Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sound of heavy combat boots echoed through the eerily silent halls of the Undervale. Esther’s pace was quicker than usual, neck craned out in front of her. It was clear she was looking for something –- or, more accurately, someone. She bit back the urge to call his name. He had quickly learnt someone calling his name typically meant he was in trouble and would flee at the sound of it. So, Esther had resigned herself to the old-fashioned method of scanning every room of the seemingly endless hotel. She mentally cursed herself for not getting him microchipped when they took him to get his rabies shot.

After what felt like a millennia, Esther finally found who she was looking for. Sitting cross-legged on the ground of the parlour was Abaddon, currently occupied with carving his sigil into the skull of a ram. Whether this was to claim it as his own or to perform some kind of ritual was anyone’s guess. Esther tried her best to act casual, leaning against the doorframe and contorting her face into what she hoped was a carefree smile.

“Abbie! Don! The Cobra King! Donnie-boy!” She rattled off, strained.

“Esther,” he replied bluntly. He didn’t look up from the skull.

After a moment of awkward silence, Esther cleared her throat. “So… Any pressing plans for the night?”

Abaddon hummed noncommittedly. “I was considering tracking Mothman again. The beast may have claimed victory in our last battle, but I am not so easily defeated.” He furrowed his brow, gazing out the window at the vast expanse of the forest. “He may have won the battle, but I will win this war.”

Esther nodded slowly. “Cool, cool. Are you, like… married to the idea of doing that tonight, or…?” She trailed off, kicking at a frayed section of carpet.

“Why?” Abaddon squinted, finally meeting Esther’s eye.

Esther scoffed, waving her hand. “Oh, nothing, nothing. I was just wondering if…” The words died in her throat again, and she kicked herself mentally. It was simple. Beyond simple! Why was she struggling to get the words out? The worst he could say is no. Actually, it'd be horrible if he said no. Abaddon eyed her suspiciously, observing her mental struggle as an outsider.

She took a deep breath.

“I’m going to a party and I want you to come with me!” She finally blurted out.

Abaddon crinkled his nose. “What type of party?”

“The type with drunk teenagers and awkward hookups?” Esther sucked her teeth as Abaddon’s expression further soured.

“Sounds dreadful. I’d much rather spend my night settling my score with Mothman.”

“Oh, please? Give it a chance, dude!” Esther pleaded, resorting herself to sit on her knees in front of the demon. “We can go crazy! We can totally trash the place and then dip, free of consequence or responsibility cause of how utterly fucked up everyone’s gonna be! Doesn’t that sound fun?”

Abaddon seemed to perk up slightly at the idea of mischief-making. “No consequences?”

“Yeah, man! A total free-for-all. C’mon, it’ll be awesome.”

He huffed, chewing the inside of his cheek in contemplation. “Why are you so eager for me to come with you?”

“Are you kidding? You’re my best friend!” Esther exclaimed in disbelief.

“What about Heather?”

“Heather’s my girlfriend. Which, I mean, doesn’t mean she’s not my friend anymore, but -–” Esther saved herself the trouble of explaining ‘trivial human bonding traditions’ to Abaddon again (which confused her as to why he had such a hard time grasping the concept –- wasn’t he married in Hell? She supposed human and demon marriage traditions must be vastly different.) by cutting herself off and changing the direction of her sentence. “She’s coming too, but I wanna share this experience with both of you. This is my first time getting invited to a classic, crazy high school party. It’s important to me.”

After a moment of contemplative silence, Esther spoke up again.

“You also make a really good bodyguard.”

Abaddon’s gaze hardened. “Will this place be dangerous?”

“Well, it could be. I’m a freshly eighteen year old girl going to a party full of drunk strangers. I can hold my own, but you can never be too careful.” Esther found herself parroting sentiments her mother had hammered into her the moment she got old enough to start going out on her own. Not that she did go out, save for her expeditions into the forest and other, dangerous outdoor places with Abaddon. That was a whole different kind of danger to what she’d encounter at riotous house parties, though.

Abaddon nodded sagely. “Then I shall accompany you. If anyone dare lay a finger upon you, they shall feel my wrath,” his eyes flared red with the emphasis.

Esther placed a hand over her heart, touched.

“We should start getting ready, then. I’m supposed to be picking up Heather in an hour. I suggest you change into some different clothes.”

Abaddon frowned. “What’s wrong with my attire?”

Esther gave him a quick once-over. He had donned himself in traditional Victorian clothing, seemingly having graduated from the old Georgian style he wore when his vessel was still young. Esther grimaced. Waistcoat, cravat and breeches weren’t typically the type of thing that’d help you blend in at a house party. Besides, his clothes were stained and radiating a concerning stench akin to something you’d smell in a morgue.

