Hazbin Hearts
An Original Novel By: Adrian Vickery
Chapter 1 – The Dream & the Panic
The nightmare hit me like a gut punch. One moment, I was asleep, and the next, Vaggie and
Charlie were there—my world, my fragile little anchor—and they weren’t themselves. Their eyes
were cold, distant, sharp like shards of glass. The words they spat at me weren’t even words;
they were accusations, rejections, every insecurity I’d ever had wrapped up in their voices.
“You don’t belong here,” Charlie said, but it wasn’t her voice. It was sharper, colder, slicing
through my chest like knives.
Vaggie didn’t even look at me. She just shook her head, disappointed. “You’re a mistake. You
shouldn’t be here.”
I tried to speak. Tried to tell them I wasn’t, that I belonged, that I was… something. But my
mouth betrayed me. No sound came out. Only the pounding of my heart, so loud it felt like it
could wake the dead.
I woke with a gasp, thrashing against the sheets. Sweat soaked my shirt, my hands trembling
uncontrollably. My chest felt like it was being crushed by a thousand invisible weights. Husk was
the first to appear, grumbling under his breath like he had better things to do than babysit a
panicked human.
“Jesus Christ, cupcake, calm the hell down,” he muttered, roughly taking my shoulders in his
hands. “You’re breathing way too fast. You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack if you don’t shut
it down.”
I sank into the couch, gasping for air. “I… I can’t… it felt so real,” I stammered. “They… they
hated me. They didn’t want me there.”
Vaggie appeared silently beside me, her presence like a lighthouse in the storm of my panic.
Her hand rested on my shoulder, firm and grounding. “You’re here,” she said softly. “You’re safe.
You’re not alone. You belong here, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”
Her words were a balm, but the panic didn’t vanish. It lingered like a shadow, coiling around my
chest and squeezing with a cruel insistence. I was fragile, trembling, teetering on the edge of
losing it again, and I hated it. Hated feeling small, hated feeling weak, hated feeling like I wasn’t
enough.
Husk muttered something about needing stronger nerves or a stiff drink, and Angel Dust’s voice
floated from the hallway, teasing, loud, obnoxious, like a sunbeam cutting through storm clouds.
“What, panic attack o’clock again? Wake me when someone dies, yeah?”
I glared at him, but Vaggie squeezed my shoulder, grounding me in the moment. I realized
something terrifying and exhilarating at the same time: even in my weakest, most broken state, I
wasn’t alone. Not really. And maybe… just maybe… that was enough.
Chapter 2 – The Morning After
Morning came like a fucking hangover, even though I hadn’t touched a drop. The light pouring
through the hotel’s stained windows felt harsh, judgmental, like it was pissed I’d survived the
night at all. My body was heavy, sore from the panic attack, and my brain felt like it had been
chewed up and spit out.
I dragged myself into the lounge, where Husk was already perched with his whiskey and a deck
of cards, pretending not to care but clearly watching me out of the corner of his eye. The old cat
demon never said much, but I knew he noticed more than he let on.
“Morning, sunshine,” he muttered. “Didn’t think you’d crawl outta bed after last night.”
I gave him a weak smile. “Yeah, well, nightmares don’t pay rent. Gotta face the day eventually.”
He snorted. “You sound like Alastor when you say depressing shit like that. Careful, people
might think you’re trying to be scary.”
The thought made me laugh—a hollow sound, but real enough to feel good.
Vaggie and Charlie came in not long after. Charlie looked like she’d barely slept, her smile tight
but genuine, the kind of expression she wore when she was worried but didn’t want to push too
hard. Vaggie, on the other hand, looked like she was ready to stab anyone who so much as
breathed wrong at me. Her protective streak was terrifying and comforting all at once.
“You doing better?” Charlie asked gently, her eyes soft, her voice careful.
I shrugged, trying to play it off. “Yeah. Just… shaken. It’s hard to explain.”
“You don’t have to,” Vaggie cut in, her tone sharp but not unkind. “No one here expects you to
keep it bottled up. You had a bad night. That doesn’t make you weak.”
Her words hit harder than they should have. Weak. That word had haunted me for years. I
opened my mouth to protest, to argue, to convince her she was wrong, but the truth was I
wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe I wasn’t broken, that this place—this hotel, these
people—could help me heal.
