Biggest Fears and Whiskey Tears
“So… you knew, this whole time? About all of us, about everything?" Charlie’s voice sounded hurt, but Stitches couldn’t bring herself to look up. She had been staring at the floor since she began telling them about… well, not everything, but the main points. That she was from another world, died, and woke up here, in the world of her favorite cartoon series. That she had been a fangirl, who idolized them and memorized all the details about their lives, their backgrounds, their hopes, and dreams. That she had known who they were and had used that information to her advantage, to find a safe space here. That she had been lying to them this whole time.
So all she could do was hang her head and nod slowly.
“I can’t fucking believe this!” Angel Dust’s voice cracked, his crying evident. “Was anything real, or were you just lying and manipulating us to care about you?!”
Stitches whipped her head up at this, staring into his eyes. All the warmth and care was gone from his eyes, replaced by hurt and distrust. No… No! “It was real, I swear!” she felt tears finally start to flow. “I wasn’t pretending the relationships, or what we shared, I just wasn’t telling you that I already knew stuff-”
“And what, Brandi, I am just supposed to believe you, after finding this out?!” Angel’s face was contorted in rage. At her, at her lies, at her… stupidity. Him saying her name had been such a salve on her heart for months now, made her feel sheltered and safe, a little secret between siblings. But now, he was wielding it as a weapon, stabbing her with it, severing all ties with it. Breaking the bond.
She slowly looked at the others. All of them were looking at her with the same pain, distrust, and anger. Even Lucifer was sitting stoic in the corner, his eyes cold and narrow, as though she was on trial. Only Alastor hadn’t changed his attitude towards her, leaning on his cane and ignoring the whole thing as he inspected his claws. He had known the whole time, of course, but he wasn’t helping her as she had assumed he would. No, she had made this mess herself, and he had no obligation to give her a hand.
She was alone now.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It’s over. She willed her tears to stop flowing, drew herself up to her full height, and put back on the mask she wished she had never taken off. No, in fact, she made it stronger, tighter, devoid of all emotion, inside and out. She opened her eyes, locking away her heart. She would never show it to them again.
“I cannot convince you otherwise,” she deadpanned, her voice cold and flat to even her own ears. “I ask to be allowed to stay the night, as it is late, and then I will leave before you awake. I won’t trouble you again.”
Charlie’s eyes went wide, and then she shook her head, her expression softening, if only by a fraction. “You have nowhere to go, and this is a place for second chances. I own this hotel, and I want you to stay. I just… Can you give us some time to think about this? Maybe stay in your room for a bit? We will bring you food and stuff, so you won’t have to come out at all…”
So, house arrest. She’s too kind to kick me out, but she also doesn’t want me to cause trouble. Got it.
Stitches bowed her head to her. “As you wish, Princess Morningstar. I shall go there now.” Cold, robotic, like her heart now had to be.
She couldn’t remember leaving the room or the walk back to her own. She vaguely felt herself lock the door, kick off her shoes, and lay down on the bed, hands folded over her stomach, eyes to the ceiling. Outside, acid rain poured down, and the eerie darkness of Hell was only interrupted by flashes of lightning as the storm raged outside. But it could not compare to what raged in her heart, her mind, her very soul.
She felt the tears falling again, now that she was alone, and she started to fall apart. She threw her hands over her face and rolled to her side, making herself into a tight ball as the pain and sorrow finally hit her with full force. She let go of what little self-control she had left, and screamed, letting herself fall into the despair as she sobbed.
“FUCK!”
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The staff room had fallen into silence, with only the occasional sniffle or growl from someone, as everyone tried to process what they had just learned. Alastor watched them fall apart with vague interest, but his mind was several floors above them, where the young woman was surely crying herself to sleep. He had wanted to break her, to make her release what was inside, and that is why he had stayed silent. Surely, she would explode from the abandonment and loss she was facing, as all her new little friends turned on her. He had waited, watching, ready to revel in the sight of her darkness. But what had happened instead had shocked him.
She had completely shut down. For the first time in months, her eyes had gone cold and guarded. No, this was different. Her whole being had altered. Not even her body language gave a hint as to what she was thinking or feeling. It was as though, in that moment she closed her eyes and breathed, she had flipped a switch and just turned off, no longer alive, just a body going through the motions.
His ears went back flat against his head. She wasn’t just breaking, cracking in a way that would unlock her true potential and reveal the secrets she didn’t even know she had. Rather… She was broken. Shattered. Unrepairable. It made him feel… He shook his head. Either she would pull herself together and he could try another tactic, or she would give up. If it was the latter, then he would just find something else to preoccupy himself with. She was only as good as the entertainment she could provide, and at this moment, she would make drying paint a joy.
“Bellhop, meet me in the hallway,” Lucifer growled, just loud enough for him to hear, walking past him and out the door. Alastor rolled his eyes at the short king’s audacity to order him about, but his tone was piquing his interest, so he followed anyway.