“Just trust me on this one, dude. I think Ben left behind some clothes that’d fit you.”

Abaddon grumbled, but ultimately resigned himself to listening to Esther. He supposed she knew better in this scenario…

While Abaddon went digging through the clothes Ben had deemed unnecessary for college, Esther had busied herself with making sure she looked presentable. She didn’t usually bother putting on make-up, but she decided she’d at least do the basics tonight. She hummed, sitting back in her desk chair to admire her handiwork. It was a little sloppy due to the inexperience, but she didn’t mind. Would Heather mind? She wouldn’t think so. Heather didn’t mind when she was covered in dirt and the blood of cryptids –- she wouldn’t mind if her eyeliner was a tad wobbly.

Three melodic raps on her doorframe pulled her from her musings. Abaddon stood in the doorway, body unnaturally stiff in the unfamiliar clothing. Esther had to stifle a laugh.

“This fabric is unpleasant.”

“It’s a cotton hoodie, dude.”

“Exactly.”

Esther shook her head, pushing herself out of her chair and patting down her pockets. “Alright, I think I have everything I need –- protection talisman, runestones, pocket tome, gum, pentacle… Oh, keys!” She swiped the offending item off the desk and twirled it on her finger. She spared a glance at her phone. It’d take twenty minutes to drive to Heather’s, and an extra thirty to get to their destination. It was currently 6:12; if they left now, they’d hopefully get to the party just shy of 7:00.

The two piled into Esther’s car. She’d saved up for the vehicle for years. It was a cheap little shitbox, but it was hers, and Esther loved it to bits.

The drive to Heather’s was uneventful, save for the brief argument over the radio. Esther had ultimately relinquished control to Abaddon to stop her from crashing the car. The Beach Boys’ best hits were being blasted through the car’s tinny speakers, Abaddon humming along happily.

They pulled into Heather’s driveway just as the track went from God Only Knows to Surfin’ U.S.A, one of Abaddon’s personal favourites. Esther’s heart skipped a beat when she saw the girl emerge from her house. She looked beautiful -– nothing new there, of course. She quickly checked her hair and teeth in the side mirror as Heather approached the car.

“Hey, Esther! Are you listening to The Beach Boys? Didn’t think they were your style.” She questioned, tilting her head.

“Not my choice,” she gestured with her head to the demon in the adjoining seat. “Speaking of –- Abaddon, you’re gonna have to get in the back.”

Abaddon stopped humming, expression turning icy. “Why would I have to do that?”

“Because the front seat is reserved for girlfriends. Out.”

“No. I participated in the human ritual known as ‘calling shotgun’.”

“...No, you literally didn’t.”

“I declared it in my head.”

Esther stared at Abaddon, slack-jawed. “It doesn’t count if you don’t say it out loud.”

“Guys.” Heather introjected, not wanting the two to get into another argument. She knew they often drew blood when they fought. “I’m fine to sit in the back.”

“No, you’re sitting in the front!” Esther fought, desperate to win the uphill battle.

“I don’t want to sit in the back!” Abaddon growled through gritted teeth, eyes burning with fury.

“Well, tough! It’s my car!” Esther retorted, slamming on the steering wheel and accidentally setting off the horn. Heather jumped before sighing audibly.

The two locked eyes in a silent declaration of challenge. Who would budge first: the unmovable object of Abaddon, or the unstoppable force of Esther? Heather could only watch in abject horror, genuinely convinced one would lunge for the other’s throat at any second.

After a painful bout of silence, Esther spoke.

“Rock, paper, scissors?”

“...Alright.”

Abaddon chose paper. Esther chose scissors.

“Fine! You win this time, vile witch. But mark my words -– I shall remember this transgression until the very heat death of this universe!” He growled, words dripping in venom.

“You can’t even remember what we had for breakfast.”

Esther’s comment was met with a slam of the door.

Heather gingerly reopened said door, sliding into the front seat. Esther sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Sorry about him.”

“It’s alright. I’m pretty used to your rows by now,” Heather reassured, adjusting her glasses. “They’re kinda entertaining once you get over the initial fear that one of you is genuinely about to attack the other.”

Esther let out a snort. Abaddon grumbled in the backseat, knees pulled up to his chest. He’d decided he no longer wanted the opportunity to converse with the two girls in the front, slipping his headphones on and glaring fiercely out the window. Faint music could be heard leaking from the speakers of his old-fashioned walkman. Getting Abaddon to understand how this vintage device operated was hard enough -– Esther dreaded the day she’d have to teach him how an MP3, or God forbid, a phone with Spotify installed worked.