Angel Dust wandered in last, stretching dramatically like he was on a catwalk. “Well, look who’s
alive,” he teased. “Thought we were gonna have to plan a funeral. Would’ve been a real bitch
tryin’ to find a casket your size.”
“Fuck you, Angel,” I muttered, though without real venom.
He winked, blowing me a kiss before flopping onto the couch. “Love you too, doll.”
Despite myself, I laughed. For a moment, the weight in my chest lifted. For a moment, I felt like
maybe I wasn’t drowning.
But beneath it all, the dream lingered. The sound of their rejection. The look in their eyes. It
wasn’t real, I knew that—but my brain wouldn’t let it go. And the fear that one day it could be
real gnawed at me like a parasite I couldn’t kill.
Chapter 3 – Vows in the Quiet
The day passed in a blur of forced smiles and half-hearted distractions. Everyone tried to act
normal, but I could feel the tension humming under the surface like a live wire. Charlie hovered
around me more than usual, always checking if I was okay, her eyes soft but tired. Vaggie was
sharper, snapping at Angel Dust every time he so much as breathed in my direction.
By nightfall, I couldn’t take it anymore. I slipped away from the lounge and crept into one of the
quieter hallways, a part of the hotel no one really bothered with. The wallpaper was peeling, the
lamps buzzed faintly, and it smelled like dust and secrets. I leaned against the wall, trying to
steady my breathing, when I heard footsteps.
Vaggie.
She didn’t say anything at first, just stood a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes narrowed like
she was sizing me up. Finally, she sighed and softened, stepping closer.
“You scared the shit out of me last night,” she admitted, her voice low. “I thought… I thought we
were gonna lose you.”
My throat tightened. “It was just a panic attack. I’ll live.”
“That’s not the point,” she snapped, but then her tone broke, fragile underneath the anger. “You
don’t get it. Charlie’s been carrying so much on her shoulders, and when you… when you
collapsed, I saw the look on her face. She can’t lose you. I can’t lose you.”
Her words hit me harder than I expected. I swallowed, my chest aching. “You think I don’t feel
the same? That dream—I know it wasn’t real, but it felt like it could be. Like one wrong step and
I’d lose both of you forever.”
Vaggie’s expression softened, her sharp edges giving way to something raw, something
vulnerable. She moved closer until we were standing inches apart.
“I’m scared every day,” she whispered. “Scared that Charlie will burn herself out, scared that
Heaven will come down and rip her away, scared that I won’t be enough to keep her safe. And
then there’s you. You just… walked into our lives and somehow made it better, even with all
your fears. Do you realize how important that is?”
I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes. “I don’t feel important. I feel like a fucking burden half
the time.”
Her hand came up, hesitant but steady, resting lightly on my shoulder. “You’re not a burden.
You’re part of this. Part of us.”
The silence between us was heavy, charged. For the first time, I saw past Vaggie’s anger, past
her armor, and into the fear she carried like a second skin. It mirrored mine.
“I don’t know how this ends,” I admitted. “I don’t know if Charlie’s dream will ever work, or if we’ll
all just get crushed by it. But I do know this—I don’t want to leave her side. Or yours.”
Her eyes shimmered, wet but fierce. “Then we make a promise. No matter how bad it gets, no
matter what comes for us—we stand together. We protect her together.”
I nodded, my voice breaking. “Together.”
For a moment, we just stood there, staring at each other like the world could collapse around us
and we’d still be locked in that vow. And maybe it would. But at least we’d go down fighting, side
by side.
Chapter 4 – The Angel’s Deadline
The next few days blurred together in the way only Hell could manage—loud, messy, and filled
with a thousand tiny reminders that nothing ever stayed calm for long. But beneath the usual
chaos, there was something heavier pressing down on the hotel.
The deadline.
Heaven’s so-called “evaluation.”
Charlie tried to play it off like it was no big deal, but she wasn’t subtle. Every conversation
somehow circled back to how the guests were behaving, or whether the hotel looked
“presentable,” or if the Redemption Program had enough results to impress the fuckers upstairs.
She didn’t say it outright, but I could see the panic under her smile.
And it was eating her alive.
One night, I walked in on her in the lobby—alone, surrounded by scattered papers, checklists,
and notes written in that neat, bubbly handwriting that somehow still looked stressed. She was
hunched over, her wings drooping, muttering numbers under her breath like she was trying to
solve a problem no one had the answer to.
