#chabill

Charlie blinked awake, rubbing her eyes and sat straight in bed. Patient. There’s a patient?! PATIENT! Her heart leaped and her body did as well as she scrambled out of bed. She was halfway out of her bedroom door still tugging on her slippers. Then she frantically popped her head back in the door, staring at the alarm clock: 1pm. One o’clock. How long did she sleep in for? Shit. 

Charlie shook her head and called down, “I’ll be there in a minute!” At a record pace, she dashed down the hall, practically tripping over herself, desperately running a hand through her wild, unkempt hair. It was futile. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she whispered under her breath, taking the grand stairs two at a time which was probably very unwise. In a heap, she finally reached the door, heaving, huffing and puffing. Her hands were on her knees, and she bent over. Wow, she was out of shape. Then she snapped up and waved, “Hi, hi, my name’s Charlie.” 

The sinner was, well, he looked a lot like Alastor. He was wearing a clean-cut golden coat with an odd pattern of bricks on the torso and long black dress pants. A black bowtie, a black top hat that seemed to hover slightly above his blonde dyed black hair. His eye was dark, and the right side of his face had a triangular eyepatch. His black gloved hands clutched a golden cane. Damn, he did look a lot like Alastor if he looked more human and favored gold over red.

“Yeah, hi, Charlie. The name’s Bill.” The sinner named Bill said leaning against his cane and extending a gloved hand. “I’m sure you haven’t heard of me!”

Charlie stared down at Bill’s outstretched hand. A small blue flame flickered in between his fingers and then died just as quickly. She blinked and beamed a smile at Bill, clasping hands with him. Well, a patient was a patient. “Hi, Bill! So, you’re interested in redeeming yourself?” With one firm shake, it ended.

“Hello?” Angel Dust narrowed his pink eyes at Bill who in turn glanced over at the Spider Demon. “You know I exist right?”

“Yeah, you’re Angel Dust. The porn star, right?” Bill’s eye slid over, rather unimpressed. Is that all what everyone saw when they looked at Angel?

A smirk spread across the Spider Demon’s face, and he smoothed back his fluffy hair, “So you’ve seen my vids?” Well, he didn’t seem to mind. 

“Hah!” Bill laughed and Angel’s face turned sour, “Nah, just saw the billboards. You can’t really miss them in Hell, can you?”

“Likely story, one eyed,” Angel Dust narrowed his mismatched eyes at the one-eyed demon. He used his four hands to jab his pointer finger and long finger at him. 

Bill grins, “Well, in life I worked at this mangy shack for who knows how long. Not really one for porn. I just really love kids.” Then he pauses and looks at Charlie’s horrified expression. “No, I’m not in for that . Had these two twins that kept ruining my life and giving me heck.” That grin thins, “I’ll get back at them…one of these days.”

“Ooookay! Ready to check in?” Charlie pumped a fist. Jeez, this guy seemed to be a bit of a wreck. Beefing with kids? Well! It was Hell after all! Everyone was a wreck. 

“Yeah, speaking of which, don’t you have a check in counter?” Bill glanced around the spacious lobby wreathed in crimson. Even with one eye, he seemed to be combing through every detail. 

“Budget’s a bit tight,” Charlie beamed a strained smile at him.

“Yeah…I can see that.” Bill said quickly and strolled ahead, his golden cane thumping on the ground with each step. Did he need it? He looked rather spry. A sinner that died in his prime. Charlie didn’t pry. She didn’t want to scare him off too early.

Angel Dust waved at the pair, “See you two later.” He sauntered back to the gilded golden doors leading out of this little pure bubble of hell. Charlie briefly glanced, seeing him go, go back to his own personal hell, back to Valentino. A frown was slowly crawling across his bright face, but she shoved it down. 

The all too cheery sinner walked side by side with her and elbowed her in the side with a sharp elbow. “Hey, kid, why the glum face?” 

Kid? Her mouth opened and then she snapped it close again. She was sure as hell a lot damn older than him. Again, she reminded herself…don’t scare him off. Whatever little sparks of fire sprouted from in between her clenched fingers extinguished. 