“...The bones and feathers hanging from your mirror are a projectile hazard if you crash.”

Esther rolled her eyes playfully. “Must you live so relentlessly in the real world, Heather?”

“I’m just saying!” She laughed, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Actually, about that,” Esther segued the conversation with a sly precision that took years to master. “You’re not planning to drink tonight, are you?”

“...No, because I’m a law-abiding citizen. Why?” She questioned, suddenly growing suspicious.

“Right, right. And you’ve got your license on you, yeah?” She continued, dodging Heather’s question.

Heather looked over at her, expression stony. “Esther.”

“Heather,” She whined, so much already conveyed in so little words. “I know I make stupid, reckless decisions, but drunk-driving is not one of them.”

“I know, I trust you.” Heather managed, conflicted. “But you could avoid that altogether by not drinking.”

“I don’t plan to get blackout, girl!” Esther argued, keeping her eyes fixed on the road. “I just wanna get a little tipsy. How will I have fun party stories if I’m not even a little drunk?”

“You can have fun without drinking.”

“I know, I know –- but it’s part of the experience!” Esther geared up to further hammer her point home before being interrupted by Abaddon, tapping her on the shoulder.

“Esther, do you have any mints left?”

“No.”

Abaddon groaned, flinging himself back into his seat. He resisted the impulse to kick the back of her chair.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Esther continued, regaining momentum. “This is my first, and possibly last, time getting invited to a party like this. I might never again get the opportunity to live out my cliché high school movie party dreams!”

Heather sighed, leaning her head against the window. “What if something bad happens to you?”

“I have a pocket full of black magic, three emergency pen knives, and a fiercely loyal, immortal demon bodyguard slash brother. I think I’ve got all my bases covered.”

“I know, I don’t doubt it. I just can’t help but worry about you.” Heather spoke softly, feeling painfully vulnerable. In a bold show of confidence, she placed a hand on Esther's knee gently. “You mean a lot to me.”

Esther’s face softened. “You mean a lot to me, too.”

The group sat in silence for a minute, only punctuated by the hum of the motor and the faint buzzing of Abaddon’s walkman.

“Alright, I’ll be the designated driver.”

“Yes!” Esther cheered, dangerously close to accidentally veering the car. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’m gonna tattoo your name on my forehead, you beautiful woman.”

“Please don’t do that.”

Chapter Text

The trio gazed up at the house they’d arrived at. It was flashy, modern, luxurious; everything the Undervale was not.

“Dude, I didn’t know Kathy Jenkins was loaded. This place is huge!”

Heather looked at Esther quizzically. “You live in a massive hotel.”

“A massive hotel that doesn’t have running water half the time. I bet the power only goes out like, once every few months here.”

Abaddon sniffed the air. “I smell derangement.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Esther laughed. “You guys can go on ahead, by the way. I gotta give my mom a call.”

The other two obliged, allowing Esther some space. Heather gathered the courage to make her way to the front door and greet some of the few people she recognised. Abaddon, on the other hand, decided to linger near the car until Esther was ready. He eyed the rowdy patrons through a judgemental squint.

“Esther, sweetie! How are you? Make it to the party safely?” Katherine greeted eagerly. She was out of town for the night, visiting a friend from their old hometown. She didn’t like being so far away while Esther was out, but she’d sprung the party on her at the very last minute, essentially while Katherine was on her way out the door. Everything in her being told her to refuse Esther’s pleading and make her stay home -- but there would be nobody in the house corporeal enough to stop her while Katherine was away, and she’d much rather know where Esther was than have her sneak out and potentially get hurt. At least she had the solace of knowing she was there with someone responsible.

“Yup, no troubles there! Tonight’s gonna be so fun. Thank you for trusting me.”

“Of course.” Katherine paused for a moment. “You’re definitely there with Heather, right?”

“Mom.”

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t alone!” Katherine backtracked. “There’s safety in numbers. Besides, you two are a good influence on each other. Heather helps you be more responsible and you help her come out of her shell.”

“Yes, I know.” Esther rolled her eyes. She would never admit it, but she was incredibly grateful her mother had encouraged her to spend more time with Heather. They probably would’ve never gotten together if it wasn’t for her incessant nagging.

“You two are still…” Katherine trailed off, still unsure of how to approach the subject.

“Yes, we’re still dating,” Esther finished.

Katherine let out a sigh of relief. “Good. I’m so happy you two found each other, really.”

“You’re totally embarrassing me right now, mom.” Esther whined, biting back a smile. Before anything else could be said, Abaddon stuck his head through the half-cracked window.

