Chapter Text
Being a psychiatrist, in theory, was quite simple.
All you really had to do was listen to people cry about their problems, figure out what kind of crazy they were, then pop them full of pills to make them feel better.
Vincent was always interested in psychology. Digging deep into the minds of his peers to learn why people are the way that they are, and figuring out how to break them as a result, was fascinating. He was obsessed with figuring out the perfect questions to ask, how to push someone's buttons just right to get them to snap; it satisfied a cruel, sadistic part in his brain, giving him an odd sense of control.
The human mind was an incredible, powerful thing. Learning how to manipulate a person's every thought and action through just your words was dangerous. And Vincent liked being dangerous.
Vincent didn't become a psychiatrist to help people, quite the opposite. Becoming a psychiatrist gave him a great amount of power over the weakest of people, easy targets if you will. Not only did he get to see first hand how his words could destroy a person's mental state in one hour, but he also got to shove whatever medication he had into their mouths, another powerful weapon in deteriorating someone's mind.
Despite Vincent's enjoyment in ruining lives one antidepressant at a time, listening to teenage girls cry about their mothers or fathers (or, lack thereof, in some cases) and shoving random medications down their throats, receiving call after call informing him of pathetic suicide attempts, attending a funeral here and there for particularly long lasting clients, it all grew stale after a few years.
He wanted more. He needed more.
And this is where he made his first mistake;
Applying to the dark and gloomy and downright haunted mental asylum on the edge of town with the charming name of “The Happy Hospital.” Well, while that was the establishment's name on official documents, the building's sign itself had been vandalized to instead say “The Hazbin Asylum.”
(Vandalized was a loose term; the sign looked like it had been replaced entirely with a new sign. However, the place was still referred to as The Happy Hospital on the application paperwork. Vincent didn't care enough to ask.)
His second mistake was made shortly after;
Arriving at the job interview. When Vincent stepped into the clean hospital, he had been expecting to meet with… Well, he wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't Ms. Charlie Magne, a bubbly, excitable woman with pretty blonde hair and bright blue eyes that was thrilled to have someone interested in joining her, quote en quote, “happy team.” Still, Vincent didn't let that deter him, and turned the charm up to 11, passing his interview with flying colors.
Which led to his third mistake;
Accepting the job. The job description was simple, all he had to do was basically what he's been doing for years; listen to patients cry about their issues, figure out what kind of crazy they are, then throw medicine at them until they finally break and kill themselves.
It was supposed to be simple. Easy. Fun, even.
That was, until he met the patients.
When Vincent first arrived at the interview, he noticed that Charlie was on the taller side. She was actually taller than him. Now, Vincent wasn't short by any means, he was a perfect and exact 6’0 tall, so Charlie had to be around 6’3 at least.
He didn't let this bother him too much, sure he felt a slight dent in his masculinity, but height is something out of his control, so he brushed it aside and continued on.
He didn't see any patients during the interview, as they chatted in Charlie's office the whole time, and she wasn't very inclined to give him a tour.
At the time, he supposed it made sense. A patient's privacy is a very fragile thing, and it would most likely be some sort of violation for Vincent to be introduced before he was properly hired, so he didn't think too much about it.
However, when he was hired and showed up for his first day on the job, Charlie's sudden anxiety to show him around should've been his first clue of the mistake he just made by showing up in the first place.
“So, Dr. Whittman…” She had said, her eyes glued to the floor as she wrung her hands nervously. “Before we properly assign you to any patients, it would be a good idea to show you around first, and let you see who you'll be taking care of here.” Her tone was sharp and high, very clearly nervous. Charlie was quite the open book, which Vincent appreciated.
“Alright, that sounds good to me! I can't wait to start!” Vincent smiled with his usual charm, his voice an octave higher than his usual tone.
He expected Charlie to lead the way, but instead, they had just stood awkwardly in the lobby. Vincent blinked, waiting for her to move, but she just shifted on her feet, her smile looking more like a grimace.
“I, uh.. should warn you… These aren't your usual patients, they're quite… um… Special?” Her head tilted as if she were questioning whether or not that was the right word to use.