“Charlie,” I said softly.
She jumped, almost dropping her pen. “Oh! Hey, I didn’t hear you come in.” Her smile was
instant, but brittle. “Sorry, I’m just… busy.”
“Busy stressing yourself to death,” I muttered, sliding into the chair across from her.
Her shoulders sagged. “It’s not like I have a choice. If this doesn’t work, if they come down here
and see chaos instead of progress, the whole hotel—everything we’ve worked for—it could all
be gone. Do you understand what that means?”
“I do,” I said carefully. “But burning yourself out isn’t gonna save it.”
Before she could argue, Vaggie stormed in, arms crossed and eyes blazing. “I told you to get
some sleep,” she scolded. “But no, you’re still here with your damn checklists.”
Charlie flinched. “I can’t just—”
“You can,” Vaggie snapped. “You just won’t.”
The air went sharp, and I could feel Charlie’s chest tightening, the weight of her guilt pressing
down. I reached across the table, gently taking her hand. “She’s right. You can’t lead this place if
you run yourself into the ground. None of us want that.”
Charlie’s eyes glistened, her voice trembling. “But what if I fail? What if I’m not enough?”
And there it was—the raw, bleeding heart of it all.
“You don’t have to be enough, alone,” I said. “You’ve got Vaggie. You’ve got me. You’ve even
got Angel and Husk, in their own fucked-up ways. This isn’t just your fight—it’s ours too.”
She stared at me for a long time, then at Vaggie, who softened slightly but didn’t drop her glare.
Finally, Charlie sighed, her hand squeezing mine. “I just… I want to prove them wrong so badly.
To show them we’re more than monsters.”
“You will,” Vaggie said firmly, stepping closer and placing a hand on her shoulder. “But not if you
kill yourself trying.”
Just then, Angel Dust sauntered in, a smirk plastered on his face. “Aw, look at you three, havin’
a little intervention. Cute. But hate to break it to ya, princess, no matter how much ya polish this
dump, Heaven’s still gonna look down their shiny noses and tell ya to fuck off.”
“Angel!” Charlie snapped, her eyes wide with hurt.
He raised his hands. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just sayin’—if you’re gonna fight an
impossible war, at least do it without lookin’ like a goddamn zombie.”
As much as I wanted to strangle him, I couldn’t deny the point buried in his sarcasm. Even
Husk, from his perch at the bar, grunted. “Spider’s right. Get some rest, kid.”
Charlie’s jaw tightened, but for once, she didn’t argue. She let out a long, shaky breath and
leaned into Vaggie’s touch. “Okay… okay. I’ll try.”
It wasn't a victory. Not yet. But it was enough for tonight.
And as I watched her between Vaggie and me, fragile but unbroken, I realized something
terrifying: Heaven’s deadline wasn’t just about the hotel’s survival. It was about hers. About
ours.
And we couldn’t afford to lose.
Chapter 5 – Cracks in the Foundation
It didn’t happen all at once.
It was little things at first—Charlie clinging to me a little tighter when she was stressed, Vaggie
shooting me subtle looks when she thought I was “getting too close,” and me, stuck in the
middle, torn between wanting to be everything they both needed and not knowing if I could
survive the pressure.
The storm finally broke on a night when the hotel felt particularly heavy, like the walls
themselves knew something was about to go wrong. Charlie was pacing in the lounge, her voice
sharp with frustration.
“They don’t see it!” she snapped, throwing her arms up. “They don’t see the progress, they don’t
see the effort! All they care about is results, results, results!”
“You’re stressing yourself out,” I tried, keeping my voice calm. “Maybe just—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” she cut in, her eyes flashing. “You don’t understand what’s at stake
here!”
That one stung.
Vaggie stepped forward, putting a hand on Charlie’s arm. “Babe, we do understand. We’re just
trying to help.”
But Charlie pulled away, shaking her head. “No, you don’t get it. Both of you just—just keep
telling me to take breaks, to rest, to not worry. But if I don’t worry, no one will!”
I bit my tongue, but something inside me snapped. “That’s not fair, Charlie. You think I don’t give
a shit? That Vaggie doesn’t? We’re here because we believe in you—because we believe in
this. But you’re shutting us out.”
Her face crumpled, hurt flashing across it, and instantly I regretted the words—but it was too
late.
