Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I knew you could be pathetic at times, but I didn’t realize you were so weak.”

Alastor meant what he said at the time. A partnership? With him of all sinners? It was quite a laugh when Vox told him. Even after all their time together as acquaintances, it seemed like the boy still had no idea how this place worked. How people worked.

When he had met the young, inexperienced demon that one surprisingly cold day in Hell, the first thing Alastor noticed about him was how small he looked. The boxy headed man looked around nervously before standing up shakily like a newborn colt. He looked at the first person he saw in front of him, as the strange deer antlered man was hard to miss, and asked one simple question.

“Where am I?”.

The moment that the TV man muttered those words, Alastor knew he was going to be great fun.

Alastor helped him up and dusted the poor lad off. He laid on the charisma and soon the two began to talk as if they were old friends. Alastor told him many things about his time in the living world. His awards, his accolades, his triumphs through systemic adversity…and most importantly…his murders. He told him about his mastery of the dark arts and the blood he spilled studying them. And weaved tales of the screams of all the demons who doubted his power, making beautiful music out of their terror and excruciating agony.

He did leave out the more…embarrassing bits of the story. After all, not all stories needed to be told. But even with the trimming of the truth, the way that Vox’s screen sparked and distorted with curiosity and interest, with that soon turning into a strange form of excitement. Like a child watching fireworks for the first time.

Alastor soon asked the other man what his past was. What was his reason for getting into Hell? What was his undoing?

The TV man told him all that he could remember, all that he wanted to remember. He told him his human name. Vincent…a strong latin that didn’t seem to match his tweed sweater or soft eyes. He told him about his childhood, a simple white upper middle class upbringing, with his famous actor Father and gold digger Mother, causing him to lead a much more comfortable life than that of his peers.

And finally…about his little movement. The closest thing that Alastor could describe it as was a cult. Now, Alastor was familiar with many things about spirituality and religion. His Mother (may she rest in peace) spoke with the Iwa frequently, and Alastor always enjoyed helping her practicing divination and making gris-gris with her. His Father (may he rot down here with him) took him to church every Sunday, which he hated. He made him sit at those uncomfortable pews and take boring Sunday School lessons and made him read the whole Holy book from first to last page. And if he didn’t, the lashing he would get would be extraordinary. Though he did give the man some credit for choosing a mostly Black congregation, and admittedly he did like to sing in the Gospel Choir.

Vincent…or Vox’s movement was…different though. He didn’t base his congregation on God, or on the spirits, or some new age fancy religion. All he simply needed to rely on two simple human emotions. Fear, and hatred. All broadcast on the Television screen.

Fear was the first part. Bring up that something is wrong or that something will become wrong if we don’t change it.

And Hatred was the second part. There’s a reason that this bad thing is happening. The reason that everything was so bad right now. But he could help fix it.

It was as easy as pointing a finger and blaming the person or group of people quote-unquote “involved”. One by one, his loyal army would fall upon them. Jailing and even killing them just to make the bad thing go away.

Now…if he were young and naive, Alastor would have found Vox’s cruel methods appalling and maybe even disgusting. After all, it was talk like that which caused people like him and his mother to be treated so terribly back home. But he was older now. Wiser now. He understood the advantages of manipulating people’s weak points. Using that to get what you want. To make people DO what you want.

However, despite feeling somewhat impressed with Vox’s raw talent, he knew a baby bird couldn’t survive just by singing pretty songs. This was still Hell, after all, and the creatures here, even if they were once human, valued physical power above all else. And some small, scrawny, and flat out pitiful creature like the lad that stood before him would not get by with words alone.

Thus, Alastor made the choice to take the bright eyed Vox under his wing. After all, the boy and him most likely shared similar powers anyway. Television was controlled by radio waves after all.

As the years went on, and as Alastor saw his pupil improve when it came to controlling his electrokinesis based abilities, he found him more and more interesting. Whether it was a good laugh at Vox’s gigantic failures or a triumphant yet subdued clap at his miniscule achievement, seeing the lad’s eyes sparkle and static at him, looking at him for approval, was quite amusing.

But that was all it was at the end of the day. Amusement. Curiosity. Pity. Nothing more. So when that sneaky, soft hearted bastard actually had the gall, the audacity, to propose a partnership.

Not only did he have to laugh, he flat out guffawed! He really thought the student would have become the master by now. Maybe he was the foolish one for thinking that, really. Even with his poisoned tongue, Vox’s reliance on others and desperate need for his attention truly was pathetic. He was like a little puppy dog following him from place to place. And Alastor hated dogs.
He remembered the very last thing he said to him…

“I just thought, you know, since we were friends-”.

