away.”

“Get away? Get away from who?”

“Are you being followed?” Vaggie asks, more practically. “Do I need to set up perimeter defenses or a watch?”

“I don’t believe that will be necessary,” Mom says. “I’m fairly certain I’ve shaken the tail. Though I certainly appreciate the precautions.” She smiles, tired but genuine, at Vaggie. “Charlie introduced you as her girlfriend? If you’re this alert protecting her, then I think you’re quite a fine match.”

“Always,” Vaggie says firmly. Even now, she looks a little distracted from the converation, and Charlie can tell that she’s running through precautionary measures in her head anyway.

Charlie can’t exactly blame her. Vaggie is the primary defender of the hotel now, with Alastor gone. Dad can step in and intervene if he needs to, but he says he does have to be careful or risk major political scandals and upheavals. It’s a lot of pressure on poor Vaggie, and Charlie knows it’s been bothering her a lot recently.

“Thank you,” Mom says sincerely. “It makes me feel better than you probably realize to know someone is protecting and caring for my daughter so well. My Charlie has such enthusiasm, but as you’ve probably seen, it does make her a target in Hellish society…it’s nice to know someone has her back, even if her father and I aren’t around.”

Vaggie flushes a little. “Um. Thank you, ma’am. Your Majesty?”

“You can just call me Lilith,” Mom says. “Someone so important to Charlie need not stand on ceremony.”

Husk sets the drinks in front of them—a mocktail for Mom, and Vaggie’s and Charlie’s preferred drinks as well. He also puts the tray of baked snacks Dad made closer, before helping himself to his own drink. Apparently decorum wins out with Charlie’s mom, because he actually takes the time to pour his drink into a glass, rather than chugging directly from the bottle today.

“Mom, I’d be happy to catch up in a minute, and trust me I really want to introduce you to my friends better and show you around the Hotel and tell you all about my dream—but first, are you okay? Are you safe? Who was chasing you?”

Lilith grimaces. “It’s...complicated.” She glances cautiously at Husk, then Vaggie, like she’s not sure if she can speak.

“They’re family,” Charlie says firmly. “It’s safe to speak in front of them. They might even be able to help.”

Lilith hesitates for a moment, but then nods. “Alright, Sweetheart,” she says slowly. “If you trust them, then so do I.”

She’s silent for a moment, like she’s gathering her thoughts. Charlie lets her, even if she’s anxious enough to nervously tap on the sides of her glass. Vaggie reaches over to still her hand, and Charlie grips it reflexively for support.

Finally, Lilith presses her lips together and says curtly, “I suppose I can start by answering your question. I was being followed by the Exorcists, specifically.”

Vaggie’s hand immediately tightens on Charlie’s, and Charlie looks up in surprise. Even Husk chokes mid-sip on his drink.

“How?” Charlie asks after a moment. “Why? I don’t understand...why would they be after you?”

“How could they be after you?” Vaggie adds, frowning. “Lucifer’s entire family was exempt from the exterminations. They wouldn’t have been after you.”

“That would be true in normal circumstances,” Mom agrees tiredly. “Unfortunately, these were anything but normal circumstances.”

“Does...does it have to do with your missing phone?” Charlie asks slowly. “Or where you’ve been for the past seven years?”

Lilith nods grimly. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart,” she says. “I didn’t mean to be away. The truth of the matter is that I was kidnapped...by my ex-husband. Adam.”

Charlie breathes in sharply, and Vaggie’s eye widens in surprise.

“I’m not sure how he learned about my divorce with Lucifer,” Mom says bitterly. “But he never did like your father, Charlie...and he was always the type to want to prove a point and show he was better than anyone else. He took advantage of the situation, once I was outside the palace and your father’s immediate protection. And he’s never been restricted when it comes to traveling to Hell. He came for me when I was distracted and dragged me up to Heaven. I’ve been his prisoner for years.”

“What?” Charlie is outraged. She already knew Adam was an asshole, but if he’d been responsible for kidnapping her mother and keeping her away for seven years...it makes her almost glad Niffty had stabbed him in the back. And Mom wasn’t wrong. He was the type to always prove he was the best. It sounds like something he’d do.

But Vaggie frowns, cautiously exchanging glances with Husk. Husk’s ear twitches, and he says after a moment, “Didn’t he lead all them Exorcists? Wouldn’t they have known if he had the Queen of Hell captive?”

“It does seem weird,” Vaggie agrees carefully. “You’d think they’d have thrown a fit about someone from Hell being in Heaven.”

It’s almost strange to hear Vaggie talking about the Exorcists like some kind of other, but after a moment, Charlie understands why. She’s not comfortable letting Mom know she was one of those Exorcists, or even an angel, just yet.

But...Vaggie had been an Exorcist seven years ago. She’d kept her secret about it very recently, but Charlie and Vaggie had a long, difficult talk after that visit to Heaven. Vaggie had admitted why she’d been afraid to talk, and how she’d been ashamed of what she’d done. How she didn’t feel safe telling most people in Hell she was one of the same beings that had slaughtered them mercilessly. But Vaggie had promised to no longer keep secrets from Charlie, especially not about her time in Heaven or her former occupation.

If Vaggie had know that Charlie’s own mother was being held captive by her former boss, she knows Vaggie would have told her then. Or at some point shortly thereafter. Vaggie knows how long Charlie’s been missing her mother. She’s listened to her call that phone number and leave voicemails, over and over and over. If she knew how to fix that, she would have said.

But Mom shakes her head, toying with the little umbrella in her drink. “I don’t think most of them knew,” she says. “The only one I ever saw besides Adam was his second in command. I think her name was Flute, or Lute, or something like that. Adam kept me at a little ocean-side villa of his. It was private property, so I don’t think it was part of his…” She searches carefully for a word, and settles on, “...job.”

Charlie bites her lip, and tries to give Vaggie a subtle glance. Vaggie gives a halfhearted shrug, still frowning. She isn’t reacting angrily, or trying to call Mom out on a lie, so maybe it’s possible that Adam has some beach house that Vaggie wouldn’t have known about. Charlie doesn’t know enough about how Heaven works to know for sure, herself.

Charlie wishes she could ask directly. She’s certain her mom wouldn’t hold it against Vaggie for being a former Exorcist. But it’s not her secret to tell, and Charlie doesn’t want to reveal it by asking directly if any of that sounds reasonable. If her mother really could have been a captive in Heaven for so long.

Mom doesn’t seem to notice. “He seemed to think I belonged to him, since I was his ex-wife and ‘made’ for him.” She wrinkles her nose in disgust, but her eyes are furious. “I wasn’t able to get away. He had strong Heavenly wards on the whole house that prevented me leaving. He’d taken my phone, so I couldn’t call for help. And it was Heaven—I had no friends to rely on. Even your father wouldn’t have been able to reach me.

“But about two weeks ago, something happened. The wards just...stopped. For the first time since he’d taken me, I was able to leave the villa. I didn’t hesitate. I ran. I found a way to escape. Getting a portal to Hell took some doing, but I eventually found a way. And here I am.”

“And the Exorcists weren’t a fan of you breaking out, I’m guessing,” Husk notes.

“They weren’t. That second in command of Adam’s...she must have gone to the villa, and found I’d run. She sent her people after me. Getting away from them has been a nightmare...but I think it’s safe now.”

Charlie exchanges glances with Vaggie and Husk. “Adam was killed two weeks ago,” she says slowly. “When he attacked our Hotel during an accelerated Extermination.”

Mom’s eyebrows raise. “I’d heard rumors, but I wasn’t certain,” she says slowly. “They’re trying to keep it quiet in Heaven, I imagine. That would explain that second in command’s anger, though. She never did like me much.” She scoffs. “Jealousy, I think. I suspect she wanted Adam to notice her, not me.”

Vaggie snorts, but she doesn’t sound amused. “Sounds right,” she says. “And if he died, any magic he was maintaining probably went with him, which explains those wards vanishing.”

“Would they come here again?” Charlie asks anxiously. “So soon after we beat them?”

“They’d be fuckin’ stupid if they did try it,” Husk says. “The King’s here now. He could kick any of’em out, no problem.”

Vaggie bites her lip. “They might still try it if they were angry enough,” Vaggie says. “It’s not an extermination, just a prisoner recovery. It wouldn’t be an all out fight. And they’d know Her Majesty wasn’t in His Majesty’s favor anymore, so they might think they could get away with it.”

“I don’t need Lucifer’s protection,” Mom says shortly. “Besides—I’m quite sure I’ve shaken their tail by now. They lost me once I dropped into Hell. They couldn’t get to me now without difficulty.”

But Charlie isn’t so sure about that. “They know you’re my mom, though,” Charlie says. “And they know Dad’s here—he showed up during the battle and kicked them out. He even beat up Adam first, and he told Lute to get out directly. They could probably guess that you’d come here, right?”

“Wouldn’t be a stupid guess to make,” Husk says.

“Perhaps,” her mother concedes. “But it may still take them a while to realize I escaped Heaven at all. There should be time. And Lucifer and I may have our disagreements, but I’m sure he isn’t cruel enough to give me back to that...that bitch.” Mom scowls.

“Well, you’ll definitely be safe here!” Charlie promises, reaching out to put her hand on Mom’s arm reassuringly. “We made the Exorcists turn back once before. We definitely won’t hand you over to them again!”

“Though I’m gonna look into setting up defenses anyway,” Vaggie says, frowning. “I don’t like the sound of this. I’d rather be ready for them.”

“I can’t fault you for the caution,” Mom says. “You seem like the prepared sort. Once I’ve had a chance to rest and recover, I can help you, if you like. It is partly my fault that they might come here again...but now that I’m back in Hell, I’m not without my skills.”