Vaggie’s voice went sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. “Don’t put this on her! She’s
carrying more than either of us can even imagine, and you know it. If you can’t handle that, then
maybe you shouldn’t—”
“Maybe I shouldn’t, what?” I shot back, my chest burning. “Be here? Care about her? Care
about you? Fuck, Vaggie, do you even hear yourself?”
The room went quiet, the three of us locked in a standoff that felt like it could shatter everything.
Charlie’s hands were trembling, her eyes darting between us, desperate and broken.
“I can’t—” she whispered. “I can’t do this right now.”
And before either of us could stop her, she turned and walked out, her wings drooping, her
steps heavy with exhaustion and despair.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Vaggie glared at me, her jaw tight. “Nice fucking job. You just made it worse.”
I wanted to argue, to scream that she was just as much to blame, but the words lodged in my
throat. Instead, I turned on my heel and stormed out, the weight of my own failure pressing
down like a curse.
I didn’t know where I was going until I ended up in the bar, where Husk was, as always, nursing
his eternal glass. He glanced up at me, his eyes narrowing.
“You look like shit,” he said simply.
“Thanks,” I muttered, collapsing onto the stool beside him.
He poured me a drink without asking, sliding it over. “Fight?”
“Yeah.”
“With Charlie?”
“And Vaggie,” I admitted, my throat tight.
Husk took a slow sip from his glass, studying me. “Welcome to relationships, kid. Messy as fuck.
Everyone thinks they’re right, everyone’s scared of losing each other, and half the time it ends
with somebody drinking their feelings away at my bar.”
I laughed bitterly. “So, what—you’re saying this is normal?”
“Normal’s a stretch,” he muttered. “But it ain’t the end of the world. You give a shit about them,
right?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then stop runnin’ when it gets ugly. Go fix it. Or don’t, and drink yourself stupid. Either way,
don’t sit here whining.”
His bluntness stung, but beneath it, I knew he was right.
The cracks had formed. The foundation was shaking. And if I didn’t do something, we were all
going to come crashing down.
Chapter 6 – Angel Dust’s Commentary
The next morning, I woke up with the kind of headache that only comes from too much guilt and
not enough sleep. Charlie still hadn’t looked me in the eye since the fight, and Vaggie… well,
she looked ready to stab me if I so much as breathed wrong.
So of course, Angel Dust was the first one to corner me.
“Yoo-hoo, heartbreak hotel!” he sang, practically skipping into the hallway with a cigarette
dangling from his lips. He blew out a cloud of smoke and leaned against the wall, grinning like
the smug bastard he was. “Heard you three had yourselves a lil’ soap opera meltdown last
night.”
I groaned. “Do you have to spread everything like gossip?”
“Sweetheart, this is gossip.” He winked. “And trust me, the whole damn building could feel the
sexual tension from that argument. Shit was hotter than my OnlyFans back in the day.”
I shot him a glare. “Not funny.”
“Eh, a little funny.” He smirked, then flicked his ash. “But seriously, what the fuck are you doin’?
You got two smokin’ hot ladies who actually give a shit about your sorry ass, and you’re already
trippin’ over yourself like a bad romcom protagonist.”
I bristled. “It’s not that simple.”
Angel tilted his head, watching me with surprising seriousness. “It never is. But lemme tell you
somethin’, doll—people like us? We don’t get happy endings handed to us. You wanna keep
‘em, you gotta fight for ‘em. Claw, scratch, bite—whatever it takes. ‘Cause if you don’t, someone
else’ll be happy to snatch it away.”
The sincerity in his tone caught me off guard. For once, he wasn’t hiding behind sarcasm or dick
jokes.
I muttered, “You sound like you actually care.”
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t get it twisted. I’m not your therapist. But I’ve seen enough
shitty relationships to know when one’s worth saving. And from the looks of it, the three of you?
That’s the real deal. Messy, sure. But real.”
I swallowed hard, the words sticking in my chest. “So… what do I do?”
Angel gave me a sly grin. “You grow a pair, sit ‘em both down, and actually talk. No yelling, no
stormin’ out, no playin’ the victim. Just fuckin’ talk. And if that fails, I dunno—have a threesome.
Works wonders for communication.”
I groaned, shoving his shoulder. “You just had to ruin it.”