“FRIENDS??! There are no friends in Hell, Vincent! I thought that was something you understood. How embarrassing.”.

He must admit. He was cruel in his approach. But what else could he do? It was a hard lesson, sure, but it was a lesson that needed to be learned. After all, Vox should have known how fickle and untrustworthy people were, with how easy they were to toy with. The sad thing was that friendship and companionship means trust. And in Hell, trust was a death sentence.

He could barely remember what happened afterward. He remembered some loud noises, though he didn’t remember which one of them was louder. There was glass throwing and name calling and even some blood spilt.

As they finished their tussle, their breaths ragged and bodies battered…he heard Vox speak.

“You know…I actually cared about you.”.

Alastor, of course, said nothing. What else could he say? Congratulations? Good job? You get a prize? He knew that Vox was naive but he couldn’t have been so naive. It was almost disappointing really. After all these years his teachings still haven’t stuck. It was a shame really. All that potential, and he squandered it.

As he shakily got up from the floor to his feet, and as Vox left the bar where they usually frequented, he decided from now on, to not try and take in new sinners under his wing, no matter how pitiful they look. It was simply a waste.

It didn’t take long for Alastor to forget about Vox, the poor bastard. Won’t belong before they find his body. But life goes on.

For a while this was how it went. He laughed, he ate, he drank, and for a while he was merry.

That was before…the bad thoughts began to happen.

It started on a normal day. The atmosphere was blazing hot as usual. And as Alastor strolled around the park he often frequented during his down time. He was walking to the Rose Garden when he saw some of the hellborn folk from one of the other rings. He knew they weren't Imps or Hellhounds or any of the other species you see around the Pride ring. These ones were….a cool green color. They looked like sharks, with spikey teeth and fish-like gills and even little fins on their backs and heads.

Alastor chuckled to himself. “Vox would have loved seeing hellborns like you.”

Alastor caught himself, his smile pursing and his ears pulling themselves back. That was odd. It had been, what, a month since he thought about that good for nothing. Strange. He quickly shook it off. Just a lingering taste of a bad meal. Nothing to worry about. He walked off, thinking nothing of it.

A few days later he decided to walk around in the IMP City for a little bit of a break from Overlord life. The Imp folk didn’t seem to run and hide from him unlike the Sinners, as most have no idea who he was. It gave him a good opportunity to people watch and see the daily goings on of the lesser classes. As he was sitting on a bench, watching two Imps, two women he thought, talking happily among themselves. He couldn’t help but find a strange comfort in their comradery. He looked around at the scenery. There were buildings, shops, and billboards. Nothing too special.

He saw a large billboard advertising the quote unquote “Hellevator”. It was the way the Hellborn seemed to travel between the rings. He couldn't, of course. He was a sinner, and he was cursed to stay in this realm. Still, he liked to imagine when looking at the billboards. The relaxing cloud like paradise of Sloth, the delicious food of Gluttony, the thriving music scene in Greed. If he were more than a mortal soul, he would spend his whole life sampling each of the Ring’s wears.

Except for one. The billboard, unlike the ones he used to get lost in, was that of a sin he didn’t usually like to involve himself in. The Lust ring must have been a skeevy, slimy place. At least…that was his first impression. That’s what lust was in his eyes. As a dirty emotion that leads those to Hedonism. Looking up at the Billboard though, he didn’t feel that usual sense of repulsion he usually felt when it came to the ring.

The billboard showed a club scene, filled with many bright blues and greens and purples. Cool colors that reminded Alastor of the colorations he used when he was dressed to impress. The background of the billboard was also a deep blue, contrasting the bright colors that danced in front of them.

“Ozzie’s…”, Alastor muttered to himself. He must admit the place seemed swanky. In all his time in Hell he never knew of a place that sounded so stylish. Vox and Alastor did frequent some pretty stylish places but even then they always thought they had something missing. Whether it was the booze, the music or even the atmosphere, they both thought the clubs and bars they barhopped were missing something. Alastor wondered if maybe Ozzie’s had what they were looking for. He wondered if Vox would like it. He wondered if he would love the Lust ring in general. He even heard that the sky was a deep dark blue. Dark blue. That was Vox’s favorite color. He wondered if they had their favorite whisky, maybe even-

Alastor smacked himself on the side of the head and shook it vigorously. What was he going on about? There he was again. Thinking about things and people that obviously do not matter. Yes, he and Vox did admittedly have fun together. That would be a given considering all the places they’ve been.
But Vox was simply a tag-a-long. A slimy little worm that Alastor allowed to follow him, both out of duty and out of pity. Pity that quickly vanished as soon as Vox showed his true colors as someone who chose to be a spineless coward who relied on others to do the work for him. How could he waste space in his mind remembering that little ingrate. Even as a memory, that boxy little bastard was a pathetic freeloader.

