You woke up in a completely unfamiliar room.

You sat up with a start, feeling your heart just about explode with fear. This wasn't your bedroom, and it wasn't Nate's either.

You didn't fully remember where you were until after you rubbed your eyes, looked down and saw the worn out, dirty clothes stuck to your skin, and finally glanced to your left and saw Alastor asleep beside you. The memories flowed back to you bit by bit, allowing your nerves to ease more and more by the second. You must be in the hotel room.

You let your eyes wander, taking in your surroundings. The walls were covered in a flimsy layer of red-and-black striped wallpaper, but the carpet was just a simple black material, and it looked like like a starless night sky. The bed was covered in soft white sheets that smelled like laundry detergent. Other than that, nothing about the room was interesting; the air was stale and dusty, and when you took a deep breath, it felt dry in your mouth.

Yawning, you stood up and stretched, feeling your muscles pull as you extended your arms over your head.

"You're awake."

You screamed and jumped forward, immediately ending your peaceful stretching. You swiveled around to face him; Alastor was sitting on the bed where you had been lying down only seconds ago. You were struck with confusion—how had he moved towards you so silently?

"Holy shit," you whispered, looking him over. He had changed into a red button up and dark pants similar to the ones he was wearing yesterday. There was still a bow tie around his neck, but the pinstripe overcoat was missing from his attire. What did you expect? Nobody sleeps with a suit jacket on, not even this mannequin of a demon. "You scared me."

"Jumpy, are we?" Alastor teased, standing. Seeing him extend to his full height reminded you of just how much taller he was than you. The top of your head just barely reached his chest. It made you feel small. Very small.

"Yeah, just a little bit," you said under your breath. Looking up at him now, you realized that you couldn't remember hearing or seeing him enter the room. "Where were you last night? When did you get back?"

"I was out. Doesn't matter where. I got back sometime after you fell asleep."

You pressed your lips together, studying the demon before you. You were about to tell him how annoying he was being when your stomach growled loudly. Very loudly.

The usual grin was on Alastor's face, showing off the sharp fangs in his mouth. "Are you hungry, my dear?" he asked. You flushed with embarrassment.

"Quite," you said with a shy laugh, trying to recover your self confidence. "Are there any good places to get breakfast around here?"

"Oh, plenty! And that shouldn't be a surprise—everyone here always seems to have a hangover. What better way to cure a hangover than consuming calorie-loaded breakfast foods and a mug of bitter caffeine?"

You silently agreed. It wasn't really a surprise to you that the food places down here would be fit to help those with killer hangovers.

"There's a good brunch place down the road," Alastor added. "I think you might enjoy their bacon and pancakes..."

You frowned.

He must have noted that Nate was making you bacon and pancakes the morning you killed those kids, or else he wouldn't have said that. You should be mad at him for trying to reference it, but although the memory of that day made you sick, you were strangely touched by the fact that he remembered such a small detail. "My favorite."

"I know," Alastor affirmed with a clever smile. "I'll pay."

It actually sounded perfect. Breakfast with Alastor. Today was only your second day in hell, and you already felt like this man was going to be by your side for a long time. Of course, it was just a feeling, but who were you to reject what your gut told you?

"Okay," you agreed. "But can I shower first? I didn't have time to last night and, um, I feel really gross."

"Of course you may. Do you want a change of clothes too? We can go grab something new for you to wear before breakfast—if you would like that."

"I would love that," you said.

You turned away and walked to the bathroom, about to enter, then stopped with your hand on the door handle. You turned back around. Alastor was watching you, his eyes luminescent, his hands folded behind his back.

"Is something wrong?" he questioned, tilting his head to the right ever so slightly.

You just shook your head. "No. Never mind."

You entered the bathroom and closed the door gently behind you. You lied; it wasn't nothing. You were about to thank him... for everything. Just the fact that he found you that first day saved you from what damn well could have been a very fucked up experience.

Clearly, you had decided that it was silly and didn't thank him.

After turning the shower on hot, you faced the mirror and got the first good look at yourself for the first time since you died (you didn't really count that time when you looked in the window after talking to Vaggie; your reflection had been too blurry in the window reflection to notice much). Your eyes were still the purple that they had changed into, but they looked far brighter in the bathroom light. They actually looked stunning against your complexion. Your cheeks appeared more sunken than they had days ago—probably because you didn't eat or drink anything yesterday.

You noticed that you were probably dehydrated as ever, so you grabbed a small paper cup off of the bathroom counter and filled it up with sink water. You downed the lukewarm liquid in two long gulps. Although it wasn't particularly cold and tasted like old metal pipes, it was still refreshing as ever. You downed another cup, then proceeded to take your clothes off and get in the shower.

The hot water felt amazing. You ended up sitting down on the shower floor, not caring about how dirty it could be. You brought your knees up to your chest and hugged them close, letting the water run down your back.

The water was so relaxing that you felt like you could just fall asleep right then and there and not wake up again.

☆

The shower nozzle gave an uncomfortable squeak as you turned it back off. Stepping out of the shower, you found a folded towel and took it, wrapping yourself up into a bundle. You shot a quick look at the mirror again, cringing at the condition you were in. So much change in just one day.

You left the steamy bathroom after getting dressed back into your old clothes. The grimy jeans on your legs reminded you of the last day you had spent with Nate, when the two of you were sitting on the couch, watching one of the Star Wars movies. It was late at night, and you could remember snuggling your head into his chest, enjoying the quiet time with the person you loved most. Then you were interrupted by the loud burst of the front door banging open as the man kicked it in.