“Hey, you knew who you were askin’ for advice.” He winked again, sauntering off with his usual
dramatic flair. “Now go fix your little lesbian love triangle before I start takin’ bets on how it
ends.”
As annoying as he was, Angel had a point.
I couldn’t keep running. I had to face Charlie and Vaggie, even if it tore me apart in the process.
Chapter 7 – Midnight Reunion
The hotel was quiet that night. Too quiet. Most of the residents had either passed out drunk,
wandered off into Hell’s nightlife, or barricaded themselves in their rooms. Only the faint hum of
the neon sign outside broke the silence.
I found myself pacing in the empty lounge, nerves twisting in my gut. Angel’s words still rang in
my head: *sit ‘em both down, talk, don’t run.*
Easier said than done.
But then I heard footsteps. Two sets.
Charlie and Vaggie walked in together, though their body language was miles apart—Charlie’s
shoulders hunched, her hands clasped nervously in front of her, while Vaggie’s arms were
crossed, her expression guarded.
I swallowed hard. “Thanks for coming.”
“Yeah, well,” Vaggie muttered, “better than letting this shit fester.”
Charlie shot her a look, then turned to me, her eyes soft and weary. “I don’t want us to fight. Not
like that. Not ever again.”
The guilt in her voice cracked something in me. “Charlie, I’m sorry. Both of you. I shouldn’t have
snapped. I was scared, and I took it out on you.”
Vaggie’s gaze softened slightly, though her tone was still sharp. “You think we weren’t scared
too? Do you have any idea what it felt like, watching you collapse like that? And then seeing
Charlie break down last night? We’re all barely holding it together.”
Charlie’s voice trembled. “I just… I keep thinking I’m failing both of you. That I’m failing the hotel.
I want so badly to prove that we can change, that we’re worth saving, but every time I mess up,
it feels like the whole world’s waiting to say, ‘I told you so.’”
I stepped closer, my chest aching. “Charlie, you’re not failing us. You never could. You’ve given
me something I didn’t think I’d ever have again—hope. Even when it’s messy, even when it
hurts, being here with you and Vaggie… it feels like the first time I belong anywhere.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and before I could second-guess myself, I reached out, gently cupping
her face. She leaned into the touch, fragile and warm.
Then Vaggie stepped closer too, her voice quieter than I’d ever heard it. “You idiot. Don’t you get
it? You matter. To her. To me. You don’t have to keep proving it—you just have to stay.”
The words hit like a lightning strike, raw and undeniable.
My heart pounded as the three of us stood there, caught in a moment that felt like it could
shatter or save everything. And then—slowly, hesitantly—Vaggie reached for my hand.
Charlie watched, her breath catching, and then she leaned in, pressing her forehead against
mine. Vaggie did the same from the other side, and suddenly we were a circle, bound together
by something terrifying and beautiful all at once.
The kiss happened like an accident, like gravity had been waiting for the right second to pull us
in. Vaggie’s lips brushed mine first, tentative but electric. Charlie gasped softly, then closed the
space between us, pressing hers to mine too, her hand trembling as she held me close.
It wasn’t perfect. It was messy, desperate, wet with tears and shaky breaths. But it was real.
When we finally pulled back, Charlie whispered, her voice breaking, “I feel safest when I’m with
both of you.”
Vaggie squeezed my hand. “Then that’s how it’ll be. From now on, no more running. No more
pushing each other away. We fight together. We love together.”
And for the first time since the nightmare, since the panic, since the fights and the fear—I
believed it.
Chapter 8 – Domestic Chaos
The morning after our midnight reunion was… strange, in the best kind of way. The hotel didn’t
feel as heavy anymore. The cracks were still there, sure, but instead of breaking us apart, they’d
turned into something we could grow around.
Of course, that didn’t mean things suddenly became peaceful.
Breakfast at the hotel was always a shitshow, but that morning it reached a new level. Charlie
had decided she wanted to “try something wholesome” and insisted we all cook together.
Which, in hindsight, was like handing grenades to children and telling them to “play nice.”
Angel Dust was at the stove, wearing a pink apron that said “Kiss the Cook, Bitch” in glittery
letters. He had three pans going at once, all of them smoking. “Relax,” he said, waving a spatula
like a weapon. “I got this. French toast, bacon, and whatever the fuck this mystery meat
is—chef’s choice, baby.”
