Chapter Text
The mood hadn't lifted since they found out Sir Pentious—previously disguised as Pen—left. Charlie’s morose mood didn’t lift after a day of moping, and nothing the others did could lift her out of it—not that they could do much themselves. There were still . . . a lot of bad feelings, ones that couldn’t be washed away after a day or two.
As Charlie sat curled up on the couch, Vaggie’s arms wound tightly around her, she could hear Cherri rummaging loudly around the kitchen. Alastor had served breakfast, but neither she nor Angel had come down all morning. Now, Charlie supposed, Cherri was looking for food, still angry and still needing space.
For the first time ever, Charlie didn’t feel like cheering anyone up. Her heart was heavy, her soul weighed down by the shit show that went down yesterday. Or was it the day before? She didn’t know—couldn’t bother to check the day much less plan for it.
Something slammed down on the table in front of her. Vaggie murmured something, but the sudden intrusion was enough to get Charlie to lift her gaze at a very concerned Cherri Bomb. She—she didn’t look angry. Why wasn’t she angry? She was pissed just yesterday. Or—or two days ago?
“Come on, Charlie, you gotta eat something,” Vaggie coaxed. “It’s been a whole day.”
Slowly, Charlie unfurled herself. She could see the careful hope in Vaggie’s face and wondered how long exactly she’d sat there, feeling horrible and sluggish and depressed. Probably a whole day. “Thanks,” she croaked. Cherri looked somewhat relieved, but Charlie could see the stress on her face and the red rim around her eye.
She shouldn’t be feeling sorry for herself. There were other people suffering the aftermath, others who had a stronger relationship with—with “Pen.”
More tears welled in Charlie’s eyes. Vaggie’s hand rubbed her back as they silently fell into the bowl of cereal. “Oh Charlie,” she whispered, her voice choked up too, and Cherri’s face twisted as she sat down beside Charlie and, in an uncharacteristic action, wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
A sob escaped her. Burying her face in her hands, she did nothing to stop the waterworks, couldn’t stop crying for the loss of someone she thought was her friend—someone who had so thoroughly tricked them.
Sir Pentious was alive. He was alive for months and months and didn’t say a thing. Wouldn’t say why, wouldn’t say anything in his own defense. Guilty about keeping this secret, and yet he didn’t—
He’d tricked them. Again. Charlie shook with the force of her cries, her soul aching with fresh betrayal. It hurt— it hurt so goddamned much, the fact that someone she’d trusted so much would break the trust she so readily gave him—
Before she knew it, more hands were on her, more arms pulling her into hugs, and she cried into Husk’s shoulder while Angel murmured teary assurances. Cherri didn’t say anything, just made cut-off crying sounds, and Charlie pulled away from Husk to bring Cherri into a hug because she was hurting, probably hurting more, and she couldn’t just—keep feeling sorry for herself when—
“Whoa. Uh, am I interrupting something?” Charlie looked up. Her dad was standing at the door, boxes of donuts in one hand and a bewildered expression on his face. When he caught Charlie’s eyes, the bewilderment instantly turned into concern. “Char-Char . . . what happened?”
More tears rolled down her cheeks, if that was possible. “I—”
“Have a seat,” Vaggie sighed, voice tight and trembling. “I—we’ll explain.”
~.~.~
Lucifer munched on donuts the entire time they brokenly told him about the events two days ago—and it was two days ago, the others had confirmed it themselves. He would have been the very picture of carefree with how he lounged in the armchair with strawberry frosting smudged on one cheek. However, his furrowed brows and downturned lips belied his deep concern. Not even his fight with Adam rendered him this stoically serious—the very picture of the king Charlie had always seen him as when she was small.
Donut forgotten, Lucifer leaned forward and swept his gaze across the living room. He looked at Angel, at Husk, at Cherri and Charlie, at Vaggie. His eyes darted slightly upward, and Charlie followed his gaze to see him looking right at Alastor, Niffty, and Frank by the stairs. Most everyone had taken a donut, but none of them had so much as touched them since.
“So,” he said, “let me get this straight. Your friend—this Sir Pentious—has been redeemed.”
“Right,” Charlie hiccupped.
“He’s with the seraphim.”
“Yeah.” Vaggie nodded.
“None of us knew it was him.”
Niffty giggled. “I knew.”
All eyes suddenly turned to her. “You knew!?” Angel exclaimed. “The fuck, Niff!?”
“I thought it was obvious?” She shrugged. “I know a failed bad boy when I see one.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you say anything!?”
“I thought you all knew and were playing along.”
“Why didn’t you at least call him by his name!?”
Niffty scoffed and giggled. “Please! He wanted to go by Pen, so I called him Pen.”
“And he didn’t say anything when confronted?” Lucifer’s sharp voice brought them all back to him. His eyes, normally so expressive and soft, were dark and pointed, looking at each of them in turn. “Did I get that right?”
