Archive of Our Own ^beta

Vaggie, like all of the Exorcists, was created not born. She’d never had a childhood, she’d never had a mother or father, but she had had her sisters. They’d been her family, her flock, they’d trained together, ate together, spent free time together, preened each other's wings, and laughed together. Her room in the compound had been decorated with pictures of her sisters at various outings or games they’d played. At night, the sounds of their cooing and shuffling in their sleep had soothed her while she drifted off.

The burning pain in her back and the complete change of perception had nothing of the pain the absence of her family had caused. 

Lute, she could understand. The pair of them were two of the oldest Exorcists and despite Vaggie having no interest in Adam besides as a brother in arms, Lute had seen her as a threat to her weird crush on him. But the others? That hurt.

For weeks after the demon had found her by the trash, she’d hidden away in the room she’d been placed in, waiting for someone to come back. Surely they had noticed she was missing, surely her sisters were coming for her. 

She’d made a mistake! A simple mistake but she’d learned her lesson! She’d have done anything to fix it, she would beg at Sera’s feet for forgiveness and a second chance. Even if she could never be a soldier again, given her amputations, she could still be useful. She could train the others, she could cook and clean for them, she could treat wounds.

She didn’t sleep well for those first few months. Charlie, the demon who’d saved her life, was a little over the top and it scared her. She’d get too close, showed off her sharp teeth too often, tried to touch her too much. Thankfully, while Charlie was erratic, she wasn’t very observant, that or she hadn’t confronted her about being an angel yet, but as time passed, the second option became less likely. Still, she didn’t always like being around her.

Instead, she hid in the closet like the coward she was, weeping for her old room, with her bed and her clothes and her sisters. Food in Hell tasted weird, everything was spicy and felt stale in her mouth, the water was acidic, and everything had a burnt aftertaste. It was too hot, the sweat dripping from her back and neck burned the open wounds where her wings should be and it made it hard to sleep.

So she didn’t sleep, not often at least. Choosing instead to creep onto the balcony and look up at the distant lights of Heaven and whisper to it.

“Come back.” She’d whimper, tears and blood dripping down her face. “Don’t leave me here, please. I’m sorry.”

Nobody ever responded and nobody ever came.

After a few months, she’d had a eureka moment. Of course nobody had come back, angels were only permitted in Hell during the extermination. Her sisters were probably biding their time, waiting for the next slaughter so they could find her and take her home, where she belonged. She just had to make it a year.

So she’d started counting down the days, waiting until she could finally get out of this sweltering pit of filth, with the sinners who leered at her and Charlie when they went for walks and the weird goats that growled at her when she got too close to the blond.

“Sorry.” Charlie had apologised, shoving the pair back. “They’re protective. Knock it off guys.”

It appeared the goats were the ones with actual observation skills, they’d probably already figured out that she was an angel, they could probably smell the holiness on her. She kept well out of their way and as long as she didn’t get too close to Charlie, they only growled but never bit.

Eventually, she’d learned who Charlie actually was. Lucifer's daughter, the product of the original sinners and princess of Hell. And now she had an angel in her home and didn’t even know it. If she did, she’d probably mount Vaggie’s head on the wall. Right over the fireplace.

Why does Hell even have fireplaces? It’s hot as fuck here, fireplaces seem redundant. 

“Does your eye still hurt?” Charlie asked her, reaching towards her face and frowning when Vaggie darts out of her reach.

“It’s fine.” She excuses.

“You’re new here.” Charlie said, smiling sadly. “It’s okay, it’s not as scary as it seems.”

“I’m fine.” Vaggie hissed, hand pressed over her empty socket.

“When did you die?” Charlie asked, sitting cross legged on the floor across from her.

So Charlie did think she was a lowly sinner. 

“Um, I think like, the day before you found me.” She’d lied.

“Holy shit! Oh my gosh that’s awful! No wonder you were out in the open, you probably didn’t even know to hide.” Charlie gasped.

The goats growled, one of them crawling into the Princesses lap and glaring at her in what can only be a challenge. She clutches her spear tighter, she has no interest in fighting the goats, not when she’s alone, not when she’s so hurt. Not when she has nowhere else to go.

~~~

The next extermination came and she didn’t get taken home. At first, she’d blamed Charlie, the Princess had locked the gates tightly and refused to let her outside. The shades had been drawn and an old record player drowned out the sounds of screaming and dying.

“You can’t go out there!” Charlie had said, dragging her away from the door. “You’ll die!”

She’d hated the demoness for that, hated her for taking away her chance at going home. That started to fade a week later. Charlie wasn’t the reason nobody found her, her angelic energy should have been traceable. Even after a year in Hell, it was obvious. The same way she could feel her sisters’ presence, they should have been able to feel hers. She wasn’t still here because Charlie had prevented her from going outside, she was still here because nobody bothered to find her.

She’d cried hard that night, sobbing until she was a hiccuping, snotty mess, her chest heaving until she’d vomited from the force. For the first time in her existence, Vaggie broke down. She’d punched a hole through the mirror and used the shards to rip through the strands of her hair until it was an uneven disaster, she’d screamed until she lost her voice and then she’d kept pushing anyway. In a bathroom that wasn’t hers, her spear, the last thing she had that tied her to home, nearly ended her life that night.

Charlie didn’t let her die. She hadn’t even let her make the cuts, no matter how much Vaggie fought her. She had seen the princesses true form that night, reflected in the scattered shards of mirror as the demon wrapped her arms and tail around her, pinning her so she couldn’t continue to hurt herself. The blood red eyes had wept with her, the scaly tail had flicked the spear out of her reach, and she’d pinned them both to the floor, holding Vaggie still until her exhausted body and mind betrayed her and she’d slipped into unconsciousness like she’d slip into a hot bath.

~~~

When she’d woken up, she’d been in a different room than the one Charlie had first given her, this one lacked a balcony and had only one window. She’d been demoted. 

Charlie had been there, sitting in an armchair beside the bed, one goat in her lap and the other on the bed with her. When she’d stirred, it growled at her.

“Razzle, don’t be such a dick.” Charlie scolded, shooing the creature off the bed. “How are you feeling?”

She couldn’t dignify that with a response, even if she’d wanted to. However long she’d been asleep for, it hadn’t been enough to bring her voice back, her throat was sore and even just swallowing hurt. Instead, she’d closed her eye as tightly as she could and pressed herself back against the pillow.

“Right, stupid question.” Charlie muttered.

The bed had dipped and she’d cracked her eye open just enough to see the princess sitting on the bed with her. She didn’t have the energy to shove away the hand that combed through the ruins of her hair.

“Please don’t try that again.” Charlie whispered, her voice thick. “Please, you’re the only friend I have.”

’How pathetic are you that I’m the only friend you have?’ She’d thought but been unable to ask.

She’d responded another way, turning onto her side with her back to the demon and pulling the covers up over her head. The dip on the bed didn’t leave but it did move until Charlie was resting against the headboard.

“I’m sorry I had to move you to another room.” Charlie apologised, as though Vaggie has any claim to any space in this place. “I promise, you can go back to your old room soon. I had to call someone in to clean up the bathroom after… You know.”

’After I ruined it trying to kill myself you mean.’

She’d hidden under the covers until Charlie finally left to go to the bathroom, leaving the goat things alone with her. Then she emerges, grabbing the cup of water Charlie left on the table. The goats growl at her when she peeks her head out but she just flips them off, and downs the water greedily, not caring about the acid taste.

~~~

With the realisation that she’s stranded here, she’s forced to learn to adjust to her new environment. For one, she starts settling down a little bit around Charlie and taking her up on her offer to go off the manor grounds. It scares her at first, Charlie hasn’t given her back her spear since her near attempt and other than the goats, Razzle and Dazzle, as she’s learned, they have no defence. 

Despite Razzle and Dazzle growling at her, she sticks as close to Charlie as she possibly can when the princess leads her into town. She’s defenceless, she’s grounded, and she’s scared witless. 

“Oh my gosh, you’re shaking!” Charlie gasps, shouldering off her jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders. “Are you cold? Oh no, is your head hurting? I read that sometimes people who lose eyes get headaches because of the loss of depth perception. Do you need to turn back?”

That’s something she’s learned about Charlie, she can never ask just one question at a time, it’s always a flurry of them. 

“Little overwhelmed.” She’d responded, missing her wings more than ever before, wishing she still had them so she could curl them around herself and hide from the world.

Charlie made a weird noise and dragged her away from the busy sidewalk and into a small cafe. She guides Vaggie into a shadowy corner booth and pushes her into the seat as gently as someone as energetic as Charlie can.

“Stay here, I’m going to get us some tea.” She orders. “Razzle, stay with her.”

Razzle growls but obliges, sitting on the edge of the seat and effectively blocking her in. The goat glares at her the entire time Charlie is away and only settles down when his master returns with a tray full of a decorated tea set.

“I got apple cinnamon, I hope that’s okay.” Charlie says, sliding into the seat across from her.

“It’s fine.” She shrugs, holding the jacket as tightly to her shoulders as she can. 

She’s been wearing Charlie’s clothes all year, having only one outfit for herself and no money to her name. Still, Charlie's loaned clothes are different from the jacket she’d just thrown over her. This one has her scent, the perfume she likes and the shampoo she uses lingering on it and she’s trying to lie to herself about finding it comforting.

“Maybe we should get you some new clothes today.” Charlie suggests, filling a teacup and handing it to her.

“I. I don’t have any money.” She stammers, examining the china in front of them.

The tea set is made of white bone china with black roses and skulls decorating them. Two teacups and saucers, a sugar bowl, a small milk pitcher, and the big teapot. It’s pretty, too pretty to be in this place, the vibe may be a little dark but she knows some of her sisters would like it. 

“Oh don’t worry about that, I’ve got you.” Charlie waves off.

Charlie still confuses her, she’s the opposite of everything she’s been led to believe demons are. How is someone born of the two worst beings in existence so kind? The soldier part of her thinks Charlie is just waiting until her guard is completely down so she can kill her, but that wouldn’t make sense. If Charlie wanted her dead, she’s had ample opportunity over the last year, if Charlie wanted her dead, she wouldn’t have taken her spear away from her in the bathroom. Or she’d just let her weird goats eat her like they so obviously want to do.

~~~

She earns back her spear a few months later, after Charlie somehow determines that Vaggie is no longer a threat to herself. Maybe it’s the fact that Vaggie is actually eating now rather than just picking at her food, maybe it’s the fact that she’s talking more, or maybe Charlie had already had some return date in mind when she’d taken it. She doesn’t know for sure and she doesn’t ask.

It’s been over eighteen months since she was abandoned and she’s starting to adjust a bit more, something that both scares her and brings her comfort. She’s gotten more comfortable with the food, learning to not bother eating things that she’s used to being sweet because of the underlying spice to them. Instead, she leans into dishes that she’s used to being spicy anyway, like chillies and curries. To Charlie, her tastes are bland but to her, the food is spicy and she doesn’t want to add any more heat.

What she hasn’t grown used to is the loss of her wings, she misses them so much it’s a constant ache. They exist only in her dreams, their feathers so familiar and so comforting that she wakes up reaching for them. Mornings are hard, because everyday when she wakes up to their absence she has to remember that they aren’t there anymore and never will be again. 

Aside from the dreams, the biggest challenge from the loss of her wings is how hard it is for her to balance without them. The phantom pain becomes more manageable with time but her body isn’t used to moving without her wings. She’s unbalanced, clumsy, and she feels heavy. She’s found a vulnerability that she never even considered back when she was whole.

Her legs are weak.

She’d noticed it trying to keep up with Charlie on their daily walks, how winded she got and how much her legs ached. Vaggie, like all her sisters, flew quite a bit when they needed to go anywhere, they only walked around for short distances, like from their rooms to the cafe, but further distances they got to by flying. Now, without that option, she’s noticing how weak her legs are and how slow she is. She also can’t run anymore, without the weight on her back, she can’t figure out how to position herself without falling over.

Thankfully, Charlie hasn’t picked up on the loss of her wings being the cause of her clumsiness. She thinks it’s because of her eye. Vaggie does not correct her. Instead, the two of them do ‘physical therapy’ to help Vaggie become more coordinated and less of a hazard. Charlie has people set up the pool that had previously been empty, treating the water so it’s not so acidic or dark, and the two of them spend an hour in the water each day. Along with that, Charlie insists on playing catch with her daily to help her learn to adjust to the loss of her eye and they maintain the daily walks.

On top of that, in the privacy of her locked room every evening, Vaggie does some easy strength training. She stretches, she does push ups, squats, and lunges, and she does jumping jacks. Anything she can do without equipment to strengthen her legs, she does. She also starts running as best she can in the single room, jogging back and forth across the diagonal of the room, the plush carpet offering some protection when she face plants when she loses her balance.

It takes the remainder of the year until she’s comfortable enough to run outside of her room, going for jogs every morning. Charlie does not join her on those, stating that she hates running, but she does send one of her snarling goats with her, even though Vaggie tries to insist that she doesn’t need the protection.

“You don’t like me, do you?” She asks one of the goats. 

She hasn’t been able to tell them apart from one another, given that they’re identical and she tries to avoid them as much as possible. With her, they’re always angry and snappy, they keep between her and Charlie as much as possible and only spend any time alone with her when their mistress orders them to. As such, she’s not entirely sure whether it’s Razzle or Dazzle following her on her morning jog.

In response, the goat growls and snaps its teeth.

“Back atcha.” She rolls her eyes, not even glancing at the goat. 

In truth, she’s a little jealous of the creatures. They still have their wings, they’re still whole, they haven’t been exiled from their home. They fly all the time, whether playing together or just following Charlie around. Sometimes, she sees them napping on ledges that Charlie has installed on the walls specifically for them and her heart aches.

The Exorcist compound has those ledges, as well as hammocks hung from the high ceilings so they can rest up high. Seeing the two napping happily on surfaces she can no longer reach, it makes her irrationally angry. It makes her want to scream and cry until the pain that’s constantly in her chest subsides. 

“Look, I don’t know why you don’t like me, but I do know you can understand me.” She huffs, turning her head to look at the goat. “So stop growling at me, I’m not trying to hurt anybody here.”

