Hazbin Trashcan

Never Without

Initially, he’d found himself relatively calm. There wasn’t much to be bothered about; things would go smoothly. She was in the best of hands.

Ah, that was until she started screaming.

He’d been on the other side of the hotel at that time. Even though it was years later, his optimistic mate had kept trying her damnest to redeem whatever souls found themselves at their door. She’d been lucky enough to save a handful; this spurred her on.

The air was heavy; some mix of emotions and stress that he wasn’t too familiar with. He’d been busy fussing with some of the minor details of the room; it had to be up to his standard in order for it to be functional. He was in the process of centering one of the framed photos on the wall when the initial wail broke through the air. His heart stuttered.

Now, Alastor was a man used to hearing screaming. It was a normal sound to him, one that sent his blood racing and a wicked grin spreading across his cheeks. It usually meant he was about to have a good meal, a full stomach; these screams sent ripples of shock down his spine and goosebumps trailing up his arms.

He fled the room, making sure the door was firmly shut before heading across the hotel. Any stray demons that were in the hallway parted for him; if they didn’t, they knew he would mindlessly fling them against whatever surface they hit first. Most of them could hear the screaming and knew the reason why; his mate was still very active in the rehabilitation process even when he’d tried to tell her to remain in their room for her safety. She’d scoffed; he wasn’t in charge of her and he wouldn’t ever be.

When Alastor neared the door that led to the small infirmary that the hotel endorsed, he came to a quick stop. Someone was in the way; someone didn’t move for him to go in and see –

“Hey, hold up, you can’t go in there.”

He stopped, mind clearing. It was just Vaggie, stood in front of the infirmary door with her arms crossed and a glare set on her face. He idly wondered for a second if the glare she wore was her natural setting; he wasn’t sure he really ever saw her have any other emotion when around him.

Before he could answer, she spoke again, “It just hurts, alright? She’ll be fine. It happens.”

Alastor’s grin widened, moving his arms behind his back and holding them there, standing straight up, “I’d like to see Charlie, thank you. You won’t stand in my way.” His eyes darkened, just the faintest glow of his dials appearing.

Vaggie sighed and did her best to ignore the rapidly darkening demon in front of her. When the static grew to be unbearable, she glared at him once more before moving out of the way.

Alastor snapped his head back upright, calming himself quickly and grabbing onto the control he had spent decades exercising. Another scream tore through the air and his eyes widened; this scream was not pleasurable in the slightest. He stepped past Vaggie, who eyed him carefully as he entered the room where his mate was.

She was near the back of the room itself, standing next to one of the cots. There was a doctor nearby; one of the best in all of Pentagram City. Alastor, of course, did not trust him near his mate, though someone had to help her through this. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. There was no one else in the room.

He watched as she rocked her hips, holding tightly onto one of the handles that was on the cot. Her face was contorted into something he couldn’t quite describe; eyes closed and lips parted enough that she could cry out. Alastor was then hit with the strong realization that he had absolutely no idea what to do; he had never believed he’d be put in this situation.