“Rest first,” Vaggie says. “Then we’ll talk, once you’re feeling better.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through all this, Mom,” Charlie adds. “It sounds awful. I wish I’d known where you were...if I did, I would have found a way to help a long time ago.”

“There’s no way you could have known, Sweetheart,” Mom says. “This isn’t your fault.”

But Charlie can’t help but hug herself, clenching at her arms. “But I should have been able to do something,” she says. “Or known something was wrong. You’ve never just gone missing like that before. And for seven years! I should have known something was up.” She bites her lip. “And to think! I was in Heaven a little over a month ago, and I never knew you were right there! I feel so bad.”

“Babe, you couldn’t have known,” Vaggie says, putting a hand on her shoulder. “And you saw how big Heaven was. It’s not like we would have passed your mom on the street.”

“Vaggie is right,” Mom says, placing her hand on Charlie’s other shoulder. “I wasn’t held in an obvious location. There isn’t a way you could have known I’d even been taken from Hell. Not even your father knew, and this was his domain.” She frowns. “Though...I am curious as to how you ended up in Heaven. You weren’t taken…?”

“Wh...no, no! Nothing like that, I promise.” Charlie waves off Mom’s concern. “I was there by invitation, actually! Dad got me a meeting with the high seraphim. It was only a day trip, and we were sent back safe and sound afterwards.”

Vaggie gives her a look. And Charlie does have to admit, it is a tiny white lie. Adam had violently ejected them from the Heavenly courtroom after their appeal for the redemption of souls in Hell had been dismissed.

And after revealing to the Heavenborn that Exterminations happened on a yearly basis.

And after Adam had threatened to come for them directly.

Everything before that had been nice, though. And Emily had been really sweet. She doubts Emily had ever known that Charlie’s mother was being held captive, with everything else Sera and Adam had hid from her, or she’s sure Emily would never have stood for it.

Mom frowns. “And why is your father getting you meetings with the high seraphim of Heaven?” Her tone is familiar—the same undertone of mostly-hidden frustration that Mom would have in the past, when Dad let her have cookies before dinner or promised her they could get a new pet.

“For my project here at the hotel!” Charlie says excitedly. “I told you all about it in my voicemails—oh, but if you didn’t have your phone, I guess you never got any of those. It took a little bit to get Dad on board with the idea, but he’s really been helping with the cause.” Charlie gasps. “Maybe you can help too! I know you always cared so much about our people...it’s what taught me and inspired me to start this project to begin with. I’m sure you have some great ideas for how to improve it!”

“And what is that project, Sweetheart?” Mom asks patiently.

“Oh! Right! That would probably help.” Charlie takes a deep breath. “Well, I started this hotel—the Hazbin Hotel—to help redeem Sinners so they can go to Heaven!”

Mom stares at her in surprise. “Redemption? Heaven?”

“Yes! See, the excuse for killing all of our people was that Hell is overpopulated, right?” Charlie says. “So I thought, if we could teach people how to be better, we could rehabilitate those souls and eventually they would be cleansed enough to go to Heaven! Then no exterminations are needed, Sinners get a better afterlife, and Hell isn’t overpopulated. Everyone wins!”

Charlie opens her arms wide in excitement as she finishes. She really wishes she had some of her drawings, but Adam had destroyed those, and she hadn’t made more.

Mom blinks slowly. “And...has this been proven? Can a soul really redeem itself and escape Hell?”

“Well, we haven’t proven it yet,” Charlie says, a little flustered. “That’s part of the reason we had the meeting with Heaven, actually, although it got a little...complicated.” Which is the understatement of the century, but Charlie doesn’t think it’s quite the time to go into the details. “But! I still believe it’s possible. And our residents have shown real progress! Angel Dust passed all the evaluations Heaven set for a good soul. And Sir Pentious…”

Thinking of Pent causes her voice to stutter into silence. It’s only been two weeks since they lost him, and the thought of him missing still hurts.

He’d been doing so well with the hotel and the program. He’d made real progress cutting back on making weapons, at least until they’d actually needed them for the battle...and even then, he’d asked Vaggie if he could make them first! He’d been less maniacal and more open with his emotions, he’d been more willing to help the hotel members without needing something in return. He’d fixed their appliances and participated in redemption exercises. He’d even been surprisingly protective of Niffty, dragging her out of danger or keeping an eye on her on more than one account.

Mom tilts her head. “Sir Pentious?”

“We lost one of our residents in the Exorcist attack on the hotel two weeks ago,” Vaggie says, a little stiffly. “Until then, he’d been doing a good job in the program.”

“He was an alright guy,” Husk mutters, abandoning the glass to swig from the bottle instead. “Didn’t deserve to go out that way.”

“What way?”

“Adam.” Charlie swallows. “Our...another member of the hotel had been fighting Adam. Something must have happened, and when he wasn’t distracted Adam attacked the rest of us. Pentious tried to take him on to protect us.” She rubs her eyes. “It...didn’t go so good.”

Mom sets down her drink to give Charlie a hug. “I’m so sorry, Sweetheart. I can imagine how. Adam was a monster, but he was quite strong, unfortunately. I’m sorry that happened.”

Charlie returns the hug, before wiping her eyes again. “But! Before that, Pent was doing so good,” Charlie says. “So I know it’s possible for Sinners to be better. It doesn’t have to be like this, in Pentagram City. We just need to give them a chance, and then figure out what it takes to let them get into Heaven. I really believe in this, Mom.”

“I can see you do,” Mom says. “You always were a dreamer, Honey. This is the biggest dream I’ve heard from you yet, but I can see how much it means to you.” She smiles. “I’ll need some time to rest after the time I’ve had, but maybe I can start thinking on ways to help your hotel. Seeing how much you care about our people...it really is beautiful.”

And Charlie can’t help but notice the stark difference there, between her dad and her mom. Mom has always wanted the best for Sinners and demons. She took making this kingdom thrive so seriously, and Charlie had watched that in awe and developed the same compassion for those wretched souls her Mom always had. Compared to Dad’s first reaction…

I love that you want to see the best in people, but these Sinners? Y’know they’re just the worst.

Our people, Charlie, are awful! They got gifted free will and look what they did with it, everything’s terrible!

...Charlie won’t deny, it’s nice to have Mom so willing to be on her side from the get-go. Dad’s turned his view around, and Charlie knows why he was so opposed, but it’s nice to have one family member she doesn’t have to fight to convince of her dream so hard.

“That would be really nice,” Charlie says, relieved. “Being able to work on my project with your help would mean the world to me, Mom.”

“I’m delighted to hear it,” Mom says, finishing her drink and gently pushing the glass towards Husk. He collects it silently, raises it to ask if a refill is needed. Mom shakes her head.

“I can give you a tour of the hotel, if you like!” Charlie offers excitedly. “We had to rebuild it after Adam destroyed the last one, so everything is new. But we’ve got some state of the art facilities—there’s an arts and crafts room now, and a music room, and a theater—oh, and we have a big ballroom like we had in the palace, I want to host special events and dances there soon—”

“That all sounds very nice, Sweetheart,” Mom says. “But for now, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like a chance to rest. Escaping Heaven isn’t exactly easy, and I’m a little tired.”

“Oh! Right. Of course. Stupid of me, obviously after escaping Heaven after being kidnapped for seven years you’d want a rest,” Charlie says, slapping herself on the forehead. “We can save the tour for later! For now, I can set up a room for you? We have plenty of spares, and they’re all well cared for. Niffty is really good at cleaning things.”

“That would be lovely, Sweetheart.”

“Do you want me to come with you, Hun?” Vaggie asks. “I want to get started checking our perimeters and getting defenses ready in case those idiots come back, but if you need my help—”

“It’s not a tour,” Charlie says. Although the fact that Vaggie is willing to leave her alone with her mother at all is definitely a point in Mom’s favor. Vaggie doesn’t trust nearly as much as Charlie does, but the fact that she seems genuinely concerned about setting up protections against infiltration from Heaven means it’s probably a real threat. “I’ll just get Mom set up in a room first. I can go get Dad after to help with protection stuff, if you want?”

“That’d be great,” Vaggie says. She gives Charlie a peck on the cheek before sliding off her stool and nodding to Lilith. “It’s great to finally meet you. Don’t worry, this place will be more than safe by the time we’re done.”

“You’re very dedicated, Vaggie,” Mom says. “I appreciate it.” Vaggie looks sheepish but pleased as she heads off, collecting her spear from against one of the couches as she does.

“If you’re all set, I can take you to your room?” Charlie offers.

“More than ready,” Mom says. She nods to Husk. “The drink was delightful, thank you.”

Husk shrugs in answer, but the way his ears twitch slightly up suggests he’s pleased with the compliment, even if his grumpy expression never changes.

In truth, Charlie’s glad this isn’t a tour, because with just her mother present, it already feels a bit empty. Last time she’d had Vaggie and Alastor with her while escorting Dad around and explaining the features of the hotel and their plans for redemption exercises. By herself, a tour would be a lot more...forlorn.

Even so, she does take the time to point out the most important necessary features for day-to-day use on the way to the elevators and the upper rooms. The kitchens (“you’d count as staff, of course, so you can use them whenever you like!”). The hall to the laundry rooms (“Niffty takes care of everything and she bites if you don’t let her, so don’t worry too much about doing it yourself”). The office and staff quarters (“if you ever need me and you can’t find me, I’ll probably be there!”). Mom seems appreciative, at least, although she does look quite tired, so Charlie keeps the stories to a minimum for now. There’ll be plenty of time to share those later, anyway.

Charlie chooses one of the suites on a higher floor, on the left side of the building. “How’s this?” she asks, as she unlocks the door with the room key she’d grabbed at the front desk.

“Quite cozy,” Mom notes, looking around. Besides the main room, the suite has two bedrooms, a kitchenette, and a private bathroom. For now it’s decorated in the hotel’s style, largely done up in reds, whites and blacks. There’s a nice view from a large window that overlooks the city, and plenty of plush chairs and couches. Everything is absolutely spotless, because Niffty is an extremely thorough housekeeper.

