Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It has been a while...

Perhaps too long...

But even after all this time, this place remained the same, maybe some houses were no longer there and others had a different color, many people I had known and loved had left this world, but without a doubt, I had the same feeling, the same smells and sounds. This was my home, New Orleans.

I sighed tiredly. I had taken a long continuous journey with barely any breaks, only to explore and discover, and when my curiosity had been satisfied, I moved on to the next destination. I never settled down or made friends because that would only bring more pain, and I already carried enough pain with me, if I'm honest. My curiosity and desire were the reasons for traveling, but the real fuel that kept me moving without stopping was to distance myself from the pain that had accompanied me all these years. They say a broken heart takes a long time to heal, but for someone like me, who could live for so long, when exactly did that happen?

Ah, damn it...

Because I still felt the pain so fresh, and this place didn't make it any better. It was like pouring salt on an open and bleeding wound. Some days the pain seemed like a distant echo, but there were bad days when I felt like I had lost him just yesterday, and with all the pride I had, I swallowed my tears... That damn bastard... The pain and sadness mixed with anger in my chest, just as my mother had told me, it was a dangerous combination, especially for a woman... I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, and snorted.

"Darling, if I weren't your husband, I'd probably be dead, right?"

His voice sounded so clear in my mind, as if he were right beside me, giving me that damn mischievous and mocking smile that I had come to both love and hate, and I knew exactly how I would respond...

"Rest assured, you lucky bastard..."

I could hear him chuckle softly, give me a slow and gentle kiss on the cheek, and wrap his arm around my waist, always so gently as if I were made of glass and he feared breaking me. Unfortunately, that always made me feel tender. Then he would start humming a soft melody and sway with me, the beginning of a slow dance, and damn it! I would go along with it. He knew exactly how to make my anger dissipate with a dance and a song. Depending on my level of anger, it could be a cheerful tune you would hear in a cabaret or a slow and romantic one. To the bastard's luck, a slow and gentle one would soften my anger, disappearing as he sang sweet words of love into my ear. I always liked his voice; after all, he was a great and famous radio announcer. I could listen to him all day, but I preferred to hear him without the static of the radio, live and up close. After he finished singing to me, he would sigh in defeat, and I would be hardly angry anymore.

"So, did I calm your rage, ma belle sorcière?"

He would ask, smiling, always smiling. But this time, his smile was soft, tender. A normal person wouldn't be able to see the difference, but I had come to know him so well that I could see the meaning behind each smile, and this was one of my favorites. Of course, I would never say it out loud, but I undoubtedly loved that smile, the same one he gave me when we got married. I snorted, feeling my pride slightly wounded because he knew how to defuse my anger. I didn't even know why I was angry anymore as I laughed at his reaction, memories of our past flooded my mind. It was in moments like this that I realized how far we had come, how much we had grown together. Our relationship wasn't always filled with laughter and playful banter. We had faced our fair share of challenges and heartbreak.

I met him years ago, during a time when my heart was shattered and my spirit was broken. He was a stranger then, just a voice on the radio. But his voice had a way of reaching deep within me, stirring emotions I had long buried. I was drawn to him, captivated by his words and the solace they brought.

One night, driven by curiosity and the need for a distraction from my pain, I called into his late-night radio show. We talked for hours, sharing stories, fears, and dreams. It was as if we had known each other for a lifetime, as if our souls recognized each other's wounds.

Our connection grew stronger with each passing day. We started meeting in person, exploring the vibrant streets of New Orleans together. He showed me the beauty and magic of the city, and in return, I helped him rediscover the joy of simple pleasures.

But there was always a lingering sadness in our hearts, a reminder of the pain we had experienced in our pasts. We both carried scars that ran deep, wounds that hadn't fully healed. Yet, we found solace in each other's arms, drawing strength from our shared experiences.

Over time, our love blossomed, and we made a commitment to build a life together. We faced challenges head-on, supporting each other through the ups and downs. And despite the occasional arguments and frustrations, our love remained unwavering.

As I looked at him now, still recovering from the surprise attack of my early morning prank, I saw a man who had become my rock, my partner, and my best friend. Together, we had created a sanctuary within our relationship, a place where we could be vulnerable and find refuge from the world.

He reached out and took my hand, his touch reassuring and familiar. We sat there in silence, basking in the warmth of our connection. The morning sun cast a golden glow through the kitchen window, illuminating our shared space.

"Thank you for being in my life," he whispered, breaking the silence. "You've brought me so much joy and love."

I smiled, my heart swelling with gratitude. "And you've shown me that healing is possible, that love can mend even the deepest wounds. Together, we are stronger."

We sat there, lost in our thoughts, savoring the simple pleasure of each other's presence. In that moment, the pain of the past seemed distant, overshadowed by the love and happiness we had created. Our journey was far from over, but we faced the future with a renewed sense of hope and resilience.

As the day unfolded, we embarked on new adventures, exploring the city we both loved. Our laughter echoed through the streets, intertwining with the music and energy of New Orleans. In that vibrant tapestry, we discovered a shared truth—that love has the power to heal, to transform, and to create a home wherever our hearts may roam.