Vincent, although intrigued, simply shrugged. “I'm sure it won't be anything I can't handle. I've been doing this nearly my whole life, Ms. Magne!”
Despite his reassurance, she still seemed uneasy. “I just… You may see them and want to quit, but-”
“Wouldn't dream of such a thing! I promise you, whatever you've got, I can handle it. Trust me!” He placed his hand on his chest, right where his heart is.
Charlie still seemed unsure. Vincent found himself growing nervous, though he shoved that feeling down, keeping his posture straight as he followed Charlie through the hospital.
“The patients are just this way… Most stay in their rooms, but a few like to hang out together in the activity room.” Charlie began rambling as she led him through the hallway. As Vincent scanned the walls, his brows furrowed at all of the cheesy motivational posters plastered up. “Mostly Angel and Cherri, but we try to get everyone out together at least once a week! Though, that usually doesn't end well…”
Charlie stopped at a large glass window that peered into a room. The activity room, Vincent assumed. Charlie frowned as she looked at Vincent, blocking his view from the window for a moment. “..Once again, I should warn you that these patients-”
Vincent only shook his head, stepping forward to look into the activity room. “I've seen all sorts of things, Ms. Magne! I'm sure there's nothing that can surprise me anymo–”
Vincent abruptly stopped as he looked at the two patients sitting inside the room.
One was a tall—very, very tall—spider looking creature with multiple arms, all pink and covered in fur. The other looked like a regular woman, pure white with red tattoos and about the same height as Charlie, until she looked towards the window, staring Vincent down with a large, singular eye.
“What the fuck?”
It seems that, somehow, during the entire interview, Charlie had failed to mention that the patients, all of them, were literal fucking demons.
Not just in the sense that they were horrible, awful people, no, that would be the norm, right? These patients were actual demons from real Hell. Because that exists, apparently.
As Vincent looked through the glass window of the activity room, showing the tall spider-like demon inside sitting next to a cyclops, he was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, he shouldn't have signed that contract, because now he was trapped here.
He should've stuck with the teenage girls.
That was all about two months ago. Currently, Vincent was sitting in his cramped office, looking through the paperwork for the patients. He only had a few assigned to him, as he, somehow, was not the only poor soul roped into this. There were other psychiatrists here, though Vincent had yet to meet any of them.
His current patients were that spider demon he had first seen upon arriving, and a moth demon he only met just a few days ago.
The spider demon preferred the name Angel Dust, despite his actual name being Anthony. When Vincent had asked for the reason behind this, expecting some sob story about reclaiming his identity or whatever, Angel had just responded with “It's hotter!” And moved on.
The moth demon's name was Valentino. Vincent had only spent fifteen minutes with him, despite the allotted hour, before sending him back to his room after the enormous being had crawled over his desk in an attempt to seduce him. Or something.
(Embarrassingly enough, Vincent wasn't sure if the encounter terrified or aroused him. For now, he decided to go with the former.)
As Vincent wrote down potential questions to ask during their next therapy sessions, there was a knock on his door.
He glanced up at the clock on the wall, and sighed with relief as the time showed he was almost done for the day. He leaned back in his chair as he spoke up “Come in,” before he began putting things away.
Slowly, the door opened to reveal Charlie, a large, nervous smile on her face. “Heeyy, Dr. Whittman! How are things?” She asked, hovering just outside the doorway.
He gave her a professional smile as he gestured for her to come in and sit down. “Oh, you know.. The usual. Come in and sit, did you need something? I'm not in trouble, am I?” He asked with a slight chuckle to his voice, her nervous demeanor filling him with curiosity.
Once Charlie walked inside and sat down, Vincent watched as her assistant Vaggi followed inside after her, standing behind her with her arms crossed. That was odd.