It’s the goats turn to huff but it doesn’t reply and the two continue in silence until she loops back around to the mansion's manicured lawn and he flies off, his job done.

~~~

Vaggie’s hair grows out, she learns to move without her eye and wings, she learns to like the food in Hell, and she’s embraced Charlie’s offered friendship. That doesn’t stop her from missing her home and her sisters.

Charlie is nice, she’s amazing, but she isn’t a sister. Her sisters never accidentally brushed their hands with hers and then blushed the whole way home. Her sisters never made a comment on her legs and then froze.

She certainly never dreamt about her sisters the way she dreams about Charlie.

She never talks to Charlie about it either, she can’t. She’d asked Charlie about the exterminations once and it had solidified in her mind that Charlie can never know what she is.

“It’s Heaven's stupid way of keeping our population in control.” Charlie spat, her eyes going red and her horns sprouting. “It’s barbaric and cruel and it’s not fucking working!”

Population control? The exterminations were never about population control, they were about making sure the sinners remembered their place. It was about making sure they never got confident enough to rise up against the pure souls of Heaven, dragging the souls who had earned their place in paradise into their cesspit of sin.

But Charlie doesn’t know that. And she does not like the angels. She hates them with a passion that burns brighter than the fire pits of Hell and she can never know what Vaggie is because if she does then Vaggie will lose the only ally she has here. The only friend she has.

She cries on her balcony that night, long after Charlie has gone to sleep. She stares up at Heaven’s lights in the distance and weeps until her empty socket is leaking golden blood and her head is pounding. 

One of the goats finds her, curled against the railing of the balcony with tears streaming down her face and the wrists of her sleeves are crusted with snot because she couldn’t be bothered to get up and grab some tissues. Instead of growling, he just looks at her.

“Don’t- don’t get Charlie.” She hiccups. “Please, don’t get her.”

She expects the creature to ignore her request and get its mistress anyway. Afterall, she has no authority over it, she certainly hasn’t earned the creatures respect enough to make requests and she knows they don’t like her. Instead, the goat creeps closer to her, noses her arm until she pulls it away from her chest, and then it crawls into her lap. The small creature shuffles, its hooves digging into her thighs a little until it settles, his head on her shoulder with his front hooves resting just on her collarbone.

That brings a fresh wave of tears, because she’s learned that Charlie will give kindness to anybody and their cousin but her bodyguards are a lot more reserved. And here one is, trying to soothe her after hating her for almost two years.

She clings to the goat, clutching red fur between her fingers and buries her face in the fur on top of its head, crying again until she’s out of tears and can only hiccup and sniffle. The goat doesn’t care that the top of his head is now covered in her blood, snot, and tears, nor does he seem to mind that she’s definitely squeezed him too tightly more than a few times during her crying session. Instead, once she’s settled herself down enough to not be actively crying, it raises itself up and licks her cheek, the one on the good side of her face.

“You know what I am.” She whispers.

As she’d suspected, the goat doesn’t respond, but she knows that it knows. That’s why they don’t like her, Charlie might not have figured it out but they have. Their mistress has brought home one of her most hated things and doesn’t even know it, they’ve been protecting her from Vaggie for two years.

“I’m sorry.” She tells it, stroking its fur. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to be here, I miss my home, I miss my family. I wish they’d come back for me.”

The goat doesn’t judge her, or at least it doesn’t judge her openly.

“Lute cut my eye out. She took my wings.” She sniffles. “There- there was a kid. And I couldn’t kill him and she took my wings for it.”

The goat licks her cheek again and nuzzles against her. She holds it tighter, its fur surprisingly soft for a Hellborn creature.

“I wish I could take it back, because I want my family back. But I couldn’t kill that kid. Why did she hurt me?” She continues.

She cuddles with the goat until her exhaustion forces her to drag herself inside, the goat flying along beside her. She washes her face roughly, too tired to be coordinated or gentle with herself. The goat brings her a fresh pair of pyjamas that she pulls on, tossing the soiled ones into the laundry hamper. 

The goat doesn’t leave her, even when she crawls under the covers. He curls up against her side, its breathing soothing and its fur soft under her fingers.

“Your wings are really pretty.” She whispers to it. “I wish I still had mine. We could fly together.”

The goat bleats softly and she takes that as an agreement. She rolls onto her side, wrapping both arms around the creature and holding it close. She falls asleep with it in her arms, its breathing slow and deep as it sleeps beside her.

~~~

Two months after that, Vaggie learns why there are fireplaces in Hell. As it turns out, Hell does get snow, just not the way Heaven does. Heaven has seasons, beautiful springs with blooming flowers, warm summers with lush trees, cool falls with colourful leaves, and cold winters with beautiful snow. Heaven’s seasons are perfect, the temperatures are manageable and predictable. Hell does not have the same structure.

In Hell, winter comes at random with no warning and the temperatures are brutal. Vaggie wakes up one morning, freezing under her covers and when she rolls over, she sees piles of snow on her balcony. Razzle has crawled under the covers with her, trying his best to leech her body heat rather than be outside of the covers.

She’s figured out how to tell them apart now, after her breakdown on the balcony, the goats have been friendly with her and Razzle usually sleeps in her bed with her now. She’s also learned that they’re Lucifer's creations, made specifically for Charlie, to protect her. 

“What the fuck?” She mutters to the goat, trying to pull the blankets tighter around her.

As if summoned, Charlie bursts into her room in a manner that is way too energetic for the hour and the weather.

“It’s snowing!” She squeals, flopping onto the bed.

Vaggie nods, trying not to think about how good Charlie looks in her red sweater. Razzle wiggles and squirms until he can poke his head out of the blankets to glare at Charlie, mad that she’s disturbing the bed.

“Get dressed, let's go outside!” She begs, bouncing on the bed.

“Not even if you paid me.” Vaggie growled, tugging Razzle closer and holding the blankets close. “It’s freezing.”

Charlie freezes and then smacks herself on the forehead.

“Right! This is your first winter here!” She gasps, flopping down beside her. “You must be freezing! Wait here, I’m going to get you some of my winter clothes!”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Vaggie mutters, watching Charlie rush from the room.

She dresses under the covers, doubling up on socks and putting an extra pair of leggings on under the sweatpants Charlie loans her. It’s still not enough, she’s still cold. Razzle seems to agree and she bundles him up in a blanket to carry him around. That makes him happy, he bleats quietly as she carries him like a baby to the kitchen. 

“I made you hot chocolate!” Charlie declares, thrusting a steaming mug into her free hand. “Aww Razzle, are you finally living your dream of being a spoiled little baby?”

“Yes, he’s my son now.” Vaggie mutters, sipping the hot beverage. 

Dazzle flies up, plants his front hooves on Vaggie arms, and bleats at his brother. Razzle ignores him, closing his eyes and snuggling into her more. A fuck you if she’s ever seen one.

She spends her day in the living room, wrapped in a burrito in front of the fire place, Razzle on her lap. Dazzle rests on the back of the couch behind her, his warm breath steaming up the top of her head. Charlie, the only one seemingly enjoying herself in this weather, acts as a courier for them, fetching snacks and hot drinks and leaning against Vaggie when she isn’t doing that. She again has to think of anything except how good Charlie looks in that sweater or she’s going to make a complete fool out of herself.

~~~

Her hair gets longer still, down past her shoulders and she finds that she likes it like that. Her hair is a poor substitute for wings but it’s the closest she’s going to get so she sticks to it. Charlie, meanwhile, gets it into her head that sinners can be redeemed so she opens a hotel and they move. She doesn’t expect anything to really come of it, but then Charlie’s rushing through the door with an eight foot tall spider demon who introduces himself as Angel Dust and is way too open about his sexual interests.

She isn’t sure how to feel about him, he’s loud, he’s crude, he does a ton of drugs, and he doesn’t really seem to be trying to actually be better. But she doesn’t dislike him, in fact, he reminds her a little bit of home. A little. Not a whole lot. 

The way he slings himself over the couch, his feet brushing her thighs reminds her of the compound, when she and her sisters would gather after a day of training and watch television. He teases her in a way that reminds her a little too much of Lute, back when they were friends and not at the ripping-eyes-out-of-skulls part of their relationship, and he jokingly snags food off her plate.

Angel Dust is a poor substitute for her sisters, but he is a substitute and that’s why no matter how often he falls off the wagon, she never suggests kicking him out. He brushes her hair once and she nearly cries about it right then and there, he helps her pick an outfit for a date with Charlie and puts a red bow in her hair. She likes that bow, she keeps it after that and it becomes a part of her daily outfit. 

Honestly, she can never admit it to Charlie or even to Angel Dust, but she likes it when Angel gets violent, when he and his friend get into turf wars with that poor, overdramatic snake. She hasn’t had a proper fight since her sisters left her behind and she envy’s Angel’s freedom to just pull out his extra arms and throw himself into the fray. She remembers watching her sisters squabble together, cheering them on and joking with the fellow onlookers. It’s comforting, though she can never tell Charlie.

Then Charlie, her lovely girlfriend, decides to go on TV and try and advertise. That’s a disaster but at least she gets to punch some people. She’d been hoping that the television disaster would be the worst thing that happened that day, they’d eat some dinner and go to bed. Let tomorrow be a new day.

Then the fucking Radio Demon shows up and shoves her out of the way and dazzles Charlie with his sparkly magic bullshit and she falls for it! Against every warning Vaggie gives her, she invites the antlered bastard to stay and he takes it. He brings with him a drunken cat and a cyclops that has a weird obsession with bugs, specifically killing them. But the hotel is full of them so for now, she lets it be.

She doesn’t like Alastor, he makes her hair stand on end and she suspects that he knows what she is. She keeps her spear close to her from then on, scared to be unarmed around the deer. 

She finds she doesn’t dislike Nifty. She cyclops isn’t bad company when you actually take the time to actually figure out how she ticks. She likes to clean, she likes to kill bugs, she’s weirdly obsessed with Alastor. Really, Nifty may be one of the saddest cases she’s seen in Hell, a woman who was led here through cruelty and mistreatment until she finally snapped. The lobotomy she’d faced on earth, the one that ultimately led to her demise, makes her erratic and hard to understand, but she’s sweet. 

Nifty is one of the demons that makes Vaggie question the entire judgement system of Heaven and Hell. Nifty had been complacent in her family's abuse, she had never lashed out or fought back, she let herself be hurt for years, for her entire life. And then, one day she just couldn’t take it anymore and she’d taken the life of the man hurting her and instead of kindness, she’d been treated to an icepick in her brain, scrambling her thoughts and killing her. In Vaggie’s opinion, that shouldn’t have landed Nifty here, regardless of how vicious she is now that she’s in Hell. She’d taken as much as she could, more than any reasonable person should be expected to endure, but defending herself brought her here?

Maybe that’s why Heaven doesn’t let the Exorcists show mercy to the sinners, if you start seeing them as souls rather than sinners, if you start hearing their stories and what drove them to the fiery pits of Hell, things stop making sense. 

Overall, she likes the hustle and bustle of the hotel. Nights are no longer silent, she can hear others moving and shuffling in their sleep and after fifty years of missing the sounds of others around her, it’s soothing to have it back. She doesn’t even really mind Sir Pentious creeping in to stare at her and Charlie while they sleep at night, so long as he doesn’t overdo it. It’s not the same as her sister's back home but she’s coming to terms with the fact that she’s never going to get that back, so she’s taking what she can get.

~~~

She regrets suggesting getting Lucifer involved as soon as the words are out of her mouth. If there’s any way to reveal to all of Hell that she’s an Exorcist, it’s to meet the original fallen angel face to face. For fifty years, she’s managed to avoid Charlie’s parents so she can never be found out and it has been surprisingly easy. Lucifer was busy and he and Charlie mostly only spoke on the phone and she’d been able to find some excuse to be out of the mansion when Lilith visited. And then seven years ago, Lilith fucked off without a word and she hadn’t been an issue since. 

But Charlie had been upset and she’d just had to open her stupid mouth and suggest that she call her father. She spends the hour waiting for Lucifer preparing for her second downfall. As soon as Lucifer sees her, he’s going to know what she is, he’ll tell everyone and within the hour, she’ll probably be dead. She wouldn’t put it past Alastor being the one to finish her, fuck, the sadist will probably broadcast her final moments to all of Hell. Killing his fellow Overlords was a good start but killing an Exorcist? That would cement him in Hell’s history for all eternity and she’s long since figured out that he’s guided by his ego more than anything else. 

Instead, Lucifer doesn’t call her out, in fact, he doesn’t even seem to notice her. He’s also not what she thought he’d been. She had been trained on the understanding that Lucifer was the original evil, the son who’d tried to topple his father’s empire out of spite and jealousy who could only ever love himself.

What she’d been sold is not what she gets. 

“Ho-ho golly. You like girls? I like girls! We have so much in common!” Lucifer gasped, eyes shining with happiness when he’d turned to her. “Put’er there Maggie!”

Then he’d hugged her so tightly she thought her other eye was going to pop out, only to release her a second later and grip her hand.

’this is it.’ She’d thought. 

She covers her bad eye, like that’s going to protect her and hide what she is. Lucifer doesn’t call her out, doesn’t reveal what she is. He just compliments her, calls her pretty, and then turns his attention back to Charlie and her hotel. And then he starts fighting with Alastor and she finally starts to relax. If the devil is more focused on musically throwing down with some random Overlord he’s never heard of than another angel in his realm, she’s probably safe from his wrath at least.

In the end, Lucifer agrees to get Charlie a meeting with the Seraphims to pitch her idea of redemption. It’s sad, but without saying anything, she and Lucifer know that this won’t lead anywhere. The angels aren’t killing sinners for population control, it’s about keeping them in line so they never get the strength to rise up. Vaggie can’t tell Charlie because then she’d have to explain why she knows, and Lucifer can’t tell her because that would be admitting that he’d agreed to the slaughter of the subjects Charlie loves.

It occurs to her that both of them are watching her march towards certain failure without stepping in because they’re both too cowardly to own up to their mistakes. And the look Lucifer gives her confirms to her that he knows it too, he knows what she is and he knows that both of them are too selfish to explain the real workings of Heaven to Charlie.