Husk nodded this time, nudging Angel back to focus. “Yeah. Wouldn’t say a thing.”
“Wouldn’t? Or couldn’t?”
The atmosphere of the room shifted. Charlie straightened up, fear shooting through her very being at that implication—if there was even anything implied. “What do you mean?”
“I mean did it seem like something was forcing him into silence, or was it by his own will?”
“He—he said it was nothing.”
Lucifer raised a brow. “How did he get there?”
“I—I don’t—” Charlie could hardly remember. She’d been spiraling hard at the time, caught in the devastation of his betrayal. It was all a blur of emotions, most of them negative and most of them too intense to ignore, the blood in her ears too loud to make out anything else.
Once again, Husk cautiously spoke up. “He stuttered a lot more than usual, like he couldn't make up his mind. That count for anything?”
Lucifer hissed. His eyes dropped to the ground, glaring at the carpet as if it had offended him. “Fuck,” he whispered. “If I had known . . .”
“What?” When he didn’t respond, Charlie hurried to his side and knelt in front of the armchair. “Dad, what is it?”
He lifted his gaze, and she nearly recoiled at the pain in his eyes. “Sit down, Charlie. This won’t be easy.”
Sit down? She could hardly move, frozen in place by the pain and the sudden implication that something was more than wrong, something had gone horribly, terribly askew. Vaggie’s hands led her back to the couch, tucked back under her arm as Lucifer took a deep breath and set the donut down on the table. He steepled his hands, saying nothing, his lips pursed and his expression twisted into something complex and broken.
“Back in Eden,” he started, and Charlie immediately tuned in, “I gave Lilith the fruit of knowledge. No one knew at the time, and she wanted to share the knowledge with Eve. But . . . the other angels caught wind of our plan. A seraph can’t place a spell on another seraph—not directly, at least—but a human? Easy as pie.” He tried to smile. It was more a grimace than anything. “They put a spell on your mom—on Lilith. A silencing spell that stopped her from mentioning anything about free will or the fruit of knowledge. Given what you told me, he could have been under the same spell.
“It’s—that spell, it’s—” He swallowed thickly and leaned back in the armchair. One hand rested tightly under his chin. The other wrapped around his middle. The very picture of regal discomfort. “It’s strong. She—he— neither of them could ever hope to break it or work around it, not without help. Lilith had me. I broke the spell on her, made it so that no other spell could ever be placed on her again. Your friend . . .” He trailed off, but Charlie didn’t need him to finish his thought.
Horror trickled down her spine in a cold-hot trail, flushing her cheeks and chilling her to the bone. Because if this was true—
“We fucked up!!” she cried, burying her hands and kicking her feet. “Shit, we fucked up bad!!”
“You mean—he literally couldn’t tell us!?” Angel sounded like he wanted to throw up or cry—or both. “I— fuck, what kind of shitty—”
“It’s possible.” Charlie looked up. Lucifer looked deep in thought. “Given how thoroughly you chased him off . . .”
Charlie perked up. “What else? Should we look for anything more? What else should we know!?”
“A Heavenbound soul wouldn’t be able to handle that much grief,” Lucifer mumbled, though it sounded like it was more for his own train of thought than their benefit. “They risk acute or chronic sickness, and it isn’t very fun . . .”
“Anyone else wondering how the hell he knows all this?” Angel whispered shakily. Charlie ignored him in favor of waiting for her dad to just explain.
Lucifer’s face paled even more so than usual. His eyes grew wide in horror. “He’ll want to forget . . . !”
“Forget?” Vaggie echoed. She grasped Charlie’s hand and didn’t even flinch when she tightened her grip considerably. Charlie was at a loss for words, mute in the face of her own dawning realization. “Don’t tell me you—”
“There’s a spell for that!?” Angel exclaimed.
Charlie shot to her feet. “Dad we have to go to Heaven! Now!!”
Lucifer didn’t argue. His wings burst out from his suit, his eyes burning a deep, desperate red as he shot a hand to the side, opening a portal straight into Heaven’s courtroom. “Let’s go.”
“Husk, hold down the fort!” Charlie called behind her as she, Vaggie, and Lucifer shot through the portal. It closed behind them before they could hear his response.
-.-.-
They emerged in front of the orb that had shown them Hell on their last visit here. Charlie didn’t spare it a glance as she sprinted out of the room.
“Sir Pentious!!” she cried, letting her legs carry them where they would, not caring if she got lost. Close behind her, she could hear Vaggie and her dad echoing her calls. “Pentious, where are you!?”
No response. Just her voice echoing down the halls. No matter—she’d find him.
