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Fallen Angel

Summary:

Angel Dust tries to go to AA, but it doesn’t go as planned when he runs into someone from work.

Notes:

Tw: drug usage, failed redemption, relapsing, addiction, themes of self destruction, reference to sexual assault and waterboarding. Hurt no comfort….for now…

Work Text:

Angel Dust looked around the room with a noticeable look of displeasure. His left leg shook as his hands fidgeted with each other. His hands grabbing his coat and popping the falling collar up yet again. He took care to tilt the hat down to hide his face some more. The cheap plastic chair shaking as hard as if he had been jacking himself off in it.

An AA meeting was the last place he would have seen himself at a year ago, and yet here he was. He wasn’t even sure he would stay here for too long, just stepping foot in the place had made him shiver with anxiety. He “wasn’t like the other addicts”, he had told himself at first, back when he was alive when he had just been starting out. He reasoned he wasn’t a real junkie, he wasn’t as bad as other people, he had morals, just like every addict does before they do something that breaks their morals. That was, until the first time he let himself get fucked to get access to drugs.

Laying there in the cheap spring bed with dirty sheets that had been pissed on by dogs, feeling disgusting, the looks given out by people the next day by his wrecked state confirming he was as disgusting on the outside as the inside. Shame, disgust, a need to escape, all things that led him to use in the first place, causing him to seek out more and more until he had to resort to harder and harder crimes. It was one thing to help out the family, but another to be killing people in your spare time for having tried to cut the quality of your drugs. The principle was there sure, but all that could have been avoided if he decided to stop seeking them out. Then there were the employees who made the drugs and transported them, all people who became entangled in a web of crime whether they liked it or not, so guys like him back in the good old US of A could get high off their rocker. He could go on, and think about all the kids who bought the drugs he helped bring in, the people who died O.D.‘ing because they too needed more than was humanly possible to handle to heal their souls. He couldn’t say he wasn’t guilty just by association, but even though he was smart enough to recognize the cause and effect of the consequences, it wasn’t enough to outweigh the feeling of not being.

Addiction is a slippery slope and he had soon found himself at what seemed like a bottomless pit of unsatisfied desire, always jonesing for his next hit, needing more and more to reach a passably satisfactory high. Even when he had died and been reborn sober, the first thing he did was go look for drugs in order to help him forget the fact he was in hell. Now having spent some time at the hotel, he was struggling to actually be as sober as he wanted to now.

Now he had people who wanted him sober, who cared about him being a better version of himself. Even if it didn’t mean getting into heaven, beyond just free rent, he looked forward to the idea of redeeming himself for improvements sake. However he had to admit his drug addiction was making that hard. Sure Charlie and Vaggie throwing out most of his stash not only dissuaded him from stashing too much at the hotel, but also helped him curve his use. However every time Valentino called him in for a horrendous series of takes, he couldn’t help but struggle to forget. Alcohol seemed like the more civilized, acceptable addiction to gravitate towards, weed as well when it came to the hotel, but it was child play compared to harder drugs. They may as well have been medicinal. Yes it was true one could find themselves drowning at the bottom of the bottle, as Husk did on occasion. However Husk wasn’t running around town with guns in tow when he got fucked up, he was passed out on the floor in a pile of his own vomit.

The fact Val’s smoke and pheromones themselves were addicting in their own disgusting way, didn’t help for jack shit either.

“Have you tried the donuts?” A little old demon lady sat down next to him.

“Oh ah no, I’m not that hungry…but thanks.”

“My name is Mary.”

“Mines Angel.”

“Well isn’t that ironic. I run the meetings, nice to see a new face, can’t say we get too many around here.” She said with a soft smile. Angel wondered what she could have possibly done to have ended up in hell, then remembered she was leading the AA meeting so probably same as him.

“Yeah I figured it might be time for a change.”

“Change can be good, scary, but good.”

Angel looked away and nodded in agreement.

“Yeah.”

The speed at which his leg rushed to greet the floor slowed to light flexing as he tried to soothe his discomfort.

Slowly more people began to sit in the chairs situated in a circle. He continued to look at the ground hoping to continue to hide himself as much as possible given the circumstances. For a while, it worked, until they had to introduce themselves.

It was only a group of six including himself and the host. The rate of his heart quickened, his mouth went dry and his hands grew damp. It sounded like the room had muffled in sound and air.he ground his teeth as he struggled to remember to breathe.