“Nothing,” Charlie said shortly but thankfully Bill didn’t question it. He seemed preoccupied with the sights even if there wasn’t much to see. Paintings glowering down at them on the walls, long sweeping curtains curling around the window’s light, and what seemed to be eternally empty rooms lining the hall.

Her hand gripped the doorknob to her office and the bell hung to the doorknob jingled. She had almost expected Alastor to come rushing ahead of her to hold the door but of course, he wasn’t there. He was locked up in his radio tower doing who knows what.

She almost hurled at the sight. A new guest and this is what her office or well, her and Alastor’s office looked like? A large stained-glass window filtered in crimson sunlight into what she could barely call an office. Dusty bookshelves lined the walls where her parents’ paintings had once hung. Her and Alastor’s eyesore of a desk sat proudly at the center of the room, littered with scattered papers, a monitor with far too many files on the home screen, an obscene array of stress toys and silly colored gel pens strewn across the hard desk wood. At the midpoint of the half circular desk was a chair for a guest and across the desk were the chairs for her and Alastor.

“Sorry for the mess,” Charlie crossed to the desk, desperately swiping at the papers and plunking them onto the table in a semi-coherent pile. “You can sit–” Her eyes drifted back to the door’s threshold where he was. Then she motioned towards the seat across from her. But he wasn't there. She blinked. He disappeared. No. He didn’t disappear. He wouldn’t just–

“Nah, it's fine. Comfy chair by the way,” His voice said beside her, and she turned. There he was leaning back in his office chair, grinning at the princess and appearing way too comfortable in Alastor’s chair. 

Oh. Well, maybe it's better that Alastor isn’t here. 

Sitting in her business partner’s chair? Bold, cocky, definitely arrogant. Now who did that sound like: Alastor, Angel Dust, a bit of Vaggie, and her own father. Well, surely one more cocky arrogant bastard wasn’t going to burn down the Hotel, right? 

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In a flash, if being a porn star did anything, it gave him some power and without much effort he shot straight up wildly looking around. Who the fuck was disturbing him? Look, Charlie was trying to be better with boundaries but back then before she had a whole “Boundaries are Boundaries” activities and sent enough apologies letters to him to cover his wall top to bottom with them, she had disturbed him once. Only once when he was in the middle of a Candy crush run through and it ended with a broken coffee table. Who the fuck had the audacity this time?

“The fuck, man?” Angel Dust yelled at nothing until he whipped around to see nothing but the newbie lounging on a chair and pushing it back onto its hind legs ever so slightly. 

“What?” 

“Don’t what me,” Angel spat and grabbed the closest thing to him, hurling it at the geometry obsessed twink. Bill didn’t even move as Angel’s sparkly bedazzled phone sailed past Bill’s ear, smashing into the wall behind him and falling in a defeated heap on the plush carpet. “You got my attention, asshole. Make it count,” Angel Dust glared. 

Bill grinned and with a thump all the chair’s legs met with the awaiting carpet. “You know kid, your skin would look great as a lampshade!” he said as smoothly as he could. 

The fuck? Did this idiot really disturb me by saying some creepy ass (pickup) line? All Angel did was smooth back his fluffy white hair, leaning against the couch with his arms spread over the top and he smirked, “Kinky. I didn’t know you were freaky like that.” Bill’s singular eye blinked. Was this bitch surprised? Hah! Angel let out a long sigh, “If that’s all you gonna say in trying to scare me, you failed, Smiles 2.0. You’re new to this, aren’t you?” Angel laughed, stretching out his long legs and getting up to his feet, crossing the room to retrieve his phone.

Bill didn’t say anything for a moment. Good. The golden boy twink was in shock. “Are you okay?” Then he shook his head and laughed, “You know what, don't answer that. I don’t have any time for any trauma dumping or whatever you millennials do.”

“I’m a baby boomer.” Angel Dust said flatly.