“Great! Of course, you can personalize it however you want,” Charlie says. “Especially if you want to stay for a while. You’re welcome as long as you like!”

“I appreciate the offer, although it might be a bit awkward if your father is also staying,” Mom says, as she walks around the room and examines it.

“I put you on the opposite side of the building from him, if that helps,” Charlie says. “This is Al—”

She stops. Bites her lip. She’d been about to say this is Alastor’s side without even thinking about it. When they’d first put the building together and made the initial designs, and Dad said he’d wanted to stay, it seemed prudent to make sure he and Al stayed far apart wherever possible. They bickered terribly otherwise—they even had a whole duet duel about who was better—and Charlie hadn’t wanted to exacerbate things until they learned to get along better.

But Alastor hasn’t come back. He doesn’t even know they made him a new radio tower, modeled off the one in the rubble. Or created a side dedicated to him, so that he didn’t have to be pressured to interact with Dad if he didn’t want to. He might not even now they’ve been thinking of him, or looked for him.

Charlie still doesn’t know if he’s even okay. She’s had no closure, and it’s so easy to slip and mention him like he’s still here without knowing if he ever will be again.

Mom turns around at her abrupt silence. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart?”

“Nothing,” Charlie says quickly. “Um, Dad’s on the right side. You can’t miss it, he has a whole tower to himself. It’s the apple shaped one.”

“Of course it is,” Mom says, with a roll of her eyes. “Him and his apples.”

“If you want to stay for longer, we can have a talk about boundaries and what’s okay between you guys,” Charlie offers. She wishes they could get along better—they’re her parents—but she understands if it’s not a realistic thing to ask for. They’d split up for a reason, and maybe it had been better for them both in the end.

“That might be a good idea. For now, I’ll be fine as long as he’s respectful about keeping his distance,” Mom says.

Charlie nods. “I can let him know when I go ask him to help with the defenses,” she promises. “And I’ll fill him in on all the other stuff too, so you won’t have to. If that’s okay?”

“That’s more than fine,” Mom says. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t blame him for what Adam did, either. Your father and I have our differences, but I know he wouldn’t have let Adam do what he did if he’d known. He does have some decorum and respect.”

Charlie winces a little. She’s sure Dad probably will feel a bit guilty when he learns Mom had been kidnapped, probably for the same reasons she had. But even so, that had still felt a bit like a backhanded compliment.

“Well, I can leave you to rest then, unless you need anything else? There should be bathrobes in one of the closets—I can ask Dad for a portal to the palace to get you some of your old clothes for later. Or if you ring the bell there Niffty will clean your current clothes for you while you rest, and they’ll be back really fast.”

“That sounds lovely, Sweetheart,” Mom says, but she sounds distracted. “I did want to talk about one more thing before you go, though.”

“Oh? Is something wrong?” Charlie gives her mother a worried look. “Are you hurt? Do you need help besides protection from the Exorcists?”

“I’m not hurt, but this is a delicate matter,” Mom says. “Can you close the door, Sweetheart?”

Charlie does so obligingly, before crossing over to her mother by the bed. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

“Not exactly,” Mom says. She takes both of Charlie’s hands gently. “I haven’t been entirely truthful with you about why I came here first, Sweetheart.”

A cold tingle runs down Charlie’s spine. Mom can’t be lying, she insists to herself. After all, Vaggie wouldn’t have left her alone with Mom if she’d thought something was strange about her story. And Dad wouldn’t have left Charlie alone with Mom at all if he’d thought something was wrong. He was so protective of her, and so desperate to help her with her dream.

And Mom looks as sweet and kind as ever. Her expression is tired but gentle as she holds Charlie’s hands, and squeezes them softly, and looks her in the eye. She can’t be lying. She’s too kind for that.

“I don’t understand,” Charlie says slowly. “You...weren’t in Heaven?”

“Oh, no, Sweetheart,” Mom says. “I was in Heaven. I was Adam’s captive. I wasn’t lying about that. But being there...well, it gave me access to information that you wouldn’t have here. Adam wasn’t shy about bragging, and he talked to Lute all the time about his plans. And when I was running...well, they’ve tried to keep everything very quiet, but the rumors circulate in Heaven just as fast as they do in Hell.”

“What rumors?”

“That Hell is destabilizing the very foundation of Heaven,” Mom says softly, squeezing Charlie’s hands again. “That things are changing.”

Charlie presses her lips together for a moment, but then she smiles. “But that’s a good thing, Mom!” she says excitedly. “It means the hotel is working! At least a little bit!”

“You still have no proof that your Sinners can be redeemed,” Mom reminds her.

“But if Heaven thinks so—”

“Heaven’s rumors don’t say they believe in redemption,” Mom stresses. “They say that Hell is destabilizing what makes Heaven. That isn’t a sign of positivity, Charlie. Those words are practically a declaration of war.”

“But it doesn’t have to be,” Charlie insists. “I’ll talk to Dad! I’m sure he can get me another meeting with Sera and Emily. We can talk things through again—”

“After what, Charlie?” Mom says, leaning over her. “After you killed their soldiers? Do you think killing angels will put you in Heaven’s good graces?”

“They were going to kill us first!” Charlie protests. “We were just protecting ourselves. And Dad sent them home as soon as we were able. We spared as many as we could.”

“Too little, too late, Charlie,” Mom says urgently. “Heaven doesn’t like change. It’s set in its ways, it has its rules, and it won’t permit otherwise.”

And Charlie can’t say Mom is wrong, exactly. Her meeting with Sera and the court of Heaven had certainly proven they were stubborn and didn’t want to budge without absolute proof.

But Charlie can’t give up so easily. “I know this is possible, Mom,” Charlie says, twisting her hands to clasp her mother’s in turn. “I know we can do this. Angel Dust and Sir Pentious showed such promise. Angel still is. I know Sinners can be better, and I know once we figure out how souls make it to Heaven, we can help Sinners be redeemed.”

“And even if you’re right, do you think Heaven will honestly accept that?”

Charlie’s eyes widen in shock. “Why wouldn’t they?” she says, aghast. “I know Adam liked to say that Hell is forever, but Emily agreed with me that it isn’t, and it’s not fair!”

“Maybe it isn’t,” Mom says. “I’m not saying it’s reasonable, Sweetheart. I’m saying, think of how Heaven, with all its rules, works. I’ve been there. I can promise you, the outcry from those souls, those upper echelons, will be loud and angry. Nobody will want to accept the Damned into their golden city.”

“Why not?” Charlie cries angrily. She tries to pull her hands away, but her mother grips her wrists, refusing to let her escape.

“Because they’ll think it isn’t fair,” Mom insists. “Imagine spending your entire life being a good little God-fearing human, turning aside temptation, and succeeding by finally being rewarded the right to walk through the pearly gates with your comfortable afterlife guaranteed. And then imagine your terrible, cruel neighbor that indulged in all the Great Sins gets to walk through those same gates fifty years later, because he went to Hell, discovered it hurt, and decided to be better after seeing there were actual repercussions for what he did. Wouldn’t your own efforts be completely invalidated?”

“No!” Charlie says. “No, it wouldn’t! Because he still went to Hell and suffered for it! I know we always had it easy, and the Hellborn live here, but those are human souls. No matter what kinds of things Pentagram City has to offer, they live in fear and in pain and alone constantly!”

Charlie finally manages to tear her hands way from her mother’s, pacing and gesturing wildly. “I’ve seen what Angel and Pent had to put up with, here,” Charlie says. “And maybe they deserved to come here for the things they did when they were alive. But Hell makes it worse! Angel gets hurt every day by his boss and I can’t do anything about it even as the princess of fucking Hell! And Pent was alone for so long he didn’t even know there was another way besides conquering territory! But even despite all of the things in Hell that make them suffer, and make it easy to just keep sinning, they both still tried to be better! And if they can do that in this kind of place, then they deserve the right to go to Heaven!”

Mom regards her sternly. Despite the exhaustion lines under her eyes, her bearing and her expression are regal, and she is undeniably the Queen of Hell. “You’re quite set on this, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” Charlie says. “I know souls can be better. I’ve seen that souls can improve. I’ve proven it to the high seraphim of Heaven.” She gives her mother a helpless look. “What I don’t understand is why you aren’t agreeing with me. You’ve always loved our people, Mom! Don’t you want things to be better for them?”

“Certainly,” Mom says. “Better for them here. It’s not worth risking a war with Heaven, Charlie.” She shakes her head firmly. “Sweetheart...you need to shut down this project.”

“What? No!”

“I must insist,” Mom says quietly, but firmly. “It’s for everyone’s sakes, Charlie. It isn’t a light thing, to destabilize the very foundation of Heaven and its rules. To do that breaks Hell as well.”

“Things need to change! The system is broken!” Charlie slashes her hand angrily. “They don’t even know what sends a soul to Heaven or Hell! People could be deserving but fall into Hell because of a mistake! Or they could be like Adam, murdering thousands and calling it entertainment and still allowed to fly in Heaven! It shouldn’t be a one-and-done thing!”

“Charlie. You don’t understand what you’re messing with.”

“I think I do!” Charlie says hotly. “I can tell when something is or isn’t right. I’m going to stand up for what’s right. And I know I’m not the only one.”

She thinks of Emily’s hopefulness, the way she’d fought for Charlie in the debate, her horrified expression when she learned about the Exterminations. She thinks of her Dad, so opposed to the idea but so willing to believe in it now. About Vaggie, who turned her entire life around to help Sinners instead of killing them when she saw the other side. And about the Sinners that had come to her to try, the ones who were even now thinking about trying, willing to fight temptation and sin in a place designed for it in order to be better.