“I, uh, I’m uhh Ang..us…Angus and it’s my first time here.” He lied, despite having told the elderly demon woman his name earlier. She just raised her eyebrow and held her tongue . Angel fought the urge to get up and run out of there before someone noticed him, before someone laughed at him or told Val where he was, or told the news about it. Not only would it damage his reputation, it could cause some unforeseen consequences. But then he thought about Charlie, Husk and everyone else waiting for him at the hotel and bit down on his tongue, dug his nails in his hands, and kept himself in his seat fighting the urge to take off and run.

“Hi Angus.” The group muttered. Angel continued fidgeting and looking down at his feet as they continued onto the next person and went back to the leader to let her begin the meeting.

He felt someone’s eye on him and he looked up out of the corner of his eyes. He had been trying to avoid the gaze of anyone, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself. That also meant he hadn’t noticed who was in the room. The man staring at him was a large muscular shark demon. A shiver went up Angels spine, fuck it was someone he recognized but he couldn’t remeber from what. Granted given the amount of people he had fucked by now in the Pride ring, and hell some out of it who had traveled up, it probably would have been more of a surprise not to know someone for some vague fuck out of everyone at any given place.

The group started to go around and talk. Angel kept his mouth shut, focusing on regulating his breath as much as he could, feeling like the air was being squeezed out of him. The shark guy hadn’t bothered him yet, just stared awkwardly now and then before looking down on the ground, ashamed?

“Angus, would you like to share with the group?”

“What…oh…I’m good for now…Maybe next time.” He tried to cheerfully say, words faltering, giving away his true emotions.

The meeting came and went with Angel stuck with guilt, shame, anxiety, and fear swirling inside him. Soon everyone but him, the elderly demon woman and the Sharkman had filtered out.

The Sharkman had gone about something having to do with his family but Angel hadn’t paid much attention to anyone’s words.

“Hey uh…Angel?”

“It’s Angus.”

“Angel..it’s me…from the waterboarding video.” A chill ran up Angels back, he had tried his best to forget that for a while. If Val killed him in the studio, he could always reappear in some other part of town, leaving him free of work for a while until Val’s men spotted him and let Val know he was back. However, if Val just tortured him to the edge of death, he could keep torturing him for hours or even days until he chose to kill him, or choose to let him go.

“What! You want me to fuck you so you don’t tell Val?” He sneered, growing more rageful by the moment, having been made to remember that day.

“No…I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Angel's face dropped his scowl for all of a second from the shock. He stared the Sharkman down but the Sharkman refused to meet him in the eyes.

“I had a porn, drug addiction, got really in debt, and got hired on to work to work it off. I didn’t want my family to get dragged into the mess, but I saw things, I did things, I had things done to me, and I know what a piece of shit Val is…and I know what a piece of shit I was, and I’m sorry.” He said, finally looking up at Angel with tears in his eyes.

 

Angel felt a heat rise up from the pit of his stomach and spread throughout every inch of his body. His rage engulfed him as his fist clenched down and his breathing hitched.

“Fuck you. I don’t think I’m ready to forgive you, and I don’t know that I ever will.” There was a lot more he wanted to say, but instead he chose to walk out as the tears began to stream down his face.

He walked straight to the next vending machine and bought the drug he had christened himself after, the liquid kind this time, and a pack of cigarettes. He made his way to the hotel, walking past everyone without a word. Worried glances shooting his way, he shrugged off whoever’s hand had tried to grab his shoulder and threw his middle finger up as he made his way to his room, door slamming behind him.

He sat down on the edge of his bed, and took a deep sigh. Ever since he bought it at the machine, his shaking had stopped, and his breathing had evened a bit. Even if he hadn’t taken it yet, just holding it, knowing he had it, gave him some kind of relief. Knowing he could take it whenever he wanted. He humored with the idea of throwing it away again…but when his leg started shaking again he decided against it.

He dipped the end of his cigarettes in the liquid substance, letting them soak up the amount as evenly as he could half ass-ing it like this as opposed to measuring drops. When only the residue was left, he put the cigarettes back in his cigarette box. He placed the vial with the leftover droplets on his desk, allowing the last of the liquid to collect and fall to the bottom with time, giving him enough for a hefty micro dose. It would also work to act as a red herring for Charlie to throw out in place of the actual drug stash hidden in the much more legal one.

He placed the box on the edge of the bed, grabbed a lighter, and sat down. He placed a cigarette in between his lips and lit it up, taking in the first of many hits.