“It’s burning, Angel!” Vaggie snapped, yanking the pan off the heat before the whole kitchen
went up in flames.
“It’s called caramelization, sweetheart. Look it up.”
Meanwhile, Charlie was trying to flip pancakes, but somehow managed to splatter batter all over
the counter, her face, and her wings. “Oops! Heh… okay, maybe I need a little more practice.”
I was at the sink, half-laughing, half-crying, as I tried to rescue a pot of scrambled eggs that had
somehow fused to the bottom like molten lava. “This is a fucking disaster.”
Husk wandered in mid-chaos, bleary-eyed and already sipping whiskey. He took one look
around, ears twitching, then muttered, “Nope,” and turned to leave.
“Oh no you don’t!” Charlie chirped, grabbing his sleeve with batter-covered hands. “You’re
joining us!”
Husk scowled. “I’m not a breakfast guy.”
“You’re our breakfast guy now,” Angel teased, shoving a plate of burnt bacon under his nose.
Husk groaned, sat down at the table, and muttered, “This is hell. Literal hell.”
By the time we finally sat down to eat, the table looked like a war zone—half-burnt,
half-undercooked, and fully inedible. But Charlie was smiling, Vaggie was rolling her eyes but
hiding a smirk, Angel was making obscene pancake jokes, and Husk was at least pretending to
eat.
Somehow, it felt like family.
Later that night, we tried watching TV together. Angel hogged the couch, sprawled out like he
owned the place. Husk pretended to read the paper but kept peeking at the screen. Charlie got
way too into a cheesy rom-com, while Vaggie heckled the entire plot.
And me?
I sat in the middle of it all, watching them bicker, laugh, and just be.
For the first time in forever, I didn’t feel like an outsider looking in. I felt like part of the chaos.
Part of the love.
And maybe, just maybe, this was what Charlie had been fighting for all along.
Chapter 9 – Husk’s Watchful Eye
The hotel was quieter that night. Most of the chaos had burned itself out after the “breakfast
fiasco,” and the others had drifted off into their own little corners.
I was on the balcony, nursing a drink I didn’t even really want, staring out at the neon hellscape
that never shut up. My head was a mess—caught between the high of finally feeling like I
belonged and the low of wondering if it would last.
That’s when I heard the creak of the balcony door behind me.
Husk stepped out, bottle in paw, looking like he hadn’t slept in a century. His wings twitched as
he leaned against the railing, lighting a cigarette. He didn’t say anything at first. Just smoked,
sipped, and let the silence hang.
Finally, he muttered, “You’re thinking too loud.”
I snorted. “Didn’t realize my brain had volume settings.”
He smirked faintly. “Trust me, kid. I can hear when someone’s tearing themselves apart in their
head. Comes with… experience.”
We stood there a while, just listening to the hum of the city. Then he looked at me with those
tired, sharp eyes. “You care about them. Charlie, Vaggie. Maybe even the others. That’s
dangerous shit down here.”
“I know,” I admitted. “But… I can’t help it.”
He took another drag, and exhaled slowly. “Caring makes you a target. Makes you weak. But…”
He paused, almost like he hated what he was about to say. “…it’s also the only thing that keeps
you from turning into the monsters outside.”
I blinked at him. Husk wasn’t exactly the sentimental type.
He shrugged, taking a swig. “Don’t look so shocked. I wasn’t always this grumpy bastard you
see now. I used to… give a shit. About people. About myself.” He laughed bitterly. “Didn’t
exactly end well. That’s why I drink. Easier not to feel anything.”
There was a weight in his words that made my chest tighten. For a moment, I saw past the
sarcastic, booze-soaked exterior—saw the scars he carried, the ones he tried so damn hard to
drown.
“You don’t seem weak to me,” I said quietly.
He raised a brow. “Careful, kid. Compliments might make me puke.”
We both laughed, and the tension eased. But then he leaned in just a little, his voice rough but
steady.
“Listen. Charlie and Vaggie… they’re good for this place. They’re good for you. If you really give
a damn about them, don’t run when shit gets messy. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.
Just… be there. That’s all they need.”
It hit me harder than I expected. Simple words, but from Husk? That was practically a sermon.
I nodded, gripping the railing tight. “I will. I’m not going anywhere.”
For a second, he studied me, like he was testing if I really meant it. Then he gave the smallest,
almost invisible nod.
