Chapter Text

It had been six months since the trial that had literally turned Blitz's life upside down, and that of everyone around him. 

And after all those months, Blitz could honestly say he had never been happier. 

Things at the IMP were going so well, after all the notoriety that almost being beheaded on live TV had brought, that not only had Blitz managed to secure a salary for Stolas for his job as secretary, but he had also given the M&Ms a raise since they now had a third mouth to feed on the way. And to top it all, he had managed to afford the rent on a three-bedroom apartment! Of course, Loona had insisted—she had threatened—on pitching in (if I ever see you two old men being disgusting on the couch again, I'll have to kill myself , she had said). And Stolas had begged to let him do his part, and after several weeks of crying, screaming, and more crying, the rent had finally been split evenly between the three of them. 

Blitz had never had a room of his own, and even though this was his and Stolas’s, it still felt strange. Loona’s room always looked the same, with her signs hanging on the door that was always closed and the punk rock music that came muffled from behind the doors. 

And then there was the last room, the one Blitz had reserved for Octavia, which he and Stolas had painted blue and purple and decorated with bright stars on the ceiling.  

Octavia had never used it, not yet, but Blitz had some hope for it. A couple of months after Sinsmas and the disastrous epilogue in the palace garden, the girl had contacted her father asking for a meeting. 

It hadn’t been easy and there was still a lot of unclear things and a good dose of hurt and resentment, but at least Stolas had regained contact with her and the two were texting regularly. Once a week they went to a place on Sloth that made the best vanilla ice cream and was out of sight enough for Stolas to sit there with his teenage daughter without making too much of a fuss or having to worry about Stella and her pompous brother. 

Loona and Via had started hanging out more and more and had become good friends, which, combined with the affection his daughter had developed with his boyfriend, lit a flame in Blitz’s chest. 

On the wall of his new living room, the old photos—the ones with his face scratched out with a black marker—had been replaced with new ones of him, Stolas, Loona, and Via smiling happily with M&Ms and Fizz. 

Blitz had kept the old photo of him hugging his sister, but Stolas had wiped it clean without comment—for which Blitz was grateful—and hung it on the wall with the others. 

Sometimes the happiness was so much that Blitz felt overwhelmed, he had the urge to run away as far as possible or say something terrible to make them hate him. He had been doing this for so long that it was hard to resist the urge to destroy everything and retreat into himself again.  

But then Stolas would smile at him from across the table, or Loona would call him ‘Dad’ and he would push the urge back inside himself, bury it deep in his head. He tried to shut out the voices that were screaming at him about how he didn’t deserve any of this and, somehow, he succeeded. 

He found himself far too often fantasizing in an undignified way about the four of them doing things like eating a huge roast together around the table, the four of them watching a movie together on the couch, the four of them taking a trip to the beach crammed into the Van. They were laugh-filled fantasies draped in that soft light you see in the sappy movies that Stolas liked and that secretly made him cry, if only a little. 

He never talked about it, not to Stolas or Millie—and he’d rather burn off the other half of his face than talk about it to Moxxie—and even with Fizz he’d never get past a generic “it would be nice if Via came to stay with us.” 

Of course, that little shit Fizz had gotten it all anyway, and he kept literally sending out hearts and rainbows whenever Octavia’s name was mentioned, or Stolas’s, or even Loona’s. It was annoying, but also somehow reassuring. 

“Who would have thought you’d be the family daddy,” Fizz had said one morning, slurping a shocking pink milkshake through a straw and adjusting his oversized glasses on his face. They were on a long avenue in Pentagram City and had stopped for a drink after an intense shopping session. Fizz believed that wearing those gigantic glasses worked as a perfect disguise and who was Blitz to point out that everything about the clown, from the rainbow pants to the pastel green hat, was extremely recognizable?  

“Yeah, it looked like I was going to end up shoveling horse shit in our old circus for the rest of my life, and here I am. I don’t even know how it happened, honestly.” 

“It happened because you’re a great assassin and a great businessman,” Fizz had replied, looking at him over the glasses, “not to mentionha great father.” 

“Meh,” Blitz had shrugged condescendingly. 

“Your mother would be proud of you, you know.” 

And with that one sentence Fizz had ruined the light-hearted mood and he had quickly pretended to have to put on sunglasses because of the light and hide the fact that he was holding back tears. 

Blitz had never been happier, and he never felt guiltier.  

Somehow, despite the pills and everything that had happened to him in the last year of his life, Stolas hadn’t felt this good in a very long time. He felt like he was living in a dream, one of those you don’t even know you have until you find yourself in the middle of it. It was so different from his fantasies, the ones where he had imagined Blitz handsome and wild and passionate, coming to kidnap him from his castle to take him on extraordinary adventures and wild sex. It was domestic, sweet, not always easy, with his relationship with Via still uncertain and the fact that he had to work for a living now, not to mention how a lot of the people he met still hated him in a very not-so-silent way. 

The sex was… well, not as wild as it had once been, much to Stolas’ disappointment. At first, he had still felt too dizzy from the shock and the lack of his pills, then he had felt even worse with the pain of losing Via and the return of the pills. Blitz seemed to have transformed into a completely asexual being, all nurturing, platonic physical contact, and absolutely no sex. And Stolas had been grateful for that, because he didn’t know how to tell him that all appetite for that seemed to have died out. 

But his meds had stabilized, he had started going to therapy once a week, and every Saturday he met Via for ice cream, and they talked and laughed and seemed well on their way to reconciliation. And Blitz was irresistibly sexy again, and Stolas' cloaca throbbed painfully every time his tail curled around his leg, every time the imp took his hand, every time he snuggled up to him. 

And then it had finally happened. 

Having sex with Blitz after all this time and after they had become more or less an official couple had been a mind-blowing experience, and not because it hadn’t been before — the sex between them had always been incredible, it had literally brought Stolas back to life — but because the knowledge of what was between them was enough to send Stolas into ecstasy. He couldn’t understand how he could have mistaken what had been before for love, when it was so obvious that this was something else entirely. 

Stolas had discovered that when Blitz loves someone, his first instinct was to protect them. Blitz had always made sure that at all times, even during the most extreme scenarios, Stolas was always comfortable, they had always used safe words and everything, but now there was a complete dedication from the imp to making sure that every minute and every second Stolas felt not only comfortable, but safe. It was like being wrapped in a blanket of care and dedication and sweetness and strength that was impossible to ignore and that sharpened his orgasms like a kind of spell. 

And he had also discovered that when Blitz loved someone his facade fell away and he became soft and insecure and oh so tender. 

It was nice to have sex with Blitz now that they both knew they love each other. 

But Stolas missed the thrill and excitement sometimes, especially moments like this when he was sitting at the table sipping his morning tea while Blitz was busy flipping pancakes in his boxers and a baggy t-shirt that hung way too loosely over one shoulder, exposing his collarbone. 

The day before, Blitz had been out shopping with Fizzarolli all afternoon, while he had met up with Via, and he had come home cheerful and more ‘physical’ than usual. 

He had literally climbed on top of him, scaling him like a wall, to give him a long, intense kiss, which Stolas had every intention of turning into something else before Loona interrupted them by slamming the front door and making her presence known with an irritated “could you please avoid doing this in the common areas?” 

They had all three eaten together and then gone to bed, but Blitz had not shown any intention of picking up where they had left off, he had hugged him and buried his head in his chest, falling asleep shortly after purring happily. 

But this morning Loona had gone out and Stolas was a very stubborn owl. 

When Blitz approaches the table to put down the plate of pancakes and sit down himself, Stolas casually slides the edges of the robe he’s wearing – it’s very similar to the one he once owned, although it’s not silk but a cheaper satin, but Blitz had given it to him because he said you looked pretty damn hot in that, pretty bird – revealing his shoulders and chest. He hears Blitz holding his breath and widening his eyes slightly, trying to pretend nothing is happening and continuing to put pancakes on the plate with a mechanical gesture. 

“So, are you busy this morning, Blitz?” he says taking another sip and looking at the imp over the top of the cup. 

It takes him a moment to absorb his words, too busy staring at Stolas' chest. But suddenly the implication of his words sinks in and Blitz runs his tongue over his lips in an unconscious gesture that makes Stolas' mouth go dry. 

"Why, did you have some plans, pretty bird?" he asks. 

Ah, that adorable switch! Stolas would have gladly died just for that moment when Blitz's face went from adorable to pure desire. It was one of the reasons he tried to provoke him at every possible opportunity. 

"Mmmm maybe" 

Blitz starts eating the pancakes, licking his lips and never taking his eyes off Stolas. 

"Angry bird" 

Blitz feels his erection pressing against his boxers in a truly undignified manner and is grateful for being seated. 

Stolas had always been incredibly sexy, but in those last few months he had found it really hard to control himself. Maybe because you finally realized you were in love with him, shithead says a voice in his head strangely similar to Fizz's. As usual the clown was right, of course. 

Sex with Stolas had always been crazy, the real reason why he had accepted their agreement from the beginning. Completely crazy, absurd, with all those unlikely role-playing games and extreme fantasies that the owl wanted to try at every meeting. 

When they had started again, after a – too long – period of abstinence, Blitz had not had great expectations, partly because you know that things in your memories are always better, partly because they had set themselves on something much less extreme and almost vanilla. But he had realized from the first time that he was an idiot and that sex with Stolas was overwhelming and all-encompassing even without being crazy. That just watching Stolas suck him was enough to make him have an orgasm that left him unable to see or think for minutes on end. 

And now the bird was there, in that slutty robe of his and it seemed to have every intention of taking the morning to a decidedly... hot level. 

Stolas finishes his tea and stands up, heading towards the bedroom. 

“I really feel like lying down, why don’t you come and keep me company, Blitzy?” he says, looking over his shoulder and dropping his robe on the edge of the door, before disappearing into the bedroom. 

Not the most original of sentences, but Stolas could say the most absurd things and make them sound like the horniest thing Blitz had ever heard. 

he gulped down his pancakes and hurried after him, finding him already naked on their bed, lying on the back with his legs deliciously bent and slightly open. 

“Why don’t you come over here and finish your breakfast?” 

Oh, it's so... cringe... and it goes straight to Blitz's cock. 

He doesn't even know how or when he got on the bed, but he's looking at his cloaca from an extremely close position and he can barely think straight. 

He licks a spot right in the center of the opening with the tip of his tongue and Stolas moans loudly. 

It's so intoxicating, lying with his face between Stolas' legs, feeling Stolas' hands on his horns pushing him deeper and his moans and his Blitzys . 

After a few minutes, Stolas lifts him up by pulling his horns back slightly and it's one of those casually dominant attitudes that makes Blitz's mind go numb. 

Stolas drags him like a leash, until they're face to face and can kiss. Blitz knows Stolas likes to taste himself in his mouth, so he opens his lips and deepens the kiss. 

He moves his tail until the spade is on Stolas’ cloaca and inside it, and Stolas mourns on his mouth loud and clear. 

He feels Stolas’ long fingers grip his cock and start moving slowly at first, then faster and faster until he too is moaning and they are both panting in each other’s mouths. 

Blitz feels Stolas come hard on his tail and the sensation sends shocks to his brain and blood to his cock, until he too comes in Stolas’ hand. 

As always, Blitz is lying on top of him and with his face buried in his chest feathers. He is still wearing his boxers and a T-shirt, far too much clothing for Stolas’ taste.  

He wants Blitz to fuck him so hard he will forget his name. He also wants to fuck Blitz, and this is a new idea, one he would never have had the courage to have when the deal was looming between them. 

He opens his mouth to ask but is interrupted by the scream that is Blitz's phone ringtone. 

"Maybe you should answer, darling," he says, "so we can pick up where we left off." 

Blitz raises his head and without answering begins to kiss him, forcing his tongue into his mouth.  

An eloquent answer. 

But the phone keeps ringing and ringing until finally with a grunt of frustration Blitz rolls to the side and reaches across the nightstand to grab the phone. 

“What?” he practically growls. 

Stolas hears him answer “Yeah, it’s me, what the fuck do you want?” and watches his annoyed expression become attentive and then, suddenly, he sees him go white. He didn’t think the white scar on his face could get any paler, but evidently he was wrong. 

He sits up and instinctively covers himself with the sheet, while Blitz holds the phone tightly to his ear, so tightly it’s incredible it doesn’t break. 

“Yeah, okay,” he says, in a voice Stolas struggles to recognize and that makes him sick to his stomach. “Sure, I’ll be right there.” 

Blitz ends the call and stands there staring at the screen. 

“Who was that?” 

The imp doesn’t respond, as if he hadn’t even heard him, completely still and his eyes fixed on the phone screen. In fact, he didn’t seem to see it, and he kept squeezing it frantically. 

“Blitz?” he touches his shoulder and the imp jumps, as if he’s forgotten Stolas was there. “Who was that, darling?” 

Blitz is looking at him now as if he doesn’t even recognize him, a frightened expression on his face that Stolas is sure he’s never seen before. The lump in his stomach grows heavier. 

“Oh…it…it was the hospital.” 

He goes back to staring at the screen, the tail curling around his waist in a gesture that seems instinctive. 

“I have to go,” he says, but doesn’t move. 

“The hospital?” Stolas is really nervous now. “What happened? Is it Loona?” 

“No. It’s not Loona,” he says. Then he looks at him and his face is something Stolas wishes to not see ever again. “It’s Barbie.” 

Chapter Text

2.Nothing good ever happens in hospitals

“I have to go to the hospital,” Blitz repeats once more, but he continues not to move and looks at Stolas. “I’m her emergency contact. I have to… I have to go.” 

Stolas doesn’t know how to react, how to behave, Blitz’s immobility is something new, because usually the imp is animated by a perpetual movement. 

“Do you want to get dressed? I’ll walk you?” 

“I…” and then he gives him a look that breaks his heart. Suddenly in front of him there is not Blitz, the adult who despite the problems has managed to build a life and a career, but Blitz the scared child, with his tail curled around himself, who can’t put down his cell phone and get out of bed. 

“Stolas,” his voice is thin, high-pitched, “I can’t move.” 

Regardless of the fact that he is still naked under the sheets, Stolas kneels on the bed and gently takes the phone from Blitz, lightly caresses his cheek. 

“Let’s do this, my love,” he says, speaking gently, as he did when Octavia was little, “one thing at a time. Now we get dressed and go to the hospital to hear what they tell us and what happened, okay? We use the crystal, I’ll take you, okay?” 

“They didn’t want to tell me anything, Stols.” 

“It’s normal, dear, they want to be cautious over the phone.” 

“What if I get there and find out that... that...” a sob, “I don’t think I can do it, Stols.” 

“We can’t know anything while we’re here. Things are always worse in our heads.” 

“Yeah... in my head...” 

“Come on, Blitz, come on, put on your jacket, I’ll get dressed, okay? Can you move for me? So good.”  

They’ve both gotten out of bed and now Blitz is standing in the middle of their bedroom, his arms wrapped around each other in a convulsive self-hug, while Stolas opens the closet and grabs the first things he can find.  

The glove with the crystal is on the hall table, and Stolas runs to get it, worried about leaving Blitz alone even for a few seconds. 

“Put your jacket on, dear,” he says, making the imp put on his coat, his movements seem as numb as those of a person half asleep. 

“There,” he kisses his cheek, “let’s go.” 

He’s not used to using the crystal, it’s always Blitz who opens the portals at work, or Moxxie. The only time he’s used it was during a date where they went to watch shooting stars on Earth, and to be honest, using the crystal was more of a sort of foreplay to their sexual activity. Stolas rubbed it with a sensual movement, never taking his eyes off Blitz who watched him, licking his lips. 

The current situation was completely different, he was about to open a portal to a hospital in Sloth and drag his semi-catatonic boyfriend towards what could be really bad news about his twin sister. He felt anxious, with an unpleasant knot in his stomach and the feeling that things could only get worse, but he had to stay calm and collected for Blitz, because it was clear that his boyfriend was completely incapable of dealing with whatever was about to happen. 

He takes courage and opens the portal – on the first try, fortunately – then takes Blitz’s hand and the imp follows him obediently into the crowded atrium of the hospital. 

Blitz’s palm against his is cold, but sweaty, and he squeezes his fingers tightly, as if trying to hold him back. 

“Wait. Wait, Stols, I can’t do it.” 

Stolas turns to look at him and doesn’t like what he sees: eyes wide, face ashen, his entire body in a position ready to flee, Blitz seems to be on the verge of a panic attack. 

“We need to go ask for information at the front desk.” 

“Stolas, I can’t do this! I can’t walk, I can’t move, I can’t...” he gasps “fuck, I can’t breathe.” 

“If we don’t ask we’ll never know anything and it’s much worse.” 

“Shit... Fuck...Ok, ok.” 

The effort to move and walk to the desk seems to take every ounce of energy from the imp. 

“Excuse me,” Stolas says to the reception baphomet, “good morning. We would like information on Barbie Wire Buckzo, we know she was brought in this morning.” 

The female demon begins to scroll through a list on her computer with a bored expression. 

“Buckzo...Buckzo... oh yes, there she is. And you are?” 

“We are her emergency contact, they called us earlier to tell us to come over.” 

The demon checks something else on her computer and glances first at Stolas, then at Blitz who is still standing there silently, his head down. 

“Mmmm, I need your documents, Mr...?” 

“Blitz...” the imp replies in a tired and weak voice, “Blitzo. Buckzo. Barbie is my sister.” 

The demon continues to scroll for a while, then “Second floor, right. Ask for Dr. Chapel.” 

The road to the second floor seems both very long and very short at the same time, with Blitz who doesn't say a word and continues to stare into space, squeezing Stolas' hand until it hurts. 

Doctor Chapel is a hybrid demon, part shark, part baphomet, but she seems kind and competent and smiles at Blitz kindly as she speaks to him, even if the imp doesn't seem to listen to a word. 

"A colleague from the bar where she works found her last night. It was lucky, because we managed to catch her in time and revive her. But I want to be frank with you, Mr. Buckzo, your sister had a really bad time and for a couple of minutes we thought we wouldn't be able to save her. She shouldn't have suffered any brain damage but we'll know better when she wakes up." 

"And when will that be?" Stolas asks, because Blitz is still absent, and the doctor raises her chin to address him. 

“We don’t know exactly, tonight, or tomorrow, she’s still sedated at the moment. We had to intubate her, but she started breathing on her own a little while ago.” 

“Will she make it?” 

“She’s in stable condition right now, but we need to monitor her very closely—.” 

“Can I see her?” Blitz interrupts. He continues to look at nothing in particular, but then lowers his gaze and begins to stare at the tips of his boots. 

“Sure. Just a few minutes and then I’ll take you to her.” 