Chapter Text

Deep in hell… in the reception of a large, abandoned hotel sat the Radio Demon. Alastor was his name and he was one of the most powerful overlords in all of hell. He was feared and respected by many demons and overlords alike. His clothes consisted of an impeccable red and black pinstripe suit. Wherever he went, he always wore a jagged smile on his face. The air he carried with him seemed cheerful, with a bit of a dramatic flare, but his attitude was interchangeable as the sound waves. Anyone who dared to walk by him could hear him sing or watch him dance to the rhythm of  music as he killed indiscriminately. After all, murder in hell was a thing to pass the time. 

He loved it. 

He took glee in the chaos…  the fear… the bloodshed… and the death … 

More so if he was the cause of it…

But at this moment, he was not happy. If anyone saw him, they could see his ever present smile still on his face. It was his demeanor that was… different. His normal straight and cheerful figure now looked slightly hunched over--almost tired looking. As if he’s been up all night. His suit, still without a wrinkle, thanks to magic or something else, was now disarrayed. His jacket was slumped over his chair, revealing the red button up shirt he wore underneath. To the viewer's eyes, it looked slightly wrinkled, and his smile was small without showing his pointy teeth. His red eyes were half-lidded with a faraway look in them as he stared at the wooden bar. His claws drummed on the surface as his chin rested on his other hand. Even his ever-inseparable microphone was muffled with no sound coming from it. The only thing echoing in the large room was the drumming noise vibrating from his claws.

Husker, who was supposed to be present at the bar, left a long time ago. He was in what seemed to be a cheap alcohol coma. And upstairs, both the princess of Hell and her partner were asleep in one of the suites. Niffty, the little ball of energy that she certainly could be, was resting in her own room. She even needed sleep. As for Angel Dust, the only "guest" of the hotel, was out working with no plans of returning until dawn of the next day. At this moment, Alastor was completely alone, but that was what he wanted. For today only, he wanted to be alone.

As he thought back to memories from decades ago, he couldn’t help the melancholy he was feeling. Oh, what an irony! The great Radio Demon, one of the most powerful overlords of Hell itself, was feeling melancholic. In his head, the word ‘weakness’ resounded like a whisper. To other demons, he would be viewed as an easy and weak target. And in this place of eternal suffering where the strong ruled over the weak, that was a suicide notice, more so if it was someone with a name like him. He could have gone home and locked himself up as he always did on this very day, like every year since he had arrived here... Or would it be better to say falling here?

Even the spontaneous joke was not funny. Today, everything sounded off. Surely, if she saw how he was at this moment, she would laugh and deny what she saw. There was no way she could ever think of seeing him in a state like that. 

His wife… his witch… his Genevieve… She was the reason for his nostalgia. He had long ago thought that he could get rid of this feeling--that he could stop loving her-- forget her, even. Here in Hell, love was a sign of weakness. Even in life, he thought about it. What he didn’t expect was the punishment that everyone here in hell faced. Oblivion was not possible. Instead, each sinner could remember perfectly, and with great detail, all of the life they lived, especially their sins. It was an incredible torture method, if he thought about it. All sinners were to be eternally tormented by their past without the ability to forget it or receive forgiveness. It was a constant mental torture. Many of them also remembered the bright, and happy days without hope of being able to return to them. Alastor, with an almost sick sense of humor, would almost want to congratulate Lucifer for such a great idea, if it weren't for the fact that he also suffered from the same torment and was not at all happy with it…

But that was the thing… Alastor didn’t regret anything he did in life. In fact, if he had the option to go back in time, he would do it all over again. He would relive ever murder, bloodshed, scream of terror again. He loved being the one who orchestrated the symphony of suffering covered in scarlet. He never felt so alive! That feeling would never change even knowing that he would end up here. He would do it again with more pleasure, and of course, without being caught as before… 

But there was one great regret he wished he could redo over. It was the promise he gave his wife. It was a wish she asked for him to fulfill. She never asked him for anything. Not for dresses, jewelry, chocolates, or even flowers. His witch was unlike any woman he has ever met, alive and dead. Unlike others, she was a free woman. She was a true witch in command of her own power without fear of breaking any law. But above all, she was a true lover of knowledge, which she wanted to get. Any obstacle that stood in her way was destroyed without any guilt or remorse--although, if it was fair, she would always warn any victims first. Just one call before unleashing hell on earth.

Oh! That was always a delicious sight to see! Alastor loved to witness his wife release all her anger towards witch stories and fables that turned into sweet tales for children. In comparison, she always knew where to strike to cause more damage both physically and mentally by pulling the strings as a sinister and cruel puppeteer.

The Radio Demon’s smile returned. His sharp, yellow teeth shone in an evil grin. They glowed in the dim room. His body trembled slightly with anticipation as he remembered those moments when she gave herself to the anger. It was truly heavenly; sublime, even. It was like watching a natural disaster, but in the comfort of being in the distance. If he was sincere, there were many times he was also in the eye of that cataclysm. Ooh ! He still remembered it well! The adrenaline he felt the moment he didn’t know if he crossed the limit or not. She was like an angel of death. It was in those moments he thought she would end his own dreadful life without mercy. If she wanted to do so, he had no qualms with her taking his life. If it were from her hand, he would die happily, but….

"It was always better to dance with death," he said with a cheerful smile, running his tongue over his teeth, his eyes squinting into slits.

