"Satan is not my father." Dan said, rolling his eyes at Phil's unconvinced expression. They were sitting outside the school for lunch, and for the last ten minutes or so, they'd been arguing for no real reason.

"Well, he has to be." Phil said. "I mean, isn't he technically the one who made all of you?"

"The devil had no part in the creation of my kind." Dan said, leaning back on his elbows on the concrete, and Phil can't stop the small glance at the strip is tan skin exposed between his shirt and low jeans. "We are the offspring of humans and fairies."

"I've done research, and that is damn well not the only way demons can be made." Phil retorted. "Witchcraft, and cross roads, and even being in Hell too long, it's all possible."

"But it's rare." Dan said with a smirk. "You really think people would use a cross road to become a demon?"

Phil shrugged. "People are crazy, man. You never know."

"Seriously, Phil-"

"And another thing, too." Phil interrupted. Mostly so he couldn't be made to look like even more of an uneducated idiot. "Are you, like, possessing some poor bastard or something? Cause I know you guys have true forms sometimes, but from what I've come across, it's mostly you using vessels."

Dan actually laughed at that, sitting up again with a sigh. He looked down at his lap for a moment, and Phil wondered why he was hesitating now. He never usually held back with telling Phil some new information, no matter how strange or personal it was.

"No, this body isn't mine." He said lowly, running his fingers through his hair. It was curly today, he'd apparently forgotten to straighten it this morning, and the unruly mess of it made Phil clench his hands so he wouldn't reach out and grab it himself. Honestly, it looked like pure sex hair. "It was... he was convenient. He was all by himself, broken and lonely, and I needed a solid, uh, residence, I guess? I like to think I might have... helped a bit. If I hadn't, he probably wouldn't even be alive right now."

Phil stared at him, letting all of that sink in. It was horrible, he knew, the fact that Dan had just taken over this boy's body, for his own needs. But in the long run, it probably was the best choice. For both of them, in different ways.

And the selfish part of him also knew that if it hadn't happened, him and Phil would never have met.

"Is that, his name?" Phil asked. "Dan, or is it yours?"

"It's his." Dan answered. "I'm pretty much borrowing everything." He said it sarcastically, but neither of them laughed.

The mood had instantly gone from light and playful to morbid. They didn't say anything to each other for a while, and Phil wrapped his arms around his drawn up knees.

Had he gone insane? In his long life of seventeen years, had some trauma or personal experience made him lose the logical part of his brain structure? What was he doing with his life? Here he was, having casual conversation with a demon, who he also sometimes made out with. If he ever said that out loud to any regular person, he'd be cast out instantly and probably checked into a mental institute. So why the hell was he enjoying it so much?

Well, he halfway knew the answer to that. Because Dan made him whole. Dan was the other half to his already marginally not-so-normal life, the piece that pretty much made this whole thing stable, if not a bit shaky. Dan was the part of him that understood and wouldn't disregard his stupid thoughts and actions. Dan listened to him; his crazy stories and theories and one-in-the-morning thoughts, and he agreed. Dan was exceptional, and Phil wished he'd had someone like that in his life sooner.

And as for the other half of the answer, well, maybe it was his great kissing skills. Or his surprisingly submissive demeanor in the bedroom despite the hard-ass persona he gave off.

"I know this may be a lot to take in for you." Dan mumbled, making Phil look over at him. "It's only been a couple weeks, and shoving all of this down your throat can't be easy. I'm sorry about pulling you into all of this, I just.... I hate being alone in my world sometimes."

***

Phil could barely remember what his life was like before meeting Dan. The only word that really came to mind was 'bland'.

He felt like a new Phil; like he was a completely different person than he had been before. And he didn't know how to deal with that information. The fact that Dan was changing him, in ways he didn't think were even possible, was a scary thought. But he didn't think it was exactly dangerous. Because Dan made him feel good, about himself and about the idea of actually letting someone into his life. He didn't feel the need to ever hold back with Dan, never had to censor himself or feel like he was being annoying. And Dan listened, and he agreed most of the time.

Phil didn't choose to fall for him.

And how was he dealing with the situation? Stupidly, of course. Pining after him like a dog and wallowing in his own self pity. He'd reached an all time low, and he really didn't think he'd come back up anytime soon.

It was getting a lot colder these days, as it closed in on December, and Phil shivered as he continued walking to the public library. He had research to do for an upcoming project, and his house was empty and he didn't want to be alone. He was only wearing a hoodie, and was really regretting that choice.

He really didn't have better plans for his Saturday afternoon, and this was the only alternative.

He reached his destination not too long after, pushing gratefully into the warm building. Smiling politely at the lady behind the counter, he headed over to the section where he knew the thick, heavy books were that he needed.

It was practically empty in here, only a few other people scattered at various tables, mostly taking advantage of the free wifi with their phones and laptops. It probably would have been a better idea to bring his computer with him. His mind was all messed up these days.

Phil searched through the shelves for almost twenty minutes, compiling a small stack of books that seemed relevant, before settling in one of the darker corners by himself and beginning the grueling process of reading. He usually liked reading, just not for academic purposes.