“His shocking misunderstanding of his role in all of ...everything, must have affected me more than I thought.”, Alastor muttered to himself, shaking his head and putting a hand on his temple. “I need to calm down. I hear the Imp folk have some good Butcher shops, from what I’ve heard from the locals. Beef and pork might not be my favorite, but it will do.”

As Alastor shakily took a breath and left, there was a sinking feeling in his stomach. Something was wrong. But he couldn’t figure out what. It must have been hunger. That was the only explanation. How else could he explain this…emptiness inside.

The bad thoughts didn’t stop after that though. He wished it did. If it did, his mind could focus on something else. Something actually important. One day he would be walking around Pentagram City and see an ugly sweater advertised in front of one of the department stores. Or a special on Fish ‘n’ Chips at a local restaurant. Or a sign for the Hell’s Fair showcasing all the achievements of all the Rings of Hell have to offer, hosted by none other than King Lucifer and Queen Lilith themselves.

He remembered one year when the fair was hosted in the Pride Ring. He remembered one year when Vox asked him to go. He remembered how excited he was at the opportunity to see all the new gadgets and gizmos. He remembered how he wanted to present something himself. He remembered that he couldn’t show up, because he had business to attend to with Rosie on that day.

Alastor clenched his teeth and walked through the town, speeding away as if he were late for an appointment. The emptiness was still there. It was clawing at him. As if something inside him was eating him up, chewing and biting from his stomach to his surface. He ate, and ate and ate. He ate meat of sinners and hellborn and animals but he was still never satisfied. What was wrong with him? Was he sick? He must have been? Why else was he always so empty and hungry, yet felt so close to vomiting. It didn’t help that all the over indulgence on food caused him to have terrible stomach aches.

“Vox must have had some sort of alien disease or something.”, Alastor said, taking two pills of the anti-acids he got at the local Harmacy. “Why else would I feel so disgusting after our little barfight?"

During the nights of these episodes he would fall asleep, bloated and in a dreamless rest. The dreams he did have barely felt like dreams at all. Just fragments of old memories that he had. Some when he was living, some when he was first arriving in Hell, some where he was partaking in get-togethers and making merry…and some that were about Vox.
The ones that were about Vox were…strangely idyllic. Like there was some sort of filter over everything that made the scenery more colorful. More sparkling. It would be something small, like them bar-hopping. Or Alastor teaching Vox how to use the wires on his back like he used his tentacles. Or them just…talking. Not about anything important, just…talking.

When he would wake out of those dreams, there would be a sort of blissfulness to it. A strange calm that washed over him.

Before he was caught up in a torrent of rage, annoyance, and frustration!

What was it with that weak little ingrate that was making him so…soft?! Sure, they had fun, but he had fun with a lot of people during his time that he was entertained by, only to be so easy to throw away and move on with. Vox was just like that. A simple minded person with simple minded goals who Alastor just pitied and entertained. So why? Why the dreams, why the memories? And why was he so damn empty still!?

He continued to eat, and drink, and eat, and drink, and eat, and drink. He ate until he hated himself, drank till he was barely able to see or think straight, yet he still felt so incredibly empty.

He must be dying. There must be some terrible hellborn plague that somehow affected sinners going around. Why else would he be feeling like this? Doctors were not an option that’s for sure. The thought of being vulnerable to someone, especially someone that was supposed to see every bit of you, inside and out, made him want to die all over again.

No. He just needed rest. No heavy meals, no alcohol. Just simple foods, plenty of water…and rest.

Everything exhausted him anyways…so why not. Why shouldn’t he just put his feet up and relax.

On that day when he crawled back into bed and snuggled into the sheets, and closed his eyes.

….

“Hey, hey wake up.”

A familiar voice causes Alastor to drift in and out of consciousness. He sat up and rubbed his temples, groaning.

“Are you ok there, pal? You don’t look well.”.

Alastor’s eyes shot open as he looked at the voice next to him. His eyes widened as he looked upon him. That boxy head, that tweed sweater vest, that stupid little striped top hat.

“Vox?!” Alastor cried, reaching out to him. He wanted to hug him, to rip him to pieces, to kill him and eat him so he would never, ever, ever leave again, so that he can stay inside him forever.

But he didn’t do any of that. He just stared at him, in a strange, uncharacteristic awe.

“Yep. That’s me. Don’t wear it out.”, Vox said, smiling slightly. That concerned glint didn’t leave his eyes though.

Alastor put his hand back onto the ground, his hand feeling something wet and soft. “Where are we?”, he asked, looking around.

