「 Hell On Wheels! 」Alastor x Reader (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter V

"Is this a drugstore or a convenience store?"

I look over at Angel who was standing behind me in the small line leading up to the counter, toying with the bag of chips and can containing cola that was in my hands. He looked back and gave me the most judgemental stare I've yet to receive. "Obviously a convenience store. No drugstore sells chips and cola." He pointed out, amused a tad.

I roll my eyes and shrug it off. "Fair point." I reply calmly. The spider demon raised a brow as he regarded me. "No witty clapbacks?" He queried, suspicion etched into his tone. I send him a grimace. Jokingly, he raised his hands and sent me a grin that feigned innocence. Cheeky little twat.

While I was holding my chips and cola, he was holding a bottle of liquor. I don't know when he died, I frankly don't want to, but I trust he's of legal age. If he isn't, well, it is Hell. I've personally never been big on alcohol or drugs, mainly due to the fact I can't stand what happens after. The regret, the guilt, the intrigue, and ultimately, the addiction.

Soon, the time for us to pay came. I place the chips and can atop the counter and Angel placed his liquor beside mine. The rather placid cashier calmly scanned the items, asking for Angel's ID mind you, and bagged them. She had soft yet fiery scarlet hair and bright yellow eyes, her skin a soft lilac hue. Every demon has their own attributes I suppose.

Angel slid some money on the counter and took the bags, one in each hand and considering there's only two, only one pair of hands was needed. We went from bickering on the streets to paying for the stuff we buy, and it hasn't even been a full hour yet. Isn't that spiffy?

We sat down on a bench nearby and right outside the station. Charlie's segment was airing on a billboard across the street, holographic, and everything seemed to be going smoothly. I stare as Katie would occasionally send Charlie despicable stares in discreet moments of the conversation she held between the two reporting demons. Air hissed once Angel Dust popped the cap of his liquor off.

"Want a sip?" He offered, tilting the bottle towards me. I tear my gaze away from the board and give the alcoholic drink a pointed look. It must have been too intense since he pulled it back, playfully glowering at me. "Geez, what did my liquor ever do to you, sweetheart?" He chuckled. The way he says liquor just makes me low-key smile, I can't even with this dude.

"Nothing really." I reply calmly, returning my focus on the billboard. "I just don't find pleasure in fickle things, I guess you can say." A small smile makes its way onto my lips as I notice in my peripherals that Angel was smiling a little while shaking his head. What a weirdo, but who am I to talk?

There was a long stretch of silence between the two of us, and quite frankly, neither one of us minded it. We found sanctuary in this small silent moment that was offered and I'm relieved he isn't that talkative. Then, something flashed on the billboard that caught my attention.

There, in the projection, was Charlie, sitting atop a piano in all her blonde and red tux glory, pale skin and everything. I gape at the sight. "What on Earth.." I murmur just as I hear Angel guffaw. "Oh god, is she going to sing? No way." He laughs, eyes wide with sick amusement. Albeit not that sick, since it's just singing. What the hell is this? A musical?

I mumbled something under my breath on instinct instead of thinking it through, but my mind was too foggy for me to understand what I had said.

"What was that?" He chirped, leaning over slightly to look at me curiously. I open my mouth to tell the fella off, until I notice a motorcyclist speeding down the road in front of us. And considering the fact the bench was placed right at the edge of the wide sidewalk, he was tilting his head into dangerous territory.

I hook my arm around his neck, swinging my leg to straddle the bench and face him so I was sideways, and pull him back. I timed it perfectly, because said motorcyclist had missed blowing the spider's brains out. Scornful, I yell, "Watch where the hell you drive, you low class fuckwad!" They heard me, I know they did, based on how they slowed down a tad. "God damn underdeveloped fetus." I scowl.

As soon as I turn back to face Angel, I was met with an open mouth and wide, heterochromatic eyes. I raise a brow. "What?"

He struggled to get his words into a single sentence, blubbering slightly before containing himself. "Did you seriously try to save the life of the guy you held at gunpoint under an hour ago?" Disbelief dripped from every word.

I send him a fake as Hell, although not exactly Hell since it actually exists, and snarkily bite back. "Would you rather me throw you onto the road next time? I'll gladly oblige." Honestly, I have a little bit of humanity in me. I'm not all that bad. I think.

Angel Dust defensively raised his hands, a big sardonic grin lifting his spirits and slightly lifting mine.

He seems like a charismatic dick at first sight, which he certainly is, don't get me wrong, but he has a cleverly amusing sense of humor that I actually don't get bored of. The sassiness of his jokes and little klutz moments in the convenience store only prove my statements, and at the remembrance of his klutziness, I break out in a grin. Angel noticed in a flash and I wave it off.

"I was thinking about how your face would look if it had been ripped from your head and splattered on the road." I murmur, staring at him dead in the eyes. He gaped at me and I take the shock like a lifeline to end any conversation. This time, he seems to get it and keeps quiet.

He takes a swig of the alcohol while I munch on some potato chips and sip cola that is turning lukewarm from the warmth of our surroundings. Cola is cola, whatever the temperature. Unless it's boiling, then that's an entirely different story.

My gaze stayed on Charlie's rather bright performance she was holding, and I squint a little to see more of the graphics. Color splattered on the screen and Charlie was here and there and every-goddamn-where.

The holographic projection had flickered and crackled with radio static for a moment and I jumped a little. Beside me, Angel snorted. Presumably at my behavior.

I keep watching the billboard to distract myself and sink further into my thoughts. I inhale deeply and try to recall every detail of my death and the events that transpired. The sprawled body of my own successful husband, the bloodied knife. Blood all over our kitchen floor and dripping from my hands, staining the comfortable clothing I had worn that fateful afternoon.

Murder. I committed full blown murder and killed myself after. To what? I wasn't sure for what, but why? Uncannily due to the overbearing emotions and adrenaline that rushed through my circulation in that very moment. The potentially arriving authorities that were called by the neighbors.

That's all I remember. It's buried in my head, and a backstory for it all, but I don't remember anything else. I can't remember where I was living other than a house, who I was connected to, or even the dreaded name of the man I married and killed.

Guilt should be nestled into my mind by now. Eating me inside out but it isn't. Why? Why am I just here? Is it because I'm in Hell? I psychologically accepted I sinned and am no longer fully affected by the thought of having murdered another? Or is it a defense mechanism of sorts?

I wince when a sting of pain bloomed on my head. Subconsciously, my hand lifted to cover my forehead and I faced Angel Dust, who was smiling smugly. "You had such a deep frown I thought I saw you as an old lady, (Y/N)." He comments with a light chuckle. His accent has this high note to it and it's pretty pleasant. Quirky but audibly satisfying.

"Oh whatever." I grumble, and realize I hadn't been watching the billboard. But the program had been reduced to pure radio static.