The doctor smiles at him and then walks away, leaving them alone in a corridor lit in yellow. A strange contrast, Stolas thinks, that cheerful light in an intensive care unit with this one. 

He remembers when he was admitted, after the injuries inflicted on him by Striker, but the ward they had taken him to was nothing like this one. It was luxurious, and private, everything a Goetia could want in terms of healthcare. Here instead the corridor was bare, without chairs, and with this yellow light that seemed to scream be happy you're not dead yet with very little good taste. 

Blitz has never liked hospitals. Of the thousand thoughts that crowd his head, this is the one that screams loudest in his brain. He hates hospitals. 

Flashes all too vivid of when they brought him there covered in burns, of when he saw Fizz lying on a white and aseptic bed, completely disfigured, of when he screamed and screamed to reach him and his father hit him, spitting in his face that no, Fizz did not want to see him, ever again. Flashes of when his father called him a murderer and told him bluntly that his mother was dead, even though he already knew, because he had seen her, with her hair on fire while he tried to reach her and he had burned his hands. 

And Barbie. Barbie who had looked at him in horror and cried and screamed at him. 

How could you, Blitzo?  

And now he was standing in a hallway that was exactly the same as the one he had been almost sixteen years before, and all he could make out of the doctor’s words was that one more second would have been enough for Barbie to die. All hope of reconciliation, all fantasies of a happy family, gone in a flash. 

He had come so close to losing her that the thought paralyzes him, throwing waves of panic at him like buckets of water. 

The doctor walks away and he is left alone with Stolas. He is still clutching his hand frantically, afraid that if he lets go then he too will somehow slip away and never be able to come back, forever lost in the vortex of his thoughts. 

Ten minutes perhaps pass, even if to him they seem like hours and hours, before the doctor returns and leads them both to a room at the end of the hallway. 

And there she is, Barbie. She lies there in a bed that is far too big for her, with wires and tubes sticking out everywhere, her eyes closed and her complexion pale. She is thinner than when he last saw her, but she is still the same and seeing her face still has the same effect, like looking in a mirror, but at the same time it is also looking back because all she can think about is the two of them, the two of them, sleeping together on the old and uncomfortable circus mattress. He still remembers the warmth of his body next to hers, the way he would curl up against her and she would wrap her tail around his legs. He remembers the nights when Fizz would sleep with them and the tangle of legs and arms and tails would become home . 

He couldn’t look at her lying in that bed, her breathing shallow and labored, her face thin and pale. The idea that it would only take a second for him to never see her again, to never hear her voice again, is unbearable. Blitz is fine with her insulting him, he's fine with Barbie hating him, he deserves it, all so she can stay alive. 

"Blitz, dear, do you want to be alone with her?" 

"No. No, it's okay Stols, I don't want to be alone." 

There are chairs next to the bed where Barb is lying unconscious. They're too small for Stolas and too big for him, but he takes them gift and they sit down anyway. 

Blitz can’t let go of Stolas’s hand. 

“You know, Stolas, I don’t know what I would have done if she were dead,” he says. 

“But she’s not, thankfully, and she’ll be fine soon.” 

“Yeah,” he sighs, “but for how long? She’s been in and out of rehab for ten years, and now this. What if they don’t find her in time next time?” 

Stolas doesn’t answer because, really, there’s nothing to say. Everything that’s happened is his fault. Barbie almost died because of him. 

He finally manages to pull away from Stolas and walk over to the bed. He takes Barbie’s hand in his, a gesture he realizes he hasn’t made in fifteen years. Her hands are still the same, with tapered black fingers, scarlet red palms, the calluses from their circus days still there. 

His own, by contrast, are so different that for a moment he can hardly recognize them, flecked with white. He's had them under his eyes for fifteen years and he still can't get used to them completely. Maybe that's why he hides them so often. 

"Hey, Barb, you have to wake up, mmh? Don't play tricks on me like that." 

He notices that his cheeks are wet and wipes them with an angry gesture. 

"Fuck" 

Stolas' light touch on his shoulder, light and warm, radiates that heat throughout his body. 

"You have to wake up, Barb, damn it. I have to tell you a lot... I have to tell you that I'm sorry..." 

"Eh, how dramatic of you, the doctor said that she'll wake up tomorrow at the latest, right?" 

A cold shiver runs down Blitz's spine and his spikes stand up on the back of his neck. 

His body tenses, Stolas can feel the tense muscles of his shoulders just beneath his hand. Every inch of him seems to be tensing up, an almost feral reaction, as if he were ready to attack or flee at the slightest sign. 

A not-so-young but not-so-old imp is leaning against the doorframe of the room, his eyes fixed on Blitz and a teasing smile on his lips. His horns are huge, so much so that Stolas is surprised that he can stand or walk. 

On his forehead, clearly visible, the same mark that is also on the forehead of his beloved.  

He seems familiar to Stolas, but he can't place where and when he has seen that imp before, although something in the way he is looking at Blitz makes him uncomfortable. 

"You have a lot of nerve showing your ugly mug here, Blitzo." 

"I could say the same about you," Blitz replies, but there is no usual swagger in his voice, he almost sounds scared. 

“The hospital called me, apparently I’m a…what did they call it? Emergency number” 

“Yeah? Well me too. But it took you a long time to get here!” 

“Meh, I’m a busy man” he says, then casually pulls out a bottle from who knows where and takes a long drink, then wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his already worn shirt. 

“I can’t fucking believe it” Blitz says and finally Stolas can feel a hint of irritation creeping in, “seriously? Your daughter literally almost died from an overdose and you get to be your usual drunk shit!” 

The imp takes another sip of what he’s almost certain is some kind of hard liquor by now and widens his grin. 

“Come on, Blitzo, is that any way to talk to your father?” 

And that’s when Stolas recognizes him. In a flash he is a child again, standing next to his father and watching the ringleader escort a young Blitz. 

“You should be happy that I’m not kicking you out right now, since you’re a fucking murderer piece of shit.” 

Stolas automatically turns to Blitz expecting a typical ‘Blitzian’ response, but it doesn’t come. 

In horror he can only watch the pure, clear terror creep into Blitz.  

It’s obscene, and Stolas wishes with all himself to see Blitz lash out like always, he want to hear him scream and pull the gun out of his pocket.  

Everything was better of that, but the only thing Blitz do is cry like a wounded animal. 

Chapter Text

Family

“You know, I saw you on TV a few months ago,” Cash says, stepping fully into the room and approaching the bed where Barbie was lying, “for a moment I almost thought I’d have to see your useless head roll off. But it didn’t last long.” 

“I… I…” 

“I… I… I, what’s up, boy, you stutter? You what? You’ve always been a dead weight, and you cost me a lot of money. Then I find out you’re making good money now, but of course you never thought to call your old man and pay him back for what he spent on you before you blew it all up. But I know, Blitzo, you’ve always been a selfish piece of shit.” 

Stolas had always considered himself a pacifist, but now he wants to kill. It’s a new feeling, one he’s never felt before, and it shakes him from head to toe. The old imp stands before Blitz and spits his words with contempt, not caring that his daughter is unconscious right next to him, or that his son is doubled over with his hands on his head and his breathing accelerating. 

“Now look what you did!” he hisses, pointing at Barbie. 

“It’s not my fault,” a hint of a reaction seems to shake Blitz. 

“Oh yeah? Your sister was perfectly fine before you killed her mother.” 

“Enough!” Stolas steps forward and inserts his entire self between Blitz and his father. He can feel his all body quivering with the desire to grab the old man’s throat and squeeze as hard as he can. If he still had his magic, he would have reduced him to a pile of dust. 

“Ah, I see it’s become a habit to have this pompous blue blood defend you.” 

“Stolas, please...” 

“How dare you talk to your own son like that?” 

“Stolas...” 

“What a good boyfriend!” Cash looks up at Stolas and smiles, a smile that sends chills down his spine. “You’ve always been good at sucking, Blitzo, in every sense of the word. A parasite who does nothing but take and take... you’ve sucked my money and my food for nineteen years. Don’t you know, Goetia, what a treat he had for you? I brought him home to you and in return he threw me a bag full of stuff taken straight from your shelves.” 

Stolas is taken aback, but tries not to show it, he doesn’t want to give him this satisfaction and is afraid that any reaction from him will be a breaking point for Blitz. 

“But you’re always be that good at sucking , aren’t you?” 

Stolas feels his stomach turn. How can a father say such things about his own son? He moves almost without realizing it and with a strength he didn’t know he possessed he grabs Cash by the neck and lifts him up. 

“Stolas!” 

Blitz literally clings to his arm, desperately. 

A groan comes from the bed, a strangled sound, and then the beeping of the machine seems to go crazy. 

After a few seconds a handful of nurses and Dr. Chapel rush into the room, pushing all three of them out. 

Cash straightens his shirt, crumpled from the violence with which Stolas had attacked him, takes out the bottle and takes a long drink. 

“Piece of shit,” he mutters, and sits in a corner, continuing to drink, seemingly oblivious to what has happened. 

Blitz is standing and his back is to him. He stares at the closed door and jumps when Stolas approaches him and touches his arm. 

“Blitz, are you okay?” 

“Sure, why I shouldn’t be okay,” he says, in a voice that is clearly that of someone who isn’t okay. “I need to call Fizz.” 

He pushes his arm away and picks up the phone, heading for the elevator. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Out.” 

Stolas stands there in the middle of the hallway, undecided. Part of him wants to follow Blitz, even though he knows he has to give him space, while another – a big – part of him wants to pick up where he left off and kill that piece of shit who somehow shares Blitz’s DNA. 

In the end he just stands there, staring at the door to Barbie Wire’s room. 

Loona continues to scroll through her Sinstagram feed, trying to block out Moxxie’s voice from her head. She’s extremely hungover, and she’s cursing herself once again for going to Bee’s house party and drinking on a work night. Stupid stupid Loona, and stupid her inability to say no to Tex and his stupid invitations or to Bee and her stupid compliments. 

“Loona, you really don’t know where your father is? Or Stolas?” 

“For the umpteenth time, fatty, I didn’t sleep at home and I came straight to the office, I have no idea where that dickhead and his feathered boyfriend are, okay?” 

“It’s just weird, ya know” says Millie. She lies on the couch for a while, her enormous belly getting more and more visible as her pregnancy progresses. “Have you tried calling him?” 

“Yeah, that shithead isn’t answering, and neither is Stolas”. 

Loona doesn’t say that the probably explanation is that those two are having wild sex full of things she'd rather not think about. Like, ever. 

The ringing of the phone makes her jump slightly. 

"There, it's Stolas, happy?" she says bored, they show the two imps the photo of the owl above the words 'Stolas calling'. 

"Where the fuck are you?" she exclaims opening the call. "We've been waiting for you in the office for two hours!" 

Loona, dear, I'm sorry we didn't call you right away. We're in the hospital.  

"What??" 

No no honey, don't worry Blitz is fine and so am I. But, look, Barbie Wire, Blitz's sister, was rushed here last night and they called your father this morning because apparently he's her emergency contact .  

Loona doesn't know how to respond and just says "oh". Of course she knew her father had a sister, pictures of her are all over the walls of his house and office and Blitz sometimes talks about her and about when they were both kids at the circus. But these are weird times, and Blitz always seems to deflect when they happen, so Loona never looked into it further. Knowing that this woman – her aunt – was in the hospital now is weird. 

“Is she okay?” 

Not much, I wouldn’t say she is. But they told us she’ll be okay and that’s something.  

“What about dad?” she asks, fearfully. 

I don’t know, honey. To be honest, I don’t know what to do. And their dad is here and-  

“Their dad? Blitz’s dad?” 

Yes  

“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

Oh Loona, don’t worry there’s no need  

“I said I’d be there as soon as I can.” 

She hangs up and turns to Moxxie and Millie who are watching her from the couch. 

“Blitz’s sister is in the hospital. I have to go.” 

“Of course, hun, we’ll take care of the clients.” Millie says with a worried look. 

She smiles at the two imps and leaves. 

As she heads for the van, she picks up her phone and texts Via. 

 

Blitz’s sister is in the hospital and there’s something I’m not sure about. Your father is definitely hiding something from me. 

It’s only a few seconds before a reply comes: 

 Do you want me to join you? 

Loona smiles for a moment at those words. She knows that Via still has issues with Blitz, that she still can’t consider him part of her family in every way. But she also knows that she and Via are like sisters now, that the bond they’re forging is growing stronger and stronger.  

She likes having a sister, and she likes that this sister is Octavia, with her shyness and their shared taste in music and that strange passion for taxidermy. And Loona also likes Stolas, she likes the way he talks to her, his kindness. And she loves that since he came into their lives permanently, her father is happier than she has ever seen him. 

Loona loves having a family, and she loves that Via is always there to support her. 

She takes the phone and quickly respond entering the van and starts to go. 

 

Let's meet at the hospital, I'll text you ward and piano as soon as I get there. 

Chapter Text

Everything Breaks Eventually

Try to stay calm okay, I'm coming  

Fizz's voice is agitated and slightly breathless through the phone. Blitz can hear the sounds of his metal arms going back and forth, as the clown tries to get dressed without letting go of the phone.  

"Yeah" he just says, because he doesn't know what else to say and because despite everything the thought of Fizz being there soon makes him feel strangely better. It makes him feel even worse though, because he Fizz and Barb haven't been in the same room for almost sixteen years, and the last time had been full of laughter, with the three of them fighting over makeup, and Barbie helping Fizz put on eyeliner because it was his birthday and he had to look sexier than ever. Blitz had been happy in that moment and hadn't realized it.  

Now they would be in a hospital room, with Barbie still unconscious because she had been trying to kill herself for fifteen years, Fizz with his disfigured face and mechanical limbs and ruined voice, and him…  

But it was reassuring to know that Fizz would be there with him soon.  

He goes back inside and Stolas is sitting on a chair in the waiting room, a little far from his father who, sprawled across three chairs, is downing a bottle as if it weren’t morning and Barb weren’t right there on the other side of the door.  

He stands in front of Stolas and the owl takes his hands in his, tries to make eye contact but Blitz avoids it.   

“Hey, my love, are you okay? Did you call Fizz?”  

“Yes, he’ll be there as soon as he can.”  

“Loona’s on her way here”  

“Oh?” The news catches him off guard. Didn’t he expect his daughter to run to him at a time like this? Maybe not… he’s not sure he wants her there.  

Cash’s presence at the edge of his vision is like an itch, he feels his gaze on him. He’s always had the ability to make him feel useless, or worse, to make him feel as if his very existence was an unpleasant inconvenience that needs to be resolved as quickly as possible. Like a dead end that forces you to take a longer, more complex route when you’re late. Annoying, irritating, and harmful.  

Dr. Chapel leaves the room and he and Stolas stand to meet her.  

“There was a slight respiratory crisis,” the doctor says, “but you don’t have to worry now, it’s all over. The situation is stable and if all goes well we should be able to proceed to wake the patient in the next few hours tonight. I suggest you go home for a while, get something to eat, we won’t need you here until this evening anyway.”  

“Thanks, Doctor,” Stolas says, and he can only nod, staring into the room where the voices of a couple of nurses are coming from. Relief rushes through his body, but he doesn’t know if it’s relief because Barbie won’t die in the end or because he can at least get away with that.  

Just one murder, Blitzo, aren’t you happy?  

Stolas has a hand on his shoulder and is telling him something, something Blitz can’t hear, too lost in his own thoughts, the voices invading his head.  

And then Cash laughs.  

“Well well, at least we saved ourselves that,” he says scornfully, shaking the bottle to see if there’s still some alcohol left. “Why don’t you put me up at your place, son? I have nowhere else to go, and something tells me you’ve got a pretty good apartment, with business going like a charm. Don’t you want to show your old father your place?”  

Blitz tries to reach the seed of anger inside him, but strangely enough he can't. He knows he should scream and throw his father's lies back in his asshole's face, but the voice in his head keeps reminding him that he has no right to do so, that if his father lives like a drunk somewhere it's his fault.  

Blitz is angry with himself because he can't help but feel like he did when he was ten and his father rented him out to a Goetia kid he had to steal from, or when he sent him out to sell watered-down alcohol to a scary imp in Nomafia Town at thirteen, or when he rented him out again to a rich guy in Envy at sixteen but this time he didn't have to play with him or steal from him.  

He could have told him to go fuck himself countless times and he never did, because if only he had been a better clown, if only he had been more talented with the trapeze or if only he had been an acrobat to show off, then his father wouldn't have to find alternative methods.  

And if only he hadn't been a useless, clumsy coward, his father would still have a circus and a wife and a place to stay. And Barbie wouldn't be here.  

But he can't find the voice to tell him that yes, okay, he can come and stay with them for as long as it takes. He can't tell a lie that big and every cell in his body rebels and the mere thought of Cash setting foot in his house, in the house where he and Stolas live and love each other, in the house where Loona lives, makes him want to throw up.  

He notices that Stolas has taken a step forward and pulled him back slightly, as if to shield him.  

“I don’t think so, in fact, I would say that there is no scenario in any universe where you entering our house is even vaguely possible!”  

Stolas’s voice is sarcastic, laced with anger.  

“Why don’t you back up, Goetia?” Cash spits out, in the tone that Blitz had only heard addressed to himself before.  

“Why don’t you shut the fuck up, you miserable piece of drunken shit?” suddenly they are interrupted by the graspy voice of Fizz, who had just turned the corner.  

“Fizz! How nice to see-”  

“Shut your mouth!” he immediately interrupts him “Don’t talk to me!”  

Cash is shocked and doesn’t react when Fizz pushes him away.  

Blitz feels as if he’s been abruptly awakened from a spell.  

“Fizz...” he exhales, in a voice he barely recognizes himself.  

“I know buddy”  

And then suddenly Fizz is hugging him and his robotic arms wrap around him, imprisoning him in that grip.  

“It’s not your fault,” he whispers in his ear, “you understand? It’s not your fault.”  

Blitz returns the hug and, finally, manages to cry.  

Via has walked out of the building without anyone stopping her. This is nothing new, but somehow she’s always afraid that her mother or uncle will eventually stop her from leaving, locking her in there forever.  

The only person who seems remotely interested is Pringles, who waves at her as she opens the door and runs out the stairs.  

The IMP van is parked right next to the gate, and Loona is smoking a cigarette with one arm resting on the open window. It’s an image that has become increasingly familiar to her over the past few months, as is the smell of tobacco and gunpowder that always fills the air in the van, or the “Hey, kiddo” Loona greets her with whenever they see each other.  

This time, however, it’s not a cheerful greeting, it’s not a party or a shopping trip they’re going to, and Loona is tense and worried, her ears down.  

