[ sorry if my writing seems a little bit off/different this chapter. i'm experiencing some pretty harsh writer's block, and i have been pretty busy lately, so my mind is kind of in a daze. i'm also getting into a few new fandoms, so i'm not as obsessed with Alastor as i used to be lol.

still, i hope my writing is decent. let me know if it's too shitty for ya'll :> ]

☆

Her husband was dead.

A pile of limbs and crushed black feathers rested on the floor—the lifeless form his body. He was nothing but a broken mannequin, dressed in a flashy white suit and wearing a mat of glossy blonde hair, his neck twisted in an ugly manner. His eyes were made of glass, glazed and crystaline and unmoving.

And yet she did nothing, not even as the room around her began to transform. With nobody left alive to control the room, it faded into it's natural form; the slick stone walls crumbled to dirt, as did the floors. The air began to change, too; it smelled of blood and mold and was heavy with death. With each breath in, Lilith absorbed more of it, more of her dead husband.

You unclenched your fingers. Lucifer's sword fell to the spongey ground with a gentle thud.

"Thank you," Lilith said, giving Alastor a kind, yet somehow threatening, smile.

Alastor's grin only widened furthermore. He was unfazed by Lilith's demeaning overtone. "You are so very welcome," he said, folding his hands behind his back.

You felt like you were going to snap, both mentally and physically. Your head was pounding, probably because it couldn't wrap itself around what the hell just happened.

"Okay, you know what?" you snapped, stepping forward. Both Alastor and Lilith turned to face you, expectantly. "Alastor, we're going home. We need to have a talk. Alone."

Alastor sighed. You didn't look at him, because you knew that if you did, all of your anger would vanish and you would be overcome with relief. He was alive, and you were more than thankful for that, but right now, you wanted to be pissed. You deserved to be pissed.

"Okay. We can go—"

Lilith cleared her throat, interrupting Alastor. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can let you do that."

Your breath faltered, for just a split second.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Alastor questioned, tilting his head in Lilith's direction so he could glare at the Barbie version of a demon. His bright eyes narrowed into little, menacing slits, which was how you knew that there was nothing stopping him from killing Lilith, right then and there.

She examined her long, black nails, but let nothing more than a twinge of a smirk come over her lips. "I said, I can't let you leave. (Y/N) is mine now." She said it like it meant nothing.

You weren't surprised. She was spouting this exact same shit earlier, when she was talking to Lucifer. After Alastor was stabbed, she had said to Lucifer, 'I saved her, and now that girl belongs to me.' Or something like that. You didn't remember the exact words, but you knew she said it, and you remembered the discomfort that surged through you then—just like what you were feeling right now.

"Uh, what the fuck? I'm not yours," you spat. "And weren't you just saying, like, two seconds ago that you wanted to give me a shot at life? Because my ideal shot at life would include going home, with Alastor, right now, and not having to deal with anymore 'heaven and hell' crap."

Lilith shot you a burning look. "Oh, honey. I was obviously lying."

"I suggest you watch your words, Madam Magne," Alastor drawled, his gaze still narrow. "If my fingers so much as touch, you'll fall dead in the blink of an eye." So you were right. There was nothing stopping him.

So why hadn't he killed her already? She was obviously trying to hurt you, or take you, or something. Nobody who claimed that you belonged to them had good intentions.

"Always with the threats, Alastor." Lilith rolled her eyes, still upholding the careless act.

You were vaguely confused. Lucifer had wanted to give you away to heaven. He didn't say anything about you being his. But that's what Lilith was saying now—that you were hers. How was Lilith's agenda any different from her husband's? Did she want to keep you, or...?

"Explain yourself," you demanded, probably using a bit more attitude than was practical. All concern you had about 'attitude' had flown out of the window the second Alastor proved he would protect you with his life. Which was a few moments ago, actually.

Lilith nodded, then began to walk closer to you. Her heels barely touched the soft dirt floor, let alone sank into it like yours. So much for physics. She was probably using magic or something so her skinny stilettos didn't get stuck in the miry ground. "I would be happy to explain myself," she said, wearing the same biting smile as earlier. "My dear husband has had a deal with heaven for as long as I can remember—he has to give them all of the Purebloods that he finds." She continued to walk, but was now making circles around you. "But you're nearly perfect. You're not like the other Purebloods, but Lucifer couldn't see that you were so special. He was still just going to give you away like you were any old angel."

She sighed, then stopped right in front of you. Her long eyelashes drooped as she blinked slowly (even her blinks were bitchy). "I would rather sell you than give you to heaven. You would be worth quite a pretty penny. Do you understand what I'm doing now, sweetheart?"

Yeah. You fucking understood. Lilith only let her husband die so she could sell you, when Lucifer just wanted to let heaven have you for free.

But you weren't about to let it happen. Given away or sold—it was all the same thing. These assholes thought of you as some deluxe sort of property. If you had to put a label on it, you would say that their 'deal with heaven' should just have been called 'human trafficking at its finest.'