Once in the hallway, Lucifer opened a portal, to what looked like a room made of stone. His castle? He motioned for Alastor to step through, which he shrugged his shoulders and obliged, if for no more reason than curiosity. How often could one claim to have been inside the home of Hell's greatest family? What could the pint-sized monarch want to keep private, so much so that he was willing to take his rival into his own home?
The portal closed behind them as Alastor observed his surroundings. It looked like a workshop of some sort, with walls covered in pictures of the Morningstar family, and floors covered in mountains of rubber ducks. He scoffed as he picked up the nearest one, squeezing it slowly so it let out a desperate, haunting
ssssssqqqqqqquuuuuueeeeeaaaaaakkkkk
before tossing it back onto the mound. He turned to see Lucifer watching him, his tail and horns out, but his eyes were normal, and his wings were still not out. He looked like a wild animal, deciding his next move. It was a delightful sight, to be sure, but as intoxicating as it was to behold, his curiosity demanded satisfaction.
“So, this is what the great King of Hell calls home, hmm?~” Alastor purred at him, gesturing to the gaudy and messy room. “I must say, you really should hire an interior decorator and maid to help with the… hmm… How many ducks must one own before it transitions from a collection to a hoarding problem?”
Lucifer growled. “We are not here to discuss my home. I just don’t want the others to overhear this conversation. They are going through enough at the moment.”
Alastor tilted his head to the side. “Oh? What could our conversation possibly be about that would make Stitches’ little reveal any worse?”
“CUT THE SHIT!” Lucifer roared, flying in and grabbing him, pushing him into a wall, his wings unfurling and flapping so he was the same height; a flame appearing between his horns, and his eyes blood red. “I KNOW you knew. You fucking KNEW.”
Alastor narrowed his eyes. “Did I?” he hissed. Is this meant to intimidate me, or is he really this poor at keeping his temper in check?
Lucifer punched the wall next to his head, the stone crumbling into dust. Alastor felt a drop of sweat going down his neck. Fear? Perhaps. But also, seeing Lucifer like this, full of rage and throwing his power around. It was exciting. A challenge, one could say, and with someone who had the raw power to annihilate or save, according to his whims. A creature who was far his better, and yet, who he would give anything to truly fight with. It thrilled him as nothing else in his life, human or demon, had ever come close to.
“You knew where Stitches came from,” Lucifer hissed through his teeth, “and that she knew about all of us from what was a fictional show in her world. You knew all of this, but you said nothing. Why?”
Alastor heard something in his tone shit at the last part, and his ears twitched as he came to a realization. “You… are not angry with her? How…”
Lucifer froze. His eyes went back to gold sclera, his demon form fading, and he flew back a bit, enough to land and stand in front of him, his wings wrapped around his shoulders slightly, in a comforting protective motion. He stood there silently, watching Alastor for a moment, something indecipherable in his eyes.
“Why would I be mad at her?” he asked, his voice sounding hurt at the mere suggestion.
Alastor was stunned. “She lied, hid who she was and what she knew. She knows intimate secrets about you, your family, your realm. She could have been faking everything this whole time for all you know, manipulating everyone, including your daughter, for whatever purpose she desired.” He paused, before deciding to continue. “Is that not enough of a reason?” he asked quietly.
Lucifer pulled his wings closer and fidgeted with some of the feathers, looking away from him, refusing to meet his eyes. “I…” Lucifer sighed, running his hands through his hair. “I know I have a reason to be, and I know I probably should be upset.” His hands slid behind his neck and he looked at the ceiling. “But all I can think about is how scared she looked tonight. How severe her breakdown was on her first day. How her face lit up when we would cook together. How her eyes have slowly gotten softer and she’s opened up to everyone. How melancholy she looks when she thinks no one is watching, when she is remembering something about her past. How her visible scars are nowhere as deep as the ones in her heart. How…” He swallowed and hugged himself, his eyes closed and his head down. “How much I love her, and just want her to be happy.”
Alastor watched him silently cry, tears running down his face. The Devil himself, crying over a Sinner, caring so much about her that his heart ached when she was in distress. She had lied to him and betrayed his trust, and all he could see was her pain. Like a parent would a child, like how he usually behaved with Charlie...
“You already see her as a daughter, don’t you?” Alastor’s static spiked for a moment. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Lucifer just laughed sadly, rubbing his eyes, as he looked up at him.
“Yeah, I have since that day we made waffles. The moment she opened up to me, let me comfort her, allowed me to see her as the raw and pained child she is inside…” He smiled, sadly, but it was so soft and warm, pride and love reaching all the way to his eyes. “I would gladly call her mine.”
“God’s most beautiful son.”