“Tell the matriarch her absence is felt strongly through the hallowed halls of the Undervale.”

“Aw, are you saying you miss mom?” Esther teased. Abaddon grumbled in response.

“Wait, is Abaddon with you?” Katherine questioned, concern suddenly lacing her tone. She could handle one agent of chaos out causing trouble, but two? The latter of which lacking the self-preservation to not do anything highly illegal?

“Alright, see you tomorrow! I’ll try not to stay out too late!” Esther quickly ended the call before Katherine could question her further. She sighed heavily and slumped in her chair.

Esther didn’t like to admit it, but Abaddon had become an anchor for her. After Ben announced he’d be leaving for college, painful feelings Esther thought she had buried deep in her subconscious flared back up with a vengeance. Selfish, unreasonable feelings that made her furious at Ben for walking out on her, just like Ron had done to them. She remembered the night he’d received his acceptance letter as if it happened yesterday.

Ben had a bad habit of avoiding hard conversations until they became impossible to ignore. He hated conflict, desperate to push it away and delay the inevitable as far as he possibly could. Right now was no exception.

Esther stared at the letter on the table. Its very existence was an insult to her, something that cut her deep in a way she didn’t know it would. She had every right to tear it up, or throw it into the fireplace, or send it to an alternate dimension where it’d never be found again. Maybe she should dig up that old artifact she and Abaddon had found, years ago; the one that sent things back to the very beginning of time.

“I know I should’ve told you,” Ben started, refusing to look Esther in the eye. “But I didn’t really think I’d get accepted.”

“But you told mom you applied.” Esther said coldly. Ben tensed.

“Only because she was the one insisting that I should.”

Esther finally looked up from the paper. She knew her eyes boring into Ben’s skull made him squirm. Good. He should feel uncomfortable. He should feel bad. He should feel guilty.

“So, that’s it. You’re leaving.”

“Not forever!” Ben tried to placate. “Look, I know why you’re upset, and I understand -–”

“If you understood, you’d stay!” she yelled. She’d been using every ounce of her strength to hold herself together, but this was her breaking point.

Now, it was Ben’s turn to raise his voice. “Did you forget he was my dad, too? I knew him for longer than you did, but you’re the one who got to be upset! I had to hold it together!”

“Nobody was saying you couldn’t be upset!” Esther retorted. “That was a conscious decision on your part!”

“I was the one who had to make sure you were okay!”

Ben knew he’d misspoken the second the words had left his mouth.

“Well, I’m sorry I was such a burden to you.” Esther growled.

Ben lowered his voice, sorrow replacing anger. “That’s not what I meant.”

The damage was done. Esther shakily stood from the couch, legs trembling with rage and repressed emotion. “Whatever. Have fun at college.”

As soon as she got back to her room, she broke.

Angry, painful cries stung her throat and burned her eyes. She knew she was wrong to be mad at him. She knew he was different from dad. But in the moment, raw, animalistic emotions overruled her better judgement.

“Esther?”

She forced herself to look at the window, a sob still stuck in her throat. She rubbed at her eyes furiously. Through the blurriness of her tears she saw Abaddon, perched upon her windowsill, head cocked to the side. His expression was unreadable. Not uncommon for him.

“Now’s not a good time, Abaddon,” she choked out. She didn’t want him to leave –- far from it. All she wanted at this moment was companionship. For someone to sit with her, listen to her cries, and reassure her that everything would be okay. But Abaddon wasn’t the person for that job.

Usually.

He slid down off the windowsill, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her. “You’re in pain.”

Abaddon used to relish in other people’s misery. To an extent, he still did -- it was intrinsically ingrained into his very biology. But it wasn’t right when it was the Freelings, the family who so quickly accepted him as their own kin. When one of them was hurt, he felt it as if it had happened to him, as well. It twisted his insides, made him feel a way he never did back in Hell. He was loosely aware of the concept of empathy, but it was something he had never experienced until recently. It was especially prevalent when it came to Esther.

Esther sniffled. “I just got into an argument, that’s all.”

“You’re not usually this affected by mere arguments,” Abaddon observed. “Do you need someone killed?”

Esther let out a weak chuckle. “No, that’d just make it worse. Besides, I could kill him pretty easily myself.”

“Him?”

“Ben.” Esther sighed, leaning on the side of her bed. “He’s leaving. For college.”