Vox cocked an eyebrow, confused. “We’re outside the fair ground?.”.

Alastor looked out into the horizon. The lights, the music, the gigantic structures and bits of machinery.

“The Hell’s Fair”, Alastor muttered.

“Yep, Hexpo number 58.”. Vox replied.

“But…that can’t be. I wasn’t able to attend, I was in a meeting with-”.

“Rosie? I know that but you said that it finished earlier than you expected so you came out here. To support me.”

Alastor stared at Vox, bewildered, before his eyes sparkled with a glint of recognition. He slapped his palm to his face. “OH! Yes! Right!”, he exclaimed. “Sorry about that old pal. I haven’t been myself for the past few months.”

Vox smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re forgetting everything already, Alastor. You’re not that old.”

“Oh, hush up you.”

“No, seriously. I’m worried. Imagine how the public will react when they find out the big bad Radio Demon needs to be put in a home?”.

“I said, hush up!”, Alastor laughed, pushing Vox playfully. Vox pushed back, chuckling to himself as well.

The two of them laughed amongst themselves, taking in the day’s festivities from a distance.

Alastor sighed. “So how did your presentation go?”

“Amazing!”, Vox replied, beaming. “The Prince of the Greed Ring and the Princess of the Envy Ring really loved my mind control chip prototype. With luck, I might even have them as my investors.”.

“Wonderful!”, Alastor put his arm around him and laughed. “I knew you could do it!”.

“Thanks. I knew I could do it too.”, Vox quipped, a playful smugness to his voice.

The two both looked out into the distance. “So other than that, how was the fair?”.

“Spectacular. Really. The art area was especially amazing. I even got myself an original piece from THE Tomino Yaso himself!”, he said, holding up a painting of a white, crying humanoid figure climbing up a mountain of pins and needles. “This one is an autobiographical piece.”.

“Very impressive. I never knew you had a love of the arts.”.

“Well you never asked.”.

“Oh.”.

They sat there for a while, an awkward but comfortable silence filling the air. Vox soon broke it. “So…I kind of lied about the mind control chip being the ONLY thing I made for today.”.

“Hm?”, Alastor hummed, cocking both one eyebrow and one ear in confusion. “What else did you make?”.

Vox put the painting back into his carrier bag and rummaged around in there. Soon though, he pulled out a small box, with blue, red and white polka dots. “Here.”

“What is this?”, Alastor asked, looking at the package.

“A gift. Duh.”, Vox said, almost looking bothered. “I rarely give these, so you’re lucky to get one.”.

“But it’s not my birthday.”, Alastor replied.

“Can’t I just give you a gift because I want to?”. Vox asked.

“What is it?”Alastor asked.

“Just open it and find out!”, Vox said, now clearly bothered.

“Ok, ok.”, Alastor grabbed the box and held it up to his ear, shaking it. Slowly he unwrapped and opened the box.
The object inside looked similar to one of those plastic headbands he would see women wearing when he was walking by. It was a bright blue color, with a bunch of technological mumbo-jumbo. What was most noticeable about it however, was the antennae. Two rabbit ear TV antennae that were compressed inside.

“Surprise!” Vox said, doing jazz hands. “Remember when you told me you get bad reception every winter when your antlers shed and fall off? Well this is my solution to that. You can put these on every winter when the reception’s bad and when your antlers grow back you can take it off and save it for next year.”.

Alastor looked at the headband, bile rising up to his throat. It wasn’t that he was ungrateful. Far from it. He’d love this gift when he first got it. When it arrives in the Mail a short three days after the Fair. It even had a note from Vox explaining how to use it. It wasn’t that he hated the gift. Quite the opposite. He loved the present. He was so excited to use it when winter came around.

It was the timing. He was given this gift the week before Vox’s business proposal. Beforehand, it just felt like just a kind gesture. A small act of kindness between fr̶i̶e̶n̶d̶s̶ acquaintances. Now that he knew the true purpose of the gift, he felt his stomach drop. Was Vox trying to butter him up to gain an alliance? To use him? To make him stoop to his low? Alastor growled and looked away?

“What’s wrong?”, Vox asked.

“Why?”, Alastor asked. “Why are you so damn nice to me?”

“Because I care about you?”, Vox said, a confused and questioning pitch to his voice.

“But why?!”, Alastor exclaimed. He remembered that was the last time Vox said he cared about him. It was the last thing Vox said to him, after their fight in the bar. “I’m not a good person.”.

Vox furrowed his brow. “I’m sorry to tell you this pal, but none of us are good people. That’s why we’re here.”.