Alastor turned away, trying to get a hold of himself, fiddling with another duck mountain until the heat in his face went away. To give Lucifer a moment to pull himself together. When he turned back around, Lucifer had cleaned himself up, his wings gone, and was standing up straighter, arms crossed, lost in thought as he stared at a painting of his family.
“Well~” Alastor mused. “I suppose there is no stopping such sentiments once they are already there. However, we both know that our dear Stitches has already started receding into herself. No doubt she believes everyone hates her. How do you propose we go about fixing this?”
Lucifer raised an eyebrow, skepticism written all over his face. “‘We?’” he repeated.
“But of course!” Alastor gestured with a flourish. “After all, I am invested in her, if you will recall. She may not have responded to this setback the way I hoped, but I have faith it will show itself eventually! I may be a lowly Sinner, but patience is one virtue I have always found quite easy to adhere to.”
Lucifer didn’t move, and oh, it was satisfying to watch the gears turning in that little head of his. Would he admonish him for still wanting to draw out the darkness in her soul? Perhaps tell him to "fuck off" and leave his pseudo-offspring alone? It was always a guessing game about how this silly little man would respond. Finally, surprisingly, Lucifer nodded and created a portal to the hotel. “Our first task is convincing the others to give her a second chance. We can’t get her to come back out of her shell until she can feel safe and loved again.”
“An excellent deduction, Your Majesty.”
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The staff room was in chaos as Lucifer and Alastor stepped back inside. Everyone had finally started recovering from the initial shock, and now they were all arguing about what to do. Some still had tears running down their faces, while others were throwing insults and screaming at the top of their lungs. The storm outside was nothing compared to the chaos in that room.
“I say we throw the broad out. Who knows what she knows? How do we even know she is on our side, or if she will turn on us the minute something better comes along?” Husker growled.
“She wouldn’t do that!!” Charlie screamed back, her demonic features sliding on in anger. “She made a mistake, but I truly believe she meant no harm-”
“No fuckin’ HARM?” Angel spat out, his eyes streaming with tears. “She fuckin’ hid EVERYTHIN’ from us, and PRETENDED to be our friend! She’s a motherfuckin’ fangirl, Charlie! Ya even know what that means? I bet she read a lotta weird smut about all of us, probably even WROTE some!”
“Ew, fuck, Angel! Shut up!” Vaggie growled, though she was obviously uncomfortable at the thought of it.
“Ya know I’m right!” Angel shot back, before looking at Charlie again. “Do ya really think we can EVE’ look at her the same way again?”
“Stitches didn’t like me?” Niffty sobbed, clinging to the top of Cherri’s head. Cherri patted her, but was otherwise not paying much attention to her.
“Well, I say we gotta keep her here, regardless,” Cherri huffed. “Who knows what she knows, and she said she even knows about future events, right? What if we let her go and some other bloke gets their claws on her? She could help our enemies or cause fuck who knows what kind of damage. Just lock her in her room and we'll all forget about her-”
“Enough!” Lucifer yelled, smacking his cane into the floor. Everyone was startled and turned to stare at him. Usually, he would feel awkward, but in this case, he had more concerning matters. A wayward daughter to save. “I get everyone is feeling overwhelmed, but this is NOT how we treat friends.”
“But she-”
“Yes, Angel, she fucked up. Big time. You are not wrong to be angry. Hell, even I was while she was explaining. But not at her.” He took a deep breath. “I was angry because I let my pride get in the way. I thought all I had to do was support her and be there for her, that me being there would be enough for her to let her walls down and open up. And in a way, it was. But I didn’t stop to consider what she may actually need to be asked.” He looked around the room. “Did anyone of you try to get her to talk? Not just about her current state of being, but her past? Did you once try to get her to dive deeper than a passing anecdote or an offered memory? To show her you cared about where she came from, who she was?”
Everyone looked down, shuffling uneasily. Lucifer sighed and continued, his voice gentler. “We all have secrets, notice things about each other that we don’t comment on. All of us have a past, and some of those things are not cool, so we bury them. We ignore them, try to forget them, and bottle them up. Because if we can just distance ourselves from them, then maybe… maybe they won’t hurt us anymore.” His Fall flashed into his mind.
“Maybe all she was trying to do was move on and start over,” he whispered.
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*
Stitches applied another bandage to her thigh, wincing at the sting. She took another swig of whiskey from the bottle that Husker had gifted her a few weeks ago, that had remained unopened in her desk. But tonight seemed like as good a time to break the seal as any. She was calmer now, her negative thoughts and emotions having been released down the tub drain with her blood. She reached down and picked up the razor blade, cleaned and dried it, and then hid it under the bathroom sink.
*
What no one knows can’t hurt them, and I will never tell. Not that they would even care.
Stitches stumbled back to bed, cradling the half-drank bottle of whiskey to her chest, like a lifeline, her old friend, come to comfort her for the first time in a very long time. And she could always find more.