More and more demons were coming out of their apartment complexes, some walking and others driving to one of the multiple nightclubs, trap houses, bars, or strip clubs that lined the streets.

Most buildings were bustling with people, and they were loud. As you and Vaggie were passing one bar, you heard a loud crash that sounded like glass shattering come from inside. You turned and saw, from behind the non-existent safety of the window, a big man with metal gloves beating a scrawnier man to a pulp on the ground. A drunken crowd had surrounded them in a tight circle, cheering. The crashing sound was coming from a separate group of demons in the same building that were recklessly throwing empty bottles across the room. You took a long breath and suddenly the air around you felt too hot.

Vaggie hadn't said a single word to you yet. The silence was making the extrovert inside of you wild. You wanted to say something, anything to make conversation, but you had to idea what to say to her. She was still like a stranger to you.

Eventually, Vaggie stopped as you came across an old abandoned convenience store. The windows had been bashed in and the sills were left with nothing but small, jagged remains of glass. Someone had placed a metal bench in front of the store, and based on the rustic, beat-up look of it, it had been sitting outside for quite some time.

"Let's stop here," Vaggie said, sitting down on the bench. Her fingers clenched around the edge of the seat, as if she had to be ready to get up and run at any second. Her posture made you nervous, but you sat beside her nonetheless.

"So. Alastor," you began after a minute, looking at your thumbs as you twirled them around each other in circles.

Vaggie cut right to the point. "He's known as the Radio Demon. He died as a radio show host and infamous serial killer back in 1933, and ever since then his gigantic ego has made him dysfunctional. He has great power, power so great that it can topple overlords. He uses his power and manipulation skills to get revenge on anyone he seeks out, killing anyone and anything in his path," she says, her voice low and sharp. "He thinks that he can take advantage of Charlie... ese maldito pinchazo... but I know! I know about his past and if he thinks for one second that I'm going to let him keep up with his shit, I'll rip his pencil head clean off his body." Vaggie was frowning, a look of passionate hatred covering her face. The anger was so strong it practically radiated from her body.

You thought you heard her say something in Spanish, but you ignored it. The fact that Alastor was some crazy super-powered killer was a little more pressing than the language she spoke in. "Then why did Charlie say he was helping you guys?"

"Because she doesn't understand. She's actually friends with the guy, because she believes that, no matter what happened in his past, he's different now. She thinks everyone can become a better person if they really want to. That's what the hotel is all about," Vaggie explained, her words heavy. "But he hasn't changed, at least not much, and I'm know he's planning something against us. I can feel it. He's a piece of chewed up rat shit."

You thought about what she had said about the 'Radio Demon'. About his past and how he used to be a serial killer and all that. Vaggie had a strong voice; when she was talking, her self-assured confidence was persuasive enough to convince a crowd of happy mothers to kill their children. A gruesome, yet true statement.

So you believed her when she said he was horrible. You knew something was off about him from the moment you locked eyes with him and noticed that the smile on his face never completely left, but, then again, everything was somehow off down here.

"Then... why is he helping you—er—saying that he is?" You brushed a lock of hair behind your ear and looked at Vaggie.

She blinked, her long eyelashes batting like feathers. "Pfft, I don't know. Some malicious reason. He never tells anyone about his little schemes. If he told anyone, he would just be revealing his secrets and ruining everything for himself."

"So you're really sure he's not actually just helping you?"

Vaggie then looked at you like you had just sprouted three new heads. "Yes, I'm sure! Christ almighty, are you deaf? Did you not hear any of the words I just said?"

"No, no, I heard you," you mumbled, averting your gaze away from her. The air went quiet again, and you let it stay that way. At least, until something else entirely popped up into your head. "Can I ask you something?"

"Depends," she said, looking down at her fingernails, pretending to be careless.

"About Charlie."

Vaggie looked up at you then. She gave you a once-over, scanning your entire body up and down with her one wide eye. When she finally met your gaze, she looked exhausted. "Well? Spill."

"I was wondering... Alastor told me that she's the daughter of Lucifer. Is that true?" You leaned forward a little bit, your muscles relaxing. You were starting to feel more comfortable around Vaggie—not by a lot, but still, progress was being made.

Vaggie nodded. "Yeah. Hard to believe, right?"

You ignored her question, since it was probably rhetorical, and looked back down at your Converse, your mind spinning with more unasked questions. "Is he, oh, how do I phrase this, as evil as people think?"

"Lucifer? Um, yes," she said, like it was the stupidest question you could have asked. "He doesn't look like your average idea of Satan, though. He looks like Charlie, kind of. Any better questions you have?"