Plus, you weren't about to let this weird, busty lady sell you to a bunch of angels.

"Alastor?"

"Yes, my love?"

Lilith deadpanned. She probably knew what you were about to tell Alastor to do.

All of you knew.

"I'm tired of hearing this crazy bitch ta—"

Before you could finish your sentence, Lilith swung her hand through the air until it connected with your cheek.

The slap stung like a burn. Even though it wasn't that painful—just something like what your mom would give you after you snuck $20 out of her purse—your instinct forced your eyes shut. When they blinked open again, Lilith was gone.

You placed your palm on your cheek. The skin there was suddenly softer and warmer than usual. "Did you kill her?" you asked Alastor.

When you saw the frown creasing his forehead, you knew what his answer would be even before his lips even parted.

"No. She vanished right after she hit you." He blinked, then grinned at you, his eyes shining with something unrecognizable. "Would you like me to kill her?"

"Not right now."

You looked down at Lucifer's body. The body of Satan, who was now dead. The body of the man who labeled you as 'pure.' The body of the man who tried to give you away.

The man who Alastor had murdered.

Alastor was powerful enough to be stabbed by Satan, live through it, and then kill him.

Then you looked at Alastor, and the relief that you knew would come flourished inside of your chest.

He lived through it.

"Oh my God, you're alive," you whispered before running up to him and enveloping him in a tight hug. He hugged you right back, his arms wrapped around your chest so tight that you lost your breath for a minute, but you didn't care—you would loose your breath to hug him any day.

Alastor kissed the top of your head. "I am so sorry," he mumbled into your hair. "I wish you didn't have to see any of that."

"It's okay," you replied, but you were shaking. Tears welled up on the rim of your eyes and started to leak onto your cheeks for the second time that day. "I'm alive, you're alive, and we're together. That's all that matters."

"That is true."

"Speaking of which, how are you alive?"

Neither of you separated, so you were talking to him with your voice muffled into his chest and his muffled by your hair.. "The sword had angel's blood on it. Angel's blood is every demon's kryptonite, but it's the only thing that can kill me."

"So why didn't you die?"

"You took the sword out before the blood had enough time to fully enter my system. If it weren't for you, I really would be dead."

That made something inside of your stomach twist in an unpleasant knot. Good thing you had been there to save him. Plus, now you guys had the sword, so Lilith couldn't use it against Alastor—

"Also, Lilith took the sword."

"What?"

You pulled away from Alastor just enough to look around and see that the patch of dirt where you had left Lucifer's angel-blood sword was empty. That sneaky bitch. Now she had the power to kill Alastor, and considering her motives, she probably would.

"I suppose you're wondering why I didn't kill Lucifer right at the start," Alastor said. His voice was distant, making him sound like he wasn't talking, but rather thinking aloud. "I had to snap his neck."

"Is that, like... the only way he can die or something?"

"Yes."

"Is he dead forever?" you questioned, looking at Lucifer's dead body once again. His crooked wings had relaxed over his torso, acting like a sort of blanket. The sight made you want to vomit.

"No. Lilith can bring him back. Opposite of angel's blood, demon's blood can bring a creature of hell back to life. If Lilith—or any other demon blood related to him—slit their wrist over his body, he would come back," he explained.

"Do they have to be related to him for it to work?"

"Yes."

Well, that's pretty messed up.

You didn't want to think about it. You wanted to lock the memories of Lucifer and Alastor's big fight—of the sword and Alastor's near-death experience, and of Lilith's betrayal and fierce words—away in a vault and never think about any of them ever again.

"Should we take his body?" you wondered, looking up at Alastor once again. He was staring at you, an unusually small smile over his face. "That way, none of his family members can find it."

"Maybe that's a good idea."

You nodded.

There was a silence, thick and still and uneasy, that fell between the two of you like rain. Your gazes were locked in a staring contest of sorts, with Alastor smiling and you basically crying.

"My love?"

You rose an eyebrow.

"I hope you know that when I call you 'my love,' I do mean it. Maybe I didn't at first. But now..." He placed his hand on your cheek, gently wiping away the trail of tears that was sitting there. "I mean it. I feel it."

Was he trying to say what you thought he was trying to say?

Even though the air still smelled like blood, dirt and death, and your heart was still riddled with both anxiety and shock, you felt it too. The love. It was there, coursing though your veins right beside your blood.

If he was about to say what you thought he was about to, then you were ready to say it right back.

You hadn't known him for long, but it was long enough for you to fall for him hard. Especially considering what the two of you had already been through. You had even slept together—maybe not in the way that most would imply when they said something like that, but it still meant something to you.

He took a deep breath, and you could hear it cut through the silence.

"I love you."

For a second, you didn't say anything. You just stood there, unable to stop the huge grin from breaking out over your blushing cheeks. When you said it, your voice was soft and so quiet that you barely even heard yourself speak.

"I love you too."