Abaddon blinked a few times. He recalled the resets, before he drove the cult away instead of chasing an impossible dream. Every single time, Esther had knocked on the door of his cupboard under the sink to guilt him into staying. Every time he turned her down. He grew to despise the familiar conversation. Every time it happened, it caused that twisting sensation to worsen. But he couldn’t risk changing the timeline more than he already was, and he needed the cult to perform the ritual and return the powers he so desperately craved. He pushed the feelings down, reassuring himself with the knowledge he wouldn’t really be going back to Hell. But the betrayal in Esther’s eyes still made his vessel’s stomach sick with guilt.

She didn’t like being abandoned. He knew that well.

“How long will he be gone?”

Esther exhaled shakily. “Few months. He’ll be back for Thanksgiving, and then he’s leaving again.”

“So… He’s not gone forever?” Abaddon questioned.

“No.” Esther bit her lip, holding back more tears. It wouldn’t even be a year until he’d return, making how upset she was even more unreasonable.

Then again, they were told Ron would be gone for ‘just a few months’ too. Months turned into a year, which turned into two. Esther gave up hope after the third Christmas without him.

Abaddon hummed in contemplation. He shuffled closer to Esther’s side.

“I’ll still be here,” He finally spoke after a lapse of silence. “For as long as you need me to be.”

Esther stared at him, tears in her eyes. “What happened to Hell returning for you?”

Abaddon shook his head. “They’re not coming.”

It clicked.

Abaddon had been abandoned, too.

Esther rested her head on Abaddon’s shoulder. She felt him tense, but he didn’t move away.

They were one in the same, left behind by that which should’ve protected them.

Since that day, Esther found it hard to leave Abaddon’s side.

Speaking of, he was still at the window.

“Esther, do you plan on getting out of the car anytime soon?” Abaddon deadpanned. He was really starting to get the hang of passive-aggressiveness.

“Yeah, sorry. Zoned out for a sec.”

She stepped out into the crisp night air, tugging her army jacket closer to her body. She could feel the base thumping from the powerful speakers in the house. She felt giddy, resisting the urge to bounce on her heels like a child.

“Stabaddon?” A tall, curly-haired man greeted in disbelief. “How you going, little dude? I haven’t seen you since that weirdo tried to kill us at your hotel! Didn’t he cut your arm off or something?” he gestured loosely to the aforementioned appendage with his free hand, other protectively grasping a red solo cup.

“Oh, it healed.” Abaddon responded, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“That’s possible?” He gaped, eyes wide.

“If you get them to the hospital quick enough!” Esther butted in. “The miracles of modern medicine, am I right? I’m Esther. We also met at the Undervale, but we were too busy trying not to get murdered to be properly introduced.”

“Brockton,” he smiled, holding out his hand. Esther didn’t take it.

“I know who you are. You’re around Ben’s age, right? Shouldn’t you be at college or something?”

Brockton scoffed. “Balls to that, dude. I just finished school, I’m not doing more.”

“You graduated two years ago.”

“And your point is…?”

Esther rolled her eyes. She didn’t particularly like Brockton, but she had to admit to herself he was more stupid and ignorant than genuinely malicious.

“Anyway, you were totally awesome back there! Just flinging yourself at the guy with no second thought. You couldn’t have been older than, like... nine, right? Hardcore.”

“I was ten thousand and three hundred years old. Not including the years I gained every time I relived this universe’s timeline.”

Brockton stared at him blankly. “How hard were you guys pregaming?”

“He’s just like that.” Esther patted Abaddon on the shoulder. “Are the drinks inside?”

“Yeah, in the kitchen. Stabaddon, you should totally join me and my crew tonight! You were such a hoot last time before everything went down.” Brockton essentially brushed off Esther, placing a hand on Abaddon’s shoulder.

“I think Abaddon would rather hang with me tonight. Right, buddy?” she elbowed Abaddon in the ribs to comply with her wishes.

Abaddon was conflicted. He did enjoy the attention he’d received from the group of teens all those years ago. They’d treated him more as a party trick than an ancient demon as the beer fed into him spurted from the holes in his chest like the world’s most deranged fountain, but it was better than being treated like a child, as he usually was. On the other hand, he didn’t want to leave Esther behind, but he had a feeling she didn’t want to spend time with Brockton or his friends.

“Can Esther come?” Abaddon tried. Brockton let out a strained noise of false consideration, while Esther pulled a face.

“It’s okay, Abaddon. You have fun with these guys. I’ll just stick around Heather tonight.” Esther would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little pained at letting Abaddon go off without her. He was supposed to be playing bodyguard for her, after all. But she couldn’t deny him the experience of being accepted into such an elite club of friends. Abaddon eyed her, concerned. But before he could ask if she was really okay with it, he was pulled into the crowd by Brockton. Esther sighed and looked around for Heather. She supposed having more time with her wouldn’t be too bad.