What Was I Made For?

Haunted

Chapter Twenty-One: Haunted

Haunted- Evanescence

-ONE YEAR LATER-

Angel Dust reclined on a celestial cloud, its ethereal softness a stark contrast to the decadent cushions of the hotel. His eyes, once accustomed to the crimson hues of Hell, now absorbed the serene palette of Heaven. The golden glow enveloped him, casting a warm embrace over the redeemed demon.

In the heavenly expanse, Angel felt a bittersweet nostalgia for the turbulent days in Hell. The memories of Husk in the early days of their love, their laughter, and the shared trials seemed like flickering images on the canvas of his consciousness. His clawed fingers traced invisible patterns in the celestial clouds, an unconscious echo of the velvet far beneath him where the hotel lay somewhere in the darkness.

He thought of Charlie when she still seemed like a girl and not a woman, and of Alastor, and their darling daughter, Angel's unofficial niece, Bella. Her growth rate was unprecedented, though it did seem to be slowing down, somewhat. And, though she was only one, she looked three... maybe older in the actual lithe shape of her body, there was little that was toddler-like about her. She could speak, walk, run... and that voice of hers, the voice of a siren amplified by her father's radio powers.

The heavenly city sprawled before him, its streets of gold and shimmering architecture reflecting the serenity that now encapsulated his existence. Yet, amid the celestial splendor, Angel found himself yearning for the gruff warmth of Husk back in heaven waiting for his work week in hell to be over, who had become his anchor in the tumult of redemption. Angel Dust had never thought he would be... where he was. Both literally and figuratively. He was an ambassador for heaven for Christ's sake, he used to be a porn star for crying out loud.

As the honorary Overlord and ambassador for Heaven, Angel Dust reveled in the divine responsibilities bestowed upon him. But, in the quiet recesses of his celestial dwelling, a whisper of longing echoed through the heavenly corridors. He yearned for the days when Husk, Nifty, Cherry Charlie, and Alastor had all been together, even if everything was always in chaos, laughter had resonated in the hotel lobby, unaware that the echoes of that laughter had transcended the boundaries of Hell.

With a sigh that resonated through the heavenly realms, Angel Dust spread his iridescent wings and descended from the clouds, back to the realm he had once called home. The yearning for the familiar chaos and the camaraderie of his friends weighed on him like a crown of stardust.

*Flashback's Begin*

*Three months after the Coronation*

Shadows clawed at the edges of the room as another day succumbed to the creeping night. Husk's silhouette, hunched and weary, was barely discernible in the dimming light that fought its way through the grime-streaked window. He shifted on the frayed armchair, its springs protesting under his weight—a discordant symphony for an audience of one. His hand trembled slightly as he brought the faded photograph closer, the faces smiling back at him from a happier time.

The half-empty whiskey bottle on the floor caught the dying light, casting amber reflections onto the litter-strewn carpet. Husk's gaze drifted from the photograph to the bottle, then back again, as if the two were points on a map charting his downfall. The acrid scent of stale alcohol clung to the air, a pungent reminder of countless nights spent trying to drown memories that refused to sink.

The smile of his beloved spider in the photograph caught his eye, bright and full of angelic life. Husk let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, his chest heavy with sorrow that had settled in his bones. Angel was working, had been working... that was all either of them ever fucking did anymore was work, Husk took a long drink, trying to wash away the guilt he could not let go.