Those people believe in her, and her dream. She’s not going to give up on them so easily.

Even if it means arguing with her mother. Even if it hurts, to yell at Mom like this. Her and Mom...they’d always gotten along so well. Charlie shared her mother’s passions, her love for their people. She’d inspired the Hazbin Hotel. It makes her feel sick, to think Mom wants her to stop it.

Mom sighs. “I was afraid of this,” she says softly. “Oh, Sweetheart. I love you so much. You’ve been our little miracle since the day you were born. You have your father’s idealism and my love for our people, and it’s so inspiring to see.”

Charlie frowns. Her mother is smiling, and the words should be kind and loving. But there’s something cold in her voice, in her expression. She’s never heard her like this before.

“Mom? Is...something wrong?”

“Yes,” Mom sighs. “I love you so much, Honey. Which is why it hurts me that I’m going to have to do this. But I will protect you however I can. Even from the wrath of Heaven itself.”

“Mom, what are you—”

An explosion rocks the room as the exterior wall smashes inward. Rubble and broken glass cascades past Charlie, who shrieks and throws her hands over her head to protect herself. Everything is awash in brilliant golden light, blinding and bright enough to make spots dance before her vision. The air smells like dust, smoke, iron, and sickly-sweet incense.

Charlie coughs, trying to blink dust and smoke out of her eyes. “Mom!” she howls. “Mom, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Sweetheart,” Mom says, from right in front of her. Charlie’s eyes widen in shock as her mother steps out of the debris and dust and smoke, crunching over glass and broken foundation and shattered decor and shredded curtains. She doesn’t look injured, but that cold expression on her face doesn’t go away.

“What’s happening?” Charlie coughs again. “We have to get out of here—”

“You will be, Sweetheart,” Mom says. “Until you see sense, I’ll need to put you somewhere safe. I can’t risk you challenging Heaven, Charlie. I can’t risk losing you—and oh, you don’t understand how badly they want you dead.”

For one moment, her hand reaches out, gently swiping an out of place strand of hair away from Charlie’s face, stroking it back behind her ear, like when she was five. Charlie trembles in bewilderment, because the gentleness and care in that single hand movement doesn’t match the cold sternness in her mother’s expression. This isn’t the same person. It can’t be the same person—

But then Charlie knows without a doubt it is, when her mother shoves her backwards, hard. Charlie trips on a shattered bedpost, and throws her hands out in a panic, reaching for her mom to catch her—but her mother doesn’t. She watches that hand outstretch towards her, pleading, helpless, and she looks back to Charlie’s eyes, and she lets Charlie fall.

And Charlie falls. Not just to the floor of the hotel suite. She falls through the air, through the world, past thin walls in existence and into darkness, darkness, darkness. She falls and falls, screaming, and hits ground she can’t see with a yelp of pain.

“Mom?” Charlie howls, frightened and confused.

She looks up, back towards where she’d fallen. Just in time to see, ten feet above her, a hole in the air closing. Her mother’s cold eyes meet hers, and then the hole in the air melds together, and Mom is gone.

Gone, and left her alone and in the dark and the unknown, and Charlie doesn’t understand why, and she’s never felt so betrayed or scared in her life.

“Mom!” Charlie yells again, frantic. “Mom, wait—come back—Mom, help me—please!”

But no matter how frantically she looks around the spot the hole in the air had existed in, Mom doesn’t respond to her cries, and the strange door in the air doesn’t come back.

“Mom! Please!” Charlie begs again.

She tries to scramble to her feet. It’s difficult. She can’t see anything in here, wherever here is; it’s pitch black and absolutely lightless. Not even her eyes, which always glow faintly and can see in the dark, can penetrate this level of sheer emptiness and blackness. She’s never seen anything like it before, and it’s terrifying.

It also makes it difficult to see what she’s doing. But she does manage to feel around. The floor seems smooth and level, and she’s able to pull herself shakily to her feet. It hurts, doing that; she must have twisted an ankle when she fell, because putting weight on it feels awful. She definitely aches all over from other things, too, possibly from the explosion.

But she’s on her feet, at least. She feels around frantically for something—a wall, a staircase, a window, something that she can use to reach that little hole in the air. Or at least, where it had been. Maybe if she can find it—if she can find it, she can—she can—

“Mom,” Charlie whimpers, pleading. “Mom, please. Come back. We can talk. It doesn’t have to be like this. Mom, please. Help me.”

And in a very tiny voice, so tiny she feels like she’s five again, she adds, “I’m scared. Please.”

Mom doesn’t answer. No matter how much she screams or pleads. Maybe she can’t hear her.

Maybe she’s just not listening.

But someone else does answer. In a voice that’s familiar, and terribly unexpected, and sounds just as shocked as she feels. “Charlie?”

Charlie whirls around to face behind her, and meets the strained smile and astonished eyes of Alastor, the Radio Demon.

Chapter Text

Charlie stares in shock. Blinks, rubs her eyes, and blinks again.

But Alastor’s gleaming smile and glowing red eyes don’t go away. If anything, they bob slightly closer, and now the natural illumination of his eyes casts a red light on more of his face, glitters on the edges of his monocle, frames the fringes of his red and black hair.

“Al...Alastor?” Charlie whispers.

“The one and only, my dear,” Alastor answers. It sounds automatic, almost routine, because his voice is full of his usual static and flash but his eyes over his smile still look bewildered. “Charlie, how in the Seven Rings did you—”

Whatever he’s going to ask, he doesn’t have the chance. Charlie throws herself at him with a sob, because he’s Alastor and he’s here and he’s real and he’s alive and she’s never been so relieved and happy to see a familiar face. Even one as scary as Alastor’s.

Or at least, she tries to throw herself at him.

In her shock and relief, she’d forgotten about her twisted ankle. Her leap turns into more of an awkward stumble, and she hisses in pain as she puts weight on it. What had been intended to be an enthusiastic leap to put her arms around his shoulders turns into more of an awkward thump into his chest as she falls against him.

He staggers with a crackle of static and a jangle of metal, and hisses at the contact. Somehow, neither of them go down, and Alastor manages to keep her upright when his fingers dig into her shoulders. But the crackling of static gets more intense, more deafening, as he says, “Gently, if you please, my dear!”

“I’m sorry!” Charlie squeaks. She’d forgotten that he wasn’t fond of contact he didn’t initiate, and she was just so happy to see him alive, and to see anyone at all in wherever-this-was. She pulls herself upright with his help, balancing on her better foot, and clings desperately to his arm. “I’m just—I’m just so, so, so happy you’re alive and okay and I missed you and where have you been Alastor we were all so worried and—and—”

Her rambling dissolves into tears. She can’t help it. So much has happened in just a few minutes, and it’s so much to take in, and her mother—but then Alastor—and where even is this place, and what’s happening—

It’s all so, so much. She sobs, wobbling upright and balancing awkwardly on one foot, trying hard not to knock Alastor over while holding onto his arm because she’s so scared that if she lets go he’ll dissolve into shadow and vanish and leave her behind again and she can’t do that, not right now.

“There there, my dear,” Alastor says. “There’s no need to cry. What have I told you about smiling?”

Charlie sniffles. “I don’t feel like smiling at all right now, Al,” she tells him bluntly.

He clucks at her. “I suppose we shall have to remedy that. I’m afraid I haven’t a handkerchief to offer you, my dear, but there are better places to be more comfortable here. We shouldn’t stay out here too long.”

Charlie sniffles again, and looks around. Everything is still the pitchest black she’s ever seen, and she’s aware of how pressing the emptiness is. Like it’s going to eat her up the moment she’s not watching. She used to be scared of the dark when she was a child, and Dad would create motes of light to chase the shadows away and make her more comfortable...but she has the strange feeling that Dad’s light wouldn’t do much even here, in this place.

She shudders. “Where...is here? Where are we?”

Alastor’s gleaming yellow smile widens, just a fraction. “Don’t you know your bible verse, my dear? Seems rather prudent for the daughter of the Devil Himself to know, don’t you think?”

Charlie looks around in confusion, and then back to Alastor, eyes wide in bewilderment.

“No? Well, I can’t say I was much of a church-going man, but my mother did have me attend every Sunday as a child, and the holidays besides,” Alastor says. “Allow me to share the relevant verse.”

His voice drops in pitch, and he intones, “In the Beginning, there was Nothing.” Charlie can’t see very well, but Alastor’s eyes alongside her own cast just enough light for her to catch the grand, sweeping gesture of one of his arms as he waves it out at everything around him.

Charlie waits. Alastor doesn’t continue. After a moment she whispers, “What?”

“You heard me, my dear. It’s not a complicated verse.”

“I...I don’t understand,” Charlie says meekly.

“Ah, well now, if you wanted understanding perhaps a different question would have been a better choice,” Alastor says. He sounds almost cheerful. “But understanding can be saved for safer places, I think. Shall we be moving along, then?”

“Is...is there anything here? If this is...nothing?” Charlie asks, looking around anxiously at the darkness.

“As it happens, there is but one place that exists here, and I’m capable of finding my way to it precisely,” Alastor says. “And out here is no place for a young lady! I’d rather exist somewhere that there is something than somewhere that is nothing, and not exist somewhere there is nothing or risk not existing at all, don’t you agree?”

Charlie stares at him in confusion. Alastor’s eyes are bright, almost lamp-like. There’s something oddly familiar about the way he’s talking, but Charlie can’t quite place it. Nor can she really follow it. “I don’t under—”

“Understand, yes, yes, you seem to be misunderstanding a lot,” Alastor says. “We’ll remedy that of course, Charlie dear, once we get moving. Shall we?”

That, at least, she does understand. Unfortunately, she’s not sure she’ll have an easy time of it. “I, um, I fell kind of far,” she admits. “My ankle—I think I fell on it wrong, I can’t really put weight on it.”