Alastor learned something that no one else had ever done. He learned to calm the storm before getting hurt. Unlike others, he mastered the art of calming her down and putting her in a good mood. She would try to preserve her anger, but in the end, she could not. Alastor would revel in his own elation when he witnessed her pride become slightly damaged. Her pride was her biggest fault. His wife was a proud woman and she had every reason to be. For Alastor, that wasn’t an impediment to love her. In any case, it was better, because winning the heart of a witch had a price. In order to have her love, he had to sacrifice his heart and soul; but that was the best deal he could have made. 

‘Then why did it take me so long to understand that when I first got here? How could I even think I could forget her when I gave her everything that I am?’ 

Even in hell, that hadn't changed… All of his being still to this day belonged to his witch, his beloved wife.

That epiphany always left him in silence. She had his heart wrapped around her little finger. Even if Alastor could escape from her hands, he knew he would never do it. Maybe that was why he regretted not having fulfilled her dream. Genevieve more than anything wanted to know the world, being a woman hungry for knowledge and the will to learn. It was inevitable for her to leave their beloved New Orleans home, although it hurt her. She knew that she had to do it if she wanted to fulfill her dream. She knew that long before she met him. She had already planned to travel. She asked him to accompany her, saying it was important to her. Of course, she told him she didn’t mind going alone. No one could stop her, not even him, not even Lucifer himself. He was sure of that, but she wanted to share her dream. He was no fool. He knew what it meant to her and he accepted her invitation without hesitation.

They planned the departure for a few years. Nailing down a time was difficult since he was a radio announcer, and a very requested one at that. Because of it, taking time off for a vacation was very complicated. When everything was set for them to leave for one winter… that was when everything was over… He died before he could fulfill her dream… Their dream …

“Ah! My darling must be very angry!” The Radio Demon said dramatically with a small smile, pressing a hand to his forehead. His thoughts drove him to run his fingers through his hair, pressing back a sigh. He was not worried that she was angry. What hurt him was disappointing her. He didn’t feel bad for any of the murders he committed, nor for the cannibalism. What he felt guilty over was disappointing his beloved wife. It was because of his carelessness that he died. She warned him so many times to be more careful. In his euphoria for flesh and blood, he didn’t listen to her.

When he died, that was the first and only time he saw her cry…

“Only now did you realize how big of an idiot you are.” She narrowed her eyes at him, her lower lip stuck out in a pout.

He could remember how angry her voice sounded in his head. If he didn’t close his eyes, he was sure she would unleash her anger on him. He knew he earned it. If she did, he would smile like always, ready for his punishment. But today, he wouldn’t think about the punishment he deserved, because today was a special day. Instead, he thought about how blessed he truly was to have had a witch as his wife.

The Radio Demon closed his eyes for a moment.  He could hear her light, but firm, footsteps walking to him before coming to a stop…

“How do you feel today, love? Happy, sad or ... melancholic?”

She already knew, but she wanted to ask just for educational purposes. She gave him time to answer.

“Ah my witch, I am happy to listen to you. I feel a tad melancholy from our memories. I can’t help but admit that I feel a bit sad because you’re not really here,” the Radio Demon replied softly. A bit of a sad tone lingered in his voice. He opened his eyes slowly again, still half-lidded. 

He knew she wasn’t here, but that didn't prevent him from feeling the pain enveloping his chest. What he was experiencing at this moment was more of a fantasy. He knew the scene in his mind’s eye would not play out. Well, only for today, he will continue this game. Until tonight, he will cling to this memory until he needs to face reality once more.

Alastor invoked his magic to materialize a bottle of liquor. He could see the golden liquid sloshing inside the glass bottle. It was very different from the cheap alcohol that Husker drank. This liquid had great sentimental value; a treasure that he could enjoy from his past life. It was a drink that his wife had once told him was good for these kinds of moments…

Tequila, she called it. Genevieve told him the dark liquor came from the land where her parents were from. Although she was born in New York, she felt a great attachment to the land of her parents, even though she had never seen it. According to her, this drink softened pain. It had the power to ignite happiness and help cope with melancholy.

She was right.

With another wave of his hand, a couple of small crystal glasses appeared on the bar. The glasses were small enough to hold only one drink. Lemon juice and a small plate of salt materialized next to the glasses. His wife once showed him how to prepare this drink. At the time, he didn’t plan to ever have this particular drink, but that was before he dropped to hell. Now, he was thankful he let her show him.

He remembered how she took one of the glasses and carefully soaked the edge of it in the lemon juice before rubbing the rim into the salt, making it stick only to the edge of the glass. She then carefully poured the liquor, filling it up just before touching the salt. With a satisfied look from her work, she nodded, as if saying it was perfect.

Alastor copied the actions his beloved showed him once. Instead of making a single drink, he made two. He sat it on the empty spot next to him, ready for a companion who would not arrive, but... 

“What kind of husband does not pour a glass for his wife to accompany him?” He asked her with a smug smile on his face.

“I could never think of doing such a thing, love.” He replied to no one, laughing a little. He looked at the microphone that sat next to him. He touched it and it came alive with its red aura. He remembered when she presented him the drink, she said music was the perfect combination for the mood.

