#acegust

~~~

There were no thunderstorms in Heaven.

Vaggie did not understand how anyone could enjoy this.

The walls groaned as winds smashed debris into the Hotel’s exterior. Lightning flashed bright against the dark sky—had Vaggie not known any better, she would have thought it was night instead of midday. A roar of thunder sent tremors through the foundation of the building.

Or perhaps Vaggie was the one shaking, if the way her teeth chattered was any indication.

Was this normal for a thunderstorm?

Was the building supposed to sound like it was screaming?

“I do love a good ssstorm,” Pentious sighed happily from his spot on the couch, and Vaggie wanted to throw something at him.

Behind the bar counter, Husk snorted. “Sure—it’s all fun and games until you get caught outside with fur.”

“…You make a good point.”

Husk rolled his eyes. Thunder crashed. Vaggie flinched.

Why was the rain so loud?

This storm had come suddenly, catching all of Pentagram City off guard. Aqueous rain in the Pride Ring was rare, and unlike brief acid showers, these rainstorms had the potential to be long and disastrous. In her three years in Hell, Vaggie had been lucky enough to avoid this weather so far.

Charlie promised her it was not so bad.

Vaggie already wanted to vomit.

Her mind was foggy, thoughts slow and sticky as molasses. Her body, on the other hand, vibrated like a live wire—every muscle was pulled taut with suffocating fear and the overwhelming urge to get away from the rain. Distantly, she heard footsteps, but she could not tear her eyes away from the window. A knot tightened in her chest.

Lightning flared through the room. The lights flickered. Vaggie inhaled sharply.

Before she could recover, a deafening crash of thunder shook the entire building. A high-pitched noise—she refused to call it a shriek—tore past her lips.

Pentious snapped his head in her direction, brows furrowed as she hurriedly schooled her expression into one of neutrality. He reached a tentative hand toward her before letting it drop. “Are you…all right?”

She blinked rapidly to clear her vision, belatedly noticing that Husk was gone. When had he left? “I’m fine, Pentious,” she responded, clumsily rubbing her upper arms. Her fingers were numb.

Her voice sounded hollow—and very much not fine.

If Pentious’s frown was any indication, he did not believe her, either.

But before he could speak up, the Hotel doors slammed open—another crash that made her jump—and Angel fell into the lobby. Literally.

Vaggie cringed at the sight of his soaking fur, remembering Husk’s earlier comment, as Pentious quickly moved to help him up.

“Long day?” she asked, digging her nails into her arms as Pentious led Angel to the couch. Her voice wavered as another boom of thunder sent vibrations through the building. Pentious shot her a look, but Angel did not notice her strange behavior as he shook his head.

“Not really, believe it or not. Val actually let us go early.” Angel flopped backwards onto the arm of the couch and scrubbed at his face. “But he made me walk home in the fucking rain.”

Vaggie opened her mouth—but before she could reply, every light in the building flared.

~~~

It was far past midnight, and the Hotel lobby was almost empty.

Almost.

The credits rolling on the television cast a sickly blue glow over the couch, and the generic outro music was haunting in the otherwise silent room. Charlie had long since gone to bed, with Husk following a couple of hours later, leaving Vaggie and Angel to yet another movie that neither truly cared about.

Of course, the movie was over. It was time for both of them to retreat to their respective rooms.

Neither moved from the couch.

The music trailed off. The screen faded to black.

Finally, Angel pushed himself up straight and stretched all four arms behind him, his joints popping loudly. “So,” he said conversationally, his voice quiet but still deafening against the heavy silence. “Any particular reason you’re avoiding your bedroom?”

Vaggie stiffened, and that reaction alone dashed any hope of denying his question.

Angel raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Her voice was hollow to her own ears as she asked, “What makes you say that?”

“Babe, has anyone ever told you that you’re really bad at dodging questions?”

“Kind of.” Charlie always said she was a bad liar.

Angel just laughed. He propped his elbows on his knees and ignored the flat glare aimed toward him. “I mean, we both know why I’m avoiding sleep—”

“And I think we should talk about that instead—”

“—but why are you out here? Don’t you like cuddling your girlfriend?”

Vaggie flushed, but not at the question. She looked down at her socked feet, drumming her fingers against the couch. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Her reply was clearly a deflection—and a poor one, at that—but for better or worse, Angel played along.

“Oh, really?” he teased, tilting his head. His grin was shit-eating. “Staying up until the asscrack of dawn is just an angel thing, then?”

“Yes.”

He snorted. “Sure, and I modeled for the Mona Lisa.”

Vaggie glanced up and stared absently at the dark screen, her eyes unfocused.

“Actually, there was this one film that Val had me do—”

“Please shut up.”

Angel grinned more widely. “Okay,” he began. “I’ll spare you the details of work tonight.”

“Thank you.”

“But! In return, I want you to tell me why you don’t wanna head upstairs.”

Vaggie blinked as the question registered. Slowly, she twisted her head toward him, meeting his expectant stare with a blank one of her own.

It was late.

She was tired, the long nights beginning to take their toll.