Alastor tuts. “Never mind,” he says. “The place we’re going has a remedy for that. In the meantime, take my arm, if you please.”

He turns beside her and offers his forearm. She takes it gratefully, and takes an experimental step while leaning on him. It helps when he takes some of her weight, and she finds she can maintain a little more than a hobble with his help. “Thanks, Al.”

“Of course! Now, let’s be off, shall we?”

Charlie’s not entirely sure about wandering off into nothing, but at least Alastor seems to know where they are. Even if he’s being a little bit cagey about it. Well, Alastor is always cagey, she supposes, but she’s not sure what to make of this answer. What does he mean, by this place being nothing? How did he get here? Where is here really? How had Mom put her here?

Why had Mom put her here?

That causes tears to prickle at her eyes again, but she blinks hastily and wipes them away with her free hand. She’s not alone. She has Alastor with her. Alastor, the Radio Demon, who was smart and dangerous and resourceful and her friend. If she had to be trapped in a strange, confusing place with anyone—well she’d pick Vaggie first, but Al was for sure a close second.

He’d said there were better places for understanding. Maybe he’ll try to answer her questions when they get there. Maybe he won’t talk in riddles.

(Why is he talking in riddles?)

She decides there’s time for one question, at least, in between her leaning on him awkwardly and limping on her bad leg. “How...how far are we going?”

“Oh, not far, my dear, don’t you worry. Can’t you see it?”

Charlie wants to scream, because she can’t see anything here, anything at all, it’s the pitchest black she’s ever seen in her life. Except Alastor gestures forward with the arm she’s leaning on, and Charlie looks ahead instead of down at his arm and her feet while trying to balance right, and ahead she sees—

—a glow.

A very, very faint glow, a single light in the infinite darkness, but a glow nonetheless. She can’t make out what’s making it quite yet, but there’s a clear bubble ahead of light, and Alastor seems to be heading for it unerringly.

“Oh,” Charlie says softly. “What...what is it?”

“You’ll see, my dear. Given it’s the one surprise this place offers, I hardly want to spoil it for you.”

Charlie grits her teeth. She could do without surprises, honestly. She wants answers and clarity more than anything. But Alastor is humming idly now, and seems perfectly content to not answer anything at all, and she has a funny feeling he’s not going to ruin this ‘surprise’ for anything.

But the bubble of light isn’t too far away. Her foot hurts, but Alastor is helping very nicely in that regard at least. She thinks she can make it.

Just need to make it to the light, Charlie tells herself. Just need to make it to the...the something in the nothing.

Whatever it is.

She puts her head down and she puts herself into moving as best as she can, staring at the pitch blackness beneath her feet she can’t see and trying hard not to trip on anything. There’s something beneath her, but she can’t see what it is, so she has to make due with everything else. The click of her heels. The different click-clack of Alastor’s shoes that sound more like hooves, if she pays attention. Their breathing. The rustle of cloth and the clink of metal. Alastor humming his tune, an aimless thing without music that sounds vaguely familiar.

(So where is your hotel staff?)

Charlie frowns.

But eventually, as they get closer to the soft bubble of light and it’s less ‘in the distance,’ Charlie can start to make out more things with her eyes. Her own feet, even if she still can’t make out what she’s standing on, because it’s solid but there’s nothing there. Alastor’s sleeve underneath her hand, and the red cloth of his favorite coat. His face, his upright ears, his hair.

The strange metal collar around his neck.

She stares at it in shock. It’s the oddest metal she’s ever seen, so deeply violet it’s nearly black, fitted tightly around his throat over his high shirt collar. But there’s a faint gleam in it, like veins that pulse and vanish, just barely visible to demon eyes.

The collar is connected to a chain made of the same material, which runs down over Alastor’s shoulder to the not-quite-ground, and there’s more links of the same material running to the faint light. As Alastor takes a step, the faint clink of metal sounds again, and the slack hits the not-ground and drags behind them as they walk.

Charlie breathes in sharply. “Oh,” she whispers. “Al—Alastor, I didn’t see that before—are you okay? Are you—what is this—”

She reaches for the collar around his neck. Alastor turns to her in confusion, but his eyes flick to radio dials when she tries to touch the collar. In a flash his free hand snaps up and slaps her own hand away, and there’s an angry crackle of static as he does.

“I wouldn’t recommend touching that, my dear,” he growls, low and guttural and warning.

Charlie swallows, rubbing her hand against her arm. The slap had startled her, but it hadn’t really hurt. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to, I—I won’t do that again.”

She doesn’t have to, anyway. Her fingers had gotten close enough to feel the power in that thing, the magic coursing through it, the life energy it’s made of. It isn’t metal at all.

It’s a soul. A soul bound elsewhere, tethering Alastor.

A soul that’s probably his, but not his to own, if she understood even a little of the soul trade.

“Good,” Alastor growls again, before he blinks, and his eyes are back to normal. “Only a little further now, my dear!”

Charlie swallows. Bites her lip. Clings to Alastor’s arm as he helps her forward, as gentlemanly as ever. And wonders what was happening, to find Alastor bound in the middle of nothing by his own soul.

Nothing has been right since she arrived here. Nothing has been right since Mom arrived at the Hotel. She wishes she understood what was going on.

She wonders what’s happening in the Hazbin Hotel now. What had caused that explosion? Was everyone else okay? Would they be able to find her here? Was anyone even looking?

Dad would be, she decides. The moment Dad knew she was missing, he would be relentless in his mission to find her. And if anyone could find her here, it would be her Dad.

But if Mom had put her here...would Mom try to keep her hidden? Because if anyone could stall Dad for a while, or put him on the wrong trail...well, it would probably be Mom.

She squeezes her eyes shut, and wills herself not to cry. Not now. She has to keep it together now. She has to get answers, so she can get out of here and go home and...and find out what’s happening.

“Look, Charlie, dear. You can see it now. Quite a view, wouldn’t you say?”

Charlie opens her eyes with a sniff. Looks up in front of her. And spots—

—a tree.

Not just any tree. It’s maybe the most beautiful tree Charlie’s ever seen, and Emily had taken her to a park in Heaven that had gorgeous trees and plants of all kinds. None of them could hold a candle to this tree. It’s white, or at least it looks like it at first. When Charlie looks closer, she can make out dozens of colors in its bark and leaves, like a prism splitting and combining color all at once. It’s tall, at least four stories tall, with wide branches that stretched out to provide shelter in every direction and a thick trunk that it would take all the Hotel residents holding hands to circle. The branches look sturdy enough to climb and comfortable enough to rest in, and Charlie would have begged to play in it when she was younger. It’s piled high on a mountain of thick roots, swirling and twisting in an almost sculpted way.

The entire tree glows. It’s the source of the light, a soft, comfortable glow that doesn’t hurt one’s eyes even in this pitch-black nothingness. It is an ever present source of light, never fading, never growing brighter, always perfect, always the same.

“What is it?” Charlie asks, awed. “I’ve never seen a tree like that before in Hell. There weren’t any like it in Heaven’s parks, either.”

“Nor have I ever seen or heard of one like it on Earth,” Alastor says. “Quite a sight, isn’t it? Aren’t you glad I didn’t spoil the surprise?”

Charlie still would have preferred answers, but she does have to admit, it’s a pretty sight. A bit of a relief, after all the nothing all around them.

“It’s quite a comfortable and safe place to rest, too,” Alastor says. “The best and only place to stay around here, you know. Nothing else is acceptable. Give us a moment or two more and you’ll be able to rest that injury until we can care for it properly.”

“How?” Charlie asks, but she does try to hobble faster at the idea of sitting. “I don’t have a first aid kit with me...do you?”

“Hah! No,” Alastor says. “The fruit, my dear! A lovely thing, it is. Accelerates healing. No need to drink or eat. Could live on it forever. No need to even use the restroom!”

Charlie hadn’t considered that, but she’s relieved to hear it. She doesn’t even want to think about trying to use the bathroom here. She’s fairly certain the tree doesn’t have modern plumbing.

As they get closer, Charlie starts to spot the fruit in question. She’s never seen anything like it before, and she’s an expert on fruits, given how much her father loves them. This fruit is just as white as the tree, and glows faintly. It’s vaguely star-shaped, five rounded points, thick and fat, and looks like it might be juicy. There are hundreds of them hanging from the boughs.

The roots are more difficult to navigate with a bad foot. Charlie’s not even sure what the tree is burrowing into. The smooth, glowing white roots suddenly vanish into nothing, like they don’t exist, but the tree looks sturdy and is clearly supported by something. It makes Charlie’s head hurt to look at it too long, because it’s an impossible thing, and her brain can’t quite make sense of it.

Alastor seems to know exactly what’s going on, because he says almost cheerfully, “Don’t look too hard at where the something meets the nothing, my dear. It’s impossible. You’ll get quite a headache.” His free hand reaches over to tilt her chin up, and he smiles. “Look at something! Much more bearable, since we’re something ourselves.”

(After all, the world is a stage, and the stage is a world of entertainment!)

Charlie swallows, but tries to follow his instructions. It does help to focus on the tree, and not what it’s growing out of. It’s...well, it’s something, like Alastor says, and she can comprehend it because it’s like her, even if it’s a tree and she’s a demon. It works in her head.

They get closer still, and Alastor helps her navigate the root network without looking too hard at where they disappear into. This close, Charlie can make out the details of the bark itself, the swirling patterns and textures that look natural but beautiful. The branches stretch out protectively overhead, and although there’s no wind, the leaves shiver and chime with the faintest hint of music anyway.

It’s a beautiful thing. In fact, the only thing that mars it’s beauty is the thick, midnight-violet chain wrapped around its trunk and over one of the lowest branches, bound tight with an unearthly padlock covered in several gleaming red eyes. The chain snakes down the trunk, twists over the roots, and slithers its way over to Alastor and the collar bound snugly around his neck.