He thought for a long moment on what to play. Genevieve was always able to find the perfect song for any occasion. Alastor wasn’t sure if it was by magic, or luck, but she always was able to hit the target.

“Honey, would you sing something for me?” He asked the microphone affectionately, as if it were her.

One good thing about being the Radio Demon was that he could record and reproduce sounds, even from his memories. 

“Aah, at what point did my husband become a spoiled cat? You’re too good for me...”

That night, she responded to him with a soft and gentle tone in her voice. She was dressed in an elegant golden dress that highlighted her figure with a unique aura. It was a magnificent sight. She gave him many gifts. Her presence and silent company was a miraculous liquid of relief… But in his opinion, it was the smile she gave him that night that made him curl his toes... Her smile was one of those rare ones that he only saw four times in his life. To him, it translated that she understood him and believed in him. It was that very same smile that made him fall for her without any promises of his feelings ever being reciprocated. 

His microphone listened to his order and it began to sing a sad tune. It was as melancholy as he felt. He let the memory absorb him. Alastor could feel the warm and slightly humid night thanks to the suit he was wearing. The natural sounds of crickets accompanied the environment. Fireflies flew around the magnificent garden she planted herself outside of their home. The two of them were sitting on two separate woven wooden chairs. In the middle was a small table on the porch. On top of the surface of the table was a bottle of tequila. The lemon juice and the salt rested next to their glasses as they shared the moment in a comfortable silence. They were just enjoying each other's company. Inside the house, the radio was playing a soft, romantic song. 

A sigh passed Genevieve’s soft lips. Her voice carried the first words of a spell softly and slowly, as if she was singing. Alastor focused his brown eyes on her, his watchful eyes not wavering from her for a second. It was like he was trapped under a curse and he was too weak to escape. As a condemned man, he stayed… 

‘There is nothing in this world that I would not do for you…

Being away from you even for a second is like being away from this world…’

She sang each word, feeling it deeply. It was a love song with a sad tune. It was a perfect combination. Every note the witch sang sounded like it came from the voice of an angel. 

Alastor drank the dark liquor in one gulp. The taste of salt combined with the bitterness of the lemon made a pleasant warmth bloom in his chest. He relaxed, letting his mind take him away like a boat to sea. It was like the only thing he could hear was her voice… So soft… So pure....

‘There are loves that become resistant to damage…

Like wine that improves over the years…

This is how I feel about you…’

He wished he could feel her words penetrate him more deeply. He wished to feel her words forever. Alastor repeated the process with his second glass, letting himself be guided by the heat. The happiness he felt of this sacred moment shone brightly in the dark. The melancholy feelings diminished into a dull, tingling sensation as the sadness he felt previously was already something far away, carried away by the tide...

‘There are the loves that seem to end and flourish…

And in the autumn nights they turn green…

Just like the love that I feel for you…

I am for you…

For you…

Like the love that I feel for you.’

Her voice and the melody came to an end... Two demons woke up from their slumber in the hotel suite. The princess of hell heard a voice in her dreams that reminded her of her mother’s. It was a sweet, sad melody that she never heard. Charlie looked around the dark room to find the source of the voice. Next to her was her girlfriend Vaggie. She was still sleeping peacefully. Charlie yawned sharpley as she strained her ears for any sign of the voice. 

Nothing… She heard nothing.

“Did I dream it?” The young princess asked herself as she thought back to all the songs her mother sang for her. Nothing didn't sound like the song she just heard. She also didn't know what the voice was singing. If it had been Latin, she would have understood it. It reminded her of the demonic language special to hell, but it also sounded like Vaggie when she was very angry.

A sigh made her partner turn to her as if she could even know in her sleep if something was bothering her.

“Charlie? Is something wrong?” Vaggie asked, still half asleep.

 Charlie looked at her tenderly. Even in her sleep, Vaggie knew when something bothered her and she wanted to console her.

“Sorry. Did I wake you? I just heard someone singing and I was wondering...”

“Who was singing?” Vaggie chimed in, cutting her mid-sentence. The Latina sat up, already feeling alert. 

Charlie shrugged her shoulders.

 Vaggie's mind didn’t take long to find an explanation. The only person she could think of as the culprit was Angel Dust… It happened before when he came back to the hotel really drunk. He literally kicked the suite door open and chanted at the top of my lungs for them to get up that one time. He jumped on the bed, singing obnoxiously. Needless to say, it was four in the morning, and being woken up so abruptly was not to the liking of Vaggie. When that happened, she was on the verge of ripping Angel's head off. Charlie at the time took Angel to his room and calmed him down. When she returned, Charlie reassured her girlfriend, who was still furious at Angel's behavior. 

Remembering that, Vaggie quickly got out of bed.

“That bastard!” Vaggie shouted angrily, grabbing her spear that was leaning against the wall near them. Still in her pajamas, she stormed out of the room with Charlie following close behind.

“Calm, Veggie! I think it was just a dream,” Charlie said, but that didn't stop Vaggie from almost running through the corridors to get to the reception hall where the problem would surely be.

“Oh no! Not this time! Don't you remember what happened the other time Angel came to the hotel singing?” She questioned and Charlie made a face at the memory and nodded.

Quickly, Charlie ran to stand in front of her and took her by the shoulders gently, smiling at her calmly.