“That’s not what I mean!”, Alastor shouted. “I’m not a good person TO YOU! I infantilized you, I laughed at your failures, I called you weak the last time we met, and you still choose to hang around me! Why?! Tell me!”

Vox stared at him, his eyes not giving his intentions. He sighed finally, looking annoyed. “We really are gonna do this, huh? Alright, fine. I’ll bite.”.

He cupped a hand on Alastor’s face and made him look at him. Alastor felt his face get hot, but he didn’t understand why. Vox touched him before yes, but not on his face. Never on his face. Normally a face touch was cause for punishment, like biting the hand clean off. But he didn’t. Just allowed Vox to caress his cheek.
“It’s true, you’re a cruel bastard that has nearly no morals or empathy for others. Not even me. And honestly I find that respectable.”, Vox said. “But you’re also charming, intelligent, humorous, commanding, and honestly…”

Vox came closer to Alastor and he could feel his face getting hotter as Vox’s face flushed.

“I find you very inspiring.”.

Inspiring. That was the word he used to describe him. Before everything went wrong. Before he made the greatest mistake of his entire afterlife. Before he pushed one of the only people who cared for him away. Alastor could feel hot tears prick his eyes. No, no, no, not now. Not here.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s alright, you’re ok.”, Vox said, wiping his eyes. “I know you didn’t mean it. I know you feel bad. It’s ok.”.

Alastor hiccupped and sniffed, far too prideful to let out a full sob. “You shouldn’t forgive me. I’m not worth the trouble.”.

They were both silent for a while, the atmosphere changing, the tension thick. That’s when Vox spoke up, his voice shaky.

“Can I show you how much I forgive you?”.

“What…?”

Slowly, tentatively, Vox came closer to him. His breath was hot and his breath smelt like cigarettes and vodka. Time seemed to stand still, until Vox’s lips came into contact with Alastor’s.

The kiss was chaste, especially by Hell standards. But it still set Alastor alight with so many conflicting and confusing feelings.

“Get closer…”

“Pull away…”

“This is amazing…”

“This is awful…”

“Give me more…”

“Why must you do this…?”

As soon as it started however, the kiss stopped and Vox pulled away, averting his eyes.

“I’m…I’m sorry.”, Vox said, the uncharacteristic sound of shame and remorse in his voice. “I crossed a line, I-I won’t do it-”.

“Please do it again…”.

Alastor said the words before he could stop himself. His mind was filled to the brim at such oxymoronic emotions. Calm, panic, warmth, coldness, fear, courage. It was so much yet not enough. Alastor had never felt such feelings before. When it came to lust, it was true that it was a sin that he didn’t take part in. At best he was indifferent to such carnal desire. At worst, he was absolutely disgusted by it, thinking those who took part in it were vulgar, disgusting beasts with no regard for things other than bodily pleasure.

As for the topic of romance, that was also not something he took part in. He had a few flings in life, yes, but it was to mostly keep up appearances as a suave, debonair ladies man. He never felt the spark of romance. Hell, at times he felt proud of it. Love only got in the way of things, made people’s hearts grow soft and tender when they should be hard as stone. Why spend time whispering sweet nothings into someone’s ear when there was work to be done.

That’s what made his current feelings for Vox right now so conflicting. He was challenging his entire identity and world view. And yet, he was ok with that. Why was he so fucking ok with that?

“What?”, Vox said, his head popping up to stare at him, his eyes widening. It seemed that he didn’t expect that.

“Please do it again.”, Alastor said, more confidently this time. “I don’t know how or why but I just need you to kiss me again. Please. Please! PLEASE!”.

Vox laughed. “Ok, ok I will, I promise. Damn I didn’t know you could get so desperate.”

Alastor’s eyes widened and his face began to burn again. He looked away. God he was so pathetic and weak. He wanted to hide away his face and never-

“Hey, hey no need for that.”. Vox carried Alastor by the chin and made him look into his eyes. “I’ll kiss you and make you all better, just like you wanted.”.

Alastor looked at him, so deep into the Boxy man’s static television screen. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

The kiss started out like the last one. Chaste, almost innocent. Soon however, the kiss grew deeper and deeper. When Alastor felt Vox’s tongue graze against his teeth, he shuddered, partially from fear, partially from pleasure. He tentatively opened his mouth, allowing the tongue to enter. As Vox explored his mouth, he could taste the taste of bourbon, so unlike the smell of Vodka from before. It reminded him of Bourbon rib-eye steak. Bourbon rib-eye steak with caramelized onions. He wanted to bite Vox’s tongue off and eat it right then and there. The mixture of blood and saliva, the delicious meat of the tongue, the look of betrayal in Vox’s eyes. The thought almost sent him over the edge. But no, no he had to keep his composure. He tried to keep calm as he let Vox explore his mouth. His molars, his gum, the roof of his mouth. He wondered if Vox would be able to reach his uvula. Alastor shuddered.

