When I was younger, I used to love the smell of freshly cut grass. Back in the "normal" world, with my family and neighbors around me, eating hotdogs at a Fourth of July party, the smell of grass made me happy because it resembled summer. Pool parties, potato chips, and running around outside without shoes, the wind flowing through my long hair like a drawn-out whisper.

But now, the smell of dew hanging off the grass mingling with the pungent scent of smoke makes my stomach feel like it's going to turn inside out and come pouring out of my throat.

Two seconds after I said 'hello' to Alastor, he grabbed my wrist and yanked me out of the room where Charlie's office party was being thrown, with total disregard for my comfort. All the while he was leading me out of the hotel and out to the back, I was thinking about how much I wanted to kick his ass.

But now, with his wide, red eyes exploring my face, and his sly, sharp smile, I don't want to kick his ass. I want to... I don't know. Maybe I do want to kick his ass. I can't tell anymore.

"What do you want," I spit, trying to hide the fluster in my voice, although I'm sure that if he didn't hear it in my voice, he saw it in the blush on my face.

"Well-" Alastor begins, then stops, his smile fading for just a second, but long enough for me to notice. He looks off to the side, then back at me before regaining his posture and starting again. This is the first time I've ever seen him look... not totally put together. Something is bothering him, I think. I can see it in the way his smile momentarily dims every few seconds and the way his eyes keep flickering back and forth. "I need you to tell me what they told you. Everything. Even if they didn't tell you much. Tell me what they know. About me."

I stare up at him for a few seconds, then swallow the last remaining hint of fear in my voice. "Charlie will kill you."

"She doesn't have the heart to do it," Alastor drawls before chuckling deeply.

I frown, trying my best not to show how unnerved I am. "Then Vaggie will."

One of his eyebrows cocks up. "She can't. Trust me."

I doubt that.

Alastor takes my silence as an invite, reaching one slender hand up to my face to brush a bit of my hair back behind my ear. The way his eyes thin heartlessly as he leans closer to me makes bile rise from my stomach into my throat. The air around us feels stale and dry, like it's slowly suffocating me, breath by breath until the life is finally sucked out of me. His hands return to their position behind his back, and he straightens a bit, but does not back away.

"They took you to the pool room, didn't they."

My heart skips a beat. How does he know about the room? Vaggie and Charlie claimed that it was there little "secret space", and that nobody but them knew about it.

Knowing Alastor, I don't think twice about the fact that his creepy ass self found a way to worm himself into even this situation. And the precautions Vaggie took to kidnap me, take me all the way to their hideout, call Husk and make him drive me all the way back... how did Alastor look past it all? How did he know everything?

"It wasn't hard to figure out," he began to explain himself, as if he read my whirling thoughts. "I mean, sure, there are plenty of people in hell that would want to kidnap a gorgeous girl like you, but to disguise themselves? Crime has no meaning here. They would have no reason to hide their identities... unless they were hiding from someone like me."

He pauses, letting his words sink in. I take a deep breath, in through my nose and out through my mouth. His explanation makes me angry, but I'm not sure why. Maybe because I don't know what he wants from me. He goes to all these lengths to capture me, mess with my emotions with his manipulation and skilled reasoning, but for what?

I can feel my patience withering away like a piece of paper being held above a raging flame.

I'm so fucking sick and tired of this. All of this bullshit where I am used like a pawn, where Alastor and Vaggie and Charlie and whoever the fuck else thinks they can take me wherever they want, tell me anything they want and force me to believe it, make me do things for their own benefit. I am so goddamn sick of it! The rage festering inside of my gut feels like a gallon of boiling water, ready to come jetting out of my mouth in the form of words laced with anger and hate. I just want my life to go back to normal, without all of the demons everywhere, without the whole shit-show of it all.

I want my family, and staring at this red-eyed sicko who calls himself Alastor only makes me angrier.

"No, actually," I say, trying hard to hold the unnatural fury inside of me. "They didn't take me to the pool house. You know where they took me? They took me to fucking candy land. And they gave me a lollipop and braided my hair and told me that everything would go back to normal soon enough. Oh wait... no they didn't. They did kidnap me and take me to the pool room! But you know what?" I stop, take a breath, then continue, "I am tired, so fucking tired of your nose in my business! I'm tired of you, and I'm tired of Charlie, and I'm tired of Vaggie mixing me into all of the stupid, bullshit drama between the three of you. I don't even know what your plan is, but here you are, expecting that just because you spat some big boy words in my face that I'll tell you about every time Charlie or Vaggie do so much as breathe. Can you just leave me alone already? I can't-"

I stop talking then. Alastor's eyes are thinned, and something about the way the shadows fall across his face makes me feel smaller.

"Are you done." His words aren't a question. He knows the expression on his face will keep me silent.