It was gonna be a long afternoon for him.

***

Two hours later, and Phil was ready to tear his hair out.

He hadn't had much success so far, only filling about half a page with notes he could use, and he was mostly just staring off into space instead of reading. And now, for some reason, he can't get 'Mr. Brightside' out of his head.

He's not comfortable anywhere, it seems. Home is too lonely, quiet and aware. It makes him jumpy and he wants to crawl out of his skin. But being in public is no better. The noises, no matter how small, give him an instant headache, and he can't focus on anything or longer than a few minutes.

He is a mess, inside and out, and he hates it.

His inner spiel is interrupted when the chair next to him is pulled out, and he looks over to see Zoe sitting next to him.

Unexpected is probably the biggest understatement for this situation.

"I don't want to be here just as much as you'd expect." She says, leaning her chair back on two legs casually. "But we need to talk."

Phil just stares at her, still processing what exactly is happening. The last time he saw her, he was being pinned to the wall while she spit degrading words into his face. He wasn't exactly in his element right now.

Zoe sighs and sits back on all four legs of the chair. "I know that you know about us. I know that Dan can't help himself, he's always been naïve and blind when it comes to people like you."

"People like me?" Phil asks, finally snapping out of his surprised haze.

Zoe gives him a look, and smiles. It's a big difference from the usual scowl she wears. "You are by far not the first person he's 'fallen in love with'." She says almost pathetically, and Phil can hear the pity in her voice. "You're not everything he makes you seem like."

And what the hell is that supposed to mean? Phil can barely take in her words, and he's having a hard time understanding what her motive is. To make Phil feel like shit? Or to keep trying to separate him and Dan?

"I care more about my life, and my family's lives, than I do about how Dan feels about you." She continues. "And this... fling you have going on with him? It does nothing but put us in danger. And I don't want that."

"So you're here to stop me?" Phil asks calmly, staring down at the books in front of him. He's tense, not knowing exactly how to compose himself.

"I'm here to explain something to you." Zoe counters. "That Dan doesn't care about you as much as he says he does."

"Yeah, you already said that. Why does it mean?"

"Back in London, there was a boy-"

"I already know about that." Phil says, confident that he has something that proves her wrong about whatever point she's trying to make.

"Will you let me talk?" Zoe says hotly, her temper flaring up, and Phil swears he sees her eyes darken, like Dan's do. He closes his mouth and waits. "In London, there was a boy. He was younger, maybe fifteen or something, but Dan didn't really care. He was always gone, out the house, and we never really knew where he went, until I caught him.

"They were really close. They spent almost all their time together, and sometimes Dan would even spend the night with him." She pauses, actually looking flustered, inspecting her nails.

"He said it was nothing. Just some fun, so he wouldn't get bored, but he's such a bad liar. I could see exactly what he felt for the boy, knew that he liked him much more than he let on. I overheard them a few times, and Dan would always tell him he was important and special. And I overheard when he told the boy the truth, about everything.

"I warned him, that he was putting us all in danger, but he didn't listen. He was more concerned about that guy than anybody's well being, and he payed for it in the end.

"The hunters, I'm sure he's told you about them. They tracked the boy down, and they killed him, trying to find us. And Dan. He went straight at them, no plan or logical thinking, and they almost killed him, too. But I saved him, pulled him away before they could get him. He was crazy for weeks, wouldn't talk to any of us, wouldn't come out of his room. He was convinced it was our fault that he got killed, and he wanted nothing to do with us.

"I just don't want to see him like that again. And I don't want anyone I care about to die, because he can't find it in himself to let people go."

She looks up at him with a mix of anger and disappointment. "It's happened too many times. There's always somebody. You're just another one of them."

Phil remains silent. Because what is he supposed to say to all of that? His head is hurting even more now, and he kinda just wants to be left alone again.

"I..." Phil trails off, his leg jumping nervously under the table. "I don't-"

"You need to understand," Zoe cuts him off firmly. "That my family is the most important thing to me. To Dan, too, though he probably won't admit it. And you're a risk."

A risk. Never in his life has Phil been 'a risk', never has he been a danger to anybody. And now he's in the middle of a life or death situation, with a family of demons on his tail who won't hesitate to get rid of him, in whatever way they see fit.

He stays there, in that seat in the library, long after Zoe throws him an unreadable look and leaves. He doesn't know what to do, his functioning has seemed to shut off completely. And all he can do is wallow.

***

a/n: oh shit, that was a fast update.

God I'm actually really pumped to finish this story for some reason. Like, the ideas are overflowing. Goddamn. Okay. Im sorry.

What's up guys, and welcome to this new chapter. Things are starting to get a bit more serious now, and it will definitely not slow down. So I hope you stick around for it.

Okay yeah. I'll see you guys later, and I love you all babies. (And those stars are for you philcuddlesdan ;) you're welcome)

*That song in the beginning is called Everyday Is Exactly The Same by Nine Inch Nails btw....*