Charlie shook her head, scoffing a bit. “Pfft, oh, no! You're not in trouble, not at all! Quite the opposite, actually, you've been doing wonderful! Angel really seems to like you, which, compared to his last few psychiatrists, that's amazing! Valentino likes you, too!” Her hands waved around frantically as she spoke, and she couldn't make eye contact, glancing at everything except for him. She had something to tell him, and she was nervous to do it. Or, perhaps even a bit guilty. Maybe that's why Vaggi was here, for emotional support.
Nervousness from Charlie was not a good sign. Last time she was nervous to tell him something, it was that his patients were demons from hell. Who knows what she has to say this time.
“Well, that's good to hear! Glad I'm getting good reports, but, if I'm not in trouble, then what's with the sudden visit?” Vincent glanced at the clock, counting down the minutes before he could get out of this hellhole.
Charlie was quiet for a moment, staring at her lap, before she sighed heavily. “I.. Feel bad to ask you to do this, but.. All of our other psychiatrists have refused. You're still new, so I didn't want to ask, but.. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind taking on one extra patient? I know you were just recently assigned to Valentino, but I'm kind of running out of options here..” She stared at him with a look that can only be described as puppy dog eyes as she frowned, her hands clasped together in her lap.
An extra patient? Vincent can absolutely handle that. 3 patients is child's play to him, even if these are crazy demons. There's gotta be a catch.
“I don't see an issue with that. Who's the patient?” Vincent tried to think of any complicated patients he might have heard about through Angel. Perhaps the feral cat demon called Husk, Angel had complained about him once or twice, but he didn't seem so bad. Just a sad alcoholic from the looks of it. Or maybe the gigantic dinosaur woman, Zeezi. (Seriously, she was huge. So huge she had her own floor.)
However, as Charlie seemed to tense even more at his question, he was starting to think maybe it wasn't Husk or Zeezi. Something worse. She opened her mouth like she was going to speak, but quickly shut it back to continue contemplating. She did this a few more times, before Vaggi sighed heavily behind her and spoke up.
“His name is Alastor.”
Alastor. Vincent tried to recall the name, but nothing was coming to mind. This was a patient he hadn't heard of yet.
“Psychiatrists are refusing to take him? What's wrong with him?” Vincent asked bluntly, perhaps a bit too judgemental, because Charlie perked up.
“He's just.. a bit more difficult than the other patients, is all… You have more experience outside of this hospital, so I thought you might be able to… Handle him a bit better? His current psychiatrist has, um.. Quit.. So, we need someone to take over. Do you think you're up for it?” She asked hopefully, a small smile inching its way to her face.
Vincent hesitated, glancing at the clock once again. He didn't like the way this was being presented to him. He felt like he didn't have a choice. Despite Charlie asking him kindly, she was still his boss, and he couldn't exactly tell her to fuck off and let him go home.
So, with a deep breath, Vincent smiled. “I don't see why not! I'm used to difficult patients, I'm sure I'll be able to handle whatever he throws at me.” He nodded firmly, hoping he looked as confident as he sounded.
It seemed to have worked, because Charlie perked up, smiling brightly. “Really? Great! Amazing! Thank you, Dr. Whittman!” She stood up, clasping her hands above her head in a playful prayer. “This means a lot! I'll make sure you get a nice bonus for this!”
Vincent stood as well, gathering his things and slinging the strap for his bag over his shoulder. “It's no problem, really. Just doing my job.” He glanced at the clock again, and Charlie followed his gaze.
“Oh, are you about to leave? Sorry for keeping you!” She glanced at him apologetically.
“Nonsense, I've always got time for you!” Vincent waved her off, shaking his head.
She smiled and sighed, before her friendly persona morphed into a more professional one. “Um.. Before you leave, would you mind maybe introducing yourself to Alastor? Just so he knows who you are before his next therapy session. I'm sure he'd appreciate it!”
Vincent inwardly groaned, but didn't show his dissatisfaction on his face as he nodded. “Sure thing. Where's his room? I'll head there now.”
Charlie nodded and gestured to Vaggi. “Vaggi will lead you. I've got some work to do before the end of the day, so..”
Vincent gave her an understanding nod. “I get it. I'll see you tomorrow then, Ms. Magne!”