So I say nothing.

"Dear God, you are such a nuisance," he mumbles, his smile remaining sly and thin.

"What?"

"Can't you see..." he begins quietly, touching the palm of his hand to my cheek and pressing it there firmly. "That what I'm doing here is bigger than anything you could ever imagine?"

I fall silent again. My eyes are locked on his, watching the way his eyes suddenly begin to... move. Ticking. Like a clock. I'm transfixed as his face draws nearer to mine, nearer still until his nose presses up against mine.

"Everything I know, everything I can do is greater than your pathetic life. Like I said, you are my pawn. I will use you every way I need you, and in the end, I will dispose of you, because this is my story."

It feels like my heart has stopped. Smooth fabric is touching my neck. His gloved hand has moved, from my cheek to my throat. His fingers are closing, tighter and tighter, slowly. Like he wants me to feel every breath struggle to enter and escape my airway.

His eyes are glowing. Too bright. They burn my vision. His breath is hot against my face, but I don't move.

Just then, something off to my right catches my eye. A glint of white. I can't look away from Alastor, because then he would notice that something caught my attention. I try my best to see the figure out of my peripherals.

A demon, dressed in an assortment of pinks and purples. Angel Dust.

Then, I smile. A breath of a laugh passes my lips, keeping Alastor's attention focused on me. "No..." I say as loudly as I can against the restraint on my throat. My sight is getting blurry, speckled all over with black spots, but I know he's still there, behind Alastor. "It's... not... yours."

The crack of his skull sounds louder than it probably should have. His hand draws itself away from my throat as he falls to the ground in a puddle of slack limbs. I gasp for breath, relief flooding over every part of my body. My hands are shaking as I rake them both through my hair, as if I could pull the stress from my body. The spots that were blinding me only moments ago have disappeared.

I look up at Angel just as he's throwing the chained, spiky ball into Alastor's spine one last time.

The weapon disappears into thin air as he grins up at me, nodding a piece of fluffy white hair out of his face. "Miss me, Barbie?"

"Dear God, Angel," I say tears springing to my eyes.

"Save it, we don't have much time." With one last hateful glance at Alastor's fallen form, Angel grabs my hand in his and turns to run back into the direction of the hotel.

He leads me inside, but instead of returning to the Christmas party where everyone else is, he takes me up several flights of stairs, all the way to the highest level of the hotel. I'm out of breath and nearly sweating when we reach the top, but Angel looks as alive as ever. He yanks me down the hall, stops at last one on the left side, kicks it open with one of his boots, throws me inside and slams the massive oak door shut behind us.

The first thing I notice about the room is that it reeks of weed. Other than that, it looks very similar to my room, save for the blonde wig on the TV stand and the assortment of clothes strewn about on the floor.

"Is this your room?" I ask, looking around as Angel sits on one of the beds, crossing his legs in front of him.

"Kind of," he says. "But forget that. You're lucky I took a shot of heroin before I came out to rescue you, or that strawberry pimp would have eaten you alive."

I shake my head, sitting beside him on the same bed. My hands are still shaking, from cold or fear or something else, I don't know.

"What happened anyway? You look like you just caught a glimpse of your dad giving your mom a trip to pound town."

I roll my eyes at that. "He just... said some things. It doesn't matter. I'm done with him."

"Yeah. Why do you even talk to him anyway? I mean, he's weird as bat-shit. Vaggie's always calling him the radio demon and talking about how dangerous he is, yet Charlie let him help her way back when her hotel was just kicking off. Now they both think he's like some worse version of Lucifer or something." Angel lies back on the bed, taking a deep breath. I look down at him, watching as his chest rises and falls.

"He is dangerous."

"How?" Angel asks, exasperated.

I stare at Angel, trying to think of an answer to that question. I can't though.

"I, uh, don't really know. He just is. There's something about him, the way he can manipulate anyone he looks at... and I don't think his past is clean either. I mean, I hardly know the guy, but I've known from the beginning that something in his brain is shattered."

"Everyone in hell is fucked up though! How haven't you noticed that by now?" Angel asks, rolling over onto his side, so that he's looking at me. Although he isn't even trying, his posture is very suggestive. "I mean, just in the two seconds I left the hotel to get you, I saw a raggedy ass homeless chic being gang banged by a bunch of guys who were getting ready to rob a gas station. Nobody is sane here, so can you blame him?"

I shake my head. "You don't understand, Angel. He's different."

"Tell me how, bitch, and maybe then I'll believe you."

I don't have an answer to his question, though.

Frowning down at my socks, which are torn and mud soaked, I think that through.

Why is he different? What's in his past?

hey ya'll :P
Just to let you all know, I started a new Alastor x reader fic, so go check it out if you're interested! Love u all <3