“I know you're still angry and I'm not saying that what Ángel did was good, but let's take this easy so we can solve it, okay?” 

Vaggie saw her girlfriend giving her a hopeful look. No matter how hard she tried to resist, she returned the smile. She accepted her offer.

And if the dialogue didn’t work well, her spear was ready to make amends in a deadly efficient way…

Both of the girls held hands as they walked in silence through the corridors to reach the reception hall.

When they arrived, what they saw took them by surprise…

“Now do you feel a little better, love?”

“That was sublime, my dear,” The Radio Demon replied, smiling more than ever. He wanted to applaud her and give her a standing ovation for such a wonderful act. Instead, he remained silent. He felt the happiness in his chest faintly now. 

Alastor turned the empty small glass between his claws. He wanted to look at her again.

Carefully, he stuck his hand inside the pocket on his chest. Hidden in it was his little treasure. Inside of a small bag was a gold locket with a shiny chain. Despite how new it looked, it was actually very old. The design of the piece of jewelry was a testimony to its age, but he didn’t care about that. This was the last gift she gave him, and it was in more than perfect condition. 

Alastor’s red eyes looked over the inscription on the cover.

It read: Genevieve ∙ G ∙ SR.

He carefully opened the lid with the claw of his thumb. Inside the locket were three photos. It was a window into her past. 

The first was of a man smiling, and he was holding hands with a woman.  It was his wife's parents; his in-laws. They died when she was little, but she loved them with all her heart. 

The next was secured between two pieces of glass. It was a woman of color. She had a happy look and serene look on her face. 

This was his wife’s second mother. She was the one who raised and cared for her until she was the witch he loved now; proud and free. If he ever received the opportunity, he would have to thank the woman for that.

The last picture was taken on their wedding day.

Sometimes, Alastor forgot how he looked when he was human. Even though the photo was in black and white, he could remember the young man he was with brown hair and brown eyes. He wore round glasses. His attire on their wedding day was a black suit with a red bow tie. He smiled happily with pride as if he had earned an award. In truth, his wife was the true jackspot. Standing next to him Genevieve, a young woman at the time. She was beautiful with sweet and fine features. She had large and slightly slanted eyes that had a feline look to them. He could remember the gleam of happiness in them. 

Maybe her eyes were the only warning that she was not an ordinary woman. Her eyes had a golden color that seemed to shine like a pair of suns, depending on her mood. 

Her long brown hair fell in slings over her shoulders. Her normally straight hair cascaded down her body in long waves. The magic she used to change her appearance always surprised him.

Holding the veil on her head was a small flower ornament. Her wedding dress was white floral lace. It stood out in contrast against her brown skin, but the fabric accentuated her slim figure. In one hand, she held a bouquet of lavender, and the other was resting on his arm. His human self…

Alastor didn’t know when he had started humming as he remembered his wedding day. He could vividly remember the surprise he felt when the officiator handed him his ring. When he saw the inscription on the band, he couldn't help but laugh out loud at his wife's cheeky wit. 

He thumbed over the glass that protected the photo with care not to scratch it with his claw. He sighed and drank the last of the bottle in a gulp that was carefully waiting in the glass in front of him. The warm sensation of his chest passed to his face and ears. He felt warm and light, just like that night. If he remembered correctly, the difference between now and his wedding, he didn’t drink any alcohol, other than for the toast. 

It didn’t matter…

“Ma poitrine est vide et saigne ... it seems that j'ai donné mon cœur à la sorcière de la lune rouge…” (My chest is empty and bleeding... because I have given my heart to the witch of the red moon).

Oh, the ironies of life... 

If someone had told him when he was a young man in his early 20s that he would be here in hell melancholy for a woman he would have laughed.

¨Love is for the weak,'' he would have responded. He had sworn that no one  could ever bind him physically or emotionally... And marry!? Never!

Until he met her, he was a naive fool who played a game with a witch. If he could see his young and alive self now, he would have laughed at how gullible he had been. It was true he knew how to play. He had played with many others before, both men and women. They all failed in one way or another. He always won. He thought she would be equal to them, after all, she was young too. Inexperienced, even, he thought. He was an absolute expert in this kind of game. He was smart, but it was all for nothing. 

He never expected sweet words to ever move his heart. He never hoped to lose at his own game. He naively believed that she was playing his game when, in fact, he was the one who was playing her game. He never hoped that the naive kitten he thought of her as was actually a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He never believed that when she decided to play with him he had already lost... and in the way he did.

If he could give an image to his defeat in the same way that he felt, it would be very visceral... It was a perfect defeat; he would not deny it.

Long ago, he swallowed his pride to recognize that he lost at his own game. The image of a deer playing with a kitten seemed like a good comparison.

The deer was proud. Surely, he could handle the sullen kitten that was small and harmless. He always acted when the opportunity presented itself. He waited for his victims, but just when the forest was filled with the darkness of the night, the kitten took its true form. A deer that acted for opportunities could never beat a shewolf that hunted and created her opportunities. She guided her prey just where she wanted to. No matter how much the deer was the king of the forest, in the end, he was her prey just like her previous victims…

At the end of her game, she took her prize. She took the meat and life of the deer that she had hunted and cornered. It would have been the most compassionate and natural thing, but it was a pity... She was not someone who was merciful or compassionate. No… She didn't want that opening. 