“Hey,” Octavia says, climbing into the van and closing the door while Loona has already started the engine, “what did daddy say?”  

“Not much actually, he called me about an hour ago to tell me that he and Blitz had to go to the hospital in Sloth because Blitz’s sister had overdosed.”  

“Shit”  

“Yeah.”  

“Did you know that your aunt…uh…um…”  

“That she’s a junkie? No. Shit, I don’t even know her name. The only thing I know about her is because my dad has a picture of her on the wall and he’s mentioned it a couple times.”  

“Wow. So they’re not talking.”  

Loona gives her a weird look, like she’s trying to decide what and how much to say. Then finally the hellhoud sighs and takes another drag on her cigarette as she turns onto one of the busy streets that lead to the Sloth Ring gate.  

“Look, Via, I’m telling you this in confidence, okay? I don’t know what happened between Blitz and his sister, but I think it’s something bad… I mean, really bad. That dickhead never says shit but he’s never been…well…I think. And I’m worried.”  

Via wrings her hands but stays silent and for a few minutes they both sit there silent with the only noise of the traffic between them.  

She can’t say she knows Blitz, not really. Sure, she’s seen him a lot, and she’s friends with Loona – Via loves Loona, loves having a friend, someone she can tell everything to and who in turn feels comfortable enough to tell her something in confidence, it’s a feeling she’s never felt except with her father maybe, even if in a different way – but she’s never really talked to him, never been alone with him. He only knows what Loona told her, or the things his father tells him, stories that paint him as a father who is perhaps too enthusiastic, a great assassin, an original cook and the funniest person on Hell. He knows that Loona, despite her pose, adores him, and her father was obviously ready to give his life for him.  

Sometimes Octavia would like to know him better, other times she can't help but still see him as the homewrecker. She feels guilty about this, especially now, especially because she is there to support Loona.  

They park and before going in Loona takes the phone and calls Stolas.  

"I'm downstairs" she says "yeah, okay. Listen, Stolas, Via is here with me".  

She can't hear the answer on the other end, but she sees Loona roll her eyes.  

"Well, it's late now, isn't it? We'll wait for you at the entrance, get your feathered ass downstairs."  

The call ends and they only have to wait five minutes before Stolas appears from the entrance. He goes towards Octavia opens her arms wide and gives her a long hug. Via can feel her muscles tense, her slight tremors.  

“What’s the situation?” Loona asks.  

“Not good, Loona dear. Barbie is stable even though she hasn’t woken up yet, but there was an, uh, unexpected event. Blitz’s father is here.”  

“Blitz’s father.”  

“Yes. And, well, how to say…” Stolas glances at Via and then sighs, “he’s a hopeless piece of shit. Excuse my language, Via honey, but there’s no other way to put it. He’s been horrible to Blitz since the moment he got here.”  

Via can see that her father is troubled beneath the facade he’s put on, she can see the cracks and it’s strange that in that year of going from not wanting to talk to him to seeing him once a week she finally feels like she’s gotten to know her father better than when they lived in the same house.  

The three of them head for the elevator and soon find themselves alone.  

“I don’t want either of you to have to deal with him.”  

“And where is he now?” Loona growls.  

“I don’t know, when Fizzarolli arrived he said he was going to smoke and left.”  

A look of understanding passes between Loona and Stolas that excludes her. Via feels a hint of annoyance, as happens every time she realizes she has to share her father with others, that she is no longer the only person in his life.  

And like every time, the annoyance is immediately replaced by guilt. She feels selfish thinking that her father should be hers only, that he has no right to have relationships outside of her. And she feels guilty because she knows that the whole situation doesn’t concern her, that she is there for Loona and Loona is there for Blitz who risked losing his sister.  

The elevator opens and they walk down two corridors to the room where Blitz’s sister is. Stolas knocks softly and opens the door.  

“Blitz, Loona is here, and Via is here too.”  

When they enter, the first thing that strikes Octavia is that Blitz is not simply sitting on the chair in the corner of the room. He is curled up with his legs pulled up and his knees to his chest on a chair that is too big for him and that can actually fit another imp. Fizzarolli has an arm around Blitz’s shoulders and the two are temple to temple in an intimacy she has never had with anyone.  

Stolas immediately goes to him, crouches down and caresses his cheek.  

“How are you, darling?”  

“Like shit” Blitz replies and his voice is thick with tears.  

Octavia is so surprised by the sight of Blitz, always so exuberant and active, someone she has always considered almost overwhelming, that at first she doesn’t notice the bed in the middle of the room.  

And so she is, Blitz’s sister, Loona’s aunt… the resemblance to her brother is uncanny, but her face is thin and pale, more grayish than red.  

“Are you ok, dad?” Loona is immediately beside her father. She glances at her aunt and then back at Blitz. “Is she ok?”  

“She’ll be fine. They say she should wake up soon.”  

Via notices that Blitz has avoided answering the first of Loona’s questions.  

She feels like she’s in the way of things in that scene. Fizzarolli is curled up next to Blitz, the two imps in a mutually comforting embrace, while Stolas is crouched on the floor with Blitz’s hand in his and Loona is standing with a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  

Via wants to leave, but suddenly Blitz turns to her.  

“Hello, Via. I’m glad you came.”  

It’s strange, but to Via he seems genuine.  

My family is here he thinks , as he watches Octavia hesitantly approach him and sit down in the empty chair next to the bed, on the opposite side of him. Fizz still holds him and Stolas holds his hands and Loona is a comforting presence with her hand on his shoulder.  

And Barbie is there and she is alive.  

Let’s see how long before you fuck everything up the voice in his head sounds like Cash you’re always so good at fucking, am I right?  

Stolas notices his expression and there is a silent question in his eyes.  

“I’m ok, birdie” he tells him, but he knows that neither he nor Stolas believe what he says.  

“Fucking adorable, I’m gonna be sick” Cash’s voice again, but not in his head this time, but in the doorway of the room.  

He hears Loona growl, Stolas stands up and turns to face him, Fizz straightens and hisses a “Fuck you, Cash.” Even Via looks in Cash’s direction with disgust.  

And he can’t help but think that he deserves every word his father says to him. He deserves it for never being enough, for being a burden, for destroying everything, and because Barbie was happy before and his father was always right about him.  

And he hates himself because he knows he shouldn’t be thinking those thoughts, and that over the past year he’d made a lot of progress and tried to be better, but one word from his father would make all that progress go away.  

“Blitzo..?”  

His train of thought is cut off. The voice that said his name—that name he wants to leave behind but that continues to haunt him—is faint, barely audible, but it resonates in the room like a roar.  

Barbie raises her forehead and opens her eyes slowly, trying to focus on the figures around her. They have all stood up and crowded around the bed, even Cash has entered the room and seems interested in the fact that his daughter is literally waking up from the dead.  

“Blitzo” Barbie repeats and finally she focuses her gaze on him, awake and aware despite his ghostly paleness. “What the fuck are you doing here?”  

Something seems to break inside him, Blitz can almost hear a distinct crack. For a second no one moves, no one speaks, there is only Barbie who first thing when she wakes up looks at him full of anger. And then, more horrible than the blade that almost took his head off, Cash’s raucous laughter erupts.  

Blitz clenches his fists and runs away.  

Chapter Text

5. Things I never said

When Barbie wakes up, many things happen at once: the first person she turns to is her brother Blitz, but even though Stolas knows there are problems between the twins, her blunt question catches him off guard. Cash appears in the doorway at the worst possible moment and laughs—a horrible, coarse laugh, so full of disgust that Stolas feels sick at the idea of a father laughing like that at his own son. Then Blitz runs out of the room, and Stolas tries to go after him, but Cash is standing right between him and the door, and Octavia is still beside him, holding him back, while Fizzarolli rushes toward the bed in a messy tangle of mechanical limbs and bells.  

Only Loona stands slightly apart, her arms crossed over her chest, her gaze fixed on the door Blitz just exited. Then she glances at him with concern, a look Stolas can only return with the same worry.  

“Barbie!” Fizzarolli exclaims in the meantime, and finally Stolas approaches the bed slowly, feeling a bit like a stranger. He wrings his hands, unsure what to do with his arms and fingers.  

“Fizz? Why are you here? Where the fuck am I?”  

“Relax, Barb, you're in the hospital. You're safe now.”  

“That was Blitzo?”  

“Yes.”  

Barbie Wire slowly lifts a hand and examines the IV sticking out of her wrist. She looks surprised at the monitor displaying her heartbeat, slightly elevated from agitation.  

“Don’t you remember what happened?” Fizzarolli asks hesitantly.  

Barbie looks around, her gaze landing on each of them one by one.  

“I don’t know these people,” she says weakly, then her eyes linger on Cash, who’s leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, looking unconcerned.  

“Dad?”  

“Hey, Barb, guess all that rehab didn’t do much good, huh?”  

An expression of pure pain crosses the pale face of the imp, as if she had a cramp, and the sight triggers something in Stolas. Barbie Wire’s face looks so much like her brother’s that it hurts to look at her—watching her suffer is almost like watching Blitz suffer.  

He can’t stand it.  

A violent, demonic part of him rises to the surface and clouds his judgment. If he still had his magic, he might have transformed right there and then, but Stolas no longer has magic—he only has rage, and rage, and more rage.  

He doesn’t even realize he’s moved; his mind is a buzzing spark breaking through the usual fog of passivity and depression that dulls him, even at the best of times.  

His hand is around Cash’s throat, lifting him off the ground, all four eyes locked on his, craving to see the life drain from that miserable waste. He wants him to suffer. He wants him to die. He wants to squeeze the cruelty out of him...  

“Stolas!”  

“Dad!”  

He shakes his head, and in an instant, he’s himself again—worried about Blitz, unsure of his role, uncomfortable just being there. Loona is beside him, holding his outstretched arm, trying to get him to let go of the old imp. Via stands frozen and frightened where she was.  

Fizzarolli and Barbie Wire are staring at him wide-eyed, the clown still clutching Barbie’s hand in his, both unmoving.  

Stolas releases Cash, who collapses to the ground, coughing.  

“I’m sorry. I lost control. Miss Barbie Wire, I deeply apologize. Maybe... maybe I should leave.”  

He rushes out of the room, and at first doesn’t notice that Loona and Via have followed him until they sit down beside him in the waiting room.  

“I can’t believe I did that.”  

“If you hadn’t, I would,” says Loona, a low growl audible in her voice.  

Stolas turns to Octavia, who is curled up in her chair, deep in thought.  

“I’m sorry, my starfire. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”  

“You didn’t scare me, dad. I understand why you did it, I really do... he deserved it. I’m just... upset, I guess. Because that’s Blitz’s sister, and that’s Blitz’s father, and Blitz is... well, I’m not sure how I feel about him.”  

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he says with a sigh, and his daughter gives him a sidelong glance before replying.  

“At first I thought I came for Loona, because I thought she needed a friend to count on. Then I thought maybe I could support you... but now, I don’t know. I think I came for Blitz too. Because I feel sorry for him, I guess.”  

Stolas wraps an arm around her and pulls her close, and Octavia leans into him like she used to when she was little.  

Loona listens to their conversation in silence, and when Stolas finally turns to her, the hellhound looks a bit embarrassed.  

“Why don’t you go look for your father, dear Loona?”  

“Knowing him, he’s not still here—he’s probably taken off somewhere.”  

“Should we try to find him? Or call him?”  

Loona stands up and pulls out her phone.  

“I’ll call the M&Ms. If he didn’t go to the office, maybe he went home. They can check.”  

Stolas watches her walk away and realizes that, for the first time in months—excluding their Saturday ice cream outings—he’s alone with Octavia. This time, though, they’re truly alone, with no one else in the waiting room.  

“You know,” he says with a soft smile, “I understand if you don’t like Blitz. I’m not going to force you to accept him in your life, but I would like it. He’s part of mine, and he makes me very happy.”  

“I know, Dad. And I really am happy for you. I know you and Mom weren’t happy and that you were forced to marry and have me.”  

Stolas opens his mouth to speak, but Via cuts him off right away.  

“I know you don’t regret having me. I understand what you meant when you said I was the only good thing in your life. I think I felt betrayed because it had always been just the two of us, and all that time you were unhappy and never told me. I’m glad you finally did. But I guess part of me is still jealous of Blitz, and the fact that I wasn’t the one who made you decide to finally be happy.”  

“Oh, Via...”  

“But when Loona told me Blitz’s sister nearly died, it was the first time I thought of him as a real person, you know? Not just an idea or ‘that imp.’ I thought it must be horrible to get a call from a hospital saying your sister is dying. And maybe... maybe he’d like to know that I don’t hate him, and that I feel bad for him. I don’t know if that makes any sense.”  

“I think it makes perfect sense,” says Stolas—and he truly means it, despite everything.  

It’s comforting to have even that small connection when everything else seems to be going wrong. Just that morning, he’d thought he was happy—that his biggest concern would soon be how to reintroduce some of their old, more extreme role-playing games into their sex life. But ever since that phone call, everything seems to conspire to remind him of his inadequacy.  

He had wanted to be there for Blitz, but couldn’t manage it, and it was Fizzarolli who had stepped up to provide real support for his little lover. Stolas had stood still and silent while the man he loved took insults and manipulation from his father, and in the end—when it was too late—he had almost killed someone in a senseless outburst that had only frightened his daughter and Loona.  

All he can do now is stay outside the room and wait for Blitz to return.  

Chapter Text

What’s left

Fizz watches the door close behind Loona, Stolas, and Octavia, then turns to Barbie, trying to ignore Cash’s presence just a few steps away. It's harder than he thought, and the grudge and resentment he feels towards him burn inside like fire. Fifteen years of his life lost, fifteen years of friendship with Blitz dissolved because of that man he once saw as a father.  

He tries to focus all his attention on Barbie, who is attempting to sit up, still pale with heavy bags under her eyes.  

“How are you feeling, Barb?” he asks with a smile he can't hold back.  

“Like shit, Fizz,” she replies, and even though her voice is still weak, that spark is still there. It makes him feel at home.  

“Why was Blitz here?”  

Fizz's eyes widen and he leans back slightly.  

“He was your emergency contact, the hospital called him.”  

“Oh.”  

She says nothing more. Fizz really wishes he could avoid getting mad at her right now, because she's still weak, because the night before she was clinically dead for who knows how long, because seeing her again brings him back to when they were young and innocent and life seemed ready to blossom. But he just can’t help it.  

“Oh?” he snaps. “What the fuck, Barb?”  

“I forgot I had done that. I must have been really, really high.”  

Fizz is so surprised he doesn’t know what to say.  

“Don’t look at me like that, Fizz. Sometimes when I’m super drunk or high, I get… sentimental.”  

Cash chuckles, but doesn’t comment on their exchange, and Fizz is too shaken to say anything to him.  

“What the fuck, Fizz, don’t judge me. I should have deleted that asshole’s number ages ago, but I didn’t because I’m a stupid sentimental junkie. Sue me.”  

“But you kept his fucking number!” Fizz has to hold himself back from shouting, and Cash's snicker in the background doesn't make it any easier.  

“He’s my dad, and sometimes he let me crash at his place when shit got really fucked up.”  

“Blitz is your brother.”  

“Blitzo fucked up my life, and Dad’s. Christ, Fizz, he fucked up YOUR life in a pretty spectacular way and you're still defending him!”  

Barbie pauses and closes her eyes slightly, catching her breath. The effort seems to drain her.  

“Look, Fizz, I feel like shit, I hurt everywhere, and I’m honestly just happy to see you. I missed you.”  

Fizz sighs and collapses into the chair next to the bed as Barbie leans back into her pillow.  

“I missed you too, Barb,” he says quietly.  

“Well, well, looks like we all missed each other,” Cash chimes in with that whiny tone that makes Fizz’s skin crawl. It reminds him far too much of when the ringleader used to watch him train for his acts. He even used to say “well well” with that exact tone, that same cadence. Back then, young Fizz clung to that voice like a lifeline. Now it gives him chills. “A lot’s changed too. For example, Fizz, what the fuck made you leave Mammon? Have you gone crazy? Or maybe your royal daddy’s giving you more money now? In that case, good for you.”  

“Don’t call him that!” Fizz snaps, but it’s pointless—Cash is too drunk and probably too much of a bastard to care.  

“And you, sweetheart, I thought you’d cleaned up. What the fuck happened?”  

Barbie doesn’t answer. She just hides her face in her hands.  

“Leave her alone!” Fizz shouts, and Cash laughs again.  

“Jeez, you’re all so touchy now. A bunch of little pussies, the lot of you.” He shakes the now empty bottle and heads for the door. “I’m gonna go find something else to drink,” he says, slamming the door behind him.  

Fizz and Barbie are alone, and finally, there's silence between them.  

“I’ll go get a doctor,” Fizz says, “let them know you’re awake.”  

“No wait, Fizz, don’t go just yet.”  

Fizz sits back down.  

“You know, I really feel like shit. Everything hurts and it’s like I have something bitter stuck in my throat.”  

“Why?” Fizz interrupts sharply, more blunt than he intended. “Why did you start using again when you’d stayed clean for so long? Why did you list your brother as an emergency contact only to send him away like that? Why did you bring that asshole of a father here? Why?”  

Fizz finds himself gasping like after an intense routine, cheeks wet with tears. When Blitz called him that morning, he felt a wave of panic rising in him, but also something else, like the faint spark of hope. The hope of turning back time, maybe, of winding the clock back to when it was just the three of them and everything felt perfect and easy and so tender. But it had only been an illusion.  

“You know, Fizz, a few months ago I was working at this record store. It was small and nobody ever came in because who the fuck buys records anymore, but I liked it, and I’d been clean for a year. I thought I might actually be starting over. And then the TV we had in the store—which we just used to play music videos—turned on by itself, and there was Blitzo on the screen with a chain around his neck and an axe ready to take his shit head off. I thought he was going to die. Really die, not in that weird pretend-dead way I’d been clinging to for fifteen years, but like actually gone, off the face of Hell. Like Mom. I didn’t even know what I felt—fear, relief, anger. I couldn’t take my eyes off that image of Blitzo kneeling with his head on the chopping block. As soon as it ended and he wasn’t dead, I wanted a hit so bad. So I left the counter, went to my old dealer, and bought a dose of H8.”  

Barbie laughs weakly, like she thinks it’s somehow funny. Fizz’s stomach turns.  

“That must’ve been when I added Blitzo to my emergency contacts. I didn’t remember doing it, but it makes sense. As for Dad… he’s my father, Fizz, and he’s the only scrap of family I’ve got left. If I die, I want him to know.”  

Fizz sighs. He wants to tell her that it’s not true, that Cash isn’t all she has, that Blitz would be so happy to have her back in his life he’d drown her in love, that he , Fizz, is her family too and she can count on him. But he can’t get the words out.  