Suddenly Alastor felt himself getting pushed to the ground roughly. The ground was still soft, but no longer the softness of grass. Rather the springy, bouncy, like a mattress.

“What was that for?”, Alastor said, annoyed.

“Sorry.”, Vox replied, before smirking smugly. “I figured you’d like it, considering you seem a little ‘excited’.”

Alastor was confused, looking up at Vox, before he noticed the sudden tightness and wetness on the front of his dress pants. Alastor didn’t know if he wanted more or if he wanted to die. He was never experienced with the sins of the flesh. Things like that mean being vulnerable. He wasn’t good at that. He breathed shakily as these conflicting feelings and raging hormones caused his mind to fill to the brim with depraved fantasies. It almost made him feel dizzy,

“Please touch me.”, Alastor begged. He hated how pathetic he sounded. “You can do whatever you want to me, I won’t complain. I promise.”.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”, Vox said eagerly, and Alastor noticed that Vox’s pants had a leaking strain inside it as well.

Vox began to roughly kiss Alastor while taking off his overcoat and slowly, deliberately unbuttoning his shirt. Their long tongues were less lumps of flesh and more like serpentine creatures battling for control. God his taste was immaculate. Alastor thought of steak, of the blood and saliva, of the look of betrayal, the tears in Vox’s eyes. Could he do it, no, he couldn’t, not after he hurt him before. But it would be so good. Feel good. He wondered if Vox would understand. Maybe even like it.

He didn’t have time to answer that however. Soon, Vox was looming over them, their tongues still connected by a small string of saliva. Alastor’s coat was thrown to the side, disregarded. His shirt and tie, however, was open and wrinkled, exposing his chest. His pants were slightly undone, just the button, his penis not yet exposed and straining to get free. Alastor huffed sensually. A part of him was frightened. This was all so new to him. But looking at his friend, his partner, he felt safe. He felt warm. He hated it.

Vox smiled, a smile even more depraved than he was. “You’ve been a good boy Alastor.”, he said sleazily. “Do you want your reward?”.

“Yes!”, Alastor shouted, his hot face and tears making his face feel like Dante’s Inferno itself. “Defile me! Deface me! Make me finally feel full after so long! Please, please, please!”.

Vox smiled. “Oh don’t worry, Alastor. I will…”

The glint within Vox’s eye slowly turned from sleazy to sinister. Alastor’s breath hitched and hiccupped as Vox laid both hands on his stomach, rubbing it. Then he rubbed Alastor’s sides. Then his chest. Alastor moaned with pleasure as Vox caressed and rubbed his nipples. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Vox reached over to Alastor…

And roughly grabbed onto Alastor’s neck.

Alastor tried to gasp for air, as Vox’s hands violently clasped around his neck. Vox’s eyes no longer shared the same tender, love and care. Instead, what Alastor was looking in were the eyes of a crazed man, a violent man, a man who spread hate for work and had fun with it. Alastor choked as he felt the other man’s fingers close his windpipe, giving him some air as reprieve before allowing his hands to close it back up again.

“How does it feel to finally feel so small?”, Vox asked, his voice dripping with venom. He loosened his grip on Alastor’s neck, allowing him to answer.

“Humiliating…”, Alastor replied in a choked out sob. He should have hated this. He should have fought back. Yet he just laid there and allowed it.

“That’s right.”, Vox said, quickly strengthening his grip. “That’s how you made me feel, Alastor. When you told me I was weak. I don’t seem so weak now, do I Alastor…”.

Vox didn’t allow Alastor to speak that time. Just continued to strangle him as Alastor choked and sobbed. Tears were flowing down Alastor’s face. Not of desperation or arousal this time, but of fear. Of regret. Of pain. Emotional or physical pain he didn’t know. Just pain. There were some lingering feelings of lust, and desire and warmth, but that was clearly overshadowed by everything else. He didn’t fight back though. He needs to fight back. Why didn’t he have the will to fight back?!

“You’re a little liar, you know that?”, Vox snidely commented. “Saying that I was lesser than just for wanting a friend. Yet here you are, getting every single one of your superpowers from your demoness sugar mommy.”, He said the last part in such a mocking tone. Alastor wondered if Vox always knew about him and Rosie. About their deal. About his role as her errand boy. Maybe he always knew, and that’s why Vox took what he said even harder than he expected.