She tore into the chest of the deer with teeth and nails, creating a sea of red that stained everything. She tore through flesh and bone to get what she wanted... his heart.

Instead of killing him, she took him as her prize. She didn’t want the meat or life of the deer. Before she realized it, she had fallen in love with him and decided to take something that he could never get back. It was something that would give her control of his soul and meat without the need of consuming it. In the end, the deer, far from being spiteful or furious, was delighted that the wolf loved him just as he already loved her. So, the deer with the bleeding chest, accompanied the wolf. They walked side by side as equals, consuming any prey in the forest.

“That would be a very successful metaphor,” the Radio Demon said laughing. 

He wondered if he had taken the form of a deer, would she be a wolf when she arrived? Everyone here adopted the form they earned in life. That would certainly be interesting if it were to happen…

“I can't wait to see you again, my shewolf.” He took the glass that was meant for her and smiled. His lips curled up more to show his sharp, yellow teeth in a smile that promised blood and death... 

It was only a matter of time before they restarted their game. Only this time, they were in a new, wild territory that was lawless and unrestricted. This time, they would be free to do as they pleased, just the way she always wanted it to be.

Oh! The chaos and massacres they’d do together would be glorious! Of course, she never liked to kill for no reason, but he would do it for her. He never mind getting blood on his hands if it was for her. He would create an empire in her name and cause if she wanted him to. He would give her all his power and resources without thinking about it. If she wanted the throne of hell, he’d gladly be the sword by her side to take it together.  Together, they would be unstoppable. It would be like an apocalyptic cataclysm, as it always should have been in the first place. But this time, he wouldn’t make the same mistakes he did in his past life…

Their curse had already separated them before. He would be damned before letting anyone or anything from doing it again.

The Radio Demon drank what was left in one gulp. None of that precious liquid would be wasted. His wait will not be in vain. He learned and obtained more power than he could ever have in life. He had not only done it for his fun and pleasure to slaughter all those overlords and demons. He wanted to show everyone in hell he could be her equal. He also wanted to be the companion he knew she deserved. 

He played his cards well, and his prize had been more than he expected. 

The air filled with static, and the space surrounding him became distorted. The glass in his hand broke into a thousand pieces. A shower of glass and blood exploded from his closed fist, pressing the crystals even more against his wound. The Radio Demon stood still like a statue while the blood dripped from his gloved hand. His surroundings corrupted and darkened as his power flowed through him like mad. It was unbridled, just as he felt. The distorted sound of static was without control or sense…

‘Ah, my Genevieve, my wife, my witch, my love, the wolf that took my heart leaving me bleeding, maddened and more loved than I could ever hope…’

‘Whatever you want, I have it…

If you want me to bleed, I'll bleed just for you…

This madness and all my love… Can you feel it, my dear?

Come back to me and end this punishment. Haven't I suffered long enough for you, darling?

My sweet witch, I miss you too much…’

“Alastor?”

A familiar voice brought him out of his trance of madness and pain. As if a station had been abruptly changed, everything returned to normal as if nothing had happened.

Charlie and Vaggie looked surprised at the reception hall. A few seconds ago, everything looked chaotic and full of static. The princess of hell noted how dark the room and heavy the air was in the room. It took both Charlie’s and Vaggi’s breath away. At the center of everything was the Radio Demon. He stood still as a statue with a crazed red gaze and a smile so big that it seemed to almost tear his handsome face. From his fist, blood dripped onto the marble floor. Any demon with a shred of courage for his or her life would turn around and run as if Lucifer himself were chasing them. Instead, Charlie, who seemed to be the only one of the two who was not in pure shock, could speak. She attempted to calm the maddened demon by reaching a hand out to him.

“Ah, dear… shouldn't you be in bed? It's still too early for breakfast, don't you think?” Alastor suddenly appeared in front of them, leaning forward with a curious and threatening smile on his face. One of his arms was folded neatly behind his back while the other held his trusty microphone. That made them both jump for a second. The princess dropped her hand to be by her side once again.

Charlie couldn’t help but look at him puzzled. It was the same Alastor as always in front of her with his sharp smile and his impeccable red suit. The aura of madness and thirst for blood that was there seconds ago was now gone. Still, she was able to catch the deep sadness he exuded.

“What the fuck just happened? All of the reception hall was chaotic.” Vaggie stated as she placed herself in front of Charlie, as if she were her personal shield.

Alastor shrugged his shoulders, his smile still everpresent. He knew it annoyed her. If there was anything Charlie learned, it was that the Radio Demon loved to constantly bother her girlfriend. It seemed at times his sole purpose of helping with the hotel was to annoy Vaggie. Worst of all, it actually worked.

“Who knows? Nothing strange has happened here. Maybe it was because of your fatigued mind imagining it. After all, it is very early, and weak minds tend to… imagine things, right?” He replied with a hum. The humming was accompanied by the sound of voices assenting his affirmation. Vaggie’s brows furrowed together in anger at the slight insult directed to her.

“Look, I don't know what the fuck you’re doing, but I don’t trust any shit that comes out of your mouth, you son of a bitch.”  

