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CREDIT FOR PICTURE ABOVE: @//blue_is_usually_sad on instagram

also, i'm really sorry for being inactive. a lot has been going on in my personal life, and i haven't quite had the time nor the motivation to write much. i'm working on myself, and i hope you guys can understand. ]

☆ Second person POV, past tense

Cold.

The grass was cold.

How is it cold when we're in hell, the hottest place in all of existance?

Nonetheless, your fingers wrapped around a handful of it, like the action might keep you from flying away.

If you let go, you might actually fly away—to heaven.

Alastor did not share your fear of floating into the clouds. Quite the opposite, in fact. If he was scared at all, it was because of what stood before him, right here, right now, in hell.

With her polished metal sword gripped tight within her thin, claw-like fingertips, Lilith looked like the perfect picture of a demon queen. She smirked playfully, her watchful gaze narrowing as if she were trying to find the fear hidden within Alastor's core. To her, all of this was a game.

If you had to guess, it would probably be a game of chess. It wasn't like her life was on the line; she had you two in a checkmate.

"I'm surprised it was so easy to find you, Al," she scoffed. "I thought you were a professional."

"You thought correctly," Alastor said as he straightened his bowtie, careless as ever. His ever-present grin played with the corners of his lips, showing not a single sign of cowardice. He looked bold, confident. Lilith's threatening glare meant nothing to him. "I saw no point in hiding. After all, what's the point of hiding from a blood-thirsty bunny?"

"Any more back talk, and I'll slit your throat." Lilith adjusted her grip on the lean blade in her palm, like she was reminding herself that she still had it.

Reminding herself that she still had you in a checkmate.

"Isn't that what you came here to do?" Alastor quips, his head cocking to the side.

You cleared your throat.

Both Lilith and Alastor turned in your direction as you rose to your feet, tearing the grass right out of the ground as your fist rose with you. It was still cold and dewy in your palm, right up until the moment when you let it go.

For a second that felt like an hour, the forest went silent, as if someone had hit mute on the sounds around you.

The quiet moment reminded you of your death. Standing at the edge of that dark forest... fear and regret making your eye lids heavy...

Icy hot anger sunk through your bones with the memory, coursing through your veins like a river, drowning out all thoughts of reason. You felt—and acknowledged—the animalistic rage take over your concious mind as you stared at Lilith's scornful expression. It allowed no normal thought to beat past the barrier of emotion that stood high and rigid within your head.

"Leave him out of this," you hissed. There was so much menace in your words that they tore at your throat, creating a feeling like sandpaper on metal, if that could be described as a feeling. "This is about me, right? You want me, don't you? You think I'm a disgrace to your kind. So take your bitchy little eyes away from him and look at me, because I'm your fucking target, right?"

Lilith blinked, her eyes flickering from the Radio Demon, back to you. You watched all the while, the instinctive ferocity still burning up your muscles. Her eyes finally stopped, settling on you—her prey.

You were right.

The onimous glare in her sharp eyes used to make your stomach writhe with discomfort. Now, it was different.

Now, the look in her eyes and the sneer on her lips only made you want to rip her pretty little head right off of her shoulders.

"Wow. You have quite the mouth for a helpless little girl."

"I'm not helpless," you snapped, but it was a flat out lie. You were helpless. You had nothing—no powers, no weapons. You had nothing but foolish bravery.

"My love, please let me handle this," Alastor said softly.

You glanced his way. The moment your eyes connected with his, you realized just how stupid you were being. The carefully contained emotions wetting Alastor's eyes was proof enough that he cared about you more than he cared about himself.

That thought just made you even more angry. Why couldn't you fight Lilith yourself? Why did Alastor have to be your hero all the time?

Your hands felt numb. It wasn't until that exact moment that you realized you had them clenched firmly at your sides.

"I've had enough of this pathetic bullshit," barked Lilith. With the speed of a bullet on crack, she had you in a headlock with her empty arm. The dagger was aimed at Alastor, the single thing that stood between you and him. "I'm taking her, and I'm taking her now."

You struggled to breathe. Lilith's grip was strong as steel, lacking any and all sympathy. You reached up to try and pull her arm away from your throat, grunting with the effort. It was futile. Lilith was full of a power that was hers and only hers. She had crossed the line of insanity, and there was no turning back.

Blonde locks of hair were swirling through the air around you. Long, thin, and soft. Was that... Lilith's hair? But there was no wind!