She’s just like Lucifer, something that would have disgusted her fifty years ago. It disgusts her now too, but for a different reason.

~~~

Charlie knows.

Adam and Lute told her, revealing to her what she is. Her old picture was on display for the whole court, Charlie’s horrified expression matching hers. 

Since then, Vaggie’s heart has been in her throat and her stomach keeps flipping. She and Charlie get back to Hell and her girlfriend won’t even look at her. Instead, she makes right for the door.

“Charlie!” Vaggie begs, unsure whether to reach out to her. “Charlie please!”

“Not now.” Charlie says, toneless and unfeeling.

And then she’s gone. The door doesn’t slam, Charlie doesn’t shout or curse or lash out, she’s just gone. Leaving Vaggie as easily as she found her.

~~~

Vaggie breaks down again, back in the bathroom, in the tub this time. Her spear is clutched in her hands and she’s screaming and crying and choking through her fear. 

She can’t breathe anymore, she’s just huddling in the tub, holding her spear like it’s going to fight off whatever invisible force is choking her. Why couldn’t Lute and Adam just kill her in Heaven? Why did they have to leave her to suffer like this? She used to be their sister in arms and they couldn’t even do her the dignity of a quick death.

When she’s able to get enough air into her lungs that the spots in her vision clear out, she looks at her spear, with some drips of her golden blood on its tip, and makes a decision. If she wants a quick death, she’s going to have to give it to herself.

She’s barely touched the tip to her neck when two strong hands grip the staff and pull hard.

“No!” She shrieks, pulling back.

She’s earned this. She needs this.

“Sorry toots, but trust me, this ain’t the way.” Angel says, his lower set of hands prying her fingers from the staff.

“You wanna do it?” Vaggie snarls, kicking him in the stomach and forcing him to stumble backwards. “You wanna be the one to finish me off? Fine!”

She tosses the spear at the spider and throws her arms to the side. Exposing all of her weak spots. She doesn’t care anymore, if Angel wants to be the one to kill her, let him. Probably easier than doing it herself.

“That was easier than I thought.” Husk grunts from the counter. “I thought we were gonna have ta break yer fingers to get that away from ya.”

She snarls at him, showing her teeth. Angel Dust rolls his eyes, grabs the spear and bounces it like he’s testing it’s weight.

Then he tosses it into the bedroom outside, closes the door, and locks it. He and Husk turn to look at her and she braces for a fight. Instead, Angel climbs into the tub with her, warps all six of his arms around her, and holds her close.

“It’s okay.” He whispers.

“No it isn’t!” She shrieks, trying to kick him and free herself. “I’m an Exorcist! I’m a fucking killer and now Charlie knows! Do you have any idea what I’ve done?”

“Look, I don’t want to minimise what you’ve done, but this is Hell.” Husk points out, sliding off the counter and getting dangerously close to her kicking feet. “I don’t know a single soul down here who hasn’t killed before.”

“Let me go!” She demands, ignoring Husker entirely. “Let go of me! Give me back my spear!”

“Ha! Not in your state.” Angel laughs humorlessly. “I’m not letting you rip yourself apart. I’ve been there Vags, it’s not as satisfying as you think it will be.”

“Don’t you dare speak for me, don’t pretend you know how this feels!” She hisses.

“Understand what? Feeling like yer whole existence is a waste? Feeling like you’ve messed up so badly that you’ll never clean it up? Or is it the feeling of having such a secretive part of yourself revealed in the worst way possible?” Angel demands, dropping to his knees so Vaggie can’t kick as much. “Vaggie, I know. I’ve been there. We’re not here ta hurt ya, we’re here ta help ya.” 

“Killin’ yerself isn’t the answer kid.” Husk agrees, grabbing her legs and tucking them under his arm. 

“Don’t call me kid, I’m centuries older than you.” She snaps.

“Yeah? How long ya been in Hell?” Husk asks.

“Fifty years.” She responds, squirming. She’s been effectively restrained, she can’t move her arms or legs.

“Ha! Babe, I’ve been down here seventy years.” Angel laughs and it’s closer to a genuine laugh this time. “That makes ya a kid ta me.”

“You an I have both been here roughly fifty years.” Husk adds. “So just settle down.”

“Just let me be.” She sobs.

The fight is draining from her fast. With just her and her spear, things had seemed easy, the hardest part would be pushing through her own throat. Now, with Husk and Angel pinning her and her spear behind a locked door, she feels hopeless. More so than she did five minutes ago.

“We’re not leavin ya ta kill yerself.” Angel scolds. “So just git that outta yer head.”

“Why won’t you let me die?” She moans. Closing her eye against the headache.

“Cause I’m too lazy ta find new drinking buddies.” Husk jokes. “Now, we’re gonna carry you outta the bathroom and ta Angel’s room, and yer gonna behave yerself or I’ll hogtie ya.”

She doesn’t respond and she doesn’t need to. Husk unlocked the door with his tail and opens it, he and Angel Dust carrying her into the bedroom. As soon as she sees her spear on the floor, she redoubles her attempts to escape. That doesn’t go well.

“Nope.” Angel Dust scolds, flopping onto the bed with her while Husk lets go of her legs long enough to wrap her in rope and tie her down. “We warned ya.”

She screams her fury, wiggling like a particularly angry worm without any success. For a drunk, Husk ties a good knot. Now that she’s properly restrained, Husk doesn’t need to help hold her, Angel can manage on his own so Husk just leads the way and opens doors for them.

“Hello!” Alastor greets in the hallway, twirling his cane. “Why, how is our little Exorcist-”

“Fuck off Smiles.” Angel orders, extending an arm to push the Radio Demon into the wall. “Go play with the Eggs, Husk and I are busy.”

The hallway fills with static but thankfully, Alastor doesn’t make more of a scene. Instead, he melts into shadows and sulks away.

As promised, Angel and Husk deliver her to Angel’s bedroom and she’s dropped on the bed. The bartender grabs Fat Nuggets from his clothes nest in the closet and deposits him next to her.

“Where’s Razzle?” She whines.

Has her bedmate left too, so disgusted by her that he can no longer be around her?

“He’s with Charlie. Dazzle too.” Angel says. “I can try and grab him for ya later, but yer gonna have ta settle for Nuggs for now.”

“I’m gonna sit ya up.” Husk says, not giving her a chance to answer. “And you’re gonna have some water, get some back in yer system. And you aren’t gonna give me a hard time about it.”

Her vision spins when she’s raised up and her stomach rebels against her, the nonexistent contents of her stomach trying to climb up her throat. She clenches her jaw against the force, trying to keep it down and Husk takes it as her ‘giving him a hard time’ and tries to scold her.

“Now I thought I said-”

He breaks off when she heaves loudly, unable to keep it down. Angel grabs a waste basket from the floor and pushes it under her face, uses another arm to shove Husk out of the splash zone, and another two to lift Fat Nuggets off the bed. With her arms tied, she can’t push her hair back and some of it ends up covered in bile. She wants to crawl into the bin and just die.

“Okay, that’s it, you’re okay.” Husk soothes, rubbing her back and pulling her hair out of the trash. “We’ve got you.”

“Why?” She gasps.

“Because you’re our friend dipshit.” Angel says.

When she’s done vomiting, she eagerly accepts Husks offered water. It’s amazing on her sore throat and when she’s finished one glass, he refills it and she drains that one too. 

“Can I untie you or are you gonna do something stupid?” Husk asks when she’s done.

“You can untie me.” She rasps. 

“And you’re not gonna do anything stupid like try and kill yerself?” Husk pushes.

“I’m not gonna do anything stupid.” She nods.

She won’t, her energy is gone and even without the ropes, her limbs are too heavy to move on her own. It’s hard to even keep her eye open, she can’t fight her way through two demons to Charlie’s room, grab her spear, and do anything with it. Maybe later, she’s too tired right now.

Angel’s arms slide under her, lifting her off his bed and the world moves without her permission. She doesn’t register where she is until she feels the cool surface of the bathtub.

“What’re you doin’?” She asks.

“Washing you off.” Angel declares.

“Mmm. No.” She complains, trying to shove him off.

“Yes. Vaggie, you are covered in your own blood and vomit. You cannot go to sleep in that.” He insists.

“I can do it myself.” She argues.

For a second, Angel stares at her and then shrugs.

“Fine, go ahead.”

When she tries to stand, her brain scrambles and she pitches to the side uncontrollably. Angel catches her, righting her, and sits her back down.

“Gonna accept some help?” He asks.

“Fine. But don’t look.” She begs.

“Vaggie, the same way you get dryer than the Sahara when you see a man, I get limper than over boiled spaghetti when I see a chick. You don’t do anything fer me.” He jokes, peeling off her soiled clothes.

She zones out through the shower, teetering on the brink of consciousness while Angel’s many hands massage shampoo into her scalp and rub a loofa over her skin. If she had the wherewithal, she’d ask Angel what type of shampoo he uses, it smells nice. Like vanilla and cinnamon. 

Angel wraps her in one of his robes when he’s done, lifts her from the tub, and starts drying her hair. He combs through it while blow drying it, then massages in some oil and combs that through too. Finally, he braids it for her, tying it off at the bottom.

“There, ready for bed?” He asks.

“Please.” She agrees.

“Alright. Yer staying in my room, I don’t trust ya by yerself.” He tells her, lifting her again.

Husk is waiting for them in the bedroom with a pair of her pyjamas that he’s obviously fetched from her dresser. Thankfully, the cat has the manners to banish himself to the corner while Angel helps her dress. She falls asleep before Angel even helps her under the covers, Fat Nuggets being a substitute for Razzle.

~~~

Walking into Carmilla Carmine’s home feels like walking into a death trap. As it turns out, demons can kill angels, she’s done it and hopefully, she’ll teach Vaggie how to teach her friends.

Because extermination day is coming, her sisters are coming, and she needs to teach her friends how to survive. Survive by killing her sisters.

She ignores the pain in her chest as best she can. 

“Before you knew about me, did you know angels could be harmed?” Carmilla demands, throwing a kick at her face.

“No.” She lies.

Carmilla lists off her sisters weaknesses, kicks her ass, and then sings her a song. For the first time in half a century, her back burns and wings burst from between her shoulder blades. Their feathers are coarse and darker than they used to be, but her wings are back. 

Carmilla promises to supply weapons for their fight but refuses to join their ranks, informing her that she has two daughters who need her. She cannot afford to die in a fight that isn’t hers. She sees pictures on the walls as she leaves, ones she hadn’t noticed before when she was coming in. Two demonesses, arms slung around each other and smiling at the camera.

sisters

The sight of the two of them, holding each other and smiling, immortalized in the pictures. They have what she’s missing and an irrational part of her hates them for it. Still, she leaves, and Carmilla’s daughters deliver two trucks full of weapons the next day, leaving before Vaggie gets a chance to talk to them.

Charlie hands weapons out to the cannibal army she’s assembled with Alastor and Rosie and when she’s done, she gifts Vaggie a shrivelled head and hugs her and Vaggie sobs into her shirt that night. She sobs for her lies, she cries for the fight that’s about to come, she cries for the family she lost.

~~~

A part of her, a small, hidden part of her, had hoped that the fight would never happen. That her sisters would see her and recognize her and they’d refuse to fight. Maybe she couldn’t go back to Heaven but maybe they could learn that sinners weren’t as bad as they’d been led to believe. Maybe she could have her sisters back.

That didn’t happen. She’ll find out through Lute that there’s a bounty on her head and the women she’s missed worse than her missing eye for half a century are competing for the right to kill her. That hurts worse than the bloody nose Lute gives her slamming her face against the table, it hurts worse than the hole in her hand.

She’s been mourning a family for fifty years and they’d moved on after one day. 

Despite herself, she can’t bring herself to kill Lute. Once, they were sisters and even though she’s the reason she’ll always have to compensate for the loss of her eye and the reason she’s in Hell, the thought of pushing her spear through Lute’s throat makes her skin crawl. So she spares her, tells her to remember she only breathes because Vaggie lets her, and leaves her with her arm pinned under the rubble of the ceiling. Of course, Lute isn’t one to stay down unless she cannot get up. Admittedly, she kind of thought a crushed arm was enough but it seems fifty years has changed them both.

Adam dies, Nifty stabs him through the chest and Lute screams like Vaggie did when her wings were severed. Her heart twinges for her but Charlie puts a strong hand on her waist and Lucifer steps between them and Lute and orders them back to Heaven, ending the battle.

It wasn’t without losses, they lost Sir Pentious and every Egg but one, who won’t stop trailing Cherri. Dazzle is dead and Razzle stands over his brother's body, trembling and bleating like he’s hoping he’ll hop up and play with him again. Vaggie kneels beside him, wraps him in her arms, and cries with him. Kee Kee and Fat Nuggets are thankfully okay, scared, but alive and Charlie and Angel cry their relief. Alastor is missing, though Husk insists that the bastard is alive, he can feel the chains.

Together, they rebuild the hotel and it feels like rebuilding their hearts. Lucifer makes a big statue of Dazzle that Razzle refuses to move from, he curls up on the golden snout and bleats sadly. Lucifer also makes a portrait of Sir Pentious with his fallen Eggs and the last remaining Egg spends the rest of his day in front of it. When Cherri has finished her work, she sits with him, pulls the Egg into her lap, and they stare at the portrait.

Alastor returns, to the groans of Lucifer and Husk but after the realisation that her sisters fully abandoned her and the loss of Dazzle and Pentious, she welcomes his return. She even hugs him, something she swears that she will never do again.

The remaining cannibals clean up the bodies of her sisters and their own fallen comrades. She has to seclude herself in the hotel, unable to watch them cut apart the bodies. She recognises all of the fallen angels, she knows their names and what they liked. She remembers the jokes they used to tell each other, how they’d eat together and train. Vaggie cries in the bathroom, cleaning the wound on her hand to pretend that’s what the tears are for, and doesn’t come out until Lucifer knocks on the door and tells her the bodies have been cleaned up.