It only makes that soul chain that much uglier, to think someone had left Alastor bound to such a beautiful thing in the middle of absolutely nothing.

“Alastor,” Charlie says, swallowing a little as she leans on his arm to avoid tripping over a thick, pristine white root at her foot. “Why...why are you here like this? Who put you here?”

Do you need help? Is there a way I can help you?

“Questions for later, my dear!” Alastor says immediately. And Charlie knows he’s deflecting, because he’s always been a secretive sort. But she doesn’t push, because everything is so confusing, and it’s taking half her concentration to navigate over the roots, and because...because…

...because a very tiny, buried part of her can maybe guess who put Alastor here, and she really, really doesn’t want to think about it just yet.

Whatever the reason Alastor is here, it’s clear he’s not unfamiliar with navigating it, and that makes Charlie both uncomfortable and deeply concerned. The chain around his neck is gathering in slithering ropes at their feet, trailing after him as he helps them move. Like someone had left their pet outside, bound to a post but with enough length to give them some room to move. But he navigates with it deftly enough, keeping it from getting hooked on the root systems and stepping over it lightly to keep from choking himself or tripping Charlie. It looks like old habit by now, something worked into his muscle memory, a nuisance at best he has to deal with.

Charlie wonders how long he has had to deal with it. Has he been here since he vanished? Has this been his life for two whole weeks?

She wishes she’d known. She’s not sure what difference she could have made; she’s still not sure where here is. But if she’d known Alastor was in a place like this...maybe she could have found a way to help. Maybe Dad could have found this place. Maybe...maybe…

She doesn’t know, but her guilt about Alastor missing is getting worse by the minute.

“Here we are,” Alastor says, cutting through her thoughts. He’s managed to navigate them to the base of the tree, where the roots and trunk bend and swirl in ways that make natural divots in the shape of the tree itself. “It’s quite comfortable here. A fine place to rest, and quite safe! Let’s get you settled down then, my dear, and attend to that injury of yours, shall we?”

He helps her sit. Charlie is surprised to find it is actually quite comfortable. The divots in the roots and at the base of the tree make what are almost natural benches or seats. The bark isn’t rock-hard, like the petrified trees in the Pride Ring. It’s soft and almost spongy, and she could probably sleep against it if she needed to. She can stretch out her legs and take her weight off her poor ankle, and she sighs in relief.

Alastor grins down at her. He’s always smiling, of course, but there’s still something strange about his smile. Familiar, but distant, like she’s experienced it but not in a while. That grin doesn’t quite meet his eyes right, not even for his usual knowing smirks or dark amusement.

Something is wrong. Charlie knows it in her gut, in her heart, even if she can’t figure it out in her head yet.

Of course something’s wrong, she can’t help but chastise herself. He’s bound to a strange tree in the middle of some bizarre place where nothing exists. He’s obviously been left here long enough to at least get used to moving around. What part of that is right?

She wishes she had answers, and at the same time, she’s so scared she’s going to get them.

“Can we talk now?” Charlie asks, staring up at him.

“Not quite yet, my dear!” Alastor answers. “We haven’t dealt with you, after all.”

She’s not sure what that means, until he reaches up above them into the boughs of the tree. His arm rummages around for a bit, until he finds one of the strange white star fruits. He plucks it deftly, with a practiced twist and tug that suggests familiarity. Plucks a second, just as easily as the first. And then settles down in the divot next to her, on his own bench of glowing tree roots, ignoring the jangle of chains as they settle in a neat pile next to him from the slack.

“Here you are,” he says, handing her the larger of the fruits. “I’m afraid I’ve no equipment to prepare it in a more enticing way, or even peel or cut it for you, so I apologize for the lack of decorum. But it’s quite delicious as is, so I’m sure you’ll enjoy it all the same.”

Charlie takes it cautiously, and rolls it around in her hand to examine it further. It’s star-shaped, just like she’d seen from farther away, and glows faintly. The texture is soft and a little fuzzy, like a peach, and the smell is sweet but not overpowering.

She glances up at Alastor. He raises an eyebrow at her, before taking a very deliberate bite out of his own fruit. His sharp teeth tear through the fruit flesh with ease, but he doesn’t seem at all concerned by what he’s eating.

That’s probably enough to indicate it’s safe to eat. Though then again, Alastor has been known to eat carrion and people, so he might not be the best judge of food safety. He probably has a cast-iron stomach and immunity to rot.

It’s probably not poisoned, though, so Charlie takes a hesitant bite.

To her surprise, it’s actually really good. The fruit flesh is juicy, and a little spills down her chin. It’s hard to pin down the taste, exactly, because it seems to change as it dances over her tongue; first sweet, then bitter, then savory, then back again, but always full of flavor. It’s not quite like anything she’s ever eaten before, but it’s delicious all the same.

That first bite makes her realize she’s ravenous, even though she’d just picked at snacks and had drinks at the bar not even an hour ago. This is more filling. More fulfilling. She wolfs down the fruit, letting the scent and taste envelope her, taking her back to memories long past like they called to her. The first clothes and toys she ever picked out for herself, with Dad’s delighted encouragement. Her silly goth phase, and how she’d been so certain she’d figured out who she was. Deciding to go out into the streets after the Exterminations to save as many of her people as she could, no matter how awful they’d been. Asking Vaggie to be her girlfriend. Setting up the Hazbin Hotel.

Refusing to give up on it.

By the time she finishes the fruit, she feels oddly...refreshed. Fulfilled. All that’s left is a small star-shaped pit in the center, which she tucks into a pocket for lack of anything better to do with it. The fruit hadn’t been that big, but she feels full and content. Even her ankle feels better, no longer throbbing when she turns it experimentally.

“Feeling better, my dear?” Alastor asks.

Charlie blinks, looking over at him. His fruit is gone as well, not even the pit in sight. She wonders vaguely if he pocketed his as well, or ate it. Probably the latter, given everything else he devours. Those razor-sharp teeth can cut through bone, so a pit probably wouldn’t cause much of a problem for him.

He’s sitting comfortably with his back against the trunk of the strange tree, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles ahead of himself. He looks a little bit better too, now that she thinks about it. His complexion is always rather gray, but she hadn’t realized how pale he’d been until now. Granted, it had been difficult to really tell in the pitch blackness of...of out there, and everything looked pale in the cast light of the tree, but still.

Like this, she can make out other details about him as well. Like the way his bow-tie is pushed askew thanks to the midnight-violet collar around his neck. The way his always-ragged coat looks more ragged than usual. It’s buttoned shut like always, but the lapel on the left side of his jacket is torn, a tear that runs down towards his right side, and repaired hastily and messily with poorly-fitting materials. It’s difficult to tell, with his predominant color being red, but there are rusty stains along the tearing that look like they could be dried blood.

Charlie swallows. “I’m better,” she says. “Are you okay? Alastor, what happened?”

“I’m quite fine, my dear.”

“You’re not fine!” Charlie says, pointing at his chest. “You got hurt! Did that happen here? Is something wrong? Can I help you somehow?”

Alastor brushes aside her finger easily. “No need to fret, my dear! An old injury. By now, it’s nearly healed, so there’s no need to have any concerns for me. Why, this fruit does quite a number on wounded things!”

He fingers the torn lapels of his jacket. “Sadly, only living things. I apologize for the disappointing state of my appearance. I’m sure I look quite an unkempt mess, which is hardly appropriate for an Overlord or a hotelier. Unfortunately, most of the contents of my pocket sewing kit had to go to sewing up myself, and not my clothing, ha-ha!”

He laughs like it’s a fine joke, but his laughter seems...off. Forced. Weird.

“Alastor.” Charlie grabs his gesticulating hand, and his strange laughter cuts off mid-note. He glances down at his hand with surprise, and then at her. “I don’t care about how messy your clothes are, okay? I care about you. Are you okay? Did something here hurt you? Is there any way I can help you?”

Alastor stares down at his hand again, the one captured by her own hands. He still seems a bit befuddled by the grip, and flexes his claws almost experimentally, like he’s testing if he can return it. “I’m—fine, my dear,” he says, after a long moment. “As I said, an old wound. Nearly healed! More time with these fruits ought to do the trick. There’s no need to be concerned.”

This doesn’t really answer a lot of Charlie’s questions. And there’s certainly a need to be concerned, because Alastor doesn’t feel right. But for the immediate moment, at least, Charlie thinks he might not be lying—at least about the injury on his chest. He’s acting strange, but he’s not acting injured, at least not in an obvious way. There’s no difficult breathing or signs of fever or infection, and he was helping her walk just fine earlier.

In fact, the only discomfort he’s shown was, in retrospect, when she threw herself into his injury shortly after arriving. Which, shit. That couldn’t have helped him any. Not that she could have known! But she doesn’t seem to have hurt him or broken open any stitches or anything.

I’ll keep an eye on him, she decides. Just in case he’s lying. He seemed the type to hide that he was hurting. But if they’re going to be stuck here together, then they need to be a team to find a way out.

Because Charlie is not letting them stay here. Not if she can help it.

“Well, as long as you’re okay and not hurting,” Charlie says slowly. “Can we talk now, then?”

“Ah, for that understanding you desire?” Alastor says, gesticulating grandly all around them. “I suppose we can talk, but whether or not I have answers is entirely up to the questions you ask, ha-ha!”

Strange and unsettling. Alastor can be, and often is, cagey and secretive with the answers he gives. But he usually has an air of far more...control than this. This doesn’t sound like Alastor’s silver tongue or cleverly worded deals. This sounds like…

like…

Insanity, Charlie’s mind supplies. And she doesn’t want to say that, or even think it, because it’s such a mean thing to think, but…

...but it might be true, just a little bit.