“Yeah, as if your words were acceptable to say to anyone. ‘We’re not friends’, yet we go out all the time. ‘You need others to be strong’, yet what are you without HER? ‘You’re weak and pathetic, a disappointment.’, yet you let me do such deplorable things to you without consequence.”. Vox tightened his grip on Alastor’s neck, smiling from ear to ear. “You smug devil, you’re such a liar even you believe all the bullshit you spew. It’s sad.”.

Vox’s hands somehow tightened even more around Alastor’s neck, causing him to cry out in pain. He was fading in and out of consciousness, and his vision was getting blurry. Was this what it was like to die? To truly die? For it to be slow and agonizing, unlike a quick bullet to the brain?

Vox could see the life drain from Alastor’s eyes. The more he choked, the less vibrant those eyes became. Like fresh cherries turning into wax right in front of him. Alastor was going to die and it would be by his hand.

“Well it seems like this is the end, old pal.”, Vox said, glaring at Alastor, looking down at him. Alastor’s face was turning a purplish red. He was trying to get a gasp of Oxygen in his system but with no luck. Everything was going dark. Vox came close to Alastor’s face. For a split moment, Alastor thought he was going to kiss him one final time. All he did however was whisper something into his ear.

“Any last words?”.

There were many things he wanted to say to Vox. Some of deep regret for treating him so badly. Some of newfound respect, for being to kill his mentor, closest ally, and the first person he’d ever met in Hell. And finally, there was this deep overwhelming sadness. That he could have been happy this whole time, and just chose not to be. He didn’t say any of that though. With labored breath, tears streaming down his face, Alastor looked up at Vox…and smiled a genuine smile.

“I miss you,Vincent.”.

Vox nearly hesitated, his grip still firm yet his eyes growing soft. He smiled at Alastor, hands still clasped around him.

“I missed you too Alastor.” Vox said, no malice in his voice. Just as soft and sweet as when Alastor met him.

And as Alastor saw his vision blacken, and as the last of his breath exited his lips, he listened to Vox sooth him to sleep.

“Goodnight, old friend. Sleep tight.”.

….
Alastor woke up with a start. He was in a cold sweat, and he was breathing heavily. He felt his neck. He didn’t feel any pain, even though he struggled to breathe. Soon, however, he calmed his breathing and looked around. There was no fairground, no mattress, no Vox. He was at home, in his bed, in his house. He was safe. He was sound.

He breathed in and out. In and out…in and…god the smell. What was that smell? It smelled repugnant. And not the usual repugnance of the rotten meat he liked to indulge in. He was beginning to wonder where the smell was when…he suddenly felt a sinking feeling set in his stomach. He remembered the dream well. The remembered the Fair portion and the choking portion, but he nearly forgot the portion in the middle.

“No. Please.”, Alastor said, feeling a shiver crawl up his spine. He felt weak. He wanted to vomit. He couldn’t have…THAT be his reaction to that part of the dream. It didn’t mean anything did it? It couldn’t have. That would imply that not only was he wrong about…everything about himself, but it meant that his dream had some layer of truth.

Alastor closed his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest like a tympani. He braced himself and looked under the covers of his bed.

Both the covers and his crotch were wet, but not from sweat. The substance on his pants was sticky, and translucent. And it smelled awful. And as much as he wanted to deny it, he knew it came from him.

Alastor quickly ran to the bathroom, clutching both hands to his lips. He didn’t make it to the toilet. The sink was his only option. He wretched, the stuff coming out of him was a reddish brown and smelt like rotting meat and bile. He wretched again, the sludge coming out of him pooling into the bathroom sink. He wanted to stop, he wanted some relief. But everytime he thought about his dream and how…GOOD it made him feel, more of the stuff just kept coming out.

Soon however, he could do nothing but wretch. After heaving a few more times and realizing that nothing else was going to come out, he decided to try and get a hold of himself. Plus he was pretty sure that the sink was already flooded and more vomit was going to cause it to spill onto the bathroom floor. He looked up at himself in the mirror. He could feel himself shaking. The smell of vomit, sweat and semen clung onto him like velcro. His eyes were somehow reddened even more with the appearance of blood veins, and the bags under his eyes made him look like he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a while. Which in a way was kind of true.

Alastor could only stare at himself in the mirror. So many things were swirling around in his head. Why did he think of Vox that way? He never thought of…ANYONE, that way. Why now? Why after everything? The little reminders and memories were one thing. The constant gnawing void inside him was another. But a dream that intense and realistic and terrible and wonderful and comforting and-

There were so many ways he could describe it. In some ways he would like too and others he wouldn’t.

Alastor’s eyes blackened in rage, his antlers becoming large and the atmosphere around him became noisy and filled with static. He growled loudly into before balling his hands into fists.

