Chapter Text
Vaggie never feared death. She had come into existence as an exorcist, and though she never understood the thrill of Extermination Day, it was her purpose. Angels were immortal, unable to be harmed, so her own death was never a consideration.
But now, she was alarmingly aware of how close she had come to it. And she wasn't entirely sure she wasn't still on the brink.
Normally, Vaggie was one of the most successful during Exterminations. Her numbers never disappointed, and she could at least pretend the pride of that filled the emptiness and guilt she always felt after. Killing those who deserved it was one thing, sometimes it was even fun, but the Exterminations were created purely for sport and entertainment. They might have started out as a way to “protect heaven,” but that was now just the lie they chose to continue with. Pretending the sinners were target practice and blindly letting her pent up frustration loose had become her preferred strategy, the only way she could bring herself to kill so many, and it worked well enough.
Until it didn't. She spared one kid and lost her wings, halo, and an eye for it.
Was she fallen now? No, she couldn't be … right?
Lucifer had been cast into hell, Vaggie had been abandoned. There was a difference. She didn't belong here, and she'd find a way back to heaven.
After she stopped bleeding out and could think clearly.
Everything fucking hurt, but she had to keep moving. She doubted anyone knew angels bled gold, but surely a pair of dismembered angel wings and a halo right next to her would be a dead fucking giveaway. Vaggie tried not to think about how exposed she felt not having the familiar weight and warmth of her wings against her back, instead focusing her energy on putting one foot in front of the other. At least those wounds would eventually heal. She didn't have the same hope for her eye, but the bleeding had finally slowed.
As she rounded the corner into another alley, Vaggie began to tear off her exorcist uniform, hoping the distance between it and her wings was enough to prevent anyone from connecting the two. Agony exploded across her back as she slowly pulled each piece of clothing off, and she just hoped no one got curious about the pained yelps and grunts she couldn't force herself to quiet.
And hopefully she’d be long gone before anyone decided to follow the trail of golden blood.
Thankfully, she had worn something under her uniform, but her back was still drenched in her blood. It wasn't enough to drip onto the ground anymore, but the gold was painfully obvious against the white of her top. It’d have to do for now though - she’d address it once she gained a bit of her strength back.
She was completely defenseless, Vaggie realized belatedly as she stumbled past the trash can she had shoved her bloodied clothes in. Her spear was left behind with her wings, but if she went back to retrieve it, she was almost certain she’d collapse midway. She'd just have to get it back another day. If she made it that long.
When her body gave out and she collapsed against a dumpster, her hopes of surviving turned to prayers that whoever inevitably came across her wouldn’t be as cruel as those in the stories she'd be told. Vaggie’s vision started to blur and dance at the edges, and as much as she wanted to fight it and stay awake, her body had been pushed past its limits. So, she gave in, a depressing certainty settling in her that once her eye closed, it wouldn't open again.
The sound of hurried footsteps and worried, rushed mumbling tugged her back to consciousness, panic quickly overtaking the brief surprise of realizing she was still alive. Someone was only a few feet in front of her, and as Vaggie struggled to get her vision to focus, they apparently noticed she was awake and started to move even quicker towards her. Vaggie froze, trying to decipher what the stranger’s intentions were when they suddenly knelt down in front of her and Vaggie’s vision finally cleared.
“Here, let me help?” The woman spoke, the concerned, and maybe even a little scared, expression in her eyes betraying the attempt at a reassuring smile she was offering.
Vaggie didn't fully trust herself not to cry if she tried to speak, so she responded with just a silent nod, her body tense in case this was a trick. Not that she’d be able to fight in her current state, but if she showed no reaction to an attack and remained unharmed, the demon would surely discover what she was. And Vaggie didn't want to find out what these people might devise to torture an angel responsible for thousands of murders.
When the woman went to put something to her missing eye, Vaggie flinched and she immediately paused her movement. “Shit, I’m sorry. I was just going to bandage it,” she explained as she showed Vaggie that it really was just a roll of gauze in her hands. When Vaggie didn't answer right away, still not trusting her voice, the demon continued, “My name's Charlie. Do you have a name I can call you?”
Vaggie didn't know why Charlie was being so nice to her, and she didn't have the energy to search for any hidden malice, so she’d just have to trust her. For now, at least - just until she could fend for herself again. And then she'd figure out how to get back home.
Charlie was still staring at her, patiently waiting for Vaggie’s response, and her odd, genuine concern for a complete stranger was still evident on her face. “Oh, it’s,” Vaggie started, having to lightly clear her throat when her voice wavered too much. “It’s Vaggie.”
“Nice to meet you, Vaggie,” Charlie responded. She slowly raised the hand with the gauze a little closer towards Vaggie’s face, but paused and asked, “Is it ok if I wrap it?”
“Yeah,” Vaggie replied, pausing for a second before she added, “Thanks.” She tried to offer a smile, but it turned into a wince when that just made her empty eye socket throb again.
Charlie didn't say anything else as she carefully wrapped the gauze around Vaggie’s head aside from a few quiet apologies when she pulled it a little too tight. Once she had secured the end of it at the back of Vaggie’s head, she knelt back, her expression now more nervous than compassionate. She seemed to hesitate before finally asking, “Do you have anywhere to go? Anyone who can help you recover?”
No, she didn't, Vaggie reminded herself. If she had been asked that question even just hours earlier, her response would've been Lute. Vaggie hadn't been exactly close with any of the other exorcists, but she had found a friend in Lute, and, despite their mismatched soulmarks, there had been times Vaggie considered asking for them to be more than friends.
But that was before her betrayal. And that almost stung more than her physical wounds.
“No, I don’t,” she answered, the finality of those words settling heavy in her chest.
“Then, if you’d like, you could stay with my friends and I until you're back on your feet? It's not much, but we live in a former hotel, so there's plenty of room,” Charlie offered, her smile returning.
Vaggie hesitated, knowing she shouldn’t be trusting a demon she just met. But what other choice did she have? This was probably her only chance at surviving, so, going against everything she had been taught, she replied, “I think I’d like that.”
Charlie's smile brightened, and she went to help Vaggie stand up. But as soon as she put a hand on Vaggie’s back, she jerked it back, her eyes widening in shock and her voice laced with panic as she asked, “Holy shit , what happened to your back?”
Vaggie had completely forgotten that the back of her shirt was still soaked in her blood. “Oh, uh, they cut off my wings,” she said quietly, rushing through the words and hoping Charlie wouldn't ask too many questions about why she had had wings.
Or why her blood was gold.
“They did what?” Charlie exclaimed, sounding equally horrified and outraged, and when Vaggie made eye contact with her again, she swore she could see tears in Charlie’s eyes. She shook her head as if to clear it before continuing, “I don't have any more gauze with me, but there's more at the hotel, so I’ll bandage those then. Do you think you can walk?”
Vaggie thanked God that Charlie didn't ask anything else, but she was sure there’d be more questions later. “Maybe, if you help me,” she responded, hoping the hotel wasn't too far of a walk. Charlie helped Vaggie get to her feet, and she suddenly realized that Charlie was much taller than her. Once they were both fully upright, arms around each other’s waists for support, the top of Vaggie’s head only came up to Charlie’s shoulder.
Charlie asked again if Vaggie was okay, and when Vaggie assured her she was, they started to walk towards the hotel.
It didn't make sense to Vaggie, that someone in hell cared this much about someone they found half-dead in a filthy alley. The exorcists had always been taught that sinners were vile, heartless, that their souls were lost causes.
She was starting to believe that was yet another lie.