“Even worse,” Bill rolled his singular eye. Rolled his eyes? No, rolled his eye. That sounded weirder. 

With one swipe of his four hands, he bent over and picked up his phone between his forefinger and thumb. “Ugh…” He flipped the phone over in his hand, the screen was horribly cracked and peeling. Now, there was yet another jagged crack from top to bottom. Angel just sighed, rolled back his shoulders and pocketed it, ignoring Bill’s last words. 

Dinner was at eight o’clock sharp. Angel glanced up at the clock, ticking away until what it felt like eternity: 7:19. Fuck it, his stomach was growling and who cares? He’d done worse sins than eat a bit before supper. He stalked off. This Bill guy was obviously trying to annoy him or…well, he was too hungry to think.

“Where are you going?” Bill’s voice drifted down the hall as Angel sauntered off, the kitchen beckoning him into its rather bright and delicious depths. 

“None of your damn business!” Angel called over his shoulder. He turned back to the crimson hall, the carpet soft under his sharp heels. He let out a small laugh. What a doofus. Hah! 

Angel carefully peered into the kitchen scooping out for the guard dog. Or well, just the self proclaimed guard of the kitchen: Niffty. Usually, she was prowling around right before eating time but she must’ve been on a bathroom break. She was nowhere to be seen.

Fuck yeah! Angel cheered silently to himself as he tiptoed on the tips of his heels and crossed the room cautiously. He whistled a little tune as he gripped the door to the fridge and ripped it open. 

The popsicles almost sparkled under the light. He was already drooling. Fuck. Goddamn, those popsicles were amazing. His tongue swiped over his lips and he reached in one gloved hand, pawing around until he grabbed a handful of popsicles. 

It was the typical selection. Cherry, root beer, lemon, banana, orange, grape, and watermelon. Damn, Cherri, of course loved the cherry ones and had been egging him on yesterday to try one out. Was he in a sour or sweet mood though? Cherry was nice but orange and banana were beckoning him. Or was he in a spicy mood and did he want a root beer popsicle? However, had he tasted the grape popsicle in a long time? No, not since he last had a shot with Tiffany Titfucker. That fucker! Ugh, he hated her. And grape had been the only left in the freezer that day—

“FUCK!” Angel screamed for the second time within ten minutes. After the blind pain subsided and that dull pain settled in his…hand? He glanced up to see the freezer door sandwiching his hand between it and the inside of the freezer. Oh fuck. Not again. A little hand had slammed the door, and it was none other than…

“Angel…” Niffty’s sweet voice grated on his ears, “Do you remember talking about no more sweets before dinner.” Threat bled into her sweet voice and Angel Dust dared to look over. She was perched up on the counter, hand slamming in the freezer door into his own. Her yellow eye was blown wide, twitching, veins popping out of her sclera. A roller was gripped in her mighty tiny grip and a chill raised the back of Angel’s many hairs. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. “Hi Niffty…” Angel croaked out and gulped. He wanted to scream and run but knew Niffty had him pinned. He did have four hands. What’s losing one more? He could just gnaw it off and run for it. Fuck, no, he’s being ridiculous. It’s Niffty. She’s not gonna beat his ass with that roller until he couldn’t breathe. 

“Angel. Angel. Angel.” Niffty’s voice bounced up and down in a soft tone. Is she gonna let me go? Then her pupil narrowed, glaring at him. “Did Charlie’s activity lecture on not taking snacks before dinner not sink in? Hmmm???” 

Well, maybe she would beat his ass until he couldn’t breathe.

“Uhhhh,” His tongue suddenly felt dry. Like a sponge was shoved down his throat soaking up all his energy and choking him. Maybe a dick would be better. Fuck, now he was making analogies with a sponge?! Niffty twirled the roller in her hand. He tried to clench his hand and free himself, but it didn’t budge. What the hell? Niffty was stronger than she let on. I’m trapped. “So…yes, it did sink in–” Angel started.