“I didn’t list you as an emergency contact because I didn’t have the right. You’re successful, you’re happy with your lusty blueblood, I didn’t want to drag you into my mess.”  

“But you can count on me, Barb.”  

“I know, Fizz. I’m sorry.”  

“And you can count on Blitz too.”  

“No, Fizz, don’t start. I’m too tired for this.”  

“You should at least give him a chance, let him explain.”  

“I bet he gave you the ‘it was an accident’ story.”  

“Yeah. And I believe him. And I lost my best friend for fifteen years because I believed Cash’s words and wouldn’t let Blitz explain. And Cash kept us apart.”  

“You don’t get it, Fizz. It doesn’t matter if it was an accident or not.”  

“It does matter. And Blitz is…” Fizz stops himself—he doesn’t want to say what he’s really thinking. It wouldn’t be fair to Blitz, and in the end, his own ideas don’t matter. “I’m just saying you’re not the only one who lost a mother that night. We all lost our family in that fire.”  

They sit in silence for a while, only the beeping of medical machines between them.  

“I’m going to get the doctor,” Fizz says finally, standing up.  

Barbie doesn’t look up as he leaves, still hiding her face in her hands.  

He meets a nurse just outside the room and tells her Barbie is awake. He watches her call a colleague and head into the room he just left.  

In the waiting area at the end of the hallway, Stolas sits, holding his daughter’s hand in a chair far too small for him. Loona sits a little farther away.  

Four pairs of eyes turn to him as soon as he walks in.  

“Barbie’s with the doctors,” he says by way of greeting. “Where’s Blitz?”  

“We don’t know,” says Stolas, and Fizz can hear a hint of anxiety in his voice. “He had the crystal, and he must’ve used it to leave the hospital, because he’s nowhere nearby.”  

“Yeah. M&M say he didn’t go to the office and now they’re checking his place. You know, knocking on doors.”  

“You should go too.”  

“I didn’t want to leave you alone with… you know…” Stolas says.  

“It’s fine. I kept that old drunk in check for years. And he went off to get more booze, so we’re good for now.”  

“Thank you, Fizzarolli.”  

“Don’t mention it. Actually, Stolas—go find Blitz. I’m really worried. He and his father always had a… complicated relationship. Cash never treated him like he treated me or even Barbie. And…” He stops, unsure how much more to say. “Just… go look for him. Let me know if he’s okay, alright?”  

“Of course.”  

Stolas gets up, followed by his daughter and Loona.  

Fizz watches them go and, with yet another sigh on this heavy day, turns on his heel and heads back to Barbie.  

Chapter Text

Scratchers

Stolas is sitting next to Loona in the van. The hellhound drives in silence, ears drooped, so Stolas can’t bring himself to say anything to her—he doesn’t know how to start the conversation. Maybe he agrees with her on how useless words can feel in moments like this, but he’s never quite able to shut off that part of him that feels the need to make small talk during uncomfortable silences. 

Octavia is in the back seat, and Stolas can see her in the rearview mirror, trying to curl into herself and disappear from this situation where, clearly, she feels out of place. 

Their eyes meet through the mirror and he gives her a small, encouraging smile, which she returns. He’s still shaken by what his daughter told him earlier—her realization about Blitz and about him. Just a few months ago, he thought she’d never speak to him again, that he might never even see her again—and now here she was, comforting both him and Loona during a difficult time. 

He’s prouder of her than he’s ever been. 

He sighs heavily, thinking back to everything that happened that morning. He had dreamed so many times of meeting his beloved’s family, imagined watching the reunion between Blitz and his sister with his heart swelling with love. He didn’t know much about her, but he was absolutely certain Blitz loved her deeply. He’d even imagined meeting Blitz’s mother and father—until he once let something slip and got a sharp response from the imp about how that would be impossible. 

“Blitz’s mom is dead,” Loona had told him once, after Blitz left with the excuse of needing to check something important at the office—even though it was ten at night. They were still in the old apartment back then, and Stolas was in the thick of his adjustment period after restarting therapy with his Happy Pills. He’d felt like a real idiot and had never brought the subject up again—but still, the fantasies remained. 

Meeting Blitz’s sister—Barbie Wire, an original and magnificent name, at least as much as Blitzo—in a hospital bed, recovering from an overdose that had almost killed her, was not what he’d pictured. Not to mention meeting Blitz’s father, a bitter, manipulative old imp Stolas had ended up grabbing by the throat. 

And Blitz had run. Just like that time. Just like he had so many times during the days of their arrangement—when he would vanish for what felt like forever, distant from Stolas and from any attempt to build emotional connection. 

“We’re here,” Loona says, stopping the van in front of the building. 

Stolas rushes inside, then up the stairs, followed by the two girls, all the way to the fifth floor where their apartment is. 

Millie and Moxxie are standing in front of the door, the woman knocking hard, but getting no answer. 

“We’ve been here almost twenty minutes,” Moxxie says as they approach. “We’re sure someone was inside, or at least was when we got here, because we heard noise.” 

Stolas steps forward, gently nudges the two imps aside, and slips his key into the lock. 

“Blitz?” he calls the moment he steps into the hallway, but there’s no answer. 

The five of them move further in, and the moment they enter the apartment, Stolas feels the blood freeze in his veins. He brings a hand to his mouth to muffle a gasp. 

The entire place is a mess. There are broken objects everywhere—Blitz’s things, mostly, his My Little Hellponies action figures, a few horse-shaped knickknacks, and a lamp. A drawer is overturned on the floor, with papers and markers scattered across the living room. 

But the worst part is the photos. 

“Fuck me!” Loona exclaims, eyes wide, staring at the photos on the wall. 

One of the most charming, distinctive spots of the old one-room apartment where Stolas had spent the first months of his exile was the wall covered in drawings and photos of Blitz and his family. The imp had literally put his heart on display for anyone to see, right there in that intimate space where he let down his toughest mask and could be entirely himself. Stolas had come to know Blitz through those adorable drawings and those photos of everyone he loved. And now his face—Stolas’s favorite face in the world—was violently scratched out in every single one. 

When they moved, they had recreated that same wall in their new apartment, filling it with new photos and new drawings. Stolas had never addressed the subject, and Blitz and Loona had simply ignored it too—and the wall had quietly become a collage of pictures of the three of them, of Millie and Moxxie and Fizzarolli and Octavia. New photos in which Blitz smiled in all his adorable charm. 

Stolas walks up to the wall and picks up his favorite photo: it shows him, Blitz, Loona, and Via in front of a big cake with the words, scrawled in Blitz’s childish handwriting, “happi adupton anniversry, Loony.” They’d moved in only the day before, and it was the first time Octavia spent time with all of them together. Blitz had tried to hold back tears all night and had flitted around Loona like a finch—but he couldn’t help himself when Octavia patted him on the back, and he broke down crying. It was one of the most beautiful memories of Stolas’s life, immortalized in that picture. 

And now he’s staring at that same picture, where the beautiful, joyful face of his beloved has been violently blacked out with a marker. 

Every photo on the wall has met the same fate. Everywhere he looks, Blitz’s face has been scratched out in a furious stroke. 

Stolas doesn’t know whether to cry or throw up. 

“Blitz must have been here this whole time—until he heard us knocking,” Millie says, as practical as ever. “A couple hours, since you left him at the hospital, right?” 

“Yeah, more or less,” Octavia replies. 

Stolas hears their voices, but he can’t connect to the conversation—too overwhelmed to pull himself out of his head. He hears the two imps and his daughter talking, but he can’t make sense of what they’re saying. 

“Fuck,” Loona whispers, stepping closer to him and staring at the wall. “Shit’s real bad.” 

“Loona,” he says softly, still looking at the photos in horror, “I never asked you this before...” 

“I don’t know what to tell you. Blitz never talked to me about this stuff… I guess he didn’t want to dump his issues on me or some dumb dad excuse.” 

Stolas feels personally attacked but says nothing. 

“Or maybe he just doesn’t talk to anyone about this stuff. The photos were just… one night normal, and the next morning, not. Blitz was blackout drunk on the couch, and I have no idea what triggered him. But I think I’m starting to get an idea now.” 

Stolas doesn’t reply. He just nods, because what is there to say? He feels guilty for never asking, for assuming Blitz was happy all these months, thinking that once their arrangement and the Octavia issue were resolved, everything could be like the domestic bliss of his dreams. He feels guilty because for all those months, everything had revolved around him —his problems, his depression. 

Poor Stolas, his whole life a black hole of unhappiness. Poor Stolas, who even now, despite everything going better, still needs pills and therapy just to function. 

And it had never occurred to him to ask Blitz why he had scratched his face out of the photos—why it seemed so impossible that Stolas could love him, why his sister didn’t want to speak to him, why his mother was dead, and why his father was never mentioned. 

“Stolas?” 

His thoughts are interrupted by Moxxie, who’s placed a hand on his arm. 

“Mmm?” 

“I asked if Blitz said anything particular before he left.” 

“Oh… no, nothing. But his father said a lot of awful things, full of double meanings. It made me sick.” 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know—innuendos… It gave me chills, hearing him talk about his own son like that. And Blitz didn’t say a word, just stood there taking it all, until Fizzarolli showed up. It was… unpleasant.” 

Millie lets out a small gasp, like she’s suddenly realized something. Everyone turns to look at her—she’s sitting on the couch, one hand on her swollen belly, the other scratching her head nervously. 

“Okay, um… maybe I shouldn’t say anything, since B told me in confidence… but… maybe...” 

“Spit it up, Millie, for fuck’s sake,” Loona snaps, and the woman sighs heavily. 

“So… um… you know last year, when Blitz had that… Ghostfuckers moment?” 

Moxxie and Loona nod, while Stolas and Via look at Millie, puzzled. 

“When you and him had that… um… fight about the book and the crystal.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah. Well, Blitz didn’t take it well, and he was pretty much unbearable and depressed for a month. Anyway, when he and I went on a mission to this hotel, he had a bit of a breakdown—he was shaking, crying, not a pretty sight. And he said something that broke my heart, about how he thought he just made everyone’s life worse. When we got home, he acted like nothing had happened, remember that, Mox? I was worried, so I invited him for a drink, just the two of us, ‘cause we’d had a nice moment on Earth and all. I don’t know, maybe he drank too much, ‘cause I think the next day he didn’t even remember telling me this, but he started talking about... bad things. He said he was glad to be useful, because he’d always struggled to feel that way when he was young. And then he said his dad found a way to make him useful—since he was a terrible clown and a mediocre acrobat, but at least he had a pretty face and...” Millie stops and swallows, like her words taste bitter, “a nice ass.” 

Moxxie gasps loudly. Loona growls faintly. Via curls up in the corner of the couch, knees to her chest. 

Stolas doesn’t know if he’ll ever recover from the waves of shock washing over him. 

“And Mox,” Millie continues mercilessly, turning to her husband, “you know perfectly well Blitz has never hesitated to use… alternative methods… to get what he needs.” 

“What are you trying to say, Millie?” Stolas asks in a voice he barely recognizes. 

“I’m saying maybe his dad deliberately dragged up traumatic memories. And that there are things we don’t know about Blitz—what he’s done or what’s happened to him before we met him, especially with his family. I’m also saying I don’t think it’s news to anyone here that Blitz isn’t the most stable person in Hell. And that this ,” she gestures to the room and the photos, “is not a good sign at all. And I’m really worried. He’s got the crystal and the gun—I think we need to find him as soon as possible.” 

“Okay, baby, but how do we know where he went?” asks Moxxie. 

“My first idea was that maybe Stolas would know, but clearly he doesn’t. We could ask Fizzarolli—but the truth is, Blitz could literally be in any shitty place in any Ring.” 

Stolas looks back at the photo he’s still holding. He remembers that morning, the stupid way he and Blitz had flirted, the way they made love and everything felt perfect in that pure moment of ecstasy. 

He remembers Blitz’s face when they told him his sister was on the brink of death, the way he froze, the way he looked like a frightened, helpless child. 

And finally, he remembers Blitz’s face as his father hurled cruelty at him—the terror in his eyes, the way he tried to please him. 

He imagines Blitz overturning drawers, destroying his things, and then, in a fit of rage, grabbing a marker and erasing himself from every image of his new life. 

Stolas had felt that same impulse so many times—the disgust and rage at his own reflection, at portraits on the palace walls. Even now, sometimes, he catches himself looking with a twinge of loathing. 

And through it all, Blitz had been there. Supporting him unconditionally. Without Stolas ever once asking if Blitz was okay. 

Too late now. 

“I don’t know where he could’ve gone,” he finally says, the self-loathing clear in his voice. “I never asked, I never asked him anything...” 

“We could ask Asmodeus,” Via suddenly says, her voice barely above a whisper. Everyone turns to her, as if they’d forgotten she was even there—and maybe they had. 

“I don’t think Asmodeus knows, Your Highness,” Moxxie replies. “Fizzarolli might have some idea.” 

“No,” Octavia says, with a tone that carries a hint of Stella, “I mean Asmodeus might be able to use magic to track him. My father used to use spells to find people, right Dad?” 

“Yes, I did,” Stolas admits, and a small spark lights in his chest. “Yes—I’ll call Asmodeus right away. Fizzarolli is Blitz’s best friend, he’ll want to help.” 

Stolas grips the photo tighter and dials Asmodeus’ number on his phone. 

“We’ll find you, darling,” he whispers to himself. 

Chapter Text

No place like rock bottom

The knocks on the door had snapped him out of a trance-like state, freezing him in the act of scratching his face from yet another picture. He stared at the black marker in his hand and the stroke it had left on the glass, right where his image used to be. Next to him, Stolas was smiling as he kissed him on the cheek. He remembered that morning, when they had just arrived at the new apartment and had boxes to unpack and a new life to live. Blitz had truly believed he could be happy then, that he could be around Stolas without dragging him into his filth. What a fool he had been.  

How long until you screw it all up again, Blitzo?  

His father’s face laughing.  

He had rubbed the glass with his arm and left the house, away from the knocks on the door.  

What the fuck are you doing here, Blitzo?  

Barbie was pale and thin and despite everything, the first thing she’d felt upon waking up had been disgust—for him.  

Don’t you know, Goetia, what a treat he had for you?  

Stolas’s face, surprised even though the owl had tried to stay composed, had been yet another blow.  

Because now even Stolas had definitive proof of how Blitz did nothing but take and take and take from everyone around him.  

But you’re always that good at sucking, aren’t you?  

Blitz had only ever been good at that, only ever useful for that. Every time he tried to be something more, someone got hurt. His mom, Stolas... and now Barbie.  

Blitz realizes he’s trembling and leans against the wall, sliding down onto the asphalt.  

It’s a side alley, a bit off from the usual Greed Ring traffic, barely lit by the green light of an afternoon turning into evening.  

He doesn't know why he unconsciously opened a portal to that alley, but he remembers sleeping in that very corner, still aching from burns and unable to stop crying and shaking all night, tormented by nightmares of his mother being consumed by flames right before his eyes.  

In a way, he almost feels at home in that filthy alley full of rats and garbage.  

He slowly gets up, slightly unsteady on his feet, and steps out into the main street. Just like he remembered, on the other side, with its broken neon sign encrusted with grime, is the dive bar he had taken refuge in so many times during those months when he was just another street rat in Greed Ring. There was always someone willing to buy him a beer, some fries, even a sandwich sometimes. He had to pay them back, of course, but if there was one thing his father had taught him, it was that there was only one way he could be of any use.  

He walks toward the bar, drawn by some ancestral pull, as if all those years had never passed and he was still Blitzo, a scarred, broke kid who’d suck you off for a beer, but if you wanted to fuck him, you had to at least buy him a burger.  

When he enters the bar, he realizes nothing has changed: same old wooden tables, same bar counter, same greenish lighting. Same disgusting drunks turning to look at him, following his every move.  

But he's not that kid anymore, and this time he can sit at the counter and order a double whiskey, no water, no ice. He downs it in one go and immediately orders another, even as his throat still burns.  

The second glass goes down a bit slower—three sips, at least. Blitz starts to feel his head light, his thoughts spinning. He asks the bartender to leave the bottle, and when the guy complains, he slams his gun and fifty bucks on the counter.  

There's a part of him screaming to stop, to haul his pathetic ass back home, to Stolas, to Loona, to his family, begging him to go to the hospital and talk to his sister—maybe her reaction was just a moment of panic.  

She gave them your number, didn’t she? That has to mean something!  

But then he remembers his father's face, the laughter, the disgust contorting Barbie’s features.  

Barbie could’ve died in an instant...  

Pathetic whore, what did you think? That you could fuck a Goetia and play happy family? That Barbie would wake up and give you a hug and you’d all go live together?  

He looks at the bottle and wonders how it’s already nearly empty. Not much left, maybe one more glass, two at most. The whole place is spinning so violently Blitz feels like vomiting, and to stop himself he pours another shot.  

"Hey, you’re not from around here, are you?"  

The voice comes from a shark demon. He’s not particularly attractive, but not particularly ugly either—just another one of the many shark demons that roam Greed’s streets. Blitz had sucked off so many of them they all started to blur together, and even now, ten years later, he struggles to focus on this one’s features.  

This one’s tall and lean, and for a second Blitz thinks of Chaz and wonders why he’s thinking of him—this guy looks nothing like him.  

Maybe because he’s the last one you fucked for something in return?  

Yeah, maybe that’s it. Maybe it’s because this guy also seems cocky, just like Chaz.  

" Used to come here a lot," he replies, even though his voice sounds slurred even to his own ears, "then I stopped. "  

"Well, lucky for us you decided to come back."  

The shark demon flashes a gold tooth because of course he has a gold tooth.  

Blitz pours the last drops of whiskey and downs them quickly, leaving the empty bottle on the counter.  

"Wanna go outside?"  

The demon’s tone is obviously suggestive, not to mention the look he gives him, practically an X-ray.  

Blitz stands up, but his legs feel like butter and can’t hold his weight. He stumbles, caught between the spinning in his head and gravity dragging him down.  

He’s not sure how it happens, but the shark demon is now holding him up with an arm around his waist.  

"Oops," he chuckles, "one too many?"  

"Yeah."  

Blitz clings to him, inhaling his pungent scent—sweat, tobacco, and alcohol that might just be Blitz’s own.  

It all suddenly feels wrong—not smelling lavender, not the scent of the oil Stolas applies every morning.  

He feels the urge to pull away, but his limbs won’t respond, his mind too clouded by booze to coordinate body and thought.  

The shark demon guides him outside, holding him around the waist like they’re old friends, like they’re intimate, and Blitz leans on him because he’s too drunk not to.  