You paused. Why do I look human?"

Vaggie actually smirked at that, then responded to your question with one of her own. "Have you looked at yourself yet?"

Your heart skipped a beat. Did you look different?

Vaggie must have seen the shock in your face because she began to laugh. "I'm fucking with you. You don't look that different, what—hey, where are you going?"

You were already up and running back toward the hotel before you heard any more of her words. A mirror. You needed a mirror. Or anything reflective. A piece of light glinted off of a surface to your left, and you turned to face a massive square window. Perfect.

You skidded to a stop on the sidewalk, swiveled toward the window and stared at the reflection that glared at you from the other side. You did look normal, except for the fact that the irises of your eyes were purple rather than their usual dull (E/C). You didn't react, just took a deep breath. Okay. That's alright, you told yourself, touching your cheek lightly. Not too bad. Pretty cool, actually.

But then you did scream. Not because of your eyes, though. You screamed when you opened your mouth and found yourself staring at a sharp row of stark-white fangs.

You felt the fuzzy feeling rush back to your head and forced yourself to sit down. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, pressing your spine against the exterior bricks of the building. At first, you tried to think of happy things to soothe your nerves, but there were no happy things to think about. So you curled your knees up to a chest, wrapped your arms around them, and sat your head inside.

I have fangs, you thought. Just to see how it would feel, you touched your tongue to the tip of your tooth. There was a small pinching sensation. Why would I have fangs?

You were so sucked into your own thoughts that you didn't hear him approach. You felt him, though, when he reached over and smacked the top of your head.

"Ow." You lifted your head, then gasped at the sight of Alastor's smiling face only inches away from your own. He was crouched down beside you, leaning forward into your personal space. "You scared me," you muttered.

"I know." He stood quickly, then jerked out a hand to help you up. You sighed and reluctantly took his gloved hand, feeling the smoothness of the fabric in your palm. "A pleasure to see you again, (Y/N)."

Once you were standing, you brushed dust off the back of your legs and felt the crushing feeling that had been spreading through your body from your core begin to fade away. As you were about to ask Alastor what he was doing there, you began to hear footsteps coming from nearby. You looked around, then saw Vaggie. You almost forgot about her. Immediately dropping Alastor's hand, you turned to face her, but you weren't ready for the look on her face. Her scowl was so hot (not sexy hot, but angry-to-the-point-of-burning hot) you thought it might actually set your head on fire.

"You little snake," she snapped, and for a second, you thought she was talking to you, but she was in fact insulting Alastor. "Get out of here, before I slit your throat. Were you eavesdropping?"

"No, of course not. I only came to get this lovely lady—" he gestured at you, "—because I have one last thing to show her! You cut our tour a little short," he said, his static-like voice cackling. "So why don't you get out of here?"

Vaggie shot you a look. "You're on your own."

She huffed one last time before whirling around and stomping away, surely headed for the hotel. You followed her with your eyes until you couldn't see her among the buildings and cars and streetlamps anymore.

On the other hand, Alastor completely ignored the hostility Vaggie threw at him, and only looked smug after she stormed off. "Charlie was kind enough to lend us a one-night stay at her hotel," he said, his voice suddenly softer than usual. He tucked a finger under your chin and lifted your face so it was lined up with his, drawing you nearer. At first, it made you uncomfortable, but your unease quickly settled. He smelled like smoke, wood and moss, like a cozy, summer night campfire. You hated to admit it, but the smell drew you in. It made you want to wrap your arms around his torso and hold him tight, drinking in his natural scent. It reminded you of... life. It was intoxicating. "But before we go back there, I have something special to show you."

"Okay—" You caught yourself, then felt your lips close, open, and close again before you stopped trying to talk altogether. You thought about what Vaggie had just finished telling you, about how dangerous Alastor was. All the stuff she told you about his past... it wasn't something you just wanted to overlook, of course. Then, in the middle of your train of thought, your brain halted— "Wait, did you just say, a hotel room for us? As in, both of us?"

"Of course. I'll be spending the night with you, my love."

You stuttered for a good minute before you finally managed to get out some actual words. "But... I hardly know you." It wasn't entirely true. You knew everything Vaggie had told you.

"You will know me eventually, my love." His voice was practically a hum. His smile had dimmed to a less harsh level, but it was still there, effervescent as always, and he leaned closer to you, but just by a little bit.

You felt your head begin to shake, side to side, telling him no, but he didn't take it. Regardless of your nonverbal protests, he grabbed your hand, winked, then began to lead you down the road and through the busy, glowing city.