Focus, she tells herself. Try to get answers. Maybe he knows enough that you can help get you both out of here.

“Well, all I can do is ask, right?” Charlie says. “If you don’t have the answers, that’s okay.”

“Fortunate indeed, because if I have no answers, you have no understanding,” Alastor nearly sing-songs. “A real pity, given how invested you are in it. But I’ll do my best, my dear.”

Charlie presses her lips together. “Okay. Well. How about this. Where...are we?”

Alastor raises an eyebrow at her. “I believe I already answered that one, my dear. ‘In the Beginning, there was Nothing.’”

“But what does that mean?” Charlie asks, frustrated. The way he pronounces the words is a little strange, and she swears she can hear the capital letters. But she doesn’t understand why.

“It means precisely what it says. This is The Beginning, and there is Nothing. Really, Charlie, try to keep up when I do have answers, won’t you?”

Charlie huffs, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “I don’t understand.”

“So you said. I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed, because there’s quite a lot of that here,” Alastor drawls. “Perhaps other questions, my dear?”

Charlie sighs. But she has a feeling she’s not going to get anything more straightforward out of Alastor like this, so she grudgingly moves on. “Do you know what this tree is?”

“Not at all! Other than Something, of course, which is why I’ve rather taken a liking to it.”

Charlie bites her lip. “Do you know how long it’s been here in the...the Nothing?”

“Longer than I have, certainly. It’s been here as long as I can remember.”

“And how long has that been?” Charlie asks. “How long have you been here, Alastor?”

“Oh, goodness, now there’s a question.”

Alastor fiddles around with his coat until he withdraws a pocket-watch, which he clicks open. He adjusts his monocle carefully and studies the face, although Charlie can see herself sitting next to him that it’s pointless. The hands on the watch are moving erratically; sometimes they stop, sometimes they whip ahead too fast, sometimes they run backwards.

Alastor clucks his tongue in disappointment and says, “I’m afraid Nothing exists here, my dear, and that means Time doesn’t. I suppose you’ll have to answer that question yourself. When did you last see me?”

Charlie stares at him in shock, then at the erratic pocket-watch as he clicks it closed and puts it back in his pocket, and then back to him again. “You...you’ve been here since the battle against the Exorcists?”

“Well, not precisely since,” Alastor says idly. “Perhaps an hour after. I’m not quite sure on the details. I was rather distracted, putting myself back together after I left.”

And Charlie is stunned at that revelation, for multiple reasons. First, because Alastor had so casually let slip that he’d been injured then, which isn’t like him at all when he’s so calculating and careful with anything he gives away. Second, because it means he’d gotten hurt in the battle, which means—when he disappeared, and Adam had attacked the army—if that was why—oh, if Charlie had gotten him badly wounded by ordering him to fight against Adam, she’ll never forgive herself.

But mostly, because of the realization that the reason Alastor’s been missing for two weeks is because he’s been here for nearly that entire time. Locked away in the middle of—of Nothing, bound by his soul to an impossible tree, and apparently losing the edge of his sanity in the process.

What would being in a place like this, empty and pressing and dark and alone, for two weeks do to someone? Charlie shudders at the thought, and starts to gain a glimmer of understanding as to why Alastor is so...off.

“Well, my dear?” Alastor asks. “I think with all the answers I’ve agreed to, I’m entitled to one of my own. Or perhaps you’d like to Deal for them instead?” His eyes flick to radio dials, and his gleaming yellow grin grows sharp. Hungry. Starved in a way Charlie doesn’t think the fruits here can account for.

“N-no!” Charlie says hastily. “No Deals. No need. I’m happy to answer that. The battle was two weeks ago, Alastor. It’s—you’ve been missing since. We’ve been worried about you, but we couldn’t find you.”

“Obviously not, since I was here,” Alastor says idly, with an odd sort of tone that resonates with both sensibility and madness all at once. His eyes change back to normal as he thumps his head back against the glowing tree he’s sitting back against, ignoring the way his antlers dig into the spongy bark. “Two weeks...two weeks...so long already? Or no time at all. It feels like longer, but Time isn’t, so maybe I’m just imagining it…”

Charlie reaches out to hesitantly take his hand again. Alastor starts, and once again, looks down at his hand in hers like he’s shocked she’s able to even touch him.

“I’m sorry you’ve been here so long,” she says. “And I’m sorry things have been so...confusing for you.”

“Oh, it’s all quite straightforward, my dear,” Alastor says. He still stares at her hand like it’s a puzzle, and after a moment, plucks his away from hers like he doesn’t want to try solving it. “Very, very, very simple.”

Charlie doesn’t agree with that at all.

But she has a feeling she’s not going to convince him of that, so she asks instead, “But Alastor...how did you get here?”

He blinks at her, eyes wide and lamp-like in a way that’s once again hauntingly familiar in a way she can’t really place.

“This place is really dark,” Charlie tries, when he doesn’t answer her question. “Did you...is this...you use shadows and void-stuff all the time when you move around. Is this where you go when you use it?”

Alastor stares at her for a long moment, his eyes still unnervingly wide and staring. Then he barks out a laugh. One of those weird, too-loud manic ones he often uses when he’s trying to laugh harder than someone else.

“Oh, Charlie,” he drawls, and for a moment that sounds comfortingly familiar, the same inflection he’d used when he came to her in her bedroom to make a Deal and convince her to fight. But it’s dashed a moment later when he rambles, “It might not seem like it to you, but shadows are still Something. Void is still an essence of Something, too. Cousins to light, cast by and enveloping, but they’re all a part of existing, my dear. How many times must I tell you? This is a place of Nothing. Not even shadows.”

Charlie’s not sure she understands him. She is fairly certain all that is a rambling, roundabout way to say he hadn’t gotten himself here, though.

“Then how did you get here, Alastor?” Charlie asks, trying hard to be patient. It’s difficult, when the darkness and emptiness out there presses heavy and hard against the thin barrier made by the glow of the tree, like it’s encroaching. Like despite time not being here, somehow, they don’t have much of it anyway.

“Why, I could ask you the very same, Charlie, my dear. How did you find your way here?”

He fixes her with a stare. Charlie swallows, and turns her head away.

“I...I don’t know.”

Alastor tuts. “Now, now, Charlie. You’ve never been very good at lying. I don’t advise trying to start now.”

Charlie flushes. “I don’t,” she says insistently. “At least...not the details for getting here, at least. I still don’t know where here is. No matter how many times you call it Nothing.”

“Technicalities, my dear. I think you know what brought you here, even if you don’t know how it was done.” She can feel him staring at her. See the red light of his eyes glowing on her blazer sleeves and her hands when she wraps them around her knees again. “Or perhaps what isn’t appropriate so much as who, hmm?”

Charlie squeezes her eyes shut. “It can’t be that,” Charlie says helplessly. “It can’t be. It couldn’t—Mom wouldn’t—”

But she can’t shake that final memory all the same. Of her mother staring down from a whole in Nothing, her eyes colder than she’s ever seen.

The Mom she knows would never hurt her. But that person...that person might…

Charlie presses her face into her knees, trying hard to stifle a sob.

“Ah,” Alastor hums. “As I thought. This isn’t a place one falls into by accident, Charlie, my dear. There is intent to be had here, and denying it won’t make the truths go away. Not even the Nothing all around us can make a truth that exists vanish.”

“Stop talking like that,” Charlie mumbles into her knees. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“If you don’t want me to talk, consider talking yourself, then,” Alastor says. “Tell us the truth, my dear. Tell us what happened. Perhaps it will shed light on the truth and give you some of that understanding you crave so badly.”

“I don’t know! I don’t know anything. I don’t understand anything,” Charlie says, and this time she can’t stop her sob from escaping her. “I don’t know anything about this place or why I’m here or how to fix it or how to help you. I don’t know anything.”

“Untrue,” Alastor says, almost sing-song. “If you didn’t know anything, you’d be nothing. But you hardly fit in here, so you do know some things. Perhaps begin by telling us the things you do know, hmm?”

Charlie sniffles. Alastor’s riddle-filled rambling is confusing, but he seems to be pressing her to talk about what had happened. And Vaggie always encourages her to talk about things when they bother her. Maybe...maybe talking about it would help. She’s not sure it will help her understand, but maybe she’ll at least feel a little calmer.

So she tries. “I’m not...sure what happened, really,” she says slowly. “It’s—I—my mom showed up, at the Hazbin Hotel. Um, you’d know her as Queen Lilith. I haven’t seen her in seven years, you know. Almost eight.”

Alastor breathes in sharply, and bark cracks nearby. Charlie looks up to find he’s sunk his claws into one of the roots around them. His smile is strained, and his lamp-like eyes focus on her with more intensity than before.

“Did she, now?” he asks. For the first time, his voice seems a little sharper. Less sing-song, less insane. More like his old self. “And then?”

“She knocked at the door, asked if she could come in. Vaggie and Husk were both there when she told us her story. She said Adam had kidnapped her, and took her to Heaven. When he died in the attack against the hotel, Mom was able to escape...first the place he kept her, and then Heaven itself. She wanted a place to be safe. Obviously, I was more than happy to help. I offered her a room, and the Hazbin Hotel’s protection. But when I brought Mom to a room…”

She squeezes her knees, hugging them closer. Alastor waits a moment before asking, “What happened?”

“She...she told me to stop the redemption project. She said the rumors in Heaven were...bad. That what we were doing was ‘destabilizing’ it, and that I had to stop.”

“And what did you say?” Alastor leans forward, the glow of his eyes bright, like red spotlights focused on her. Despite the intensity, he seems more sane than he has since she first found him here. Like talking about things that are real, that really happened outside of this place, is letting him crawl out of his own head.

Charlie wishes she could help him in ways that weren’t hurting herself. But she answers the question anyway. “I said no, obviously! Helping our people...that’s my dream. It’s been my dream since I was little. I’m finally making a difference, enough that even Heaven is paying attention. I’m going to help people.”