Once outside, he notices it’s not dark yet and wonders distractedly how much time has passed—it feels like hours.  

Ironically, they head toward his alley, the one that had been his home for so long, where he had slept in a makeshift nest, as if it were the bed he’d shared his whole life with Barbie and Fizz.  

Once there, half-hidden, the demon pushes him against the wall and kisses him. His breath is less rancid than Blitz’s, and maybe Blitz even kisses back—he’s not sure.  

His whole mind is fogged by alcohol, by fear for Barbie, by guilt and the unworthiness his father dredged up so brutally that morning. It’s enough to leave him dazed, barely noticing the hand slipping into his pants.  

"Not getting hard?" the guy asks with a grunt.  

“Mmm” , Blitz mumbles, indifferent.  

What does it matter? Maybe he's just too drunk for his body to react to that kind of physical stimulus. Maybe he’s too hazy to even process what’s happening.  

"No problem," the shark demon says, "there are always other ways."  

With a rough motion, he spins Blitz around, pressing him against the wall, legs weak and shaking, slightly apart.  

The thought of Stolas suddenly floods his mind as he struggles to stay upright and hears the demon unbuckling his belt and tugging down his pants.  

Stolas is home. Stolas is waiting. Stolas must be worried.  

You think you deserve him? This is what you’ve always been, right? A whore. Useless, except for your dick.  

He feels the sticky Greed air on his skin and the metallic clink of a belt being undone, like in a dream.  

Even with Stolas, all you did was use your dick to get something in return.  

The gunshot cracks loudly, echoing off the alley walls, and Blitz, no longer held up by the demon behind him, collapses to the ground.  

Footsteps approach from behind, and then his vision is filled with soft, dark hair. Caring hands touch his back, helping him sit up and pull his pants back up.  

With his back against the wall and his legs stretched out, he finally gets a clearer—though still booze-blurred—view of Millie looking at him, worried.  

"Are you okay, B?" she asks, slightly flustered, crouched next to him despite her belly making her more awkward than usual.  

“Moxxie, help me!”  

Blitz vaguely sees Moxxie lower the still-smoking gun and rush toward him, crouching on the other side.  

"Are you hurt, sir?" he asks, and Blitz can clearly hear the panic in his voice even through his drunken haze.  

"I’m fine, Moxx," he slurs. "I’m—" his stomach churns, and he violently throws up, barely missing Moxxie.  

"Oh, crumbs!"  

"Oh, for heaven’s sake, Moxx, don’t be a puss," he rasps, trying to stop the spinning in his head.  

Keeping his eyes open is becoming hard.  

"Stolas, we found him. Tell Asmodeus to open the portal."  

Stolas Blitz thinks for a second before slipping into unconsciousness.  

Chapter Text

No longer, not yet

The living room seemed full of people, but perhaps Asmodeus' presence only intensified that impression. In any case, it was rare for anyone besides him, Blitz, and Loona to be in their home. Even Millie and Moxxie, or Fizzarolli, hadn’t yet had a chance to visit. It hadn’t even been a month since they moved into the new apartment, less than thirty days that the pictures on the wall had remained untouched. 

Stolas was sitting on the couch, wringing his hands, while Loona paced back and forth in the kitchen, making liters of coffee to keep herself busy. Stolas could feel her concern like it was another person in the room. Octavia sat off to the side, curled up on a chair in the corner, silent. 

Asmodeus had used one of Blitz’s jackets for his tracking spell and was now staring thoughtfully at the wall filled with damaged photos and torn drawings. 

When his phone rang, Stolas jumped to his feet and answered in a rush. 

“Stolas, we found him. Tell Asmodeus to open the portal.” 

The portal opened, and on the other side, he could see Moxxie and Millie crouched beside Blitz’s unconscious figure, slumped against the grimy wall of an alleyway in Greed. 

Stolas threw himself through the portal and fell to his knees, taking Blitz’s face in his hands, looking all over for injuries. 

“Oh, my Lucifer, my love, my dear, what happened to you?” 

“He’s not hurt, Stolas, he’s okay,” Millie said softly, placing a caring hand on his shoulder. “I think he’s just really drunk. He passed out when we got there.” 

“What…” he began to ask, but then his eyes landed on the body of the shark demon nearby, belt unbuckled, pants still open and half down. 

He brought a hand to his mouth and let out a choked sound. 

Millie followed his gaze. 

“Nothing happened, Stolas, look at me. Nothing happened, sweetheart, okay? Now help us get him home. We can’t stay here with an open portal.” 

“Y-yes, of course.” 

With great effort, he returned his focus to the unconscious imp in front of him, supported by Moxxie. He gently stroked his cheek, then lifted him into his arms and stood. Blitz mumbled a few incoherent words, voice slurred with alcohol. 

“I’m here, dearest.” 

Blitz murmured something else that Stolas couldn’t make out, but weakly clung to his chest. 

Back in the living room, he laid him gently on the couch, and Blitz immediately curled up, instinctively wrapping his tail around himself. With a sigh, he seemed to slip into deeper sleep. 

Loona was at her father’s side in an instant, studying him carefully, then turned to Moxxie and Millie as they stepped through the portal, which closed behind them. 

“What happened?” 

“Well…” Moxxie and Millie exchanged a glance, silent words passing between them, as if they weren’t quite sure what to say. 

“Don’t worry, Loona dear, your father just got very drunk and passed out in an alley.” 

Loona shot him a look, and Stolas tried to hold her gaze calmly, though his mind was racing with awful images. He was afraid to ask the imps for more details, afraid of what he had already guessed, afraid it might be even worse than it seemed. 

Asmodeus broke the silence. 

“Oookay,” he said, a little awkwardly, “I think it’s time for me to head out. I can take you two home,” he added, addressing Moxxie and Millie, “and you too, princess, if you want. It’s getting late, and I need to stop by the hospital to get Fizzie.” 

Octavia seemed to shrink when the attention shifted to her. 

“Uhm... maybe I’ll stay here tonight,” she said softly, and Asmodeus smiled and nodded. 

“Alright. I think Blitz needs to sleep off that hangover, I’ll leave you in peace.” 

With a wave of his hand, he opened a portal. The two imps disappeared through it with a wave and a final “Keep us updated, okay hun?” from Millie. Asmodeus followed them, blowing a little kiss to Stolas before vanishing through another portal. 

Stolas was left alone with his daughter and Loona. 

My daughters, he thought, and for a second the whole situation felt surreal. 

Blitz murmured something in his sleep, and he saw Octavia turn her head toward the sleeping imp on the couch, her wide eyes suggesting she too had suddenly realized something. 

He wanted to ask her, but didn’t know how to approach her, still too shy after everything that had happened between them. 

“Why don’t you go to bed?” Loona suddenly said, drawing Via’s attention back to her. “You’ve got a room here, you know?” 

“Oh?” 

“Of course, starfire”, said Stolas with a soft smile. 

Via nodded and stood a little uncertainly. 

“I’ll come with you, and I’ll lend you some pajamas,” Loona said, practical as ever. “Want help putting him to bed?” she asked, nodding toward Blitz. 

“No need, Loona, thank you.” 

She nodded and cast one last glance at her father before leading Octavia away. Stolas wished he could better understand what was going through Loona’s mind, what feelings and thoughts moved her, but he always found her hard to read. So much like Blitz in that way—seemingly closed off, almost impenetrable, curled up in their shells of insecurity and self-loathing. 

But have you really gotten through Blitz’s armor?  

“Goodnight,” he called after them, then sat for a few minutes listening to their voices as Loona showed Via her room—the one he and Blitz had painted blue and purple, decorated with constellations and planets. He heard them chatting for a while, then Loona leave and return, a few more words, and finally the doors closed. The apartment fell silent, save for Blitz’s heavy breathing. 

Stolas leaned over him and gently stroked a cheek, where the skin was pale and dry from old scars. 

“Oh, my love,” he whispered, lifting the imp into his arms and carrying him toward their room. 

He laid him gently on their bed and slowly removed his boots, shirt, and pants, then dressed him in his pajamas. Blitz responded to the movements, dulled by alcohol and sleep, nearly unconscious. Stolas heard him mumble something that sounded like a protest, maybe an apology. 

In moments like these, Blitz seemed so small and compliant in his hands—like a child—and it made Stolas' heart ache with love. 

Once under the covers, Stolas wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. Blitz instinctively curled up against him, sighing into the feathers of his chest and drifting back into deep sleep. 

Stolas stroked his back and pressed a soft kiss with his beak on Blitz’s head, between his horns—but he couldn’t fall asleep. 

When Asmodeus stepped through the portal into the waiting room of the hospital in Sloth, he was almost surprised to find Fizz there. 

The clown was sitting on one of the chairs in the corner, knees drawn up to his chest and head resting on them. For a moment, Ozzy thought he was asleep, but when the imp stirred at his arrival, he realized he had been crying. 

“Fizz? What’s wrong?” he asked, rushing to him and cupping his face, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. 

“It’s nothing, Ozz,” he replied with a small smile, sniffing, “it’s just that this whole situation brought back a lot of bad memories.” 

“From your accident?” 

“Not just that. Seeing Cash again brought me back to when I was in the hospital and the things he said, and what he said to Barb... about Blitz, you know... especially Blitz. It was awful. I cried  my eyes out for so many days, and I couldn’t move or talk. And Barb...” Fizz shook his head and looked back at Asmodeus. “Never mind now. How’s Blitz? Did you find him?” 

“Yes, and he seems okay, I think. Very drunk. They found him in an alley in Greed.” 

Fizz gave him a long, piercing look, like he knew Ozzy was leaving something out. 

“You have to be careful with Blitz, when his father’s around,” he said seriously, then closed his eyes and sighed. 

“Barbie fell asleep. Her doctor said I had to let her rest and let me wait here for you even though visiting hours were over.” 

“How kind.” 

“Yeah. I guess being famous and your boyfriend has some perks after all.” 

“And Cash?” 

“No idea. We fought, and I pretty much threw him out. I don’t want to see him. I hope he dies drunk in the trash.” 

“Fizzy...” 

“No, Ozz. Because of him, I lost my best friend for fifteen years, I lost Barbie who was like a sister to me... the three of us were inseparable and because of that piece of shit I had to face the worst time of my life alone. I’ll never forgive him.” 

Fizz wiped away a tear angrily and brushed away Ozzy’s hand when he reached for his. 

“Barbie could have died, Ozz… She could have died today and... I know things can’t go back to how they were, but maybe they can become something new, like with Blitz. And with Barbie, I always tried to stay in touch. For a while we were united by our resentment... but it was too painful, I think, for both of us. We started seeing each other less and less, like distant relatives you know by name but not really. And today we were all in the same room, and for a second I thought, wow, it’s just like before... but it was all a stupid fucking illusion.” 

Fizz sighed and turned toward him. He reached out a metal arm and stroked his cheek. 

“Let’s go home, Ozz, I’m really tired,” he said, pulling him close and resting his forehead against his. 

Asmodeus gathered him in his arms and stood, trying to keep his form as small as possible in the dim, empty waiting room. 

With a wave of his hand, he opened a portal, and through it their bedroom was visible, the blue fire crackling, sending up heart-shaped sparks. 

“You’ll see, Fizz. Tomorrow things will feel better,” he said. “Maybe things won’t go back to how they were, but they could become something new—and just as beautiful.” 

“Thanks, Ozz. I hope you’re right.” 

Chapter Text

10. The morning after

The first thing he feels as soon as he emerges from the unconsciousness of sleep is the enveloping of Stolas' feathers, of his lavender scent mixed with the more pungent one of his body. Blitz would like to remain immersed in that scent and in that softness forever, keep his eyes closed and pretend that the outside world doesn’t exist, nothing outside of their bed, of Stolas' arms around him, of the light sounds he makes while sleeping. 

His head throbs painfully and he feels like his mouth is full of bitter sand. It's been a long time since he's had such a strong hangover, probably this is the worst of his life. The memories of the night before are confused and seem to get lost among liters of whiskey and self loathing. And the desire to destroy himself and every possibility of grasping that happiness he knows he doesn't deserve. 

With a huge effort he opens his eyes and finds himself looking closely at Stolas, sleeping, with the tired face of someone who has finally fallen asleep after a sleepless night. The light coming through the window is still faint, the morning hasn't fully arrived yet. 

Being careful not to wake the owl, he slips out of bed and heads to the kitchen because at that moment the only coherent thought his mind can formulate is coffee. 

When he enters the room, however, he is not alone as he had thought. Octavia is sitting on one of the chairs at the table, with her knees pulled up and her arms hugging his legs. Her head is bent forward, but as soon as she hears him, she straightens up and turns towards him, moving her neck in that owlish way that always gives Blitz the shivers every time he sees Stolas do it. 

With a pang in his heart he realizes that Via was crying. 

“Um...” he stammers, not knowing exactly how to behave. He has never been alone with her before, to be honest, you can say that putting together the time in which they actually met doesn't add up to more than a few hours. He didn’t expect to see her there and suddenly he’s afraid of what she might have thought of him the night before. 

What an idiot, as if she could ever think anything positive about you, anyway.  

“Did I wake you?” she asks hesitantly, trying unsuccessfully to hide her tears. 

“N-no. Don’t worry, Via. I…um… didn’t know you were here.” 

“Yeah, it was late last night and I thought I’d sleep here. Use, you know, my room.” 

“Oh yeah? Do you like it?” 

“It’s beautiful.” 

Blitz feels a smile forming on his lips without him being able to help it. He remembers when he and Stolas painted the walls blue, when Stolas drew stars in all their strange shapes on the ceiling—constellations, a strange name—and when they went with Loona around Imp City looking for a bed, a closet, a small desk. Stolas was so happy and hopeful and had been talking all along about how much Via would like it, and how he wanted Via to call that house and that room her own someday. 

And now Via had spent the night here, in the bed they had salvaged and fixed up from an old alley near the elevator, and now she was in their kitchen watching him make coffee. 

“Would you like a cup?” he asks when it’s ready. 

“Oh, um, yes please.” 

Blitz pours the coffee into two mugs and sits down next to her at the table, in silence, as they both drink their coffee and the light grows brighter outside. 

“I’m sorry,” Octavia says suddenly, glancing at him quickly, “about your sister. It must be horrible. How are you?” 

Blitz doesn’t know what to say. He feels overwhelmed by the emotion of sitting there in their kitchen with Via, with the thought of Barbie in the hospital and her face twisted with hatred and disgust... and his father's laughter. There's a part of his life that has become so similar to everything he's ever wanted that he almost forgets, sometimes, that all of them, Stolas, Loona, the M&Ms, and now Via, are sitting on a bomb waiting to explode... literally, as Fizz knows well... 

Octavia looks at him silently, as if she can read the answer to his question on his face, and she probably does, because she sighs slightly and takes a sip of her coffee without saying anything else. 

A noise from beyond the door and Loona enters, still sleepy and with her hair disheveled, but she stops as soon as she sees him and then almost throws herself at him, for a hug that threatens to crack at least a couple of his ribs. 

"You gave us a heart attack, you fucking asshole!" she says, then pushes him away slightly and looks him in the face. “Shitty hangover, huh?” 

“You have no idea, Looney,” he replies. 

“Good, you deserve it.” 

But Loona is smiling at him as she lets go of him and goes to pour herself a cup of coffee. 

“Slept well, Via?” 

“Yes, thank you.” 

“Great. You know, you could stop by more often, so at least if we go to a party I don’t have to make a detour to take you home.” 

“Um...” 

“Or maybe your mother and uncle have something against it?” 

“They would be very against it if they even noticed when I’m home or not.” 

“Assholes…” 

The two girls’ voices blend into his head like a pleasant background to his pounding, still groggy from sleep and the alcohol he drank the night before. He feels like he’s living in a moment between whatever happened yesterday, with Barbie and her father and the vague memory of a hand in his pants, and whatever is about to happen when Stolas wakes up. 

He can’t focus on what they’re saying because his mind is a constant buzz of voices, each one trying to remind him of every single mistake he’s made in his life, from getting drunk and ending up in an alley who knows how and with who knows who last night, to being born in the first place. How many people would be better off now if he’d never been born? He’d spent a considerable amount of time asking himself that question, night after night when he was sleeping on the streets right after the fire, or while giving a blowjob to some guy for twenty bucks. His mother would still be alive, Fizz would still have all four of his limbs, Barbie would be a great trapeze artist and not a drug addict who almost died. Stolas would still be rich... 

Rich and with an abusive wife... and Loona? In some alley fighting for food... Moxxie with his horrible father and Millie...  

“Blitz.” 

Stolas’s voice interrupts his thoughts like some sort of call from fate to keep him from thinking too positively about himself. He doesn’t deserve this, after all, and it’s selfish when Barbie is still in the hospital. 

Stolas is standing still with his arms crossed in a pose that under any other circumstances Blitz would have found terribly hot. But in this case the owl isn’t just sassy, he’s simply furious and barely keeping from shaking. 

It’s not a usual sight, because Stolas never gets angry, not at him, not in a very very long time at least. He looks the same as when they had their worst fight, the day after their last Full Moon. 

“You’re awake,” Blitz says, and for some reason the words come out calm, with no trace of anger, sarcasm, or anything else. He just wants to get it over with—stand there and let Stolas vent, scream in his face. But Stolas isn’t the type to scream, and his fury stays quiet. 

From the corner of his eye, he sees Loona grab Via and drag her away from the kitchen, into her room, closing the door behind them. 

“How could you, Blitz?” 

“How could I what?” 

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, it won’t work. You vanished last night! Disappeared without a word! Do you know how worried I was? How worried everyone was?” 

“Pff, please. I just went to have a few drinks. I had a rough day, in case you didn’t notice!” 

He doesn’t know why he’s responding like that, in that irritated tone. He wants to cry and be held by Stolas, tell him he’s sorry, that he needs him more than anything right now. But it’s like his body is on autopilot and his brain has flipped into self-destruct mode. 

“A few drinks? We found you in an alley in Greed with your pants down! If Moxxie and Millie hadn’t shown up in time…” Stolas chokes up, tears slipping down his cheek, “I came home and found… the pictures…” 

“The pictures don’t mean shit, Stolas! They’re just shitty pictures with my shitty face on them!” 

“Don’t say that, darling.” 

“And that guy… I wanted to fuck him… I just wanted to drink and fuck and forget my fucking shitty life for one fucking minute, okay?!” 

He’s yelling now and doesn’t even know why. He doesn’t remember that guy, doesn’t remember what happened, but whatever it was, it doesn’t matter. 

“That’s bullshit, Blitz, and you know it! Your life isn’t shitty, and what we interrupted yesterday was rape!” Stolas’s voice breaks—it’s painful to look at. 