“Good. ’Cause if you hurt them…” He cracked a grin, fangs glinting. “I’ll claw your fucking face
off.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Fair enough.”
And with that, Husk flicked his cigarette over the edge, muttered something about needing more
booze, and slipped back inside.
I stayed out there a little longer, feeling the weight of his words settle in. For all his grumbling,
the old bastard cared. Maybe more than he let on.
And weirdly enough… that gave me hope.
Chapter 10 – Trial by Fire
It started with screaming.
Not the usual hotel chaos — Angel yelling about a bad hair day, Husk swearing at the slot
machine, or Nifty shrieking about a stain. No, this was different. This was the kind of scream that
vibrated through the walls, sharp and gut-deep, the kind that makes your skin crawl before you
even know what’s wrong.
I bolted out of the lounge, nearly colliding with Vaggie in the hallway. She was already armed,
spear in hand, her face set in that razor-sharp focus she got when she smelled danger.
Then the front doors exploded inward.
White light flooded the lobby — cold, divine, merciless. Figures stepped out of it, wings flaring,
blades gleaming. Angels. Not the sweet kind Charlie used to gush about in her bedtime stories.
No, these ones had the look of executioners.
Exorcists.
Charlie froze in the middle of the room, her hopeful little smile collapsing as they drew their
weapons.
“In the name of Heaven,” the lead one boomed, voice like steel grinding. “This abomination of a
‘hotel’ ends tonight.”
Vaggie was already moving, planting herself between Charlie and the intruders like a goddamn
shield. “Over my dead body.”
I didn’t even think. I grabbed the closest thing I could use as a weapon — a busted lamp off the
table — and squared up beside them. My heart was hammering so loud it drowned out the rest
of the noise. But I wasn’t about to run. Not after everything.
The fight was chaotic. Glass shattered, fire erupted, the air itself seemed to scream. Angel Dust
was firing shots off from the balcony, cursing like a sailor. Husk transformed mid-leap, wings
tearing open as he tackled one of the bastards out of the air. Nifty was a blur of knives and
manic laughter.
But they just kept coming.
One of them broke through the line, blade raised high — straight at Charlie.
Time slowed.
I didn’t think. I just moved. My body slammed into hers, knocking her out of the way as the
angel’s sword carved through the space we’d been standing in. Pain seared across my arm —
hot, burning, wrong. I screamed, but I didn’t let go of Charlie.
“Jewl!” she cried, grabbing me as we stumbled to the ground. Her hands were frantic, glowing
faintly as she tried to heal, but Heaven’s wounds weren’t that simple.
The exorcist raised his weapon again.
Then Vaggie was there.
Her spear drove straight through the angel’s chest, pinning him to the wall with a sound that
rattled the whole building. She stood over him, face twisted in rage, wings flared like a demon
ready to burn the world down.
“Touch her again,” she hissed, voice shaking with fury, “and I’ll rip every fucking feather off your
back.”
The battle raged, but something shifted. The hotel fought like a pack now, like a family. Angel
covering Husk, Husk shielding Nifty, Vaggie and I keeping Charlie safe in the eye of the storm.
When the angels finally retreated, the lobby was wrecked — smoke, glass, blood, feathers. But
we were still standing.
Barely.
Charlie collapsed against me, shaking, tears streaking her face. “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—I
didn’t mean for—”
“Shh,” I rasped, even though my arm was on fire. “You’re okay. We’re okay.”
Vaggie crouched beside us, her hand gripping mine so tight it hurt. Her eyes flicked to the
wound, then to me, and something unspoken passed between us. Fear. Relief. Love.
For the first time, I realized it wasn’t just me trying to belong here. They needed me too.
Chapter 11 – The Heart of Three
The hotel was quiet after the battle. Too quiet. No gunfire, no glass shattering, no Angel Dust
yelling about his makeup in the middle of chaos. Just silence, broken only by the occasional
groan of the broken building settling into its wounds.
I sat on the ruined couch, arm bandaged in makeshift wrappings. It throbbed like hellfire
gnawing on my veins, but I didn’t care. What hurt worse was the look on Charlie’s face — pale,
eyes wide and hollow, like she was breaking from the inside out.
She sat curled up on the floor in front of me, knees to her chest, hands trembling. Vaggie was
right beside her, stroking her hair, whispering words I couldn’t quite hear.