Running through the maze of winding hallways, she kept calling for him, looking through all the doors and peeking out all the windows she could in hopes of catching a glimpse of him. She needed to—she needed to fix this, to apologize again for leaving him to deal with all this alone, for making him feel so horrible he’d want to—
No, they weren’t there yet. There was still time, there—
—two days, it had been two days, two days since he left—
“Sir Pentious!!” She stopped in the middle of an open room of connecting hallways branching off into different directions. The room, more a greenhouse encased in glass paneling, opened into a garden that put the hotel’s courtyard to shame. Every kind of flower seemed to bloom here, lush with deep green foliage that Hell simply could not sustain.
She ran into the foliage, ignoring the way her shoes sank into the spongy earth and smeared mud on them. She ignored the uneven footing, the pathways clearly marked in clean cobblestone that were made for walking. She ran for what seemed like forever, desperately looking through each rose bush and each flower patch, looking for her lost friend.
Eventually, she skidded to a stop in a clearing, marked with a circle of benches and several rings of glowing flowers.
In the middle of it all was a familiar form, dressed in comfortable gray clothes. Crouched though he was, she recognized the shape of his hair and the heart design that could have once been a diamond. She recognized the way he settled more on his hip than his bottom, the way he tilted his head.
Sir Pentious—
Before her brain could catch up to her, before she could even consider if he wanted to see her again, she sprinted toward him and launched herself at him. He yelped when she practically threw herself at him, hugging him so tight—she never wanted to let go!
“Sir Pentious, you’re here!” she sobbed. “I’m so, so sorry we didn’t hear you out!! I’m sorry I thought you did it for fun, I’m sorry I’m sorry—”
“Um—can I help you?” Pentious asked. He twisted around, and the pure befuddlement on his face was enough to stop Charlie’s stream of babbling words. She stared at him—what? His brow furrowed. “Miss . . . ?”
“Huh?” Charlie uttered dumbly. She heard Vaggie and her dad catch up, could hear them calling for her, but they may as well have been back in Hell for all she could hear them. “I’m—I’m sorry?”
“Yes, you said that quite a bit. I’m—forgive me, dear, but have we met?”
No. No, no, no, this couldn’t be happening—
Pentious turned around and carefully pulled Charlie off of him. She didn’t fight him on it. “I do believe introductions are in order.” He held a small bouquet of flowers in his hands, which he set aside on the ground—Charlie’s eyes absently drifted to them as he kept talking. “My name is Edward Alexander Penn. And you are . . . ?”
Charlie’s throat worked to produce the words in her name. She could hardly hear herself answer, “Charlie.”
“Charlie . . . ?” Pentious’s expression was one she’d never seen before—patient confusion. Coaxing her to talk even though she’d been ready to throw herself at his feet and apologize like she’s never apologized before.
By now, Vaggie and Lucifer were standing behind her. They were both silent.
“M-Morningstar,” she found herself saying. She could hardly recognize her voice with how flat it was. “Charlie Morningstar.”
“Miss Morningstar, then. Very nice to meet you.” He looked up at Vaggie and Lucifer and furrowed his brow. His smile tightened a little, looking both pained and confused at the same time. “Ah—excuse me, but I don’t believe I have ever seen you before. Are you . . . new souls?”
Lucifer strode next to Charlie and crouched down in front of Pentious. He wore a showman’s smile, reassuring and charming at the same time. “Not exactly. Do you know where the seraphim are?”
At this, Pentious seemed to relax. “Miss Sera and Miss Emily? Yes, I was—oh my!” He looked down at the flowers in he’d abandoned and picked them back up, fixing their blooms and making sure they were alright. His hands moved with the same delicacy as they had when he was dealing with a particularly miniscule piece of machinery. “Oh good, they're still fine. Miss Emily requested a fresh bouquet for the parlor, and she was quite the grouch when I delivered them less than delicately earlier today.” He looked at them with all the consideration he would give to a particularly difficult machine. “These are quite few . . . but they should do.” Holding the flowers close, he turned toward one of the halls and gestured for them to follow. “Come, I will take you to her.”
Charlie could do nothing more than let herself be led. She watched him as they walked, noticed how easily his legs turned into a tail, how seamlessly his hair turned into his hood as he entered the halls. Seeing his normal form after witnessing the alternate, she couldn't help but berate herself for not noticing sooner. When he called out for Emily, Charlie nearly cried at the voice she thought she’d never hear again.
“In here!” Emily skipped out of the room with a big smile on her face. “I have the vase all ready! Here, I’ll—” She stumbled on her words when she caught sight of Lucifer and his entourage. “Um, Edward . . .”
“They were looking for you, dear. They, um.” He looked between Charlie, Vaggie, and Lucifer and stepped closer to Emily, smiling awkwardly and speaking in a hushed tone that really did nothing to keep his voice down. “They are an interesting lot.”
Emily’s smile from before was gone, replaced by a stricken look. Pentious seemed to take notice of this and looked between her and Charlie again, all pretense of politeness replaced with befuddlement and slight alarm.
“Come inside,” Emily said flatly. “I suppose you have questions.”