Look what you’re doing, you stupid whore?  

“Fuck you, Stolas! You don’t know shit! You don’t realize anything, you’re a spoiled pompous idiot! I killed my mother and maimed my best friend! I made my sister a junkie and almost killed her too! I got fucked for money over and over again and I kept doing it every time I needed something.” 

Blitz sees him almost back away as he screams and screams and points a finger at him. He can no longer control his words, he can only spit every single horrible fact of his life in Stolas’s face.  And he wants to hurt him, as badly as possible. 

“You should know, right? You liked this about me, didn’t you? Favors for favors? You don’t have any fucking right to tell me who I can or can’t fuck or why!” 

“Stop it, Blitz, please,” Stolas’ words are lost in his sobs. 

“If I want to get fucked in an alley, who are you to stop me? Huh? Why the fuck do you care? You should have just left me there, all of you!” 

You should’ve let him kill me , he doesn’t say, but the phrase hangs in the air anyway. 

Stolas is openly sobbing, his hands on his face. 

Blitz is panting and his eyes feel like they’re on fire from holding back the tears. His throat is dry and raw, from the hangover or from screaming with all his might, he doesn’t know. 

For a few seconds, all that can be heard is Stolas's crying and his own breathing, then the silence between them is abruptly interrupted by Fizz's ringtone from his phone. 

Blitz sighs and walks past Stolas to the couch, where he can see the screen of his phone lit up, with the photo of the smiling clown who seems to be mocking him. 

"Hello?" he replies in a voice that barely sound like his own. 

"Oh, good, you're awake, you fucker!" 

"Fizz, not you too..." 

"Have you recovered from your hangover? You made everybody shit their pants, yesterday, you know? I was worried as fuck!" 

"Yeah, I know, sorry Fizz." 

"Don't do it again, shithead, ok?" 

"Ok. Now, you called for some reason or...?" 

“Oh, yeah. Barbie was better yesterday when I left. She was sleeping, but I told her I’d come back today. I told her you’d come with me.” 

“She didn’t seem too happy to see me.” 

“Of course she was—she’s just too much like you to admit it. She had your fucking name on her emergency contact list. She wants to reconnect with you, clearly.” 

“I don’t know, Fizz…” 

“Listen, Blitz,” Fizz’s voice turns more serious, “I know she loves you. I feel it in my gut. And I know what it means to want what we had and be afraid to talk about it. You have to talk to her, like you did with me. She deserves the truth.” 

“But Dad—” 

“Your dad’s an asshole. He told us a load of bullshit. Now I know that, and Barbie will too.” 

Blitz sighs and glances toward the kitchen, where Stolas is still sitting at the table, staring at him, still crying. 

“Ok, Fizz.” 

“Good. Come pick me up. Ozzy’s busy today. I’ll be waiting.” 

Blitz ends the call and stares at the screen, Stolas’s gaze burning into the back of his neck. 

Talk to Barbie. The weight of it makes his stomach twist. He imagines her in the hospital bed, IV in her arm, face sunken. Imagines telling her the truth, apologizing, feeling guilty. Imagines hugging her, like he had with Fizz. Imagines her hugging him back. Staying by her side through rehab, this time for good. Imagines curling up with her on the couch, tails intertwined like when they were teens, drinking beer and watching a movie. 

Pathetic.  

“Blitz, what did Fizzarolli want?” Stolas asks, voice still sharp with tears. 

“I’m going with him to see Barb,” he answers curtly and heads to their room to get dressed. 

“Do you want me to come too?” 

“No.” 

He shuts the door behind him with a sharp click , and for a moment, he just wants to collapse on the bed and cry. 

Cry in the middle of blankets that smell like Stolas. 

But instead, he opens the wardrobe and starts getting dressed. 

Stolas sits at the kitchen table, staring at some point in front of him, still dazed. He expected things to go badly that morning, but he didn't think it would get to that point. When he woke up and didn't find the imp in bed with him, he suddenly felt furious, all the fear and anxiety of the day before had poured over him like a cold shower. 

He doesn't know what he was hoping to achieve, but he certainly didn't expect Blitz to turn against him with such violence. It had been an explosive mix of malice towards him, but above all of that self-destructive attitude that he had learned to associate with the moments in which his beloved felt most vulnerable. And, for Lucifer, he had really gone too far, throwing everything and more at him. 

Stolas hopes with everything he has that what Blitz yelled isn’t true—or at least exaggerated. But he’s scared it’s not. The thought makes him feel sick. 

I killed my mother and maimed my best friend! I made my sister a junkie and almost killed her too! I got fucked for money over and over again and kept doing it whenever I needed something.  

It’s the most horrible thing Stolas has ever heard and thinking of himself, so blind and stupid, falling into that self-destructive pattern makes him want to slap himself. 

He thought he’d learned from his mistakes, that he’d had enough therapy to forgive himself for making that horrible deal, but now he’s not so sure. He thinks back to the photographs Blitz vandalized the night before, how he somehow thought being used by some random demon in an alley in that brutal way was okay… and all he can do is sit there and cry like a stupid princess from some stupid book. 

“Dad?” 

Via stands with her arms wrapped around herself. 

“I’m sorry, Via,” he says, wiping away tears and trying a small smile, “not quite the first breakfast in this house I imagined.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Where’s Loona?” 

Via shrugs in dismay. 

“She’s in her room pretending the things we heard don’t make her feel bad.” 

Stolas lets out a small hoot. 

“Oh, my owlette, I’m so sorry, That was...was...” 

“Don’t be sorry, Dad. It was just... it was horrible to hear you two fight. When you and Mom fought... it was scary, and I always tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. This was... different... not scary, just... sad.” 

“It’ll be okay, Via,” he says, then stands up and pulls her into a hug. 

“I know, Dad.” 

Stolas raises his head and in front of them is Loona. She has her hands in her pockets and watches them as they hug each other with a bit of embarrassment. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” she says and Stolas for the first time seems like what she is after all, just a young girl. 

Without stopping to hold Via he reaches out an arm towards her and smiles at her. 

“Come,” he says and for some strange reason Loona takes his hand and lets herself be drawn in and engulfed in that group hug. 

After everything that has happened and the feeling of always being on the edge of an abyss of absolute emptiness, Stolas clings to Via and Loona as if to stay afloat. 

He is not alone, after all. 

He has a family, for the first time in his life. 

Chapter Text

Withdrawal

Fizz enters the van, bringing with him the familiar scent of popcorn, cotton candy, and the fancy shit he uses now that he's rich. He's dressed in simple light blue trousers and a white shirt, and his hat is probably the most anonymous one he owns, with light blue and white stripes. Blitz doesn't remember ever seeing Fizz so... not colorful. When he takes off his glasses that cover his face, deep dark circles surround his eyes.  

"Christ on a stick, Fizz, you look like shit!" he says, starting the engine.  

"Well, yeah, I didn't sleep much last night." He settles more comfortably in the seat and gives him a sidelong glance. "And anyway, you don't exactly look well-rested either. Did you cry or something?"  

"Fuck off, Fizz, I didn't," he replies with a grunt. It's a lie, Blitz cried all the way from his house to Fizz's gate and spent most of the previous day drying tears he couldn't stop. Somehow, it feels like he's been crying continuously for too many hours.  

"Riiiiight," says Fizz, but doesn't add anything more. They remain silent for a while as Blitz drives towards the Sloth gate.  

It's pleasant, being silent with Fizz, with that sense of familiarity where there's no need to say anything and fill every damn moment of silence with unnecessary words. Blitz finds that silence incredibly restful after all the words he and Stolas poured out that morning.  

Thinking back, Blitz feels a knot in his stomach.  

Fizz watches him out of the corner of his eye, observing the flow of thoughts through his friend's mind, noting every slight expression on that face he knows as well as his own. Even now, after fifteen years of not seeing him every day, it only takes him a few moments to understand what Blitz is thinking. Sometimes it feels like he and Blitz are somehow the same person in two different bodies. It's a strange sensation, passing almost instantaneously as it arrives, but it always remains there in the back of Fizz’s mind.  

"Blitz," he says after a while, breaking the silence just as the pale pink sky of the Sloth Ring opens up ahead of them, "where did you disappear to last night? What happened? And don't feed me the bullshit you tell others, okay? I know when you're lying."  

Blitz clenches his teeth and hands on the wheel, but then relaxes almost immediately, as if he's emptying himself. If there's anyone he can tell everything to, it's Fizz.  

"Last night... I don't know what came over me. I went home first. I wanted to disappear into my bed, sleep until... well, what's the point, Fizz? Did you see how Barbie reacted when she saw me? Did you hear my father? And they're right. Fuck, Fizz, every time I look at you, I'm reminded of what an incredible piece of shit I am. When I look in the mirror... you know, I can't stand my own image? I hate it, Fizz."  

"I know."  

"Yeah. Anyway, I ended up getting wasted at some old bar in Greed. I used to go there often, you know, after the fire, when I was sleeping on the streets and needed money. I guess I deserve that squalor... I drank a lot, fucking so much that I don't even remember what happened. I think nothing good, definitely not with the guy I must have picked up, or who picked me up, I'm not sure. Stolas was furious this morning, beside himself, and you know Stolas doesn't lose his cool, quite the opposite. I must have done something really stupid, or dangerous."  

Blitz sees Fizz's shoulders tense up. The clown is surely trying to imagine in his head what might have happened with the mysterious figure from the bar and his self-destructive best friend. Fizz has always had a vivid imagination, Blitz has no doubt that the scenarios in the clown's head are all terrifying and filled with nightmare details. Another thing to add to the list of reasons to feel guilty: upsetting Fizzy.  

"And then it was like I lost control of myself. Another Blitz took over and started saying the most horrible things to Stolas, yelling at him. I don't know, Fizz, I don't know why I lose control like this on these occasions, but I swore to myself that I would be different, that I would become better, but it didn't happen. I hurt Stolas, and when I think back on it, I just feel... empty. And I'm afraid to see Barbie, Fizz. I'm fucking terrified."  

They stay silent for a while longer, in the noisy and impossibly slow traffic of Sloth. Normally, Blitz would drive aggressively, honking the horn and trying to pass the line of cars, but at that moment all he wants is to delay the meeting with his sister as much as possible.  

Coward.  

"Wow," Fizz finally says, his voice sounding hoarser than usual, as if he's holding back tears. Then he turns to him, and a shy smile appears on the clown's face, the kind of smile that had stirred feelings Blitz had never felt in his teenage years and that in adulthood brought back memories full of melancholy.  

"You really know how to cheer me up, huh? I don't feel like shit anymore now that I've heard how shitty you feel!"  

Blitz responds to the smile and finally parks in the hospital parking lot.  

"Happy to have been of help, asshole."  

Barbie had woken up in the middle of the night with the terrifying sensation that she was about to die. Of course, thinking about it now, it was a fucking joke considering the reason she was in the hospital. Still, she would’ve preferred to die of an overdose rather than endure this.  

What had woken her were the muscle spasms. Her entire body seized up so rigidly it kept her from even breathing, with sharp pains that started at the tips of her toes and shot all the way to the ends of her horns. The stiffness alternated with such violent tremors that she had to bite down on the blankets to keep from shattering her teeth or injuring her tongue.  

The whole bed was soaked with sweat.  

It wasn’t the first time it had happened—this total loss of control over her body was the result of not using for more than 24 hours… In recent months, Barbie couldn’t remember going more than six hours without a dose, and this return to reality was proving worse than she remembered from the last times.  

Every one of her rehab attempts had ended in complete failure, even the last time, when it had actually felt like she might be able to take her life back and finally get out of it for good.  

And then she had to see her brother nearly get his head chopped off on live TV.  

Fuck. It was always Blitzo’s fault. Always, from the very beginning.  

That thought had made her writhe in pain, and a scream escaped her that she couldn’t muffle under the sheets.  

Two nurses and a doctor had rushed around her bed, whispering to each other as the pain grew stronger and stronger until it blurred her mind. She kept seeing that scene in her head again and again, and this time she had nothing to make it stop. Somehow, the image of Blitzo with his head resting on the block merged with the look on his face when she woke up.  

She thought she had called his name, but she wasn’t sure—caught in a feverish delirium where she couldn’t tell what was real from what was only in her mind.  

But slowly, the pain had started to fade until it vanished completely, leaving her utterly exhausted on sweat-drenched sheets. Whatever her doctors had done, it had worked—at least on the physical side of her problem.  

But every time she closed her eyes, she saw Blitzo.  

When she finally wakes up, it’s morning, and the rosy light of Sloth spills through the window. Next to her is the doctor from the previous day, a strange hybrid between a Baphomet and some other kind of demon Barbie can’t quite identify. She has a kind smile and directs it toward her as she finishes checking the IV.  

“Good morning, Barbie Wire,” she says. “How are you feeling today? Better, I hope? Last night was rough, but we’ve added a dose of methadone to your IV. It should help with the physical withdrawal symptoms.”  

“Barbie,” she replies, pulling herself up into a more seated position on the bed.  

The doctor raises her eyebrows, and the candle on her head flickers.  

“You can just call me Barbie. Everyone does. I’m feeling better, anyway.”  

“Good, I’m glad to hear that. Your recovery is going well. We’d like to keep you under observation for a few days and continue the methadone treatment, if you agree. Then, with your family’s support, my advice would be to start a rehabilitation program. We can recommend several clinics—”  

“Thanks,” Barbie cuts in more abruptly than she intended. “I mean, thank you very much. Yes, I agree to the methadone and… I already know a clinic…”  

“Excellent,” the doctor says, smiling encouragingly. “We’ll definitely talk more about that later. If you feel up to it, you can get up and walk around a bit in the room. Someone will come by to change your sheets in a few minutes.”  

“Okay.”  

The doctor heads for the door, but Barbie stops her before she leaves.  

“Um… have you seen my father?”  

The doctor frowns, visibly displeased.  

“Your father showed up very early this morning, quite drunk, and slept in the waiting room. Normally we wouldn’t have let him in—visiting hours start at ten—but there was no way to get him to leave.”  

Barbie can’t help feeling a pang of shame, like every time she has to deal with Cash. She’s tried so many times to distance herself from her father, but the truth is that she always ends up going back to him because, for better or worse, he’s all that’s left of her old life. The only one who stayed the same. And even though that’s far from a good thing, she just can’t let him go.  

She’s ashamed of him the same way she’s ashamed of herself.  

Oh, Mom, what would you say if you saw me now? You’d be so disappointed.  

“Can you let him in, even if it’s still early?”  

The doctor looks at her for a moment without answering, as if weighing her options, but finally sighs and nods before stepping out.  

A couple minutes later, Cash walks into her room.  

“Hey, Barb,” he greets her with his usual drunken voice. Barbie can’t remember ever hearing him speak any other way. “Feelin’ better, girl?”  

“Yeah, Dad, I’m feeling better.”  

“Good, good. Y’know, I had to come all the way from Greed and I don’t have anywhere to sleep.”  

“You know you could go back home and come visit in the morning, right? You don’t have to be here all day and night.”  

“True, true, but this way’s easier, and your old man doesn’t have the cash to ride the elevator every day.”  

“Right.”  

“So, what about your brother?”  

The sudden change of subject catches Barbie off guard. Never in her entire life she can remember her father bringing up Blitzo first in a conversation. When they were kids, Cash would’ve gladly pretended Blitzo didn’t exist, and after the fire, he finally got to live out that fantasy.  

“What about him?”  

“Apparently he’s famous now, makin’ good money. Even bagged himself a prince… or at least he had, before he screwed it all up like always, useless dumbass.”  

“Oh… uh… yeah, I saw.”  

Blitzo has money now? How much? Barbie has no idea. Everything she knows about her brother’s thing with the Goetia comes from what she saw during the trial on TV. And yet they were both there with her the day before, so who knows… But of course, Cash doesn’t waste time. Her father’s always had a nose for business, even if not always legal ones.  

She remembers the times Cash had sent her or her brother out to pickpocket from the circus crowds, or that time Blitzo came home with a bag full of expensive stuff stolen from some rich bastard. The Goetia? She’s not sure.  

And she remembers when they got older, and their father started using his kids to make money in other ways. She’d trained harder and harder on the trapeze to make herself indispensable, and after that first time, her father hadn’t sent her to anyone again—but Blitzo on the other hand…  

“Who would’ve thought that useless waste of space would actually do something with his life?” A chill runs down her spine. She wants to say something, tell him she doesn’t want to hear him talk about Blitzo, that she wants to stay as far away from him and his poisonous words as possible—but someone knocks and an orderly enters to change her sheets.  

“I’m gonna go see if I can find somethin’ to drink,” Cash says, heading for the door with a wave. “Catch you later, girl.”  

“Fuck,” she mutters, and the word feels like a switch being flipped. Anger bubbles up inside her and she doesn’t know how to stop it. “I’m going for a walk.”  

She gets up with effort and limps toward the door, using the IV stand like a cane.  

“Maybe you should stay here, don’t push yourself. I’ll just be a minu—”  

“Fuck off, would you?”  

She didn’t really mean to snap at the nurse, but she can’t help it. It’s like another Barbie takes over her and starts saying the worst things to whoever is in front of her.  

She wipes away a tear in frustration and finally sits on one of the chairs in the waiting room, but more tears fall down her cheeks, unstoppable.  

“Barbie?”  

Oh, fuck me.  

Blitzo is standing in front of her, looking at her like he’s afraid of her. Behind him, Fizz looks like he’s trying to make himself as small as possible.  

“Barbie, what the fuck are you doing here?”  

Chapter Text

Where It Hurts the Most

"Ah, fuck, I already feel like shit, now I have to see your shitty face too."  

Barbie huffs and slowly rises from the chair she was sitting on, leaning on the IV stand for support. Blitz makes an instinctive move to help, but recoils sharply when she shoots him a furious glance.  

Fizz is tempted to approach her and lend a hand, but the expression on his friend's face makes him hesitate.  

Barbie heads towards her room and they follow, Fizz closer than Blitz, holding hands with Blitz whose palm is sweaty but cold. Fizz gives him a light squeeze to reassure him, even though he himself is starting to doubt his own words.  

The fact is, images from his childhood and adolescence have tormented him all night, and it seems that the only way to escape those nightmares now is to rebuild their trio.  

And for that to happen, Blitz and Barbie must make peace. There is no other solution.  

Fizz knows he's deluding himself, that even in the best case scenario nothing can turn back time and those years are lost forever, but he clings to that illusion anyway. He feels a physical need for it, almost like a phantom tingling at his fingertips.  