"I'll kill you before you get the chance," Alastor said in a voice that you knew all to well. It was still his voice, but was darker and scratchier than his normally chipper tone. He was changing. Through the haze of deoxygenated darkness, you could just barely see him rise into the air, claws outstretched, eyes burning with an inner flame of anger.

Part of you ached with the desire to be with him, to listen his voice and feel his touch, but your head was going light. You were going to pass out.

It wasn't like you wanted to pass out, but the feeling of no circulation in your brain was kind of nice. It made you feel warm all over, drowning out all of the pain and enragement rattling your tired bones. Even the struggled shivering of your lungs felt like nothing.

But then there was a sound. Lilith grunted.

Then oxygen. Vision. Relief.

Then the ground, smashing into your spine and pounding against your skull.

Gasping for air, you felt the blood rush to your head in a heavy tsunami of pressure. You blinked, but all you could see was grass, the lengthy, wet blades reaching towards the sunless sky. The sunless, lifeless, barren emptiness of the sky.

The sounds of battle waged on around you for a long time. How long, you didn't know. You heard all of the metallic clashes, pounds, and high-pitched screams. Alastor and Lilith fighting kind of sounded like two people having really rough sex. Kinky sex. Rough and kinky sex—

"(Y/N), are you alright?"

You startled. Turning your aching head around, you saw two forms of Alastor standing above you. His eyes looked dull, and there was a gash that dripped down from his temple to the edge of his mouth. His unsmiling mouth.

You blinked. "I... I think so..."

Alastor reached a hand out to help you up. You took it, wheezing with effort as you pushed yourself to your feet. "We have to leave," he said. His voice was different, lighter, almost. He kept looking around, like he was scared of something coming. Paranoid. You've never seen an expression like that on his face. "Right now. Or he'll find us—"

"He?"

Alastor deadpanned. He stared at you for a moment, then chuckled lightly. Nervously. "She. I meant she. Lillith."

"Okay, but... where are we going to go?" you asked, glancing around. Your vision was still blurry, no matter how much you blinked. It was like there was a permanent fog in your eyes. "If we go back home, she'll just follow us."

"I have a place we can go. A safe place—"

"Where is she?" There were so many trees. Plus, you were still half-blind. "She must not have gotten..."

You stopped.

A few meters away, partially hidden by a lump of dead bramble, was Alastor's body, lying limp on the ground. A pool of shiny, dark liquid had formed around him in the grass. You couldn't see his face, but you recognized the contours of his back, the leanness of his arms, the absence of wrinkles in his always-dry cleaned suit.

It was Alastor. One hundred percent.

But if that was Alastor, then who was... who was Alastor?

"What are you staring at, my love?"

Your chest felt numb again, like you were back in Lilith's chokehold. "You."

From the hazy edges of your peripheral vision, you saw Alastor—the living one—turn to follow your gaze.

There was silence.

"I don't see anything," he said.

"Am I hallucinating?" you muttered.

"That would be likely. You did hit your head quite hard."

But he was there. Right there. Dead. Or was he right here, beside you, breathing?

You desperately hoped that the latter was true.

"Babe, we need to leave," Alastor said urgently, reaching over to grab your arm.

You blinked. Everything was blurry. "Babe," you repeated.

"I'm sorry?"

"You've never called me that."

Silence.

You turned to look at Alastor. The living one. He was glaring at you.

His monocle was cracked.

"Yes I have."

"No, you haven't,"

"My love, you need to sit down. You must have a concussion—"

You tried to back away, but his grip on your arm tightened. "Give me a moment to think—"

"We need to leave—"

"Let me go, Al."

"We need to leave, right now—"

"Let me go you fucking asshole!"

The searing pang of regret was instant. Your stomach sank with dread. You had never insulted him before, but there was no way to take back what you said.

Alastor sighed. He looked hurt, but not as hurt as any normal person would have looked. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't frowning, either.

"I'm sorry—"

"Fine. Take a moment to think. I don't care."

The Alastor you knew probably would have smiled and dismissed your words like they meant nothing. But this Alastor... well, he hadn't smiled since you woke up.

Alastor let go of your arm, then turned away, running his palms over his eyes. You drew back, folding into yourself. So many emotions were dashing through your already muddled brain that you didn't know what to think.

So you didn't think.

For a few minutes, neither of you said anything. You leaned back against a tree and found yourself staring at Alastor's (was it actually Alastor?) dead body. Eventually, you zoned out, letting your eyes unfocus.

Meanwhile, Alastor took off his monocle, let it fall to the ground, and crushed it underneath the polished heel of his boot.