But it wasn’t enough.
Charlie finally choked out, “This is my fault.”
Vaggie’s head snapped up. “The fuck it is.”
Charlie shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “They came because of me. Because I
thought I could change things. Because I dragged all of you into this stupid dream. And now—”
Her voice cracked. “Now Jewl is hurt because of me.”
My chest tightened. “Charlie—”
“No!” she snapped, sudden, raw. Her voice cut through the silence like a blade. “Don’t… don’t
defend me. I almost got you killed. Both of you. I keep trying so hard to make things better and
all I do is—”
Her words dissolved into sobs, and she buried her face in Vaggie’s chest.
Vaggie’s jaw clenched, eyes burning with tears she refused to let fall. She held Charlie tight, but
I could see the cracks forming in her too.
And something inside me just… broke.
I slid down off the couch, ignoring the screaming pain in my arm, and wrapped both of them in
my good one. Pulled them close until we were just a knot of shaking, crying bodies in the middle
of the ruined lobby.
“I don’t give a shit about the wound,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “I don’t care if we have to
fight every angel in the sky. I’m not going anywhere. Not without you. Not without either of you.”
Charlie’s sobs quieted, just enough for her to look up at me. Her eyes were red, wet, desperate.
“You mean that?”
I nodded, pressing my forehead against hers. “I’d bleed for you. For both of you. You’re all I’ve
got down here. You’re all I want.”
Vaggie’s hand slid into mine, her grip fierce, like she was anchoring herself to me. “Same,” she
muttered, voice breaking. “Fuck—same. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost either of you.”
The three of us just stayed like that, tangled together, breathing in sync until the storm inside us
quieted. For the first time in forever, I felt safe. Not because the danger was gone — hell, it was
probably worse than ever — but because in that moment, in that fragile, desperate embrace, we
were unbreakable.
Eventually, exhaustion dragged us down. Charlie fell asleep first, still clutching Vaggie’s shirt like
a lifeline. Vaggie leaned against me, her head heavy on my shoulder, finally letting the tears fall
once she thought no one could see.
I kissed her temple, then Charlie’s hair, whispering into the dark:
“We’re not alone. Not anymore.”
And for once… I believed it.
Chapter 12 – A Home, Not Just a Hotel
The hotel had seen hell—literally—but somehow, in the aftermath, it felt different. Lighter,
warmer, like the walls themselves were finally letting us breathe.
Angel Dust lounged on the balcony, casually flipping off passing demons and cracking jokes
about “emotional trauma hours.” Husk, unsurprisingly, was asleep in the lounge with a
half-empty bottle dangling from his paw. Nifty was cleaning up the remnants of the lobby chaos
like a maniacal whirlwind.
And in the center of it all, the three of us sat together on the couch — Charlie nestled between
Vaggie and me, wrapped in blankets, quiet for once, just listening to the hum of the hotel.
Charlie tilted her head, blinking slowly. “I… I think I finally got it. This hotel—it’s not just a
building. It’s… home. Not because of the walls, or the rules, or even me. But because of you
two. Because of us.”
Vaggie squeezed my hand, leaning her head against mine. “I was starting to wonder if this
dream was worth all the shit it put us through. But looking at you—both of you—I get it now.
This, right here, is why we fight—Why we survive.”
I brushed hair from Charlie’s face. “I feel the same. You guys are… everything I’ve been
missing. The chaos, the pain, the laughter—it all feels right, somehow. You’re my family. My
home.”
Charlie smiled, small but genuine. “And we’re yours. Always.”
The three of us leaned into each other, the world outside fading. The hotel might still be a mess.
Heaven might still be breathing down our necks. The next fight, the next disaster, could be
waiting just around the corner.
But for now… we were together. Safe. Loved.
Angel Dust poked his head in, grin wide. “Awwww, group hug time, huh? Y’all are disgustingly
cute. Not that I’m jealous or anything.”
Husk grunted from his spot on the floor. “Try not to drown in the sap, kiddos.”
We laughed, the sound echoing off the battered walls. For the first time, it didn’t feel like
survival. It felt like… belonging.
And as the three of us drifted off to sleep, tangled together on the couch, the hotel around us
settling into a rare, calm quiet, I realized something:
No matter what Heaven—or Hell—threw at us next, we had each other. And that was enough.
We weren’t just surviving anymore. We were home.
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