When they return to Barbie's room, she heads to the bed and sits down with a grunt. Fizz helps her lie down, even though she leans against a pile of pillows, and arranges the blankets over her legs.  

"Thanks, Fizz," she says, "I'm still a bit weak."  

Fizz finishes tucking in Barbie's bed sheets and then stands awkwardly, unsure of what to do with his hands.  

He turns to find Blitz standing at the doorframe. The imp remains motionless there, arms crossed over his chest and tail wrapped around his legs in a typical pose of someone on the verge of tears. Fizz feels his eyes sting and tries to hold back the tears. What's the point of crying now? He's tired of crying.  

Barbie gives the two a glare and then emits an angry sigh, almost a cat's growl.  

"Oh for Satan’s sake, you two! Come here, Blitzo, damnit, don’t stay on the door like a fucking wet puppet. Fizz, don’t you dare crying on me, I’m not dead yet!"  

Blitz flinches, but steps forward and approaches his sister hesitantly. As soon as he gets close, Fizz feels Blitz's tail seek his own, and they intertwine.  

Fizz can't remember the last time Blitz looked so scared. He has to go back, to when Cash would rage and yell, and the two of them would have to hide in the stables to escape his wrath — or rather when he would shield his best friend from his father's fury because it hurt too much to see that defeated expression on a face usually so sure — he was not used to it anymore, not even when he believed Blitz had shown that fear.  

"Barbie," Blitz starts, "I just want to help you. Let me help you, I'll do anything. I can pay for your treatments, I can pay for rehab-"  

"Listen, asshole, I don’t want your pity and your money, okay? I didn’t even want you here, I’m just... fuck I’m just too weak right now."  

"Barb-"  

"No, Fizz, I already told you yesterday. If you want to pretend that this piece of shit didn’t blow you up, I’m okay with that, but I can’t. I just... I can’t..."  

"But you had his number on the emergency contact list! Please, Barb, tell him what you told me, about what you saw on TV!"  

Fizz was now pleading. Barbie avoided his gaze vehemently, while Blitz seemed on the verge of a panic attack or an epileptic crisis, he really couldn’t tell, maybe both things. And he was starting to hyperventilate.  

"Ah, yes, sure! I saw you on TV, you know, months ago. And the first thing that came to my mind was to look for my dealer. I’d been clean for almost a year, you know? Then I saw your stupid fucking face and here I am!"  

"No! No no, that’s not how you told me yesterday!" Fizz was now definitely in the middle of a full-blown panic attack. "Blitz, please, say something!"  

"What do you want me to say? She’s right. I killed mama, I almost killed you too, I’m a fucking disgrace. I know that."  

"No, you are not!"  

"I am, Fizz. I am. But," Blitz takes a step toward his sister and tries to take her hand, but she withdraws it, leaving him hanging halfway, "but I want to help you anyway. I want to make amends for everything I did. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but you deserve to have a life."  

"Barbie, please, listen to me," Fizz doesn’t know how to control his body anymore, he feels like he's composed solely of his accelerated heartbeat now, but he can’t hold back, not when all his fantasies of the last fifteen years are hanging by a thread. "You know too that it was an accident, that none of this would have happened if Cash hadn’t put fireworks in the tent where they shouldn’t have been. You know that nothing would have happened if he hadn’t treated us always and only as something to use and squeeze for his own gain."  

"Fizz..."  

"No, Blitz, shut up. It’s not your fault. You didn’t deserve anything your father put you through, you didn’t deserve to be thrown out on the street and all the shit I threw at you. I’ve apologized already, but I’ll do it a hundred times if I have to."  

Fizz moves even closer to the bed and places his hands on the mattress, forcing Barbie to look him in the face.  

"You know it’s true," he tells her, "that’s why when you thought you were losing him you came back to H8. And that's why you put his number in, even if you forgot to take Cash's off the list. Am I wrong?"  

Barbie stubbornly continues to look away, despite Fizz's face being inches from hers, but the clown can distinctly see the cracks in her expression.  

To his surprise, he feels Blitz’s hand on his shoulder gently pulling him away.  

"Leave her be, Fizzie. You can’t turn back time."  

With a jerk, Fizz breaks free from his best friend’s grasp and stands up straight, trembling. He’s started to cry but by now he doesn’t care about hiding his distress anymore.  

"Fuck you two," he bursts out, "fuck your stupid pride and your stupid self-loathing. And fuck me for believing!"  

When he leaves the room and slams the door behind him, a couple of nurses and a doctor look at him surprised, but he doesn’t care.  

He just feels like a fool for believing.  

Stolas ends the call with a tired sigh and collapses onto the desk.  

After Blitz had left, they all got ready in a strange, tense silence. Still without saying a word, Loona had first opened a portal to bring Via back to the palace, and then another one directly to the IMP office.  

They remained in silence a bit longer, then Loona sat on the desk beside where Stolas was pretending to review the day’s appointments just to have something to do.  

“He doesn’t really mean those things he said, you know that, right?”  

The girl looked at him with that expression of “I care but don’t want anyone to know” that she had been giving him for at least three months now, and Stolas couldn’t find the words to reassure her.  

Of course, he knew perfectly well that Blitz would do anything for him, and he rationally knew that the imp loved him.  

But it was never easy to silence his thoughts and fears, even when they were kept in check by pills and therapy. There was always a part of him that replayed every single mistake he’d made, that was afraid he didn’t deserve even a moment of happiness.  

There were still days when getting out of bed was incredibly hard, even though Stolas knew he had everything he’d ever dreamed of and more—that his family was now big and united, that Via had come back to him, and that Blitz loved him in that overwhelming and perhaps overly enthusiastic way Blitz tends to love.  

It had been months since the last time his beloved had yelled at him, and that morning had felt like reliving a nightmare he thought he’d left behind.  

The image of Blitz in their kitchen blurred with the memory of Blitz in the palace hall so long ago.  

“Hey, birdbrain,” Loona’s voice pulled him back to reality. “Try not to overthink it, alright?”  

At that moment, Moxxie and Millie walked in through the door, Loona left, and the workday officially began.  

Now Stolas is alone in the office—the two imps and Loona are out dealing with some asshole who needs killing—answering phone calls and scheduling appointments for the following days, even though he doesn’t know when Blitz will return to work.  

He’s tempted to pick up the phone and call him, or even just send a message, but his rational side knows the best way to resolve things is to let whatever Blitz is feeling right now settle, to let the anger cool down.  

He thinks about texting Octavia, but there’s always something that holds him back when it comes to talking to her. He’s afraid of crossing a line and ruining everything they’re slowly rebuilding.  

He still remembers the first time they saw each other again after their separation, last Sistmas—the way Via had kept her distance, suspicious, the way she had bombarded him with questions he had avoided for years and could no longer escape. And then things had gotten better—Via had started laughing again and telling him about her days: about Stella, who mostly ignored her, and Andrealphus, who seemed to try convincing her to appear in public more often, making sudden remarks about this or that young Goetia—things that gave Stolas chills whenever he thought about them. She had come to their home, and they had celebrated her birthday together like a family—she had seemed happy, and Blitz had cried, and Stolas had somehow known he was supposed to feel complete, but there was always something that made his smile feel fake—and then, finally, the night before, Via had stayed the night in the room he and Blitz had prepared for her.  

He can’t write to her, can’t put the weight of his guilt on her shoulders, the guilt that still haunts him when he thinks back to those nights of the Full Moon. It’s not fair.  

Stolas stares at the phone and with a heavy sigh puts it back on the desk.  

He feels selfish for sitting here wallowing in his romantic anxieties when Blitz has nearly lost his sister. He has no right to make this all about him, as if he doesn’t know perfectly well that his beloved’s mental health is even more fragile than usual right now.  

The office door opens and shuts with a sharp sound, but Stolas doesn’t lift his head to greet the new client, still fixated on the black screen of his phone as if it might magically produce a solution to his problems.  

“Good morning, welcome to I.M.P. We can kill anyone you wish,” he says mechanically.  

“Well well well, so this is where my son makes his money now!”  

Stolas straightens up so fast he hears his spine and neck crack. In front of him, with a smug grin under his graying goatee, Cash Buckzo looks around.  

This time, he isn’t holding a bottle, but he still reeks of cheap alcohol.  

Stolas can’t help but notice that despite being clearly drunk, Cash doesn’t seem to have lost any of his cruel clarity—like he’s so used to it that he’s learned to live and think in that altered state.  

A wave of disgust rises in Stolas’s throat, and he clenches his beak so tightly it nearly hurts.  

The imp strolls around the office with his hands in his pockets, inspecting every nook and corner for a few minutes before Stolas manages to find his voice again.  

“What the fuck are you doing here? Blitz isn’t here and your daughter is in the hospital!”  

Cash stops, and for the first time, his gaze focuses on Stolas, sizing him up like he’s evaluating whether Stolas might be a threat or an asset.  

“Barb’s not going anywhere while I’m not there,” he says with a shrug, “and Blitzo’s not the one I came looking for.”  

With a dismissive gesture, he turns his back and goes to sit on the couch, spreading his arms along the backrest and crossing his legs.  

“So that empty head of his managed to bag a Goetia, huh? I’d almost give him credit if he hadn’t burned it all down and dragged you into disgrace.”  

“It’s not Blitz’s fault I lost my title and my wealth, it was my choice.”  

“Potato, potahto,” the old imp replies, as if free will didn’t matter. “Gotta give it to him, though, this place isn’t half bad. Who would’ve thought that little ass could achieve something in life? I’d resigned myself to the idea that his only redeeming quality was… well, his little ass.”  

Cash chuckles.  

Stolas remains frozen at his desk, speechless. He can’t believe the way this man talks about his own son, the utter lack of even the smallest shred of respect for someone he should’ve protected and loved.  

All Stolas feels is disgust.  

“Blitz is the most intelligent, kind, caring, and funny person I’ve ever known,” he snaps, unable to hold it in. “From the very first moment I saw him, he’s brought nothing but joy into my life.”  

“Oh really?” Cash doesn’t look impressed. “I remember you, Goetia. Your dad bought Blitzo from me for five bucks and a condom, just to keep you company. At least that little idiot proved useful, came back with a bag full of crap that made me a fortune.”  

Cash watches his reaction for a moment, clearly aware of how much those words had already affected him the day before.  

“Sure, I knew it was a one-shot deal, obviously, can’t expect to clean up a blue-blood and get a second invite. Good thing he grew up with some sex appeal. Got it from his mom—my Tilla was a real bombshell. Men loved her. And Blitzo got plenty of attention too, had quite the success, you know?”  

Stolas clenches his fists, unable to respond, almost hypnotized by the imp’s voice.  

Suddenly, the sound of the portal closing breaks the scene, and Stolas realizes he hadn’t noticed the arrival of M&M and Loona, but Cash had, and he’d been speaking to them, too.  

The silence is shattered by Loona’s low, deep growl. Before Stolas or either of the M&M can take a step to stop her, the hellhound has already lunged at the imp, grabbing him by the scruff and hurling him across the room into the opposite wall, knocking down the calendar.  

“Loona!” Millie shouts, trying to grab her arm, but her belly has slowed her usually fluid movements, and Loona easily slips away.  

Moxxie looks torn between rushing after the girl or going to his wife.  

Stolas watches the scene like it’s in slow motion, part of him still stuck on Cash’s vile words, on the image of young Blitz—alone, scared—as his father throws him to faceless black figures. He still remembers the look on his face when he came face to face with his father the day before, the terror in his eyes, the strangled sound he made.  

Loona’s eyes are bloodshot and glowing red, her teeth bared in a feral expression. He watches her pull out a long dagger with the I.M.P. logo on the hilt.  

“You think Blitzo would let you hurt me, kid?”  

Cash’s final attempt at manipulation reeks of desperation.  

“I don’t give a fuck. I take care of him. I’m fucking killing you for what you did to him.”  

For a second, Stolas considers letting her do it.  

Chapter Text

A Conversation Fifteen Years Too Late

Fizz storms out, slamming the door behind him, leaving Blitz alone with his sister for the first time in many years. He can't recall the last time he spoke to her without a clinic nurse present – or Moxxie, who had inadvertently witnessed his last disastrous attempt – but now he feels almost embarrassed.  

“What the fuck is his problem?” Barbie snaps, gesturing vaguely towards the door Fizz just exited.  

Suddenly, she too seems to realize she's alone with her brother in the same room and freezes as if struck.  

Blitz feels an overwhelming urge to escape, to get as far away as possible, but something in his mind clicks, forcing him to grab a chair and move it closer to the bed before collapsing onto it with a sigh.  

“So,” he says with a calm he doesn't actually possess, “why do you have my number as an emergency contact?”  

Barbie rolls her eyes and runs a hand over her face in frustration.  

“Fucking Satan, Blitzo, why does everyone keep asking me that?”  

“I don’t know, Barb, maybe because every time I tried to reach out and talk to you, you told me to fuck off, but then I get a damn call from the hospital saying you were dead for three damn minutes?”  

“Oh, fuck you, Blitzo!”  

“No, fuck you, bitch! Were you trying to kill yourself or what? You said you were clean!”  

“I was clean for a year before you decided to stick your fucking head into a damn sapling. And with a smile! Did you want to die?”  

The effort of hurling those words at him leaves Barbie breathless, and she slumps slightly against the pillows.  

“Listen, Blitzo, I feel like shit, every fucking inch of my body hurts, and whatever they’re pumping into my veins for withdrawal is clouding my brain. Cut the bullshits.”  

“Oh yeah? Can’t tell the difference.”  

The insult slips out naturally, one of the thousand ways their arguments used to end as teenagers, and for a moment Barbie is speechless.  

Then, with a movement of her face that suddenly makes her resemble their mother, she bursts out laughing.  

Blitz finds himself laughing too, unable to stop the tears running down his cheeks.  

He hasn't heard Barbie laugh in over fifteen years.  

After a few minutes, their laughter naturally dies down, and Barbie's serene expression fades.  

“Okay, Blitzo, since I’m stuck here, let’s talk,” she says, her voice devoid of the joy – or love – that had briefly surfaced earlier.  

“Do you want to know why I put your number? Because it fucking sucks seeing your brother on TV thinking that’s the last image you’ll have of him because some blue-blood asshole decided he has to die. And because the only thing I wanted at that moment was to stop feeling like shit, and the only thing I knew that would work was H8. I wondered if in those last moments you ever thought of me, if I would have thought of you in my last moments. So I put your fucking number in as an emergency contact.”  

“Barb... I... of course I thought of you. I always think of you...”  

“Oh please shut up.”  

Blitz remains silent, waiting for Barbie to speak first, as she asked. He continues fiddling with his fingers, unsure where to put his hands, too nervous even to breathe too loudly. He wants to disappear or maybe do something extreme, like open the window and shout until he loses his voice. He wants to shake Barbie.  

When they were kids, they could understand each other’s thoughts effortlessly; anything passing through his sister’s mind seemed to form spontaneously in his own. He had believed for so long that they were ultimately one person, one soul, or whatever the demons had in place of that, but in two separate bodies. Losing Barbie had been a brutal tear in his very essence, a rift he had never managed to mend. He spoke, moved, and thought as if everything was normal, but it was only half of Blitzo out there, not the whole.  

He would give anything to understand Barbie’s thoughts again, as they once did.  

“Do you think she’d be very disappointed in us? Mom.” Barbie asks after what seems like an endless time.  

Something unpleasant stirs in Blitz’s stomach and rises with a bitter taste in his throat.  

“No. I think she’d be very disappointed in me .”  

Barbie turns to him and gives him a strange look, as if she didn’t expect his answer.  

“Sometimes,” she whispers, “I dream of her staring at me like a ghost, just a black figure with yellow eyes. Other times I dream of her as she was, you know, sewing stage costumes and telling all those embarrassing jokes.”  

“It must be nice,” he replies, “dreaming of her like that. I have different kinds of dreams about her... about when I went into her tent and saw her...”  

His voice breaks into a sob.  

He can’t talk about his nightmares, can’t describe the image that still haunts him, of when he tried to reach his mother through the flames. He doesn’t have the right to remember her as happy; only her killer can be haunted by images of what he did.  

Barbie seems to understand what he’s thinking, just like old times, and angrily wipes away a tear.  

“Fuck,” she growls, “fuck!”  

They remain silent again, neither daring to look at the other.  

“That night, I wanted to confess my crush to Fizz,” Blitz is the first to break the silence, “but I didn’t have the courage. I... Fizz was too amazing for someone like me.”  

He doesn’t know why he decided to relive that moment, but he couldn’t hold it back. Maybe it’s because for the first time in Satan knows how long, they manage to talk without shouting in each other’s faces, or maybe because he still has his father’s words from the day before in his head and can’t stand Barbie believing him.  

“I was angry, and sad, and... I bumped into someone. I don’t remember who it was, maybe Barry, I don’t know. But he was carrying Fizz’s cake and had the candles lit and... I tried to help, really!” He was openly crying, leaning forward, while Barbie stared at him expressionlessly and without speaking. "And it's all my fault! If I hadn't been a coward, if I hadn't reacted as usual with anger, if I had been faster... I'm sorry. I'm sorry, please, believe me, it was an accident..."  

He doesn't even know how, but he's crying on his sister's lap, who doesn't seem willing to comfort him – but no, he doesn't deserve it.  

"I know," Barbie says after watching him sob for a few seconds. "I mean, I didn't know how it happened, but I always believed you when you said it was an accident. Satan dammit, Blitzo, of course I knew you didn't start a fire because you were jealous of Fizz, I had to watch you make goo-goo eyes at him for years."  

"But I thought you believed Cash..."  

Barbie's laugh was bitter.  

"Sure, because our father was really never full of shit... Come on, little brother, do you think I'm an idiot?"  

Blitz straightens up, wipes his face, and sniffs.  

"So...”  

“Listen,” Barbie returns serious, and suddenly all the weariness falls upon her – the hollow and pale face, the dark circles, red eyes, and the skin on her arms thin and cracked under the needle of the IV - “it doesn’t matter if it was on purpose or not, it only matters that... every time I look at you, I’m constantly reminded of her and the fact that if you hadn’t bumped into someone, she would still be alive. We can’t turn back time, Blitzo, no matter how much Fizz wants to try. I can’t look at you without thinking of her. I can’t, you understand?”  

“I understand. Believe me, I understand all too well. When I look in the mirror, I just want to erase my face... I can’t look at myself without thinking of her either.”  

“So we understand each other. There’s not much else to say.”  

“But-”  

“Please, just leave me alone, okay?”  

Blitz gets up and heads towards the door. He really doesn’t want to leave, but what else can he do? He feels too weak to stay there and see the indifference in his sister’s eyes again. He feels tired and has a headache, and he misses Stolas.  