They exchanged their parting waves, and Charlie left his office, leaving just Vincent and Vaggi.
She gestured for him to follow, and he did so, and they walked through the halls silently.
Until Vincent spoke up. “So, be honest. What's really the big deal with this guy?”
Something Vincent liked about Vaggi was that she was blunt. She never beat around the bush and always got straight to the point.
This time was no different as she sighed heavily. “Alastor is one of our most dangerous patients. He's friendly enough, but he'll do anything to get his way..” She grumbled, her face twisting up.
“So, what, he throws tantrums? Is that all?” Vincent asked in a dull tone as they arrived at an elevator. Vaggi pressed the call button, then crossed her arms as she turned to Vincent.
“You can say that. But no, that's not all. He's dangerous because we don't have any way to keep his powers in check.” She gave him a sharp look.
Vincent frowned. All of the patients at the asylum wore thick, metal bracelets around their wrists. They almost looked like cuffs, and in a way, that's sort of what they were. They didn't take away any mobility, they were there to keep the demons from using their magic demon abilities that they apparently had.
Vincent witnessed them in action only once since he's been here. He was supposed to take Angel for a therapy session, but when he arrived at the spider's room, he was having some sort of panic attack.
When Vincent opened the door, Angel immediately turned to attack him, growing even taller in size, extra eyes splitting open on his face, and an extra set of arms sprouted, but Vincent only saw this form for about 5 seconds before the cuffs emitted some sort of frequency, then shocked Angel until he reverted back to his original form.
Not only did this keep the demons from attacking each other, it kept them from attacking the psychiatrists as well.
“What do you mean?” Vincent looked confused as the elevator arrived. They stepped inside and Vaggi pressed a button to send them to one of the higher floors. “The cuffs don't work on him?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Somehow, he can just… Take them off. The only thing we can do to keep him from using his powers so much is to keep the lights as bright as possible, especially at night. He uses the shadows as his magic.”
“And… That's it?” Vincent asked as the elevator stopped. The elevator doors opened, and Vincent was almost blinded by how bright the entire floor was. They stepped off, and he continued to follow Vaggi as she led him to the end of the hall.
“There is… One more thing. But it's not guaranteed to work.” She stopped in front of a large metal door, lowering her voice as if she were afraid to be heard. She turned to face Vincent, her face twisted up in worry as she held out a flashlight to him.
Vincent didn't take it at first, confused. “A… Flashlight? What's this supposed to do?” He inquired in a flat tone.
Vaggi huffed. “Alastor is a deer demon. This is a super fucking bright flashlight. Shine it in his face, and he'll freeze up for a moment. Ever heard the term like a deer in headlights? If he gets violent, it'll buy you time to escape.”
Vincent froze himself. “I thought the room was really bright. How could he use his powers?”
“Shadow magic isn't the only power he has.”
“...You said this isn't guaranteed to work.”
“It isn't.”
“So, if this Alastor guy decides he wants to kill me, I may or may not be fucked? Is this why his last psychiatrist quit?”
Vaggi sighed heavily. “Now you know why the others refused. Look, just introduce yourself, then leave. Won't take you too long. You'll be in and out in no time.” She poked his chest with the flashlight, and he snatched it with a small growl, shoving it into his pocket.
“This better be the fattest fucking bonus of my career.” He grumbled, turning towards the door where a file was held in the folder attached to the door.
“Charlie will make sure you're paid fairly. See you tomorrow, Dr. Whittman.” Vaggi gave him a pat on the shoulder, before she turned and started walking away back towards the elevator.
Vincent scoffed as he pulled the file from the folder. When he opened it, he was met with a neat file written entirely in Charlie's handwriting. Usually the psychiatrists wrote most of the information on these files.
At the top of the file was the patient's name written in a bold, messy scrawl that said “Alastor, The Radio Demon!”
Radio Demon? This guy had a title?
Vincent moved on and looked at the rest of the file. There was no photo of the patient. Instead, there was a sticky note where the photo should be that said “Patient prefers to not be photographed!” When Vincent lifted the sticky note there was a small, messy note in the same handwriting as the patient's name that said “No pictures if you value your life!” With a creepy smiley face doodled next to it. Something tells Vincent the patient wrote that one.