“I get it sweetheart.” He whispers, pulling her into a hug.

~~~

The new walls of the hotel are thicker than the old ones, sound doesn’t travel as well as it used to, and she can’t hear the others at night anymore. She misses it more than she’d like to admit.

Razzle sleeps a lot more than he used to, and he’s become more clingy with Charlie and Vaggie. He even headbutts Kee Kee when he feels the cat is taking up too much of their time, something he never did before. 

“I know buddy.” Vaggie tells the goat, both of them sitting on the head of Dazzle’s statue. “It’s hard losing a sibling.”

Thankfully, Fat Nuggets doesn’t shy away from the goat and is happy to sleep in the dog bed next to him. It’s not the same but Razzle likes it, he’ll seek the pig out when he’s lonely and Fat Nuggets will cuddle with him. His snorts aren’t like Dazzle’s bleats but they’re clearly soothing for the goat. Vaggie wonders if the pig is aware of what Razzle is going through or if he’s just always been down to sleep whenever. 

Oddly, Alastor is also surprisingly kind to everyone. Well, not kind, just not his usual self. She figures out why a week after the fight.

The Radio Demon had waited until Charlie had gone out to visit Rosie, then he’d knocked on the door of their bedroom with a gift.

“Here.” He’d said, thrusting a cardboard envelope into her hands.

“What is it?” She’d asked, watching the deer make himself at home in her bedroom.

“A record.” Alastor shrugged.

She’d looked at it, pulled the disc out of its protective cover, and stared at it.

“How do I play this?” She asked.

“A record player.” Alastor said, looking at her like she’s an idiot.

“I- don’t have one of those.” She said.

The red haired demon rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers, willing one up on the table. It’s not something that Vaggie would ever get for herself but it doesn’t look garish against their normal decor.

“Put it on, tell me if you like it.” Alastor instructs, always in control.

Skeptically, she does. At first, she’s waiting for screams or other horribly gorey sounds. Instead, she hears cooing. Like the noises her sisters made while they slept. It’s not exact but it’s close.

“How?” She gasped, hand over her mouth.

“Exorcists make noises similar to the ones doves make. I made some doves in my bayou and recorded them sleeping. It’s a mismatch of some of their more peaceful nights, I thought it would be nice for you to listen to while you fall asleep.” He explains.

This is nice? Alastor is being nice? That can’t be right, the man’s a fucking sadist, he doesn’t do nice.

“What’s the catch?” She demands, rounding to face him. “What do you want?”

The demon freezes, his permanent smile twitching and his eyes dart around the room.

“I need help.” He whispers. “Please.”

That worries her, but she can’t shove him out now. Fucks sake.

“Show me.” She orders.

“Lock the door first.” Alastor requests, looking at the door.

“Fucks sake. Has anyone ever told you that you’re paranoid?” She asks, locking the door.

“Not to my face. Unless you’ve heard otherwise.” Alastor says, trying for humour and falling short.

“Just show me what you need help with.” She sighs. 

Alastors ears flatten and his eyes narrow. He looks away from her, his claws clumsily undoing the buttons on his shirt until he can peel it back to reveal…

What has to be one of the most infected wounds she’s ever seen. It cuts from the top of his right collarbone, diagonally down his chest, and ending just above his left hip. The wound is deeply infected, leaking pus and blood and without the fabric of the shirt covering it, she can smell it.

“What the serious fuck?” She demands, shoving him onto the vanity chair so she can get a look at it. “How did you-”

Adam. That’s the only way. Alastor disappeared for hours and they had no idea where he’d been. When he’d returned, they hadn’t asked him what happened. It’s clear now.

He’d faced Adam and gotten hurt. They hadn’t bothered to question him about the fight because he’d been upright and had given no indication that he was injured. Maybe they should have.

“Why did you wait this long to ask for help?” She asks, pulling the first aid kit from under the bed.

“I thought I had it handled.” Alastor hisses, looking at the rubbing alcohol with distrust. 

“You’re an idiot!” She hisses. 

“Can I get the assistance without the lecture?” Alastor asks, claws ripping into the padding of the stool. 

“No, shut up. I’m going to try to clean this but it’s going to hurt.” She says.

“I’ve been cleaning it.” Alastor insists. “It hasn’t helped. I came to you because you understand angelic weapons.”

Angelic weapons. Fuck. 

Adams guitar is not your run of the mill angelic weapon. The first man had designed his weapon to do more than just cut, all the senior exorcists did. It’s why they don’t have to worry too much about sinners escaping, if a cut is deep enough, it will fester until the infection kills off the victim. And Alastor has been cut deep.

“We should get Lucifer.” She says.

“I’d rather die.” Alastor responds. 

“Do you understand the stakes here? Do you know what nobody but Carmilla has ever survived an Exorcist attack before? We don’t just make our weapons to cut, they destroy the skin beyond repair. That’s why Lucifer handled injuries after the fight, he’s one of the only beings in Creation who can.” She lectured.

Alastor stares at her and for the first time ever, she sees something other than general disinterest, she sees fear and anger. She stares back, trying to be authoritative because she’s very aware that Alastor is stubborn as Hell and he may very well be more open to dying than to asking for help.

“I’m calling Lucifer.” She declares.

“No!” Alastor snarls, standing up and physically blocking the door. 

It would be intimidating, having the Radio Demon standing tall in front of her, antlers branching out and his eyes old fashioned dials, but now that she’s looking for it, she can see that Alastor is pale. Not to mention the gaping maw that is the cut on his chest, that really dims down the fear factor he usually carries.

“Sit your ass down!” She orders.

“As long as you don’t get Lucifer!” Alastor counters, sounding desperate. “Can we at least try and fix it ourselves first?”

It’s probably not a good sign that Alastor is so desperate that he’s bargaining with her. The deer is not one who does things by someone else's rules, preferring to do things his way. However, this may work in her favour. 

“Let's make a deal.” She proposes, watching Alastor’s ears perk up. “I will do my best to treat this but, if I can’t handle it all, we call Lucifer and you let him take care of you.”

That makes the deer ears lay flat against Alastor’s head, she’s not sure if she’s just never noticed how expressive his ears are or if he’s just too distracted to keep them still. Honestly, she’s not sure why, exactly, he doesn’t like Lucifer and she’s willing to bet he doesn’t either, but it’s kind of pathetic that he’s so stubborn about it.

“Fine.” He spits.

“Shake on it.” She says, sticking out her hand.

“You want an actual deal.” Alastor confirmed, looking at her hand like she’s going to hit him.

“That’s the only thing that will keep you honest.” She nods.

The deer curses colourfully in French, Vaggie may not speak the language but she recognizes the tone, and takes her hand. Green light flickers around their clasped hands for a moment, magically sealing the deal, and then they release their hands.

“Sit down.” She instructs, nodding to the seat he’s just vacated. 

Alastor complies, sitting stiffly on the ripped cushion and watching her organise her supplies in silence. It’s incredibly awkward, the two of them are not at all comfortable around each other, she hasn’t spent time alone in a room with Alastor since agreeing to not push him to use modern recording technology. 

“This is going to hurt.” She warns, holding an alcohol soaked towel near his chest. “Don’t hit me.” 

“Just do it.” He says through clenched teeth.

She rolls her eye and presses the cloth to his chest, feeling the heat of infection through the cloth. As she presses gently, wishing she had the forethought to grab some kind of basin before starting, as pus drains from the cut and pours onto Alastors lap. It’s a sickly yellow colour, mixed with black blood, and it stinks like rotting and decay.

Despite how much he’s trying to keep himself together, after a minute of having the cloth pushed against his skin, Alastor is starting to pant from the pain. She can feel the slight tremble in his form and his claws are embedded back in the cushion, making more scratches in it and there’s white fluff poking out between his fingers.

“Need a break?” She asks.

“Please.” Alastor pants.

She pulls back, tossing the sullied cloth into the waste bin. There’s no sense in washing it, it’s ruined beyond repair. Alastor recovers for a moment while she soaks another towel with alcohol, then he nods and she presses back against his chest.

Immediately, he rips his right hand out of the cushion, taking a chunk out of it when he does so, and shoves her hard. The force sends her back until she hits the foot of the bed.

“What the fuck?” She demands.

Then Alastor leans forward and pukes, right where she was just seconds before. The anger evaporates, watching the man curl as he retches. She doubts that he’s really meant to hurt her, it’s more likely that he was just trying to move her so he didn’t puke on her, and didn’t realise how much force he’d used.

“Okay.” She hisses, standing, tossing the cloth into the waste bin, and gets closer to him, rubbing his back as soothingly as she can. “Better out than in.”

“So sorry about the carpet.” Alastor rasps when he has a moment of reprieve. “Looks so plush and soft.”

There’s a hint of an accent in his voice, not his typical transatlantic accent he usually keeps up.

“Don’t worry about the carpet.” She waves off.

Then Alastor dips forward and she thinks he’s going to puke again. He doesn’t he just keeps falling forward, arms limp at his side.

’Oh, he’s passing out.’ She thinks, shifting to catch him, stepping in the puddle of vomit as she does so.

“Oh-kay. We’re okay, let’s get you to the bed and I’ll call Lucifer.” She tells the unconscious man. 

She makes the mistake of looking down at the puke, seeing the telltale golden blood of angels. The Cannibals had taken care of the bodies of her sisters and obviously Alastor had gotten his share too.

She’s standing in a puddle of her regurgitated sisters.

She practically tosses Alastor onto the bed and then it’s her turn to puke, her half digested lunch adding to the vomit seeping into the carpet. She wipes her mouth on her sleeve, pulls her phone out of her pocket, and frantically hits the call button on Lucifer’s profile.

“Pick up, please pick up.” She hisses at the device, biting back nausea.

“Hey Sweetheart, what’s up?” Lucifer asks.

“Lucifer, I need you at the hotel.” She says.

“Are you okay?” Lucifer asks, sounding incredibly worried and it then dawns on her that she sounds incredibly distressed.

“Alastor’s really hurt, Adam got him in the fight.” She explains quickly. “It’s really bad.”

“Oh for fucks sake, that stubborn son of a bitch.” Lucifer groans and she can imagine him running a hand through his hair. “Where are you Sweetie? I’ll be right there.”

“In Charlie and I’s room.” She says.

The tone sounds on her phone, signalling that he’s hung up. Then there’s a knock on the locked door and she hurries to open it.

“He’s on the bed.” She says, 

She ushers Lucifer in and towards the bed before sliding down against the wall and putting her head between her knees. That’s a mistake, now she can see the semi-digested flesh of her family soaking into her socks.

“Vaggie? Honey, do you want me to call Charlie for you?” Lucifer calls.

“I need a minute.” She pants, hand pressed against her head to keep it upright.

Lucifer sighs and abandons Alastor to care for her, sliding his arms under her and lifting her to his chest. Her vision goes black when she’s moved and she feels like her limbs go entirely offline until she’s laying on the bed beside Alastor.

“Just rest here, I’ll take care of this guy.” Lucifer instructs, summoning a cool cloth to lay on her forehead.

“I can do that.” She agrees weakly.

She’s barely aware of golden magic flickering around the room around her, a sign of Lucifer’s angelic magic doing its job. The deer beside her grains and twitches, his arms drunkenly flailing upwards to paw at his chest.

“Knock it off, you’ve already messed this up enough.” Lucifer scolds, smacking his hands away from his chest.

“Mhmm, what are you doing here?” Alastor demands, choosing that moment to regain consciousness.

“Saving your afterlife, stop squirming.” Lucifer instructs.

The deer does not stop squirming, instead, he twists his neck around to glare at her. 

“You called him.” He snaps.

“You puked and then passed out. Yes, I called him.” She groans.

“Don’t you blame her, this wouldn’t have needed to be this big of a deal if you would have come to me for treatment as soon as it happened.” Lucifer lectures, coming to her defence.

That makes Alastor growl and his ears twitch angrily. Lucifer does not indulge his fussing, he just keeps healing him and when he’s finished, he waves his hands and magics away the vomit on the carpet.

“Vaggie, I’m going to call Charlie.” Lucifer says, brushing her hair back from her face gently. “You just rest here, okay?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” She nods.

The devil smiles at her and she again marvels at the fact that she once thought this man was a monster. How much did Heaven lie to her? The smile drops when he turns to Alastor.

“Don’t you try anything while I’m gone.” He warns. “I’m just stepping into the hall to make a phone call, but I’ll hear it if you try to hurt her.”

“I wouldn’t hurt a lady.” Alastor hisses, clearly offended.

Lucifer rolls his eyes but steps into the hall to call Charlie. While he’s gone, Alastor rolls onto his side and pushes himself up, grabbing a blanket from the end of the bed to cover himself with. Apparently, despite asking her for help does not mean he’s comfortable being partially undressed around her.

~~~

Whether Lucifer was loud on the phone or Charlie told her, Vaggie doesn’t know, but Rosie now knows about the injury Alastor has been hiding. And boy is she mad. The matriarch of the cannibal clan storms into the bedroom she and Alastor are recovering in like a ragging lioness and even Alastor shrinks in on himself at the sight of her fury.

“What in the unholy name of Hell were you thinking?” Rosie demands, standing over the bed, hands on her hips, black void eyes narrowed dangerously. “Was it not clear that any injury from an angelic weapon needed to be treated by the king himself?”

Then she turns to Lucifer and it’s like she deflates, the anger draining from her as soon as she’s not looking at her target.

“And thank you, for treating my people after the fight, Your Highness.” She thanks, curtseying to him.

The king waves her off, the expression of pure joy on his face can only come from watching Alastor get scolded like a naughty child. As if she can read his mind, Rosie turns back to him and the anger returns.

“For such a smart man, you are quite a dunce sometimes, you know that?” She asks, “I swear, I’m half tempted to eat you for this.”

“We just saved his sorry life, please don’t kill him.” Vaggie mumbles.

“Oh of course darling, and thank you for taking care of him.” Rosie coos, leaning over Alastor to comb her sharp nails through her hair. Then she pulls back and smacks him on the shoulder. “You better have something planned to properly thank them for helping you. Honestly, it wouldn’t have killed you to just get healed when everyone else was doing it. Stubborn bastard.”