He has to go back to Stolas and apologize; at least with him, he still has some hope, for some incredible reason he can’t understand why the bird continues to forgive his bullshit.  

He opens the door, but before closing it behind him, he stops and clenches his fingers convulsively on the handle.  

“I will never give up,” he says without turning around. He knows it’s the truth, even though in that moment it seems impossible, because it has always been like that in the last fifteen years, because something inside him continues to try to reunite with that missing part that is Barbie.  

She doesn’t answer him, and he closes the door behind him, standing bewildered in the hallway.  

When the phone rings, he answers without even looking at who it is, almost without realizing what he’s doing.  

“What?”  

“Hey, B,” Millie’s voice at the other end of the phone sounds tense, “maybe you should come to the office... uhm... like now...”  

“Millie,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’m not feeling very well, ‘kay?”  

“Blitz,” the woman impatiently interrupts him, “please bring your ass here, Loona just tried to off your fucking dad and I don’t know if I can stop her trying again...or Stolas, if that matters.”  

Blitz feels like a n ice cube has slid down his back, and he shudders. He feels the tips of his fingers tingle and the primal instinct to curl up in a corner and become invisible.  

If with Barbie all he felt was the constant need to have her around, with Cash, instead... but he couldn't let Loona or Stolas stain their hands with blood.  

He keeps repeating himself that, as he puts his key in the van and start the engine.  

Chapter Text

Panic like a prayer

Blitz expected to find chaos when he arrived at the office, but as soon as he opened the door he was struck by how quiet it was.  

Quieter than usual, actually.  

At the desk in the hall, Stolas was tapping away at his computer keyboard as if it were any other day, and something about the way he crossed his legs told Blitz that the owl was tense.  

Loona was standing against the doorframe of his office. She was scrolling through her phone as usual, but her ears were perked up and she was making a low growl.  

Millie was sitting in a chair directly in front of the couch, her six-month pregnant belly poking out from under her usual black top and her favorite axe in her hand, the tip resting on the floor but her knuckles gripping the handle.  

Moxxie is leaning over a figure half-reclining on the couch and seems to be fiddling with disinfectant and bandages—Blitz personally makes sure their first-aid kit is always well stocked with needles, thread and bandages just in case, and a bottle of the best disinfectant on the market—but his movements are abrupt and mechanical, as if the idea of hurting his patient doesn’t bother him that much.  

And finally he sets eyes on his father. He’s sprawled on the couch while Moxxie bandages his shoulder, complaining about the pain but strangely without much conviction. He’s pale and looks like he’s about to faint, perhaps from the loss of blood, perhaps from the fear of seeing himself stabbed by a knife.   

Every time he lays eyes on him, the thorns on his back stand up and his hands start to sweat, a reaction he can’t control, a kind of primal instinct that warns him of danger, that makes him want with all his being to run away and hide in his mother’s arms.  

There’s a part of his brain, the more adult and rational one, that knows there’s no reason to be afraid of him, that Cash can’t hurt him anymore. No more slaps, no more wrists tightened until your hand tingles, no more tail grabbed and twisted until the pain makes you agree to do what he says one more time.   

And yet it’s not easy to shake the feeling he had the last time they had touched, when he had slapped him with the back of his hand right on the raw skin still throbbing from the burns that covered half his face. The scars on his arms and wrists still sting where he grabbed him and pushed him out of the hallway where Fizz was.   

And then he knows that while the old imp had no physical power over him, blackmail and manipulation were still something Cash was a master of. He saw it the day before, in the hospital, the words he said to Stolas, the things he told him and the face the owl had tried to hide.   

He takes a deep breath and asks the door behind him, walking purposefully toward the couch. He takes Moxxie by the arm and steps him slightly aside, facing him.   

“What the fuck happened here, Mox?”   

“Your father came while Stolas was alone, sir, and when we came back we heard... um...” Moxxie visibly blushes, avoiding his gaze. Cash chuckles softly, noticing the young imp’s embarrassment.   

Blitz wants to tear his face off with his claws, gouge out his eyes, and silence that giggle forever. For a moment he can almost picture it in his mind.   

“What the fuck did this worthless sack of shit say to you?”   

“Nothing… nothing of importance, sir…” Moxxie stammers, trying to escape his grip and his searching gaze.   

“We’ve heard enough bullshit to decide it’s time to purge his shitface from hell.”   

Loona butts in with a low growl, stalking toward Cash. Millie jumps up to hold her back, but the girl continues to glare at the old man curled up on the couch, clutching a bandaged shoulder.   

Blitz lets go of Moxxie and pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers.  

“I can imagine the things you’ve told my daughter and the others,” he finally says slowly, unable to look his father in the face, “and I can honestly think of no reason to stop Loony from tearing you to pieces right here and now. Or any of them from ending your miserable life.”   

“Is that it, son? You don’t even have the balls to take me out yourself?”   

Cash struggles up from the couch, still clutching his injured shoulder, but there’s no weakness in his voice. It’s his usual hoarse, alcohol-soaked voice, the drawn-out vowels and the tone of contempt he’s reserved for his son every moment of his life.   

Blitz tries with all his strenght not to back down, when Cash advances on him with a wicked grin.   

“You know, if you could actually kill me, I might change my mind about you. But no, I don’t think you could. You’ve always been a wimp, Blitzo.”   

Cash puts a hand on his arm and he pulls back involuntarily, his tail curling protectively around his legs.   

He hears Loona’s growl grow louder and the chair creaks as Stolas jumps up. With a clang, Millie raises her axe and gets into attack position.   

A wave of heat runs down Blitz’s spine. His family is there for him, they’ll never let Cash do anything to him. And this time it’s not like when his mother got in the way, or when Barb or Fizz tried to distract him by drawing his attention to themselves. This time Blitz is truly safe and no one would have gotten hurt in his place.  

Cash realizes this too and lets go of his arm as if it’s burned, casting suspicious glances around him.   

“I guess sleeping over is out of the question, then?” he says with a raised eyebrow in mock nonchalance. “Well, son, that’s not the end of it. You owe me a bunch of bucks.”   

“I don’t owe you shit!” he snaps.   

“All this shit is because of me,” he says, gesturing around the office.   

“Bullshit!”   

“I supported you for nineteen years and you never gave me a penny back, you’ve been nothing but a freeloader of money and resources. You destroyed my circus and blew up my star! That’s… let’s see… fifteen years of arrears, plus ten percent interest because I’m feeling generous and I’m not going to make you pay for the years you sucked my resources for free.”   

“You’re a drunken fool if you think I’m going to give you money. You made my life miserable for nineteen years and then you threw me out on the street like garbage! I was hurt and you threw me away!”   

He didn’t realize he was crying, but when he steps forward to point a finger at his father’s chest, his vision is blurry from tears and his throat is burning from screaming.   

“Oh, you’ll give me everything you owe me, son,” Cas says evenly, facing Blitz and getting closer and closer to him, “because I have a lot to tell your little employees and your feathered whore. Or the bitch you call your daughter. I wonder what she’d think if she knew—”   

It’s Moxxie, incredibly, who’s shooting.   

Blitz jumps as if he’s been shot himself and stares wide-eyed at the hole in the wall just inches from where Cash’s head is.   

“If you don’t leave this office right now, sir, I’ll be much more specific next time.”   

Cash seems to think for a moment, as if wondering how real Moxxie’s threat was or just empty words. He probably decides that it’s realistic enough to imagine the young imp actually ready to put a hole in his head, because with a shrug and a flick of his tail he heads for the door.   

“I recommend a good sprinkler system,” he croaks before walking out into an awkward silence.   

Blitz can feel everyone’s eyes on him, and the thin skin of his scars is starting to itch under the stares.   

“Blitz, darling...”  

Stolas walks over to him and tries to put a hand on his shoulder, but Blitz jerks it away. Stolas’s fingers quickly retract, and the owl’s pained expression creates cracks in his ability to hold on much longer.   

His heart feels like it has moved from his chest to the center of his head, and all he can hear in his ears is the throbbing and buzzing of blood being violently pumped everywhere.   

His legs feel like they've suddenly become made of butter.   

His entire vision has narrowed, it's like looking through a keyhole.   

"Keep doing your fucking job, everyone!"   

He hears these words in a harsh tone, but it's strange, it could just as well have been someone else speaking, because Blitz feels like he's outside of his body, speaking and moving on his own, maneuvered by something that's struggling and scratching to get out.   

Without realizing it, he's locked himself in his office, slamming the door, and staggering to sit in his chair.   

Until a few days ago he felt relatively at peace, he was happy with what he had, with his life with Stolas and Loona. Sure, he still had to try to silence the constant buzz of voices in his head that were trying to take him back to when the thought of anyone wanting to be around him seemed impossible, but somehow he was getting better and life was starting to feel less empty.   

Stupid, stupid imp!   

He thought he could reconnect with Barb and she almost died. He thought he could build a life with Stolas and Loona and Octavia, but now they knew everything and could never look at him the same way again. Stolas must hate him, after the horrible things he said to him that morning. Loona must think he's a loser and a pervert, after learning about his past and the things he did to survive. The M&Ms must be disgusted by him, after they caught him with his ass up in the air in a seedy alley.   

Fizz doesn't know what he's talking about, when he thinks he can turn back time and pick up their trio where they left off that afternoon before the party, before everything went to shit and Blitz ruined everyone's lives.  

Sooner or later, even Fizz will remember the many good reasons why he was better off without him for fifteen years.   

His already labored breathing catches in his throat and Blitz feels himself gasping for air.   

What if he died now, in that moment? It only takes a little more effort for his heart to explode, after all it is already pumping at a frantic pace, it can't be normal, right? Or stop struggling for air, let yourself suffocate.   

Almost without realizing it he puts a hand in his pocket and takes out his gun. He looks at it as if it were the first time, gold and inlaid, with the IMP sticker glued right on the grip. He still remembers when he bought it, with his first salary as a bodyguard, even though Verosika had insisted on giving him one. But for him it was important, being able to buy something with his own strength, even if it was an old second-hand gun, some kind of vintage piece.   

Why didn't you get something cooler and more modern instead of this old shit? Verosika had commented when she saw her that night, after one of their sessions of sex and cheap alcohol.   

But he didn't care, it was the first thing he had ever bought for himself since the fire.   

He turns it over in his hands, thinking about how poetic it would be to blow his brains out with that, some kind of closing circle or some bullshit like that, the kind you see in movies.   

Sometimes he wonders if he would really have the courage to do that or if his father is right about that too and he is too much of a coward.  

Blitz slams the door shut behind him and Stolas finds himself exchanging glances with the others, not knowing what to do or say.   

Moxxie still has the gun that she shot Cash with and Millie still has her axe.  

Stolas feels stupid, and awkard, with his long legs and arms and hands that he doesn’t know where to put them or what to do with them. From Blitz’s office come the faint sobs and desperate gasping, the sounds of the panic attack that he knows has taken over his beloved.   

Millie and Moxxie can’t hear him, but Loona has her ears pricked up and is looking at the door worriedly, before exchanging a look with him.   

“What an asshole” is Millie who breaks the silence first, spitting out the words as if they tasted bad in her mouth.   

Stolas knows she means Cash, and he’s never been so on board with anyone in his life. Every encounter with the old imp was less pleasant than the last.   

“I’m sorry I shot him,” Moxxie says, a little embarrassed, “we did so much to keep Loona and Stolas from hurting him and I almost killed him!”   

“Don’t apologize, sweety.”   

“Yeah, that asshole thinks he can say whatever he wants without consequences, it’s about time someone made him shit his pants.”   

Loona practically growls the words at her, but doesn’t take her eyes off the closed office door.  

“I have to go see him!” Stolas exclaims, cutting off Moxxie’s response before he can even begin to speak.   

“Maybe it’s best to leave him alone for a bit.”  

“No, Millie, I’ve made this mistake too many times already, and…” Stolas sighs, taking Millie’s hand and taking all the comfort he can from her, “I’m starting to understand Blitz better, and I think he doesn’t want to be alone, not really, not right now.”   

Millie sighs and rubs her belly thoughtfully. It’s getting bigger and bigger as her pregnancy progresses, and somehow it seems to have made her less impulsive, more calm than the girl Stolas remembers from his early days at IMP.   

“Go save your knight, then, hun,” she says, her accent deepening as the words come from her heart.   

Stolas knows that Millie loves Blitz deeply, and he can see the same worry in her that grips him. All of them, Millie and Moxxie and Loona, are worried about Blitz and don’t know how to deal with their fear.  

But he, Stolas, thinks he’s figured it out by now.  

“Go home, the day is over and you and Moxxie are tired. Loona, my dear, you go home too, your father and I will join you.”   

Loona looks at him for a few seconds, as if she wants to examine him, then with a slight mmhh she nods and takes the keys to the van.  

“See you later” she says as a farewell, “M&M come I will take you home”.   

Stolas watches them leave and responds with a smile to the nod that Moxxie gives him before closing the door behind him.   

He heads towards Blitz’s office and knocks on the door, but there is no answer from inside.   

“Blitz? It’s me, dear, I’m coming in, is that okay?”  

Still no answer for a while then a soft yeah comes from behind the closed door.   

When Stolas enters Blitz is sitting in his chair and turning the gun over in his hands.   

There are tears on his cheeks and his eyes are bloodshot, but he doesn’t seem to care, too busy fiddling with the safety on his gun.   

Stolas feels a chill run down his spine and has to resist the urge to run over and snatch the gun from his hands.   

“Blitz, my love, what are you doing?”   

“Relax, pretty bird, the temptation is over.”   

Finally Blitz puts the gun back in his jacket pocket and raises his head to look straight at him.   

The imp is pale under his usual bright red color, and his white scars are even whiter. Stolas thinks back to Cash’s words and wonders what kind of tragedy could have caused those scars on his beloved’s body. The idea that Blitz - funny kind always full of life Blitz - could even consider hurting himself breaks his heart.  

How many times has he considered disappearing himself? Of letting himself vanish piece by piece until he dissolves into a bubble of absolute nothingness, the idea of not existing as sweet as a warm bath after a long, tiring day. And in all those months in which they lived together and shared thoughts and fears, he had never understood the gravity of the situation.   

“I’m sorry, Stolas,” Blitz says and for a moment the owl doesn’t understand what the imp is referring to, “I said horrible things to you this morning, I was an asshole.”   

“Oh, my love, I know you didn’t mean them.”  

“I understand if you don’t want to have anything to do with me anymore,” Blitz continues as if Stolas hadn’t spoken, “I must disgust you, after all that you now know. I was alone and broke and... but no, that was before that, that was the only way I could be useful... Fizz and Barbie would never do those things... ever... they're... they're not like me.”   

Blitz angrily wipes away his tears and avoids his gaze. He puts his hands on his head and his entire frame curls into a ball, his tail curled around him. He looks so vulnerable that Stolas wants to hug him, counsel him, sing to him that everything will be okay, that he doesn't have to be afraid.   

But he just stands there, his arms at his sides, watching the love of his life fall to pieces.   

“And then I killed her! I killed her because I thought Fizz... but he was too pure, he didn't deserve someone like me... my filth... and I killed her, Stolas! My mother! She believed in me, she saw something that wasn’t really there, but it was so nice to be able to hide in her arms and cry and… she helped me, you know, with letters and words… and she got in the way when Dad…”  

Suddenly his voice gets choked up and Blitz makes a hissing sound for air, clutching his chest tightly.   

The sound jolts him and Stolas can finally move. He literally throws himself at his feet, kneeling in front of the imp sitting in the chair and bent over.   

For a second Blitz looks at him like he’s the scariest thing he’s ever seen, but it only lasts a moment, then he throws himself at him and clings to him like he’s drowning, soaking his shirt, burying his face in his chest feathers.  

“Oh, Blitz, I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” he whispers, stroking the back of his neck.   

“I thought I really could have the life I dreamed of,” Blitz says, his voice muffled by Stolas’ feathers, “you know, me, you, Loony and Via, a house with plants on the balcony and shits like that. And I thought I could watch a movie on the couch with you and our daughters and throw popcorn at Fizz because he’s annoying and be a funny uncle to the little M&M guy and who knows, maybe one day Barb would be with us and we’d be happy...”   

“You already have me, and Loona, and Via, and Fizz and the M&Ms. And all is not lost with your sister, I know that.”   

“No, Stolas, you don’t understand.” Blitz pulls away to look him in the eye, serious even though he’s still a mess of shit, “I thought I could be happy with Fizz and that’s why my mother died. I wanted to be happy with you and have a family and Barbie almost...”  

 His voice trails off and Blitz is unable to continue.   

“Blitz,” Stolas says, putting his hands on his cheeks and forcing him to look at him without being able to escape his gaze, “I want you to listen to me carefully because what I’m about to say is very important. Your father is a piece of shit who abused you your whole life, made you believe you were worthless, sold you out, blamed you for something you were not responsable and threw you away when you needed him most. I am so proud of you, of how you survived, of how you managed to become who you are, of how good you are in business and what a loving father you are and how you are willing to do anything for your friends and the people you love. Knowing you has been the most incredible thing that has ever happened to me, you have brought the spark of life into my existence and nothing and no one will ever make me have a different opinion of you than the one I have, not even you, my love. And your father has seen all this and is jealous, that's why he is trying once again to continue his abuse. But his words have no effect on me or Loona or your friends."   

"Stolas-"   

"No, Blitz, you will not change my mind. I will repeat these things to you every day until they get into your head, several times a day if necessary. And the next time I see him, your father will be a dead man for what he did to you."   

"No, Stols, I do not want you or anyone else to do this for me. And besides, Barb would never forgive me and I love Barbie too much to do this to her."   

Blitz straightens up and finally a shy smile appears as he rubs his red eyes.   

“Fuck me, Stolas, you’re good with your worlds, that was disgustingly romantic and made me wanna kiss you hard”.   

With a chuckle Stolas leans over the imp and places a light kiss on his lips. Blitz grabs his hands and pulls him closer, opening his beak to deepen the kiss.   

“Is it better now, dearest?”  

“Yeah, better. Fuck, everytime he’s around I feel so little, like I’m ten again. He scares the shit out of me”.   

“I know. But we’re here to protect you now, you’re not alone.”   

“Still... I’m sorry for this morning, Stols, I was shitty”   

“You were upset for your sister and scared. Don’t need to be sorry.”  

“But I am anyway.”   

“In that case, I forgive you.”   

“Good.”   

Blitz nods and stands up to put the last things in the office away before leaving.  

Stolas looks at him while he watches the door close from the inside and turn off the lights still a little off, sniffling every now and then, but when he stands before him his smile is wide and bright.   

“Now, let’s go home, birdy, I bet Loona was worried sick.”