The rest of the file only gave vague information. None of it was really useful, so Vincent shut the file and tucked it under his arm. He grabbed his ID card that was attached to the lanyard around his neck, and held it up to the card scanner, the door unlocking with a loud clunk when it registered.
Vincent paused, his hand freezing still as he went to open the door. Why was he so scared all of the sudden?
He blamed Vaggi. She was just getting in his head, hyping this guy up. He probably wasn't even all that bad…
He shook his head and threw the door open, stepping inside quickly before his nerves got the better of him.
In the stark white room, he immediately spots the patient, dressed in all red as he sits upright on the edge of his bed, legs crossed and his hands folded neatly in his lap. He stared at Vincent with blood red eyes and a sharp smile that nearly split his face in half, razor like teeth all on display.
Like the rest of the demons here, he was very tall. Not as tall as Angel or Valentino, but taller than Charlie, especially with those large ears atop his head. At least 7’0, if Vincent had to guess.
The room was quiet as the two stared at each other, the only noise being the quiet buzzing coming from a small radio on the nightstand next to the bed.
Radio Demon, huh?
Alastor broke the silence, looking Vincent up and down, examining him before he spoke. “Dr. Whittman, was it?”
Immediately, Vincent shivered, feeling dread settle on his spine. Alastor's voice was strange, sounding thick with static as if it were coming from a speaker. Vincent glanced around the room, but saw no such thing. He glanced at the radio, wondering for a moment, before he cleared his throat, looking back at Alastor.
“Er– uh, yes.” Vincent silently cursed himself for stuttering, but quickly moved on. “Don't know if you've been informed, but your previous psychiatrist quit, so I'll be–”
Vincent was cut off as Alastor began chuckling, a clawed hand coming up to cover his mouth slightly. “Quit? Is that what they told you? Hmm… How amusing.”
“Uuh…” Vincent furrowed his brows, confused. “I.. don't follow? What's so funny?”
“Oh, nothing, Doctor! You're new here, correct? I haven't seen you around yet.” Alastor quickly changed the subject with a tilt of his head.
“...Yes.” Vincent grumbled. “I arrived two months ago.”
“Two months?” Alastor echoed, his eyes widening just a bit as his smile somehow got even sharper. “And they gave you to me already? Why, I almost pity you, Dr. Whittman! They truly must be desperate…” Alastor turned his head, looking at the wall in front of him with an amused glare.
Tensing, Vincent stepped forward. Feeling pitied always riled him up. “What's that supposed to mean?” Vincent asked, his voice low.
Alastor snapped his head to look at him with a sickening crack, somehow managing to perk up even straighter. Slowly, Alastor stood, rising to his full height, towering over Vincent. He stalked towards him, tilting his head at a terrifying angle. “It means…” He began, his voice becoming more garbled with static as the sclera of his eyes turned dark, and his pupils turned to radio dials, ticking back and forth frantically.
Vincent quickly took a step back, pressing himself against the door as Alastor stepped closer, his body morphing into something grotesque as his antlers elongated.
“You have absolutely no idea what you're getting yourself into, Doctor.”
With a trembling hand, Vincent panicked as he reached into his coat pocket, clutching the flashlight desperately. He yanked it out and pointed it at Alastor, pressing the button harshly, a bright beam of light hitting his face.
Suddenly, Alastor froze, and slowly shrunk back to his smaller form. His eyes were wide and his smile was strained, looking almost dazed as Vincent lowered the flashlight.
Seeing Alastor frozen, Vincent took the opportunity to quickly turn around, fumbling a bit as he unlocked the door. He slammed it shut as he ran out, stumbling over his own feet as he booked it for the elevator.
“Fuck that! Fuck this!”
As he frantically pressed the call button multiple times, a ghostly, sinister laugh echoed throughout the halls.
“Oh, this will be fun!”
When the elevator arrived, Vincent all but threw himself inside of it.