At that moment, the hotel door parted slightly, revealing a single leg belonging to no one other than Angel Dust. He busted inside the large room. A tired, but bright, smile played on his face.

“Hi, bitches! I’m back! Ugh! What a fucking night!” He looked around the room, sensing the tension that was in the air. “What is everyone doing here? Usually nobody is up this early.” He tilted his head to the side. “Did I miss a party or something?” He looked over everyone carefully. Normally, Angel Dust never saw anyone when he returned to the hotel from work, but what was more unusual was seeing the Overlord. It was a rare sight to see, indeed. The only time he saw Alastor, if he saw him, was at breakfast when he made himself something to eat. 

“Good morning, Angel!” Charlie cheerfully greeted him with a smile.. 

It was at that moment, Alastor decided that he no longer wanted to be in the hotel. They had witnessed a delicate moment for him, and he preferred to avoid any annoying questions. 

Everlike the gentleman he was, he left in silence while everyone circled around each other, talking amongst themselves. Alastor melted into the shadows.

Once the dark sky with a reddish aura filled his eyes, he breathed a sigh of relief. If there was anything he missed from the living world (besides his wife), it was the sky. It was the last thing he saw before he expired...

It was a peaceful and beautiful view. The sky was clear and dark. The night was filled with a winter chill. The hand that he kept on his chest hid his treasure. He relaxed into his wife and slowly opened his hand. In his palm was his wife's locket.

“I can't accompany you to where you are going yet, but ... I'll give you something of mine…”

“And I'll take something from you…” He recited the last words he heard before his death. 

He remembered lying on the warm lap of his wife as he bled slowly.

He watched the sky while he felt the cold drops of her tears fall on his cheek like rain. Even in that state, she didn’t stop looking beautiful. She mourned in silence. Her face was serious, but her eyes did not stop shedding tears. He could feel the deep sadness she was experiencing… Such a deep sadness…

“It will be a curse for you and me…”

“Our happy memories will become painful reminders of sadness and loss.” 

He lifted the locket to be in front of his face. The fine chain tangled between his claws like a spider web. He noticed how it covered his view of the mockery of the moon that also existed as a sun in hell. 

The memory of his wife crying silently burned in the mind of his dying brain. The cold made his body more and more numb. If you added the great loss of blood, it didn’t help either. The only source of heat and life was her. He was silently grateful that she was the one who was with him in his last moments. She was the one that kept him free from pain and with enough conscience to say goodbye…

“Because in the end, it is the pain that will always remain deeply rooted in our souls…”

“It will be a punishment for you and me... When the moment comes, that same pain will take me to you.” He gently placed a kiss on her forehead. The place where he kissed her felt warm, despite the situation. He didn’t want to see her crying. He liked to see his victims cry and beg for their lives, but... seeing her crying didn’t feel right... Because of that, he didn’t allow her farewell to be like with only tears and silence. He wanted to make her smile until his last dying breath.

“Don't cry, darling. Don't ruin your beauty.” He looked at her, smiling. Although his mouth had the taste of his own blood, and his chest felt full of lead, he still had the energy to speak.

She frowned deeply at him, not suppressing the sigh that passed her lips.

“Maybe... would you rather me be mad at you, yelling at you about how stupid you truly are?”

“If I'm honest with you, my dear, I always liked to see you angry. It’s always a spectacular sight and a sublime spectacle.” He replied with a bit of a smug smile.

Another sigh left her mouth again, but it sounded more tired. It was a sign that her patience was quickly running out towards dangerous anger. But… She suppressed it. Instead, she only smiled at him weakly.

“You're an idiot... I guess we both are. You, for being a careless idiot… And I, for falling in love with said careless idiot…”

“That’s a good way to see it, love.” He replied. 

He watched as she continued to silently cry, but at least she had a smile on her beautiful face now. Oh. he wanted to tell her so many things, but something told him that he would not have time to tell her everything he wanted. It was ironic. The radio host had no time to speak. It felt like a very bad joke, but this was all the cards he had left to play with, and he wouldn't waste it.

“It's a joy to be able to be together on this beautiful winter night, my dear... I ... thank you.” He felt his eyes growing heavy as they began to close. He felt so sleepy… He could no longer feel his body.

Genevieve looked at him, understanding what he was going through. Her smile faltered, but it didn't disappear.

She nodded her head, her long brown hair falling in front of her. The tips of her locks tickled his face. It was a nice sensation…

“Thank you for… everything… Your time… Your joy… Your anger… Thank you for your love and… for stealing my heart… my Genevieve…” He gasps, feeling his chest growing more and more heavy.

His time was almost up.

“Go out and live your dream… Promise me that you will not look back for one moment. Look for everything you always wanted to know and take it. Do it without guilt because the world is yours, my dear. It always was. I will be waiting for you. I’ll be ready for the punishment that you will give me when you fulfill your dream.” He finished with a gentle, almost sad, smile. He tried to stay conscious for as long as he could, but damn … He was feeling the full effects of the blood loss now…

He felt a hand gently caress his wet locks that were soaked with his own blood.

“I didn’t expect such a cowardly statement from someone who I call my husband. You would rather die than face me…”

If he had enough air in his lungs, he would let out a strained laugh. 