“And I imagine…she...did not take kindly to that,” Alastor notes. There’s caution in his voice, like he’s testing every word.

“No,” Charlie whispers. “She ordered me to stop, and when I refused…”

That coldness in her mother’s voice, in her eyes. The way her demeanor changed completely, until the person standing in front of her looked like Mom but wasn’t Mom in any way that mattered. The shove. The way she fell, and reached out for her mother, and her mother didn’t reach out in turn.

Looking up from a world of nothing, as her mother’s face vanishes.

Charlie buries her face in her knees. Her voice is muffled, like she could smother the truth when she says it if she just tries hard enough.

It doesn’t work anyway. “My mother...put me here. Mom is the reason I’m here.”

Silence, for a long moment. Long enough that Charlie wonders if maybe, even if she heard the truth she spoke, Alastor hadn’t. She almost hopes that’s the case.

But Al’s ears are sharp, and he’d been focused on her so intensely. And after a long beat of silence, he finally says, “It seems you have understanding aplenty, after all.”

“It’s...it’s not funny, Al,” Charlie says, pulling her face from her knees to glare at him. “Now’s not the time for stupid riddles and jokes.”

“I never said it was,” Alastor says. To her surprise, his expression is actually quite solemn—at least, as solemn as it can get over his eternal smile. His gleaming teeth are tucked away, and his grin is thinner than usual. “Only making an observation, my dear.”

Charlie sighs, resting her chin on her knees instead, but not hiding her face this time. “I don’t understand all that much,” she says bitterly. “I still don’t understand why. Why...why would Mom put me here? In a place like this? Why would she do this to me? I’m…I’m her daughter. I love her. I thought she loved me…”

Her eyes burn, but she squeezes them shut. She wants to cry, but she doesn’t, too. All she’s done is cry since she got here, and it all feels so useless when she doesn’t know how to feel. Why would her mother do this to her? Hurt her like this? Put her here? This place is terrifying, even with Alastor here to protect her if something happens.

Alastor tuts, but it’s a quiet thing. “Now now, Charlie,” he says. His tone is lecturing, but still solemn. “There’s no use lying to yourself. You do have the answers. I think you just don’t want to acknowledge them.”

And Charlie wants to be angry at him. So angry, for making her sound stupid and naive and useless and cowardly.

Angry at him for not letting her hide from herself, most of all.

But Alastor never does anything out of the kindness of his heart, and he doesn’t hold back from pointing out the obvious. No matter how much it hurts. He’d done it when he first showed up at the hotel and pointed out how much of a mess it all was. He’d done it that day they returned from Heaven, pointing out just how much she’d fucked up and dragging her out of her miserable display of self-loathing.

And as much as it hurts, he’s doing it now, forcing her to face truths she’d rather hide from.

“She said...she can’t risk me challenging Heaven,” Charlie says miserably, as the tears start coming again, rolling down her face. “She said she had to ‘put me somewhere safe.’ But this place…” She looks around at the emptiness outside the safety of the tree through blurry tears. “This place doesn’t feel safe.”

Alastor doesn’t say anything. Nothing to comfort her. But nothing to keep her from avoiding truths, either.

“Why would she want me to stop, Alastor?” Charlie asks helplessly. “Why order me to stop the hotel? That’s the part I don’t understand. Why couldn’t we talk it through instead? Come up with a different solution?”

“As to that,” Alastor says, “I haven’t the faintest, my dear. I’m afraid understanding that is something you wouldn’t have.”

At least she’s not deceiving herself there. Even if she wished she did know the answers. Maybe it’d be easier. Knowing her mother would do this to her...not knowing why…

Oh, it hurts so badly.

“I don’t understand, Al,” Charlie sobs. “I thought Mom would be proud of me for all of this. Mom inspired the Hazbin Hotel. She loved our people so much, she cared about all of you so much, she wanted to make things so much better. So I grew up wanting that for all of you, too.”

Alastor laughs at that. It’s a manic, ugly thing, a wicked cackle with no humor at all in it. “What a pretty little lie,” he says.

“It’s not a lie, Alastor,” Charlie says, sniffling and wiping at her eyes. “I care. I’ve always cared. I want things to be better for you all. I know you don’t believe in redemption and you think it’s pointless, but I do, and I won’t give up on any of you as long as you want my help.”

“Oh, Charlie, I’ve known for a long time you believe those pretty little lies you spin for yourself,” Alastor says, with another ugly laugh. “You weave so many! A clever, sweet little thing you are. But that’s hardly the lie I’m talking about.”

Charlie doesn’t know what he means, and she’s too tired and emotional to try and pick apart this latest mad rambling. “I just don’t understand what changed,” she sniffles. “I wanted Mom to see what I was doing so badly ever since I started the Hotel project. There’s so many moments I thought she’d be proud of...and for her to show up and tell me to stop, that it’s stupid and pointless, it just…hurts.”

It hurts most of all because it’s Mom. Alastor can tell her redemption is pointless every single day, and it won’t dampen her enthusiasm. Katie Killjoy and Tom Trench told her it was stupid on air, and it made her feel a little bad, but it hadn’t stopped her from trying. Angel Dust told her to her face more than once that he thought redemption was fake, and he was just using the hotel as a rent-free place to stay. Every time she tried to recruit new residents they laughed in her face and told her she was naive and innocent and dumb, but she never stopped trying to save them.

So many people haven’t believed in her dream. So many people told her to stop, for so many reasons. And it would hurt, sometimes, but Charlie never gave up. She believed in her dream, and in what her mother taught her and showed her. She believed in that love for her people, for these Sinners. These human souls made mistakes, but they could be better if they just had the right help.

Of anyone, of everyone, alive or dead, Heaven or Hell, Charlie had known without question that her Mom would believe in her and support her the way no one else did. To have her Mom tear her down so thoroughly about the dream she had inspired…

From Mom, more than anything else, those words—those actions—are like knives in her back.

And the way she’d done it… “I don’t understand what changed, Al,” she repeats. “It’s like...it’s like a switch was flipped, and Mom was just...different. The way she talked to me—the way she looked at me—she’s never done that before. She’s never been like that before. It was like she wasn’t the same person.”

Alastor is silent. Verbally, at least. His static crackles and pops, a shockingly loud hiss in the silence of Nothing.

“I just...what could have happened? To make her so different?” Charlie hiccups, wiping at her face again. Stupid tears. “I haven’t seen her in seven years. Could something have happened to her to make her like this? Does...does she need help, maybe?”

Alastor laughs again, that humorless, manic, ugly thing. “So quick to make excuses. So quick to see the best in people. To offer help, to even the lowest of the low. A curse and a boon, when it comes to Hell.”

“My Mom’s not the lowest of the low,” Charlie says hotly, despite herself. “She’s kind! And caring! She’d love everyone at the hotel. She’d love you—”

But Alastor cuts her off with a harsh bark of mad laughter, and another sharp screech of static. His eyes are wide, the red glow of them intense. He sounds insane again. “What a thought! Oh, what a grand jest, Charlie. I didn’t know you had such blackened humor in you, my dear.”

“It’s not—I don’t—that’s not what I meant at all,” Charlie says. But Alastor only snickers, the sounds growing more quiet, the static slowly receding.

Alastor’s response frustrates her, because she doesn’t know how to feel. Not about any of it. She wants to be able to defend her mother to him, as a knee-jerk reaction. Her mother had been so kind to her. So patient. She’d taught her so much. Charlie looked up to her mother more than anything, more than anyone. Even her father. Before today, she never would have thought her mother capable of anything like cruelty.

But after today…

After today, Charlie can’t help but bitterly wonder if she’d missed seeing things all these years.

It wouldn’t be the first time. She knows she’s easy to fool. Stupidly easy to fool, because she wants to trust so badly. She’d trusted Sir Pentious, even when he’d been sent as a spy. She’d believed blindly in Valentino, stupidly under the impression that he could be trusted to be talked to reasonably, even when it got Angel hurt. Fucking Hell, Vaggie had kept her status as an angel secret for three years.

Charlie had said it herself, stupidly, that day they did Trusting 101. She trusted everybody. She didn’t know how to build it properly. It meant anyone could fool her.

And why, until now, would she ever have had any reason to doubt her mother?

She wonders if Mom’s story is even real. Was she in Heaven? Had she been kidnapped by Adam? Did she actually escape? Was she concerned that the Hazbin Hotel would destabilize Heaven?

Charlie doesn’t know what to believe anymore.

And yet despite that, despite everything, the worst of all of it is she still loves her mother. It hurts, to think she might have been taken advantage of. That her mother tricked her. Hurt her on purpose. Put her here.

But she still worries. Mom had said she couldn’t risk losing Charlie, that she’d done this to protect her. Was there any truth to that? There had been that explosion—was Mom okay? She had looked exhausted and unkempt—was she healthy? Did she need help? If any part of her story was true, how could Charlie make a difference?

A curse and a boon, Alastor called it. Caring and trusting so strongly, so unconditionally. Wanting, even now, to know if the person who hurt her was okay. If there was something wrong. If there was a way to fix it. Even as she sat here suffering, cut off from everyone.

It’s the first time Alastor’s mad rambling has made any sense.

“What do I do, Alastor?” Charlie asks. Her voice comes out as a soft whimper. Pleading. Helpless. “I don’t know what to do. I know what Mom did. I don’t know why. I know I probably shouldn’t trust her, but I can’t help but worry. I don’t want to be here, and I don’t know how to fix it. What do I do?”

“Nothing to be done,” Alastor says. His crazed laughter has stopped. So has his irritated buzzing of static. He’s solemn again, calm, but there’s a trace of bitterness to his voice. “Nothing by us, at any rate. All we can do now is wait.”