“Then why are you here? In my kitchen? Before dinner time? With your hand pawing through my freezer like an animal?” Niffty hissed. Jesus Christ, she was terrifying. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Perhaps it was time to scream for Charlie’s help? No, that was desperate.

“Niffty, I just–”

“GAHHHH! HELP! THERE’S A COCKROACH INFESTATION IN THE LIVING ROOM! WHATEVER SHALL I DO?!” Someone yelled in a mock hysterical voice from unsurprisingly…the living room. 

Niffty blinked her single eye, her roller at the ready and her neck turned slowly, cracking as she craned to stare at the door. “Cockroaches…” she said quietly. In a flash, she summoned a dagger from the folds of her dress and scampered off the counter. Slipping and sliding on the clean blood red tiles, she pranced out the door screaming, “PREPARE TO MEET YOUR DOOM! AHAHAHAHA!” 

Angel let out a breath he realized he hadn’t been holding. Her deranged cackling echoed from down the hall. Without pausing for a second time, he opened the freezer door silently and grabbed the first popsicle he saw. 

“Thank the Lord…” Angel Dust whispered happily as he stepped out of the kitchen, unwrapping the popsicle. 

“How about…thank me?” A voice said from beside him. Angel almost jumped out of his skin but kept himself steady as he looked over at the owner of the voice. None other than Bill was leaning against the wall, smirking expectantly at Angel. How long had this creep been waiting here? Wait…

“Was that you?” Angel blurted out. “The one yelling about cockroaches?” He tilted his head. Cockroaches? No, there was no way that was him. This guy had been here for only…like three hours? There’s no way he would have known about Niffty’s OCD about cockroaches. Nah, he was getting ahead of himself.

“Yeah, that was me.” Bill said rather proudly, pushing himself off the wall with his hands and straightening out his black gloves. 

The fuck? “How would you…how would you know about the cockroaches? And Niffty?” Angel probed a bit cautiously, leaning against the doorframe. Play it casual. 

Bill flapped an idle gloved hand, “Oh, you know. Just picked up a few things here and there. And well, good old Charlie warned me about her.” Bill laughed. “Good thing I popped in when I did. Seemed like you were going to get in a real…pickle if it weren’t for me.”

“Yeah…” Angel said, “A real pickle…” Angel narrowed his eyes.

“Anyways, you’re welcome!” One of Angel’s limp hands found its way into Bill’s and they shook for a brief moment before Bill let go. It felt…slimy. But Bill’s hand wasn’t. Not in the slightest. And even when Pentious was already with his slimy ass hands, this felt slimier. No, that didn’t make any sense. “See you at dinner!” Bill called before sauntering down the hall and turning around the bend.

Slimy. The whole thing felt weird. But it wasn’t weird? No, no, no. Angel stood there, staring off for a few moments, open popsicle in his hand. He hadn’t even taken a lick yet but his stomach was already turning. 

Drip. Drip. Drip.

How would he know…any of that? Then Angel shook his head. Charlie told him. Angel glanced back into the kitchen where the whole ordeal had occurred. His shoulders tensed, remembering his hand stuck in the freezer. How did he know I was in trouble? Was he spying from the hall? But why would he do that? Fuck, no. Angel smacked a hand into the side of his head. He was spiraling. His mind was playing tricks on him.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Being off drugs for so long did those things to him. Long…meaning weeks. And things meaning weird paranoia behaviors. While it made his head clearer, even for a bit it began to muddy again after a short while. The itching was over but the withdrawal was tugging at him. No, yes, he was being paranoid. This guy was brand new! The fuck was he yapping about? Spying? Hah, that’s ridiculous. The whole thing is weird but…no, not possible. Or at least…not likely. 

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Angel glanced down to see his hands. Hand coated in thick red juices. The cherry popsicle was melting in his hand. Fuck. Vaggie was going to kill him. If not Niffty. If not both. It was streaming down his hand onto the equally red carpet. Maybe they aren’t gonna notice. Either way I gotta split. Angel glanced back before licking off the rest of the melting juice and he walked down the hall, eating the rest of his melting popsicle. 

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