She keeps up the lecture and Charlie creeps around her to hold her hand, the two of them watching Rosie finish her lecture before she huffs and hauls Alastor to his feet to assist him back to his room. 

~~~

If asked, Vaggie will say she does not have an unhealthy obsession with the Carmine family. Of course, she also doesn’t have a very good reason for flying over their compound for a chance to see the sisters sparing on the lawn, or tagging along with Alastor and Rosie to an Overlords meeting so she can see them. 

It’s not a creepy thing, at least, not intentionally. It’s just that she hasn’t seen sisters together in so long and when she watches the Carmine girls tease each other or shove each other playfully, she can pretend for a moment that she’s back with her sisters. She’s living vicariously through them, from a distance.

Unfortunately, it seems she’s not as discreet as she’d been aiming for.

She’d been taking a fly over the compound when the girls stopped sparing, huddling together before a rock soars upwards, nearly hitting her. She has to twist to avoid it, curling her new wings around herself for a moment and then clumsily spread them back out so she doesn’t fall out of the sky.

“Hey!” One of the girls calls. “Come down here!”

Maybe it’s a stupid idea, they’ve already thrown a rock at her while she was flying, it’s probably a bad idea to get on their level. But, she could always just fly away if they tried anything and she is curious about them, so she does land a good few feet away from them.

“Hi.” She greets awkwardly, one arm wrapped around her stomach while she waves with the other hand.

“Hello. You’ve been watching us.” The straight haired girl comments.

“No I haven’t.” Vaggie denies.

The girl with curly hair scoffs, throwing her arm around her sister’s shoulders.

“You know we aren’t dumb right?” She asks. “Dude, we see you when you fly over us.”

“And we see you looking at us when you tag along to the Overlord meetings.” The straight haired girl adds. “Why have you been watching us?”

Damn it, the gig is up. 

“Alright fine, I’ve been watching you. A little bit.” She sighs. “Look, I’m not trying to be a creep it’s just. You’re sisters.”

That’s a terrible explanation, the two of them exchange a look and the curly haired girl pulls out her spear.

“Got some weird sister fetish?” She demands, brandishing the weapon.

“No! No no, nothing like that!” She promises. “Look, I had sisters. Before I fell, and now I don’t have them and I miss them. You guys just do things my sisters used to do.”

The spear lowers and the girls exchange another look. Then they shrug and the spear gets placed on the ground beside them.

“Okay then.” The curly haired girl nods. “Well, I’m Clara, this is my younger sister Odette. Want to spar?”

“You want to spar with me?” She asks.

“Yes.” Odette nods.

“Um, sure?” Vaggie agrees.

“Cool, do you want to take turns fighting one on one with a ref each turn, battle royale, or two versus one?” Clara asks, swinging her arms to loosen up her muscles.

“You pick.” She says.

“Think you can take us both?” Odette asks with a smirk.

“I trained with Angels, I can take you two.” Vaggie boasts.

“Ohhh, we’re gonna make you eat those words.” Clara laughs.

Just like that, any awkwardness she’s still been carrying drains out of her and she’s in her element. Clara rushes her with her fist raised to throw a punch that she blocks, dropping to kick her legs out from under her when Odette attacks, tackling her and trying to pin her to the dirt. They’re good, clearly they’ve been well trained and she recognizes moves Carmilla taught her. Clara and Odette are much more comfortable with them, their movements are much more fluid and graceful and she notices for the first time that they walk on their toes just like their mother.

Their fight lasts for what feels like hours and she loves every second of it. Clara and Odette will laugh and joke with her while they spar, and once, when Odette made fun of something Clara said, the girl had fake cried in mock offence and declared that she’d switched sides, her and Vaggie suddenly on the same team. Then Clara had randomly turned on her and she was back to solo fighting the two of them.

“I say, this fight hardly seems fair.” A deep voice observed. 

The fight stopped, Clara and Odette relaxing while Vaggie felt the tension flood back into her body. On the porch, something she hadn’t really been paying attention to, Carmilla is sitting at a table under a parasol while a tall, dark figure stands at the railing. She recognises the man as Zestial, whom she’d known was allied with Carmilla but she didn’t know that he’d be around. She also doesn’t know when Carmilla got outside, she knows for certain that she wasn’t there when she arrived. 

“Zesty!” Clara laughs, launching off a bench and up to the raised porch, clinging to the railing and climbing over it to give the eldest Overlord a tight hug.

“Hello Itsy.” He greets warmly, wrapping her in his arms.

Odette rushes toward the man as well, though she chooses to take the stairs instead of parkouring her way up. Zestial is a sinner whom she’s always associated with power, whenever she’d seen pictures or videos of him in the news, he’d always had a serious expression on his face, standing tall with his wings wrapped around his body. Now, he looks very different, he’s bending to embrace Clara and Odette and has a relaxed smile on his face. 

The scene speaks to how much trust Carmilla has in her ally. There have been annexations of territory on her part after some sinners with a few souls under them had gotten cocky and made moves against her daughters. But she doesn’t even flinch at her girls wrapped up in Zestials arms. In fact, she looks relaxed and happy, like this is a regular scene. Maybe it is.

“Vaggie, do you need a drink?” Carmilla asks, breaking her out of her thoughts. 

“Umm.” She says, sounding like a genius.

She could maybe buy Clara and Odette being chill enough to have an impromptu sparring session with her. But Carmilla? There’s a good possibility that if she gets close enough to take any offered drink she will lose an arm.

“Carmilla, I doth think our guest is a tad nervous.” Zestial laughs.

“Apparently.” Carmilla agrees. “Vaggie, this is hardly the first time you’ve broken into my home, nor is it the first time you’ve visited since. Come have a glass of iced tea.”

“You knew?” She gasps.

Carmilla sets the glass down with a clink and gives her a withering look.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you flying over my home? I have security everywhere and a state of the art security system that would have taken you out of the sky if I didn’t want you here. Come have a drink.” She says sternly.

“Yes Ma’am.” She mumbles.

She still feels stiff and awkward while climbing the stairs, skirting around Zestial and the sisters to reach the patio table. To her surprise, Carmilla is not wearing her angelic steel toe shoes, having switched them out for a pair of flats. The woman holds out a glass of iced tea and she takes it with a whispered “thank you” and takes a sip.

“I brought thine a gift.” Zestial says, arms still around Clara and Odette. “Tis on the kitchen counter.”

Clara squeals, hopping up and kissing the man on the cheek before rushing inside, her sister following closely behind her. Leaving her completely alone with two incredibly powerful Overlords.

And she’s left her spear on the bench on the grass.

’I’m dead.’ She thinks, bracing herself for death.

Instead, Zestial pulls out a chair beside Carmilla and pours himself a glass of iced tea from the pitcher while the ballerina leans further back in her chair and closes her eyes.

“You can relax Vaggie, if we wanted you gone we wouldn’t have offered you a drink.” She assures. “Take a seat before you fall down.”

“O-okay.” She agrees, pulling out a chair and sitting stiffly in it.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to spend long in the company of the two Overlords. Clara squeals from inside and comes running out with a big bakery box, putting the box down on the table like it’s a precious crown and throws her arms around Zestial’s shoulders.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” She squeals, letting him pull her into his lap.

“I’m glad thou art happy.” Zestial smiles, ruffling her hair.

Odette emerges from the house with five stacked plates and some cutlery, putting them beside the box and hugging Zestial as well.

“Thank you.” She thanks, his hand coming up to hold the back of her head, tilting his face to press their foreheads together. 

“Of course, my Itsy Bitsy.” Zestial says.

Curiously, she raises up and peeks at the plastic window of the box to see heavily frosted cinnamon buns. She’s a little surprised, somehow, she never suspected that Overlords would take the time to swing by a bakery to get sweets. Though maybe her personal experience with Overlords has skewed her opinion, she really only knows Alastor and he isn’t a fan of sweets.

“Help thineself.” Zestial says, making her jump. “I brought them for everyone.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude.” She declines, swallowing her iced tea so fast that she gets a small brain freeze. “Actually, I should be going.”

“Nonsense, stick around. I believe we have a lot to talk about.” Carmilla says, putting a hand over hers. 

“Indeed, tis no need to rush off.” Zestial agrees.

“Unless you have somewhere to be.” Clara jumps in, climbing off Zestial to put a cinnamon bun onto a plate.

“I uh, I don’t.” She says.

“Then stay, it’s really no trouble.” Odette shrugs, stealing the plate from her sister.

“Besides, I think we have some things to discuss.” Carmilla says, leaning over to refill Vaggie’s cup. 

“We have things to discuss?” She asked.

“You’ve been watching us.” Carmilla deadpans, “I think it would be good to discuss it.”

She’s once again wishing she had her spear. She may have been able to hold her own against Clara and Odette but Carmilla has proven that she can kick her ass. 

“It’s not a bad talk.” Carmilla adds, clearly noticing how tense she just got. “We just need to establish some boundaries.”

“Okay.” She agrees.

“First things first, please just come through the front door, there’s really no need to hover over our heads. After we finish eating, I’ll program a code for you into the front gate.” Carmilla begins, serving herself a cinnamon bun. 

“I can do that.” Vaggie agrees cautiously.

“Good. Second, I’m perfectly fine with you, Clara, and Odette spending time together as long as it doesn’t get in the way of their work. If you would like to tag along on their deliveries, you will be compensated for your time.” Carmilla continues. “Though I will insist that you stay out of the factory for now, if you want to come to the warehouses, I will take you but don’t come in on your own.”

“Alright.” She nods. 

“Finally, nobody here is looking for redemption. I don’t care what you and your girlfriend do in your own hotel, but no preaching to us. We aren’t buying what you’re selling.” Carmilla finishes. 

“That’s it?” She asks, waiting for a sike or a knife to come out of nowhere.

“That’s it.” Carmilla nods, cutting into her dessert. 

She’s still suspicious, looking at the four demons as if they’ll suddenly start laughing at her.

“What do you get out of this?” Vaggie asks cautiously. 

“Nothing.” Carmilla shrugs.

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Because it’s physically painful to watch you stare at us like a kicked puppy.” Clara laughs, “Like listen, I know you think you were being discrete, but literally everybody saw you staring at us during meetings.”

“It was kind of obvious.” Odette agrees.

“There is that.” Carmilla sighs, shushing her girls with a glance. “But you clearly like to fight, so we have some similar interests. You use your spear well, and we’ve seen the video of your fight with your sisters. You're very skilled, we could learn from each other.”

“And you could help me design weapons!” Odette adds, ignoring her mother’s warning look. 

“Don’t scare her off dumbass, then we’ll have to deal with her girlfriend.” Clara hisses.

Zestial hushes them both, wrapping a wing around Odette and putting a hand on Clara’s shoulder. Carmilla nods her thanks to him and continues her conversation with Vaggie.

“You’re of course under no obligation, but we aren’t opposed to you coming and spending time with us, if that’s what you want.” She says.

While waiting for her to respond, Carmilla pulls a gooey cun out of the box, puts it onto a plate, and puts it in front of her, a fork on a napkin following shortly after. She takes an absent bite to distract herself while she thinks. 

Is it a good idea to spend time with the Carmines? She’s been doing it anyway and apparently, she hasn’t been as good at being sneaky as she thought she was. Besides, she enjoyed sparring with Clara and Odette, it was nice to joke with them and for a few hours, she felt like she was home. Her muscles ache in a familiarly comfortable way, the way they always do after a hard workout and she knows when she showers tonight that there will be bruises budding on her skin where the other two landed hits. 

“I think it would be nice. To hang out.” Vaggie says quietly. 

The Overlord nods at her in affirmation and the five of them continue with their snack, sipping iced tea and eating baked goods. 

~~~

“Are you cheating on me?” Charlie asks, gripping a cooler can so tightly it’s denting under her claws and she’s holding onto the support beam of the bar to keep herself upright.

In all the fifty years she’s known Charlie, Vaggie has never seen Charlie drunk. She’s never even seen her tispy. The most alcohol Charlie has ever consumed at once in her life is one glass of wine with dinner and now she’s completely wasted.

“Annnnd that’s my cue.” Husk declares, tossing his towel over his shoulder and leaving, running from the upcoming confrontation.

“What?” She demands.

She tries to reach out and steady Charlie, only for her hand to be clumsily batted away. Once she’s not holding onto the support beam anymore, Charlie pitches to the side dangerously.

“Oh-okay!” Lucifer yelps, catching Charlie in his arms and plucking the cooler from her hand.

“Your Majesty, I swear to fuck, I am not cheating on her.” She assures, taking the half full can from the king.

“I know.” He nods, pulling Charlie over to the couch. 

“What does that curly haired bitch have that I don’t?” Charlie cries, leaning her head against her dad.

“Who, Clara?” She asks.

Okay, maybe she has been spending a lot of time with Clara and Odette but she has absolutely no romantic or sexual feelings towards them. They spar together, they test Odette’s inventions, they watch movies, and sometimes they cook. She’s also been spending a lot of time with Carmilla and Zestial, the Overlords are teaching her to dance and she’s been hoping that maybe she can surprise Charlie with a fancy waltz for their anniversary. 

It’s been nice, Clara and Odette have welcomed her into their fold and the three of them have a group chat where they can text about how in denial Carmilla and Zestial are about their feelings for each other. Carmilla has been good to her too, teaching her new moves for how to fight, braiding her hair, and teaching her new recipes. That’s been nice too, she’s never had a mother before but in her own brain, where nobody else can hear her, she considers her to be a motherly figure. Kind of the way Charlie has been considering Rosie to be a substitute mother. 

But she’s absolutely not cheating on her girlfriend.

“You’ve been spending all of your time with them!” Charlie wails, sobbing on her fathers shoulder.

Lucifer, for his part, shoots her an apologetic glance and gestures to his phone. He’s texting frantically and she suspects he’s calling the cannibal leader. 

“We’ve just been hanging out! Charlie, Clara and Odette are like sisters to me! You’re my girlfriend! I love you, and I would never, ever, cheat on you.” She promises.

“You never spend any time with me anymore!” Charlie sobs, “You just want to spend time with them!”

“Now Char-Char, she spends plenty of time with you.” Lucifer interrupts, “She just also wants to spend time with other friends.”