“Can you blame me, honey? The best kind of punishments are the ones that take time. I’ll relish in pleasure as you plan your every move, twist, and cut. I want the torturous agony of pain as I wait for you to deliver the long-awaited final blow.” He coughs a bit harshly. His insides were beginning to really hurt and burn.. “I'm just giving you time, baby. I'm a patient man. If I tell you that I would wait decades for you, it is because I will. I give you my word... or... do you doubt me?” He looked at her, his vision beginning to blur a bit. He willed himself to stay conscious.

‘ Just a little longer…’ He thought to himself, using whatever will power he had to keep his eyes focussed solely on her.

“No, I don't doubt you... I know you will, and I know you are a man of your word. If you weren't, we wouldn't be here…” Her eyes traced over his face. It was pale, even more so in the moonlight. She knew their time was almost up.

“I suppose you deserve a little glimpse of the punishment that awaits you…”

Before he even had time to react, he felt her lips against his. 

They were alive and burning as if she had a fever.

He returned her affection the best he could in his position. He was slow, agonizingly slow. He felt a pool of heat warm his chest. It was just a small flame to relieve the dull pain, but he wouldn't complain… not when he was literally on the verge of death… 

For a second, all he felt was her and her tender warmth. He could feel her soft skin, and smell the scent of rain and lavender she carried everywhere she went.

He felt every ounce of love she carried for him in that kiss. He never hoped that someone, other than his mother, could make him feel this kind of love. It was unconditional, free, raw, strong, and sweet... Who was it that said only a witch could make him feel loved? Even if his heart was taken by one, he never felt so complete… 

In the same way it began, it suddenly ended. How he wished he had more time to kiss her over and over again…

She exhaled slowly, warming his cold lips slightly for just a few seconds. It was exquisite... He could tell she wanted more. She always wanted more of him, but then she realized what that meant…

He smiled up at her with a tired, almost glazed look in his eyes. He saw she had a funny look on her face. Her sincere smile was stained red by his blood. That sent her mind crazy. Red was always her color. She used the color as a way to honor him in their last moment together… 

This image, that kiss, was a taste of heaven for someone who would soon rot in hell. It was something achievable that would soon become unattainable. Oh, how cruel… What a beautiful gift... a punishment worthy of him… 

“Thank you, ma belle sorcière ,”  he replied, smiling sincerely at her. With his remaining strength, he raised his hand that was covering his heart. There was a hole there bleeding like a broken tap. He gently caressed her cheek with his knuckles. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. He closely watched as she savored his touch. It made his pierced heart turn over.

Her tears began to fall again.

She opened his hand and covered her cheek with.

‘So warm…’ She noted.

“No one ever thanked me for a kiss, but I will not deny that it feels good…” She laughed softly, biting her lip as she turned her golden eyes to him, tears still brimming them. “Al… Alastor... thank you... My compassion, my body and all my love, all men have wished that of me, but... the only one that sought for my knowledge and power was you… and you never felt the need to turn your back on me whenever I needed you ... I ... I …” She sucked in a shaky breath.

Carefully, she took both of his hands, holding them close to her face. She continued to weep as she forced a smile on her delicate face. 

Alastor knew what she wanted to say. They both knew it... They never said it, but they showed it every moment that we were together. He never doubted her feelings, nor did she with his. But now, it was necessary to say it. It was her turn to do it. She had started it and it was her duty to finish it now… 

“I love you, Genevieve…” He said it first.

It felt good to say it… It felt natural… It was ironic to discover that telling someone you love them could feel good... 

Right at the last moment, she looked at him surprised. She let out a light laugh that was also filled with pain, another tear streaking down her cheek. 

Her golden eyes looked at him with tenderness. He wanted to look at her forever, but his eyes were feeling heavy again. His world was beginning to grow darker as his breathing became more shallow. 

Ah… At least in the end he could tell her. At least he didn’t have to leave with more remorse… 

This was not a final goodbye; they both knew it. What hurt them the most was that they wouldn’t be able to be together for a long time. 

For years, they would go on without being able to speak… to touch each other… to see the other first thing in the morning. They would no longer be able to sing or dance together or playfully fight as they always did. They wouldn’t be able to reveal their deepest secrets and feel vulnerable without the feeling of fear that the other would judge them. No longer will they have that silent show of support, knowing without words they would still support each other in whatever they desired.

Alastor slowly closed his eyes, his mind slipping into the dead of the night. The last words he heard would stay with him forevermore before he gave into the abyss.

“I love you, Alastor…”

The Radio Demon woke up from his trance.

The memory was intense, painful. Even after all these years, he never got used to those feelings on this day. Of course, that was part of the curse from his beloved witch. This was the punishment they both carried both in hell and on earth. They were bound by pain. It couldn’t get anymore romantic than that, could it? 

It was easy to be tied to happiness, comfort, and security. But to be tied by pain and loneliness, that was more powerful… It only made his obsession with seeing her again intensify as he danced lightly in madness…

“But I am a man of my word, my dear, and I will wait for you patiently for the end of my punishment.” He smiled and carefully put the precious locket back in his jacket pocket once again. He lightly brushed his sadness away as if it were dust and began his daily walk. His smile as always adorned his face. He would act as he always did. Afterall, this was only one more day in hell…