You wished you could just get over it all. Get over Nate. Get over the fact that you were dead.

You walked out of the bathroom and saw Alastor sitting on the bed, fiddling with his hands. He jerked his head up to look at you.

"Are you ready to leave?" he asked, standing up. His microphone cane suddenly appeared out of thin air, and he snatched it in his hand as if it was nothing.

"Yes."

"Great! Right this way, my dear," Alastor chimed, leading you out of the room. He must have noticed the way your face was quirked in an expression that displayed distant thought. "Are you alright?"

You blinked a few times, staring down at your feet, trying to ignore the sight of the disgusting jeans. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you mumbled. Giving Alastor a weak half smile, you wrapped your hand around his elbow, which was sticking out for you to take. "Let's go."

You left the hotel together, but not after returning your room key.

☆

"Where am I going to stay tonight?" you wondered out loud, watching the sidewalk pass beneath your feet as you walked.

"You may stay with me, if you would like to. But I must tell you that Vaggie probably wouldn't approve," Alastor offered with a grin.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on! I mean that you can stay with me. In my house."

"Really?" You looked over at the demon hopefully.

"Of course. What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't offer your poor, homeless soul a place to stay?" He then looked down at you as if you should think twice about your decision.

You paused, looking up at him. A serial killer.

"You won't kill me, right?" you asked him.

"I don't know, will I?"

"No, you won't."

"Is that so?" he chuckled.

"Yeah."

"Well, congratulations! As our grand prize winner, you are correct!" He grinned. Charming. "I do not, in fact, wish to kill you. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done so already."

The two of you approached a small, quaint store with large windows on either side of a scrawny glass door. There was a sign in the center of one of the windows that read, "SHOP CLOTHES HERE" in big blue letters. You could see some of the things they had for sale; black lacy dresses, mini jean skirts, ratchet chokers, graphic tee shirts.

Alastor lead you into the shop. Once you were inside, you could see the pieces of clothing more clearly. As your eyes were searching the place for something to pick, Alastor leaned down to tell you something. "Chose anything you would like. Remember, I'm paying."

You quickly found a short (F/C) dress and yanked it off the rack. You showed Alastor, who said, "If you like it, my dear, then I like it too."

You tried it on—it fit you perfectly. You also snatched up a pair of black boots that suited the dress well.

Alastor bought the clothes, and you changed into them in the dressing room. You discarded the old clothes by throwing them in an alley way.

"Wow! Look at you, you're stunning!" Alastor offered after the two of you had began walking to the breakfast place. You blushed—and secretly hated yourself for it—but thanked him anyway.

Once you got to the restaurant, Alastor let you chose a small table by the window for the two of you to sit. The building smelled like coffee grounds and cigarette smoke. There were some demons sitting by themselves, slouched over steaming cups of hot liquid, but there were others sitting in quiet groups of two, chatting in hushed tones.

After you and Alastor were seated, you caught one pair of demons eyeing the two of you from a nearby table apprehensively. One of them was a man who looked like an old goat, in a way. He had dirty blonde hair and goat horns that curled around the side of his head, with droopy facial features that made him look tired. The girl across from him had light green, scaly skin, and a dark mass of navy blue hair atop her head. They looked away when you made a disgusted face at them.

You wondered why they had been watching you. Was it because of Alastor? When you looked back over at your friend, he seemed to be observing you rather than the other demons nearby.

"I have a question," you stated abruptly, making his eyes widen.

"I have an answer."

You cleared your throat. When you started talking again, you made sure to keep your voice quiet so that nobody else would hear. Not that you were trying to be secretive or anything... but still. "Do a lot of people, uh, know who you are?"

"I would think so," Alastor said, glancing around the room as if your question made him uncomfortable. "You know all about my reputation! I am sure many others do too."

Well, that probably explained the looks. Would hanging out with Alastor make people think differently of you? Did you even care if they did?

Just then, a woman with a large bust stopped at the edge of your table with a pad of paper and a pencil in her hand. She was wearing a baby blue tee shirt that tucked into a simple black pencil skirt at her waist. She leaned on her hip, raising a thin black eyebrow at you. "What would you like?" she snapped.

You ordered buttermilk pancakes with bacon. Alastor ordered nothing but a glass of orange juice, something you never expected him to like.

"Orange juice?" you teased after the waitress had left with your order.

Alastor frowned, but didn't let his grin fade away. "Is there something wrong with orange juice?" You could tell by the tone of his voice that he was joking along with you.

"No, I just expected you to be more of the black-coffee kind of guy."

"Who says I'm not?" he retorted. "And I expected you be completely unnerved about the fact that you're eating breakfast with a serial killer, and yet here you are."

"I have no problem with you being a crazy killer maniac or whatever," you remarked, leaning back against the seat and looking down at your hands, which were sitting idly in your lap.

"Fantastic," Alastor said. "And I love orange juice." You looked back up at him, and his whole face perked up when you did. Honestly, he looked like a deer in headlights, but with a sly grin to go along with it.

The waitress came back quickly, a black tray containing your order balanced carefully in one hand. She gave you the pancakes and Alastor his juice. "Enjoy," she grumbled before walking away.

"Hey, why didn't you get anything to eat?" you asked before taking a bite of pancake. It tasted like heaven in your mouth.

Alastor shrugged. "I'm not hungry."

You just giggled and devoured your meal.