In hindsight, it’s obvious why Charlie feels a little neglected. She and Vaggie have pretty much been joined at the hip for fifty years. Vaggie didn’t know anybody else in Hell and Charlie’s royal status kept most other denizens of Hell from getting too close to her. Even when Angel Dust had joined them, she and Charlie were still together 24/7. Then Alastor came along and brought with him Nifty and Husk, but she still spent every day with Charlie. The longest they’ve ever really been apart for fifty years has been when one of them needed to run errands, a couple hours at most. 

Maybe that’s something they need to change, it’s probably not healthy for them to exclusively hang out with each other. 

“She likes them!” Charlie cries.

“What’s happening here?” Alastor asks, picking the worst time possible to join them in the lobby. 

“You!” Lucifer snaps, twisting to look at the Radio Demon. “Go get Rosie.”

“Well I would.” Alastor drawls, sitting down in an armchair and very deliberately crossing his legs. “But this seems much more interesting.”

“Listen up, you piece of shit.” Lucifer hisses, gesturing to Charlie who is still sobbing on her shoulder. “Either you go get Rosie and leave me to be a pillow, or we switch places and I go get her.”

“I’ll get Rosie.” Alastor declares, tilting his head ninety degrees and disappearing in a wisp of shadow.

“Fucking prick.” Lucifer mutters. “Listen Charlie, sweetheart. Vaggie’s just stretching her wings a little! This is the first time in forever that she’s got the opportunity to make her own friends, she isn’t leaving you!” 

“Exactly! Exactly!” Vaggie agrees, trying to hold Charlie’s hand. “Babe, I swear, they’re like sisters to me!”

“You never needed sisters before!” Charlie sniffles.

“My stars! Why are there tears?”

Alastor’s back, and he’s brought Rosie. The cannibal Overlord hurries forwards, shoves Vaggie to the side for a second while she steps over her, and plants herself at Charlie’s side, wrapping her in her skinny arms.

“What’s the matter lambchop?” She asks, pulling a handkerchief with embroidered flowers on the edges and starts dabbing at Charlie’s face. 

“She’s a little drunk.” Lucifer whispers.

“Aww honey, no alcohol tolerance?” Rosie asks, completely taking Charlie from Lucifer and rubbing her back.

“No kidding!” Husk agrees, appearing at Rosie’s side with a glass of water. “She had two drinks. Not strong ones either.”

Rosie takes the water and helps Charlie sip it, rubbing her back until she’s stable enough to talk to.

“Now tell me, what’s got you up in a twist?” She asks.

“I-I don’t know.” Charlie hiccups. “I just, Vaggie’s been hanging out with other girls and I guess I’m kind of. You know. Jealous.” 

The last word is whispered, like she’s keeping a secret.

“Only kind of?” Angel Dust asks, holding Fat Nuggets in his upper arms, Razzle in his lower arms, and Kee Kee on his shoulder.

“Shut up!” Husk hisses at him.

“Charlie I swear! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings! I just, I like kind of having sisters again.” Vaggie promises.

“What does that even mean?” Charlie asks, words slurred.

“Look Charlie. When I was in Heaven, I lived with the other Exorcists. They were my sisters! We hung out and laughed and trained and everything! And then I fell and-”

She cuts off abruptly, clapping a hand over her mouth to keep herself from crying.

“Clara and Odette feel like sisters again. We do all that stuff and I like it! It feels, I don’t know, it’s nice.” she explains.

“Aww honey.” Rosie sighs, leaning forward and patting her shoulder.

“They tried to kill you, how can you miss them?” Charlie asks, fresh tears in her eyes.

“Clara and Odette have never tried to kill me.” Vaggie says, confused.

“Not them, the other, the other angels.” Charlie hiccups.

“You never stop missing your siblings kiddo.” Lucifer says sadly. “Honey, I’ve been down here for centuries and I still miss Micheal, Gabriel, and Rapheal like I’d miss my wings.”

“I agreed to stay here in part because I kind of hope I’ll get to see Molls again.” Angel adds.

“I wish everyday that I could have just five more minutes with my brothers and sisters.” Rosie agrees. “Sweetheart, it’s so plain you were an only child. When you have a sibling, they’re like a part of you, they’re your best friend and your worst enemy all rolled into one and when they’re gone, they take a piece of you with them.”

“Hmm, I had three siblings and I still regret not eating them.” Alastor pipes up from his armchair.

All heads snap towards him and Rosie tosses a compact mirror at him.

“Make yourself useful and go make us some coffee!” She snaps.

“Decafe!” Vaggie adds. “For the love of everything in creation, do not add caffeine to this mess!”

“You really miss them that much?” Charlie asks, seemingly oblivious to Alastor and his bullshit.

“Yeah.” Vaggie nods, sitting cross legged on the floor in front of her. “I used to sit on the balcony at the mansion to look up at Heaven and beg them to come back for me. I hoped that they would lay down their weapons when they saw me and it killed me to hurt them in the battle.”

She pauses, wiping her eyes clumsily.

“I missed them for fifty years and they didn’t even care about me. They moved on after one day, I still dream about them, I still miss them so much. And now Clara and Odette spar with me, and we cook together, and we just hang out, like sisters and it’s like an ice pack on a burn. I’m sorry I haven’t been spending enough time with you, but I promise it’s not because I’m cheating on you, I just like having sisters again.” She finishes weakly.

“Oh Vaggie.” Charlie sniffles, and then falls off the couch and hugs her so tightly she’s cutting off her airway.

“Crisis averted.” Rosie nods.

“Ohh, did I miss the drama?” Alastor asks, coming in from the kitchen with a tray filled with tea cups and a pot of coffee.

“Oh hush you.” Rosie scolds, taking a cup and pouring herself some coffee.

“I still maintain that I should have eaten my siblings. In fact, Vaggie, I still have some angel wings in my cold storage, if you’d ever like to eat the women who wronged you.” He offers, putting a cup of coffee in her hand.

Rosie takes the tray from him, places it on the side table, and then smacks him upside the head. 

“Why do you hate your siblings so much, what did they do to you?” Angel Dust demands, handing Razzle off to Lucifer.

“They ignored me!” Alastor snaps, voice more staticy than usual.

“They were his half siblings, his father was white, his half siblings were white, he wasn’t allowed to spend any time with them.” Rosie sighs, ending the mystery. 

Alastor growls and his ears flick angrily but he’s otherwise silent as he retreats to his armchair, his own coffee clutched in his claws. Part of her wants to press about his siblings, if maybe he was jealous of them and wanted to know them and is angry that he never got to know them. Another part of her thinks Alastor isn’t capable of actually caring about other people and he’s probably just annoyed that his father didn’t pay enough attention to him.

Besides, she’s got an armful of drunk princesses and that takes priority. 

“Drink some coffee.” She instructs, taking a cup from Rosie and holding it to her girlfriends face.

“T’s yucky.” Charlie protests.

“Yeah, but it’s gonna help the headache.” Angel says.

“Listen to your friend Charlie.” Lucifer encourages.

Charlie frowns, takes the steaming mug, and downs the contents in one gulp, making everyone around her wince.

“I would like to go to bed now.” Charlie requests, putting the cup down on the tray.

“I think that’s a wise idea.” Rosie agrees, patting her head. “Do you need help getting her up the stairs?”

The second part is directed towards Vaggie and she shakes her head in response, she’ll always be able to carry Charlie. She spreads her wings out, making Charlie squeal in delight, and lifts her up, carrying her up the stairs as gently as possible.

“So so so so so pretty.” Charlie sings, stroking her feathers. “Pretty pretty bird. My pretty bird.”

Razzle bleats loudly from the lobby, screaming indignantly until he catches up to them and then keeps complaining about being left behind. She doesn’t even bother helping Charlie change into her pyjamas, she just helps her brush her teeth, peels off her socks and tucks her under the covers with Razzle.

~~~

“Vaggie.” Carmilla says, interrupting the game she’s playing with Clara and Odette. “I have a gift for you.”

Zestial perks up from the couch where he’s been reading a book. Clara and Odette giggle and scoot backwards to watch while Carmilla sits on the loveseat and pats the cushion beside her. Vaggie obliges, sitting beside her and accepting the wrapped box that’s put in her lap.

“Thank you.” She says with a smile.

“Don’t thank me until you open it.” Carmilla smiles, shoving her arm lightly. 

She’s worried it’s a prank while she lightly tugs the bow until it unravels. Clara has her phone out and is blatantly recording, it’s only the knowledge that Carmilla has declared herself neutral of all sides in a prank war that keeps her going, tearing through the paper and opening the box to see-

A pair of toe shoes.

Like the ones Carmilla wears. Like the ones Clara and Odette wear.

“I thought it was time.” Carmilla explains quietly and it’s the first time she’s ever heard that specific tone in her voice. Hesitant, like she’s scared of Vaggie’s response.

She flings herself at Carmilla, one arm and both wings wrapping around her as tightly as she can while the other hand holds the box so tightly the cardboard buckles under her fingers.

“Thank you.” She whimpers, burying her face in Carmilla’s shoulder.

The dancer's arms wrap around her back, pulling her closer until she’s practically in her lap and she presses a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Mi querida niña.” Carmilla whispers into her hair.

“Mamá.” She returns, trying her best not to cry on the demoness’s blouse.

“Woo woo!” Clara hoots, “Welcome to the freakin family Vagasaurus!”
 
“T’was long overdue.” Zestial agrees, handing the pair a box of tissues. 

“Nice for it to be official.” Odette nods.

Carmilla chuckles and Vaggie can feel the shaking of her chest from where she’s pressed up against her. 

“Put them on!” Clara demands.

“Shhh, let thine mother have her moment with thine sister.” Zestial instructs.

“No no, she’s right.” Vaggie laughs, pulling away from the hug. “I want to try them on.”

She’s been learning some ballet from Carmilla and her sisters for a while. She’s nowhere near as good as them yet but she’s got some basic moves down. A plie, a releve, and a saute. She still thinks she looks clumsy doing it but the three assure her that for her level, she’s doing quite well. Because of that, she’s worn toe shoes before and she knows how to put them on, but these are made of angelic steel, not the paper and fabric mix she’s used to.

Still, she takes off her normal shoes, putting them to the side, and then pulls on the new shoes. To her surprise, they aren’t uncomfortable. She’s expected them to be cold and hard on her feet but they aren’t, in fact, they’re padded on the inside so the actual metal doesn’t cut into her skin.

“You don’t have to wear them all the time.” Carmilla whispers, checking her knot to make sure they’re on properly. “I just thought that it would be nice for you to have the option to match with us, but I know they may be impractical for your everyday wear.” 

“I love them.” She whispers, running her fingers over them.

“I’m glad.” Carmilla smiles, kissing her head again. “Come on then, I have something else to show you. Do you think you can walk in those?”

“Maybe not en pointe like you can, but I can walk.” She nods with a smile. 

She does try her best to walk en pointe for as long as she can, Carmilla had installed stage floors in her home when she’d had it built so she doesn’t have to worry about damaging anything, but she’s not used to walking on her toes for such an extended period of time and she does have to drop to flat feet after only a few minutes.

“You’ll get used to it, practice makes perfect.” Odette assures her, holding her hand to help her balance as she walks up the stairs on her toes.

“This is difficult.” She huffs, “I hate stairs.”

“You’ve been doing ballet for less than a year, you’re doing very well for your level.” Odette encourages.

“It’s not the ballet, stairs aren’t a huge thing in Heaven, at least not in the buildings the angels live in.” She laughs.

“Really?” Odette asks.

“Well we can fly everywhere.” She explains. “If we need to get up, we just fly. Most of our buildings were built to be tall not long because we’d fly up them.”

“Like a layer cake?” Odette asks with a giggle.

“Kind of.” She laughs along. “Man, I have got to tell you, stairs are the worst thing in Hell.”

“They’re the worst thing on Earth too.” Odette informs her.

Carmilla leads them to the bedrooms, opening a door with a small flourish and beckoning her in. She steps in to see-

An empty bedroom.

“You can of course decorate it however you wish.” Carmilla says, sensing the confusion.

“Wait, this is for me?” She asks.

“If you’d like it.” Carmilla nods.

“Thou doth not need to stay ere’y day.” Zestial whispers. 

“I could keep weapons here.” She whispers, already thinking of all the possibilities. 

As much as she supports Charlie in her dreams and wants to help her make a sin free space, she loves her weapons. She and Angel have accidently found each other’s stashes trying to hide their own. He hides adult toys and drugs, she hides knives and guns that she likes. They’ve got a silent agreement going on to ignore it unless one of them makes it an actual issue. If Angel gets noticeably high and it draws attention, she has to step in. If Vaggie suddenly has twenty different knives to throw at someone when they attack the hotel, Angel will confiscate her weapons.

Now she can hide her weapons here and Charlie never needs to know! 

“This is amazing!” She squeaks, wrapping Carmilla in another hug.

“So glad you like it darling.” Carmilla smiles.

She, Clara, and Odette paint her room a beautiful red colour with black spirals and she fills it with bookcases and stands for various weapons. Her bed was nice with a red bedspread and grey pillow covers that match her wings. Her and Clara set up her weapons on their displays, perfectly polished and sharpened while Odette sets up lights that are supposed to mimic natural sun, something she’s been missing since falling.

When they’ve got the big stuff set up, Zestial brings his gift, a black spider the size of her palm that makes its home between the posts of her bed frame so it can watch over her. She’s not normally a spider lover but this one’s cute, when she sits on the bed, it crawls over to sit on her lap and she pets it with a soft finger. 

She can’t wear her toe shoes all the time, she still isn’t skilled enough to move gracefully or fluidly in them, but she wears them often. Both for practice and because it’s nice to have a physical reminder of family. She knows what the toe shoes are, they’re a formal invitation into the family and she accepts it with open arms. 

For the first time in her entire existence, she has a mother and she loves it. Carmilla offers her advice when she needs it, affection and support whenever she sees her, and comfort when she sees that she’s distressed. When Vaggie does stay the night at the compound, Carmilla will brush her hair out with an expert hand and an expertly carved wooden brush, then braid it for her. 

She has sisters again, after fifty years without them. Whenever Clara leaps onto her back or Odette snags food off her plate, she feels like her soul is whole again. Finally, she has someone to spar with again, someone to joke with and tease. 

Since explaining her relationship to Clara and Odette to Charlie, her girlfriend has gotten more comfortable with her spending more time with them. Vaggie’s also been bringing the two to the hotel and having girls nights with them, Charlie, Nifty, and Cherri, where they’ll just hang out. They’ve gotten into trying new things together, rock climbing, escape rooms, cooking classes, and karaoke. Each time, they’ll trek back to the hotel, giggling uncontrollably and collapsing onto the bed she and Charlie share. 

One day, Clara calls Charlie her future sister in law and the princess of Hell goes so incredibly red and has to step onto the balcony to compose herself. 

For weeks, Vaggie’s been ignoring the badly hidden ring box in their shared sock drawer. Every time Charlie calls her name, she expects to turn around to see her down on one knee. It hasn’t happened yet but she knows it’s coming.

She has a ring for Charlie in her room at Carmilla’s place. 

Zestial is… Something. She’s not entirely sure if he and Carmilla are dating or weird close friends like Rosie and Alastor are, but he’s good to her. He flies with her often and learns through Husk how to preen her wings. He also has some embarrassing stories about Alastor that he’s happy to tell her and she’s been happy to relay them to Alastor, surprisingly, it makes him easy to control. He really doesn’t want to have those stories become common knowledge.

