☆ Alastor's POV, present tense

It all happens very fast.

One second, I am explaining to the group of frivolous demons my motive behind sending (Y/N) to heaven.

A second later, a human figure appears right in front of me, popping out of thin air. They are surrounded by a shimmering cloud of what appears to be glass.

The glass rains down around them, providing a strangely mystical effect that is only strengthened by their flashy, white attire. It's quite beautiful, actually—that is, until they fall flat on their face, quite ungracefully.

All four of us stare at them, transfixed with curiosity. I can see now that it's a female, and...

And...

She has (H/C) hair.

Just like...

Angel Dust scoffs. "Who the fuck is this bitch?"

☆ Second person POV, past tense

Shattering.

Just like your life. Just like your heart. Just like your soul.

As the wall broke away, you were thrown against the ground with the overwhelming momentum of your last punch to the glass. You fell on your chest and arms, unable to hold your hands out in time to break your fall.

There was a sharp sting on your nose, then a hard thrumming in your head. For a moment, you just lied there, awkwardly covered in and surrounded by glass, acknowledging the throbs in your head as if each one was just another second of your life ticking away.

Then there was a voice—one that you recognized all too well. "Who the fuck is this bitch?"

You rolled over onto your back, blinking hard to vanish the pain raking through your skull.

Above head, looming like a great sea of blood, was a red sky.

Relief ran down your spine, calming every muscle in your body.

Your relaxation was short-lived. You quickly remembered what was happening around you—Alastor had just admitted to pretending to be Lilith pretending to be himself, Mary was trying to prove a point and make you stay in heaven, and your body was aching.

Despite the last part of your thought process being true as the sky was red, you bolted to your feet. You were facing Charlie, Vaggie and Angel, who all looked stunned, like they had just seen a ghost. Charlie looked quite pretty; her hair was weightless atop her head—

No. Stay focused.

You whirled around.

☆ Alastor's POV, present tense

Regret. Is that what I feel? I'm not sure, because I've never felt it before.

One of my eyes is half-lidded, damaged from the glass dug into it from my monocle—an act that none other than (Y/N) herself had done—so I see her in a sort of blurry, faded lens. Despite that, the weight of her emotion is clearer than my vision has ever been.

She shoots the most hateful, pain-filled glare I think I have ever seen in my life, which is really saying something, because I've seen some hateful, pain-filled glares in my day.

But this look isn't like any of the others. It's real, so real that I can feel it in my chest, squeezing at my heart in an effort to make it burst.

I know the pain that she's feeling, because I'm the who caused it.

☆ Second person POV, past tense

"Why?"

Your voice sounded hoarse. Two thick hands of emotion were clenched around your throat, digging into your vocal chords, making it hard for you to speak.

It was strange, hearing your own voice take on a tone that you had never heard before. It made you feel slightly disembodied, like you weren't actually yourself, but rather a fly sitting on a branch above head, watching you struggle.

"Because it—"

"Don't you dare say that it was the right thing to do, because we all know that's bullshit."

Silence. You were practically shaking. Alastor looked appauled, and you probably looked insane. Behind you, Angel, Vaggie and Charlie waited quietly, anticipating an argument between the two of you.

"Cupcake, I'm... sorry," he said, his tone lilting upwards slightly like the word 'sorry' was a question. It didn't help his cause.

He still wasn't smiling, but you really wished that he was. You wanted to see his charming grin, because now that you were here in front of him, mere inches away from his face, you realized how long it had been since you last saw him. It felt like years.

Instead of taking a deep breath and recollecting yourself to have a reasonable conversation with him, like any normal person would, you stepped forward and shoved him hard in the shoulders with the heels of your hands.

He staggered backwards, his fluffy hair flying all over his face. Although it was a hard shove, he seemed mostly unaffected and recovered quickly.

His eyebrows creased, and his lips down-turned, like he was stung. Seeing the expression made your ribs clench together. The hands on your throat tightened.

"Well? Aren't you gunna fight back?" you blurted. The only problem was—you didn't want to be pushing him. You wanted to be hugging him.

Nonetheless, you pushed him again. "You fought me earlier, and you seemed just about ready to kill me. Come on, come at me."

Another shove. "Don't you want to get me back to heaven? Huh? Fucking fight back, you asshole!"

"Yes, girl. Show him who's boss," Angel cheered weakly from somewhere behind you.

You ignored him.

"Please, my love, let me—"

"Don't call me that."

"—explain."

Your lips tightened into a thin line as you crossed your arms, scanning Alastor with your eyes. You were waiting for him to continue, even though all you really wanted to do was either beat him to a pulp or kiss him all over or both.

Alastor sighed. His hands began to rub together in some sort of nervous tic. You noticed that he was wearing gloves, like always. Maybe he had done some work with Rosie while you were gone (you use the term 'work' loosely).

"I honestly didn't want to do it," he said.  His smile started to return, but it was weak. Forced. "I killed both Lilith and Lucifer. All of their associates would be coming for your blood and mine. I had to let you—"

"So you did it to protect yourself?" you snapped. There was a fire of rage in your chest, and Alastor was holding the poker.

"No, I did it to protect you. Why can't you see that?"

"Because it doesn't make any sense!"

Your body shivered, quite violently, and then you burst into tears. It happened so fast that it even surprised you. Collapsing to the ground, you held your face in your palms and let the salty liquid drench them.

An arm slid around your shoulders, and you leaned—no, fell—into them. It was surely Alastor trying to comfort you... or was it?

Suddenly, the memory of Alastor calming you after your horrible nightmare many nights ago flashed before your eyes. His touch, his eyes, the way he called you beautiful, then (literally) swept you off your feet and carried you to his bed. It was all so pleasant, and yet so sad. Bittersweet; that was the only word to describe the coursing wave of emotions that came with that memory.

Why were you crying? You had been crying too much lately. Everyone was probably sick of it. You were sick of it.

But you cried anyways. And you sang into the arm that was around you, savoring the warmth, the touch, the presence.

Who knew how much longer this would last?

Who knew how much longer you would be in hell?

☆

[ Sorry, this chapter was so shitty and short and confusing! :< The next one will be better, I promise.

This is late, but—HAPPY HALLOWEEN! I hope all of you have enjoyed these past few weeks (especially Halloween itself lol) and are doing amazing :>

Love you all! ]