“Does it matter?” Vaggie heard herself say.

The silence was practically screaming.

Angel pulled back slightly, his smile dimming. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said. “But…look, take it from me—it helps to talk about your shit.”

Vaggie chuckled mirthlessly. “In that case, maybe you should talk about your nightmares instead.”

“I already do! Husk is a wonderful listener.” The smile was back in place, bright as ever. His eyes were glued to her own. “Who do you talk to?”

Vaggie tore her gaze away.

She really was tired.

Tired of sleep deprivation. Tired of spending her nights in the Hotel lobby.

Tired of ignoring the problems at the back of her mind.

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it once more and let the words slip out.

“I miss home.”

Even in the quiet, she was barely audible. Vaggie moved her hand off the upholstery, tracing random shapes on her leg as she forced words past the sudden lump in her throat. “I—I know that I shouldn’t, but I miss the Exorcist barracks.”

There it was.

The truth that had been weighing on her since rebuilding the Hotel. The reason she spent her nights in the lobby, finding any semblance of an excuse to avoid going to bed. She had even spent one night doing paperwork with Alastor of all people, pretending not to notice the suspicious glances he kept sending her way.

More than the others, though, Angel regularly stayed up with her. Both of them knew why he avoided sleep, and both of them stood by an unspoken rule to ignore it. To ignore both of their problems.

Until now.

Her vision blurred slightly.

“Lute and I shared a room,” she continued without thinking. Angel’s gaze burned against her, but she could not bring herself to look at him. “It was the first time I had to share a room with someone, but I didn’t mind. It was still mine, at least partially. It was safe.” She swallowed hard, throat tight. “It was the first place that ever felt like home.”

Chills shot down her spine, goosebumps pricking her skin. Vaggie rubbed her arms and discreetly sniffed. Now that she had stepped into her memories, she was almost too lost in her thoughts to notice Angel sitting up and watching her carefully. “Lute was a decent roommate, too. She respected my privacy. Never said anything about how I kept my spear with me when I slept, or about how I never slept under the covers. She let me do what I needed to, and slowly, the room started to feel safe.”

Her voice cracked, and she internally prayed that Angel had not noticed.

The ache in her chest grew heavier. The words were falling from her lips faster than she could stop them.

“I hadn’t even known it was possible to feel so comfortable. I started keeping my spear in the closet at night. I started sleeping with blankets. I—I  picked my own bedsheets. For the first time ever, I was allowed to choose.” She sucked in air, panting as though she had sprinted up the stairs. “They were gray. With little blue roses. My covers were also blue. They were my choice, too.”

“Vaggie…”

“It was just one room, but it was mine. It was a home.” She trembled, clenching her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering. Blinked rapidly as her eye grew dangerously wet. “It was the first time I was free. The first time I felt…safe.” Her breath hitched on a choked sob.

A warm hand settled on her upper arm. A beat later, it snaked around her shoulders.

Her words hovered uncomfortably in the air.

“Do you…not feel safe anymore?” Angel asked tentatively. She did not need to look at him to see the concern painted starkly on his face.

She was tired.

She wanted to go home.

Vaggie did not want to say it aloud, lest it somehow get back to Charlie, but….

“I did,” she admitted. “A little. I—but I was so scared Charlie would find out I was an angel, and then everything happened with Heaven, and Lute came down and tried to kill us, and then Adam died, and the Hotel was destroyed, and—and—”

She rubbed her face, trying and failing to discreetly wipe her eye. If Angel noticed, he was kind enough to not comment, instead pulling her trembling body closer against his side.

Her voice was a choked whisper. “Everything feels so…temporary. Like our life is going to fall apart at any second.” Again.

“But the Exterminations are over,” Angel tried. His hand rubbed up and down her arm. “Charlie’s plan got approved. I mean, it’s definitely hard to get used to, but…it’s actually safe here. For once.”

“And—and I know that.” Despite the clenching of her jaw, her teeth were chattering. Her muscles felt tight and like jelly at the same time. “But I—I still can’t relax. And I—and I love Charlie, but I can’t go into our bedroom. I can’t sleep in there. It just…doesn’t feel safe anymore.” Her voice was a strangled whisper. “Nothing feels safe anymore.”

Her eye stung. Her face burned.

Against her will, a couple of tears slipped down her cheek.

Vaggie sniffled and wiped them away, ducking her head. Wordlessly, Angel tightened his grip, adjusting his hold to pull her into a proper hug.

“I just…want to go home.”

It was so late.

The exhaustion of several late nights weighed down on her. She was nearly limp in Angel’s grip. Tears silently trailed down her cheek.

Her eye was slipping shut. Numbly, she wrapped her arms around herself. She was shaking.

Distantly, Vaggie felt herself being lifted into the air. Carried up the stairs before a door creaked open and someone set her onto a bed. Warm blankets were pulled over her. She was shaking a little bit less.

“Goodnight, Vags. We…can talk about this in the morning.”

The door clicked shut as her fingers laced with a familiar hand. She exhaled.

This was not home. But she really wished it was.

~~~