~~~

The proposal never happens, not formally at least. She can’t remember how it happens, one day she and Charlie just start wearing rings and planning a ceremony. It’s eerily similar to how they started dating, no formal question or anything, it just happened. 

Rosie is ecstatic over the news and has assigned herself the role of Mother of the Bride on Charlie’s side, something that makes Charlie tear up. The cannibal is making the dress, helping her and Charlie find a venue, and putting together sample flower arrangements. 

Of course, once she hears about Rosie’s involvement, Carmilla decides to insert herself, warning Vaggie that if Rosie is in charge, they’re gonna have severed heads as centrepieces. While Rosie helps with Charlie’s dress, Carmilla helps with hers, bringing in some of her trusted tailors to make her dress.

“Soooo, are you gonna have maids of honour?” Clara asks, sipping champagne while Vaggie stands on the raised platform, arms and wings outstretched so her measurements can be taken. “Cause I’m not pressuring you or anything, but that’s traditionally a sister role.” 

“You’d want to be in the wedding party?” She asks.

“Duh.” Odette says.

“Holy shit.” She breathes.

She’d never imagined herself getting married in heaven. She didn’t really hang out with angels outside of her fellow Exorcists and she wasn’t going to marry one of them. But now that this is actually happening, she does have to think about this and whether she wants to have bridesmaids. 

“Would you two please be my bridesmaids?” She asks.

“Hell yeah!” Clara agrees, pumping her fist. “We are gonna throw you the best Bachelorette party in creation.”

“We’ll have everything: drinks, good food, entertainment. It’s gonna be great.” Odette agrees, “You’ll love it.” 

“When you say entertainment, what do you mean?” Vaggie asks, hoping they don’t mean strippers.

“I’m thinking paintball.” Clara says. “Controlled violence, it’ll be awesome.” 

“Ohhh!” Vaggie coos, paintball does sound fun. 

“We’ll workshop it.” Odette adds.

Carmilla corners her later in her room, an old jewellery box held in both hands. She sets it down on the bedspread, waiting for Vaggie to take it.

Inside is a beautiful ornate hair clip, made of silver and set with sapphires and pearls. 

“It’s a replica.” She explains quietly. “It’s made to look like the one my grandmother was gifted for her wedding. My mother wore it for her wedding and then I wore it to mine. If you’d like, you can wear it to yours.”

The hair piece looks so delicate on its velvet pad, shimmering in the artificial sunlight and she’s scared to touch it. She ghosts a hand over it, feeling the jewels and pearls under her fingers and is shocked at the sturdiness of it. 

“It’s beautiful Mamá.” She whispers. 

Carmilla sits behind her, picks up her hair brush, and starts combing through her hair. Once the tangles are out, she starts styling her hair, braiding parts of it back and connecting it into a bun at the back of her head. When she’s done, she reaches around, takes the clip out of its case, and uses it to keep everything together. Then she ushers her to the vanity, sitting her on the seat and pulling out a compact mirror to show her the hairdo she’s done.

“I was thinking we could do your hair like this.” She explains, “Of course, we would have an actual stylist do it so it looks better, but I’ve always thought that this style would look good on you.” 

“It looks beautiful.” She breathes. 

She catches Carmilla’s smile in the mirror and her adopted mother takes the updo out with the same gentle fingers that put it up. The clip goes back in its case and the case gets set on a shelf on her vanity. Carmilla braids her hair, hugs her, and kisses her head.

“Are you staying here tonight?” She asks, squeezing her shoulder.

“Probably.” She nods. “Charlie is having a rom-com night with Angel and I don’t want to be dragged into that.”

“Well, it’ll be nice to have you with us for breakfast in the morning.” Carmilla says, “Good night sweetheart.” 

“Good night.” She returns.

She spends a few moments looking at the clip in its box, tracing her fingers over the blue gems and shiny pearls. When she crawls into bed, she can still feel the indents of the patterns on her fingers and she falls asleep with a smile on her face.

~~~

She and Charlie have a fitting party at Rosie’s later that week, with Lucifer, Carmilla, Clara, Odette, Nifty, and Zestial. Alastor crashes it, because of course he does. 

It’s not just a fitting for their dresses, they’re also talking about what to serve for dinner, what flavour of cake they want, whether or not they want to hire a DJ, and bridesmaid dresses. Vaggie has Clara and Odette as her bridesmaids while Charlie has Cherri and Angel Dust. They’ve decided that Nifty will be their ring bearer and that they can’t have flower petals on the aisle because the maid will be too busy cleaning that up to actually bring them the rings.

“Now, I think you’re overlooking the delicacy of a good thigh roast.” Alastor says, showing off some recipes from one of Rosie’s various cookbooks. “Look, if cooked properly it practically melts in your mouth.”

“She is not serving demon at her wedding! Put that away!” Lucifer demands, shoving the book away. 

“But it will pair so well with so many things!” Alastor continues. “Potatoes, in a stew, a stir fry, kebabs, everything!”

“Nay! The monarch and her betrothed art not cannibals.” Zestial scolds, leaning over the deer and shutting the book firmly.

“We were thinking we would do a beef roast with mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli, buttered corn, yorkshire puddings, and gravy.” Vaggie pipes up, looking over flower arrangements with Rosie and Odette.

“And that sounds lovely darling.” Rosie nods, “And what about your cake?”

“We’re kind of torn.” Charlie admits, sitting on a stool while Carmilla tries out various styles on her hair. “I really want a red velvet but Vaggie is particular towards a lemon cake.”

“Well, what if you had a big cake for cutting that you two agree on and then red velvet and lemon cupcakes for everybody to have as well?” Carmilla suggests.

“Won’t that be too much cake?” Charlie asked.

“No such thing.” Lucifer waved off. 

Alastor huffs, wrinkling his nose at the thought of all the sweets and electing to find a way to change the subject. He walks up behind Charlie while Carmilla styles her hair, looking at the curls being added to it. 

“I have something for you. For your borrowed.” He declares, waving his hands and conjuring up a box.

“Oh, thank you.” Charlie says, obviously confused but she takes the box regardless.

Vaggie perks up, watching Charlie open the and ready to strike if it’s some sick prank by the Radio Demon. When Charlie gasps, she stands up and reaches for her spear, only to pause when Alastor starts explaining himself.

“It’s a replica of my mothers.” He says. “I thought it could be worn for your wedding.”

“It’s so beautiful.” Charlie praises, lifting a long string of pearls out of the box. “It’s a necklace?”

“Usually yes, but I don’t think a pearl necklace is your style.” Alastor replies bluntly, taking a comb from the vanity. “I was thinking it would be nice in your hair.”

He brushes out the curls Carmilla had been trying and failing to add to the princesses thick hair, then he starts braiding it, incorporating the pearls into the twists he’s adding. At the bottom, he ties it off with a ribbon and stands back, he and Carmilla admiring his handiwork.

“That does look lovely.” Carmilla admits.

Her mama picks up a mirror to show Charlie how her braid looks, her bride-to-be gasping at how it looks.

“That’s so beautiful!” She gasps, spinning and throwing her arms around Alastor.

The man stiffens up, obviously uncomfortable with the hug he’s being subjected to. He pats her shoulder awkwardly twice and then extracts himself as politely as he can, shaking himself off once he’s no longer being held. That’s Alastor for you, the man does not do physical contact if he can avoid it or if you’re one of his people. And that list is short, two people long by Vaggie’s count; Rosie and Nifty.

Zestial, Lucifer, Rosie, and Vaggie go over to look at the style Alastor has braided into her hair. Despite hating him and making it very clear, Lucifer praises the handiwork and the artistry of the pearls.

“Oh, the hair clip Mamà gave me has pearls on it! We’ll match.” Vaggie exclaims. 

“You will.” Carmilla smiles, squeezing her shoulder.

“Perhaps we can add sapphires to the pearls, to truly match.” Zestial suggests.

“My mothers pearls are not available for altercations.” Alastor warns, ears flattening.

Vaggie will be the first to admit, she’s not Alastor’s biggest fan. She’s gotten slightly closer to him after helping to patch him up after the Extermination Day battle but he’s not her best friend. That said, she does understand him better than she used to. Alastor, for all his flaws, loves his mother dearly and he’s making a massive gesture of affection in loaning Charlie the pearls. The act of wanting him to have the pearls restrung to add something to them is the equivalent of slapping them away, in Alastors mind. 

“Nay, I apologise. T’was not my intent to suggest that.” Zestial apologises, “But perhaps we could get a string of sapphires to braid in alongside thine mother’s pearls.”

The clarification relaxes Alastor, his ears raising up a little. 

“They’re not sapphires but I have some of Lilith’s old necklaces.” Lucifer offers, “She had some ruby pieces we could have fitted onto a string.”

“Too cheap to get new?” Alastor asks mockingly. 

“You were being so nice, don’t spoil it now.” Vaggie hisses.

“I was thinking that she would like to have a piece of her own mother, not just your mother.” Lucifer hisses.

“Your Highness.” Zestial implores, “Let us not taint such a happy moment with a fight.”

“He started it!” Lucifer snaps, pointing dramatically at Alastor, who’s grinning like the cat that got the canary.

“And I implore you to be the bigger person and not stoop to his level.” Zestial asks.

“He’s never been the bigger anything.” Alastor crows, holding up his hand and squishing his thumb and pointer together. 

Lucifer snarls at him, his eyes going red and his horns coming out. Vaggie face palms while everyone else steps in to stop the fight that’s about to start.

“Dad!” Charlie snaps, grabbing her father’s shoulder.

“Get over here!” Rosie snaps, grabbing Alastor by the upper arm and hauling him over to the flower book. “Honestly, is it too much to ask for one day of peace?”

Vaggie sighs, massaging her temples to stave off a headache. Carmilla puts a hand on her shoulder while Zestial summons up a cup of tea and a painkiller for her, which she accepts gracefully. At least her half of the wedding party is problem free so far.

~~~

Angel Dust corners her and Charlie three weeks later, a box held tightly in two hands. He barely says anything, just thrusts the gift into Charlie’s hands and then rushes off with an “If you want it” tossed over his shoulder.

Inside the box is a beautiful white veil, hand woven and made of spider silk. It’s gorgeous, starting at a thin, braided hair band and almost as long as Charlie’s hair. The pattern looks like vines and flowers and it’s not as sticky as either of them expected.

There’s a letter in a small envelope at the bottom of the box, which Vaggie reads and Charlie squeals over the gift and rushes off to thank Angel personally.

Charlie,

I’ll try not to be too poetic because that isn’t my thing, but spider silk is the strongest substance on Earth and your love for Vaggie is like that. I made you this, you can wear it if you want. I won’t be mad if you don’t wear it.

Angel Dust.

Despite not being very poetic, as promised, it is incredibly sweet. She’s tearing up a little. For all that Angel teases them about their relationship and how gross they are when they kiss or cuddle in the public parts of the hotel, she knows he likes them both and respects their relationship. 

Charlie returns with Angel Dust thrown over her shoulder, the spider hanging limp from her grip, both sets of arms and his long legs dragging on the ground.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” Charlie squeals, setting him down and hugging him so tightly his eyes bulge out of his head slightly. “I love it!”

“It’s beautiful.” Vaggie agrees, patting Angel’s arm. “Thank you.”

“Yeah yeah, look, I gotta reputation to keep up.” He hisses, straightening his shorts and fixing his hair. 

“Sure.” Vaggie deadpans. 

“So. GLad you like it. Congrats on your upcoming nuptials or whatever. I gotta go.” Angel shrugs. 

“He loves us.” Charlie whispers to her, the two of them arm in arm watching him retreat.

“He totally does.” Vaggie agrees.

~~~

As it turns out, Charlie won’t be the only one wearing spider silk to the ceremony. A week or so after Angel’s gift of the veil, Vaggie is spending the night at Carmilla’s when Zestial knocks on her door. 

It’s not entirely uncommon for Zestial to check on them before turning in for the night, he’ll poke his head in to make sure she, Clara, and Odette are alright and safe in their rooms before retreating to his. He won’t do it if Vaggie is at the hotel, but she suspects the spider that’s made a home in the corner overlooking their bedroom door in the hallway, she suspects he has his ways of making sure she’s alright.

“Itsy, I bring thou a gift.” He says, handing her a velvet coated box.

“Thank you.” She says, opening it.

Inside are two nets with pearls and sapphires woven in. Undeniably pretty but what she’s more impressed that he was able to make them. Despite the fact that they look like fishing nets, she recognises them as wing covers, like the ones she and her sisters would wear in Heaven to celebrations. She hasn’t seen ones made like these since she fell, despite multiple different types of wings being present in Hell, most people don’t decorate them the way they do in Heaven.

“Holy shit.” She gasps, lifting one of the covers out of the box. “Zestial, these are beautiful.”

“Thank you, my spiders worked very hard to make it for you.” He nods with a smile. “May I help you put them on?”

“Please.” She agrees, standing up.

He pulls the nets up over her wings, making sure not to twist her feathers so they stay pretty. In the mirror, she can see the off-white pearls and the deep blue of the sapphires against her dark feathers. And when she twists and moves her wings, the lights bounce off the sapphires and hit the walls around her, making the red surface purple.

“They’re so pretty.” She gushes, twisting her wings around and watching the reflected lights dance. “Thank you.” 

She leans in for a hug, letting him pull her further in, his green wings wrapping around her until she’s basically a burrito. He’s tall, taller than Clara and Odette, taller than Carmilla, and he’s almost three times her size, but he stoops to her level regardless, sitting on the bed and tucking her under his chin. One of his clawed hands runs lightly over her feathers, making them flutter, and pressed his cheek against her head.

“Thou has such lovely wings.” He compliments.

“Thank you.” She smiles.

He kisses the top of her head, pulls back, his wings receding to let her out of the burrito, and holds her face in both hands. His thumbs run along her cheekbones, and smiles at her, then leans in to kiss her forehead.

“I must admit, I am truly thrilled to see thou get married in a few months.” He says. “Have a good rest, my Itsy Bitsy, I shall see thou in the morrow.” 

“Good night Zesty.” She replies, carefully taking off the covers off her wings to fold and put them back in their box. He kisses her again, his weird fuzzy skin scratching over her forehead again in a way that she’s come to appreciate. 

He puts the box on her vanity and turns out her lights, shutting the door behind him.

~~~

The day of the wedding is chaotic and crazy and Vaggie is overflowing with happiness. She can’t sit still in her dressing room, pacing across the plush carpet in her slip, her wings shivering and twitching with emotions. All happy ones, very strong happy ones.

“Vaggie, come sit down darling.” Carmilla asks, “We need to get your hair and makeup done, and then you need to get dressed.”

“I’m getting married.” She gasps, looping the perimeter and wringing her hands. “I was not prepared for this.”

“Typically when people date for fifty years, they start considering marriage.” Odette teases.

“Here, liquid courage.” Clara offers, holding out a half full flute of champagne.

“I can’t be drunk at my wedding!” She says, trying to shove it away. “I need to be able to remember every second of it!”

“It’s half a glass of champagne, you’ll be fine, it’ll take the edge off.” Clara scoffs, “But if you keep twitching like that, you’re gonna hit your soon to be wife right in the face during your vows.”

That gets her to freeze. Damn it, Clara is right, she’s a nervous wreck, she needs to relax. She takes the flute and downs the contents in one go.

“Atta girl.” Carmilla smiles, patting her back. “Now come on, Vanessa needs to do your hair.”

Vanessa, a very talented, six armed, four legged demon, rubs her shoulders reassuringly while she wraps a towel around her shoulders. With many hands, she makes quick work of her hair, combing it and then pulling it up into a decorative  bun, securing it in place with the hair clip. Clara and Carmilla, the two who like doing hair, take a look at it, making her shake her head and move around to make sure everything is secure.

“This looks beautiful.” Carmilla praises, nodding to Vanessa.

“Well, it’s not everyday I get to work with such a lovely head of hair. And for a wedding, no less!” Vanessa smiles.

Clara does her make up, just a simple look, natural lipstick and some glittery eyeshadow complimented by a small wing of eyeliner. She doesn’t want to look like a completely different person in the pictures. 

Stepping into her dress, she feels a fresh wave of excitement and anxiety wash over her, the seams of her dress feel too tight. The lights are burning her alive, her wings are twitching again and she can’t stop them. Clara appears in front of her, looking serious.

“You’ve stopped breathing, do you want me to slap you?” She asks.

“Maybe in a second.” She gasps. 

Carmilla presents her with a paper bag, shoving Clara away from her. That’s nice, nicer than being slapped certainly. The crinkling of the bag is soothing and gives her something to focus on besides her heart slamming against her ribs. 

“Better?” She asks.

“Better.” She sighs.

Her dress gets done up, the wing covers go on, and she’s ready. All that’s left now is to wait for the signal. She resumes her pacing around the room while Clara and Odette get into their bridesmaid dresses. Carmilla walks with her, the two of them not speaking but her presence is still comforting. 

“Thou makes a beautiful bride.” He compliments.

“She does, doesn’t she.” Carmilla agrees.

“Thank you.” She breaths. “Is it time?” 

“Indeed.” He confirms, “Art thou ready?”

“Yes.” She nods.

Her party goes to the hallway to meet with Charlie’s. Angel Dust and Cherri stand beside Odette and Clara, Angel and Cherri are holding bouquets made of red roses and white dahlias while Clara and Odette’s bouquets are made of violets and daisies. Charlie has a bouquet made of red and pink roses, sprinkles of leaves and some decorative sticks among them and tied with a long white ribbon. Rosie grins at her, squeezes her into a tight hug, and then hands her her bouquet. Hers is made of forget me nots, purple salvias, and silver brunias. Hers has less decorative sticks but more green leaves and it’s tied in a black ribbon.

“Oh darling, you look so good!” Rosie compliments, kissing her cheeks. 

“Thank you.” She smiles.

Charlie steps out from behind the cannibal and she’s so beautiful it takes her breath away. She freezes again until Carmilla nudges her.

“You’re so pretty.” She blurts out.

A ripple of laughter goes through the assembled people. 

“So are you.” Charlie returns, both of them flushed a bright red.

“Are you two ready?” Lucifer asks, smiling at the two of them.

“More than anything.” Vaggie nods.

“Yes.” Charlie gasps, smiling so wide Vaggie’s worried her lips will split.

“Excellent, I’ll tell Marco to be ready with the organ.” Rosie says, hurrying off to tell the organist to get ready.

“I’ll have everybody take their seats.” Carmilla adds, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m so excited for you baby.” 

The last part is whispered just for her and she has to stop herself from crying. She knows she’s going to mess up her eye makeup today but she’d like to make it to the altar at least. Lucifer settles himself beside Charlie, his arm extended so she can hold onto him.

“He’s walking you down the aisle?” She asks.

“Yeah!” Charlie says, looking at her dad, who wraps an arm around her and squeezes.

She pauses, not angry or upset but a little nervous. Maybe Lucifer wouldn’t mind walking them both down the aisle.

“If I may be so bold.” Zestial says, tone low. “It would be the highest honour if thou would let me walk thou to your alter.”

“Really?” She asks.

“Aye. If thou wishes, of course.” Zestial nods.

“I would love that.” She says, hugging him tightly. 

All of them jump as the music starts, happy music playing over the keys.

“Go time.” Angel declares.

The bridal parties start their walk down the aisle, Clara leaning over to joke with Cherri as the four of them make their way to the altar. They’ve got a priest from one of the temples ordaining for them, waiting in his robes under the arch of woven branches and glass stars.

Once their brides maid and man are in their places, they start their walk down the aisle. The seats are filled with residents of Cannibal town, all smiling as they walk past, some of the ladies dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs. In the front most seats are Rosie, Alastor, and Husk on one side and Carmilla on the other with Razzle, Kee Kee, Fat Nuggets, and Frank the Egg Boi. Kaite Killjoy and Tom Trench are camped out in the corner with a camera to release the video of the ceremony later. Nifty is waiting beside the steps leading up to the altar, the rings waiting on a plush cushion.

At the base of the stairs, Lucifer and Zestial turn to each other and shake hands, then greet the other’s daughter. Zestial envelopes Charlie’s hand in his own and kisses her head while Lucifer gives Vaggie a tight hug.

“Welcome to the family sweetheart.” He whispers.

“Thank you.” She replies. 

Then she and Charlie join hands and walk up the steps together while Lucifer and Zestial retreat to their seats. She can already hear Lucifer crying.

“Assembled beloved; friends, family, and acquaintances, we are gathered here today to witness the unholy union of Charlotte Morningstar and Vaggie Carmine.” The priest starts, looking between the brides. 

“Love is a valuable thing, it is a weapon to hone and a shield to guard you. It is as precious as any gem and stronger than angelic steel. Love is like a flower, it needs to be watered, it needs to be encouraged to grow, but when it’s given the strength and the care it needs, it blooms into the most beautiful, precious blossom ever seen. And the love Charlotte and Vaggie have for each other is as beautiful as a flower and as precious as a gem.” He continues.

“Please just call me Charlie.” Charlie whispers.

That gets some laughter from the audience and Vaggie chances a glance outwards. Rosie is frantically wiping her eyes with her tissue while Alastor looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. Tom Trench is in hysterics, sobbing into his hands while Katie is ignoring him, too focused on the story to care that her colleague is having a breakdown. 

“Of course.” The priest agrees, smiling at her, his lizard tongue flicking at the S sound. “Have you two prepared vows?” 

“Yes.” Vaggie nods. 

“Wonderful, who will go first?” The priest asks. 

“I guess I will.” Charlie volunteers, squeezing Vaggie’s hand.

“Do this in alphabetical order.” Vaggie jokes. 

Another ripple of laughter from the crowd. The atmosphere is filled with happiness, it’s the most relaxed she’s ever seen citizens of Hell to be.

“Vaggie. When I first saw you fifty years ago, I knew you were someone special, but I never could have imagined how special. Over the years we’ve had our challenges and together, we’ve managed to overcome them. You complete me, your strength and dedication keeps me on the path to success. Your love and kindness inspires me to be a better person and a better partner. For fifty years, we’ve been partners, lovers, and best friends and I want to face everything with you by my side for the rest of eternity.” Charlie says, tearing up and holding her hand so tightly her bones feel like they’re creaking.

“Vaggie, your response?” The priest asks.

“Charlie. When I first fell, I thought my life was over, little did I know, the best was just beginning. Through your kindness I have become a better version of myself, you gave me something worth fighting for. You inspired me to learn and to change the way I see things and people. Through you, I have met people who have become my family, my flock, something I never thought I would have again. Now, because of you, I’m a stronger person and I am so excited to see who we become together.” She smiles.

Charlie sniffles, some tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. In the audience, Rosie blows her nose and she can see Carmilla dabbing at her eyes. Angel Dust is crying as quietly as he can behind Charlie with Cherri rubbing his back.

“I love you so much.” Charlie whispers.

“I love you too.” Vaggie sniffles.

The two lean forward and kiss, only for the priest to push them apart.

“Eh eh eh, not till I say so!” He scolded, looking between them with a humoured expression. “Curb the enthusiasm ladies!”

The audience laughs again and so does she. She’s so happy.

“Well I’ll skip the lecture, since it seems you’re in a hurry to skip to the end.” The priest jokes, gesturing for Nifty to come forward. “Charlie Morningstar, do you take Vaggie Carmine to be your wife, through sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” Charlie says, taking the ring from Nifty’s pillow and slipping it onto Vaggie’s finger.

“Vaggie Carmine, do you take Charlie Morningstar to be your wife, through sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” She nods, giving Charlie her ring.

“Then by the power vested in me, by his Majesty King Lucifer, I declare you to be wife and wife. You may now kiss.” He announces.

Neither woman waits for another second, Charlie leans forward, wraps her arm and tail around Vaggie’s waist and dips her into a deep kiss to the loud applause of the audience. She can hear Clara wolf whistle behind her loudly.

When they break apart, Vaggie throws her arms around Charlie and hugs her so tightly. In her peripheral vision, she can see that everyone is standing up from their chairs, some of the shorter cannibals are even standing on their seats. She and Charlie join hands and start skipping down the aisle, their bridesmaids and man hurrying after them.

Apparently, either nobody communicated to the cannibals that they weren’t supposed to bring things to throw over the happy couple, or they were told but just didn’t care. As they rush down the aisle, grains of rice and flower petals are raining down over them, Nifty rushing around frantically cleaning them up. Razzle flies up near their shoulders, bleating happily while Kee Kee scampers after their feet, occasionally pausing to bat at falling flower petals.

In the hallway, Charlie ducks and scoops her off her feet, pressing their foreheads together.

“We’re married!” She squeals.

“We are!” She agrees.

“Woo woo! Happy couple!” Clara cheers, ushering all of the close friends and family in and then shutting the door so the cannibals can continue their celebration. 

“Two beautiful brides!” Rosie compliments, kissing each of them on the forehead.

“So proud of you.” Carmilla says, cupping Vaggie’s cheek.

“The ceremony was beautiful.” Alastor compliments.

Cherri gives them a thumbs up, Frank balanced on her hip, the egg playing with her ponytail. He’s become her minion now, and by that they mean he’s basically her son. He sleeps in her bed with her, she cooks for him, and she’s incredibly protective over him. The pair were each other’s rock after Sir Pentious passed. Angel Dust wraps them in a tight hug while Nifty scurries up Charlie’s leg to sit on Vaggie’s shoulder. Razzle bleats his unhappiness until Nifty shifts so he can sit on her shoulder, Nifty on her head. 

Lucifer hops up to kiss Charlie’s head and then kisses Vaggie’s while Husk opts for handshakes instead. Zestial grins happily from a respectful distance, his arm around Carmilla’s shoulder. 

“Love you all.” Vaggie whispers.

“Love ya too Vagina.” Angel Dust responds, ruffling her hair. “Glad we’re yer flock er whateva.”

“Neva been a flock before.” Cherri agrees. “It’s pretty good.”

“I’ll teach you the basics.” Vaggie offers.

“After our honeymoon right?” Charlie asks.

“After our honeymoon.” Vaggie laughs.

Razzle huffs, lays his head against her cheek, and licks at her nose. She looks around at her flock, at Husk and Angel Dust holding hands and whispering to each other, at Alastor and Zestial talking over a magicked up bottle of scotch. Carmilla, Rosie, and Lucifer are talking about when the limo arrives to get them to the reception while Clara and Odette are talking about explosives with Cherri, who still has Frank in her arms. Nifty scurries down to join Alastor, who graciously allows her onto his head to grip his antlers.

There are no two ways about it, this new flock is lightyears ahead of her old one.