With a blood curdling scream, Alastor punched the bathroom mirror, shattering it into a plethora of shards. Some were immediately covered in the blood from his glass cut knuckles. Some fell in the pool of vomit in the sink, some just fell into the floor.

“YOU JUST CAN’T SEEM TO LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE, CAN YOU?!”, Alastor shouted, clenching his bloody fist. The shout shook the room, causing some items to crash to the floor and for the vomit pool in the sink to ripple.

“I have tried these past few agonizing months to just get away from you! To cut your pathetic face out of my life! To forget about your weak, simple, idiotic person. To leave me alone! What have you done to me?! Every morning I see something that reminds me of you, I eat food that reminds me of you, I see colors that remind me of you! I thought I could at least get solace in slumber, but no, you can’t even give me that! NOT EVEN SLEEP WILL RELEASE ME FROM YOU!”.

Alastor began to pull the hair on his ears, a stream of frustrated, ugly tears. “You think that just because I had fun with you means I missed you? That I ever liked you? No! No, I could never like something like you. A sniveling little worm. Needing assistance from me! Taking and taking and taking until there’s nothing left.”.

Alastor laughed. A crazed bitter laugh. “You're a greedy little shit! I should have left you there as soon as you entered Hell. Left you to die like the quivering, veiny aborted fetus you are. But I was kind. I pitied you. I pitied you and this is the thanks I get?!”.

Alastor muttered a noise that even he couldn’t make out. Something between a small chuckle and a sob. His eyes began darting around, as if every single eye in the world was staring at him naked. Looking down on him. Exposing him. Violating him.

“You like seeing me like this, do you?”, Alastor said, the world seemed to spin around him. He felt dizzier and dizzier as if the room were spinning. He leaned on one of the walls, trying to breathe in and out in a steady way, but failing. “This must be a sick fetish for you. ‘Poor little Alastor still needs me. His reaction to all this will be priceless.’ Well I don’t you and I-i’m not afraid. I’ll never stoop to your low. Never!”.

His knees felt shaky and he felt himself begin to buckle. The dizziness continued. His head began to hurt and he began to go into another cold sweat. “So come on out then! Come on out! I know you’re watching me. I don’t know how, but you probably are. With your new timey-wimey technological bullshit. So come on out! Come on out so I can face you! Come on out you coward!”.

Alastor’s voice was so big but his body felt so small. He wanted to curl up in a hole, safe and warm, where no one could bother him ever again. His stomach began to gurgle, and he could feel bile rise up in his throat. He swallowed as much as he could but a bit of it managed to trickle out.

Alastor stared at the walls, the shadows dancing in the dark of the bathroom. They all looked so familiar. Only difference was that one was taller and the other short. The short one sobbed and looked up at the taller one.

“Please, please I want to go see him. I want to say sorry.”, the short one cried.

“Never.”, The tall one replied. “We warned him of this. To not get too attached to the citizens here. That was our rule and he broke it. He deserved what he got.”.

“But he was so nice to us. No one has ever been nice to us.”.

“He’s a person! You know the minds of men can’t be trusted, especially those with a silver spoon born in their mouths.”.

The little one cried, his body wracking with sobs. “But he was different. He liked us, he really liked us. He wasn’t like the others who used us. He liked us!”.

“No one truly liked us. In life or in death. Why should we start expecting them to? You’re such a pathetic, ungrateful little creature. Wanting humans to like you soooo much. Every time that happened though? Pain, punishment, rejection. You know this yet still try.”.

Alastor growled. “I can’t stoop that low. Imagine if word got out. Hell would be in hysterics.The press would be all over the place harassing me.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand “And even if he did like me…how could we…I…expect forgiveness from anyone. He’ll probably just shout at me and close the door in my face.”.

He sat there for at least then minutes before letting out another scream of frustration, using his claws to scratch his face. Enough for the man’s face to bleed. Make it stop! Make it stop! He just wanted to forget. For Vox’s memory to disappear and never come back. If only he could pick away the parts of him that still remember Vox so fondly. Just find the places where Vox infected his brain and throw them away. Just throw it all away.

Suddenly, Alastor’s eyes shot open, a lightbulb turning on inside his head. His smile began to widen, not out of a forced need to keep it on his face, but a genuine feeling of jubilation. But of course! Why didn’t he think of it before?! The answer was right in front of him the whole time yet here he was unable to see it until now? All he needed was something thin and sharp. And he knew where he could get something just like that. Quickly he ran to his nightstand and opened the drawer. There it was. The antenna headband that Vox had given him a week before their falling out. Perfectly pristine, just like he left him. If he could just rip one of them out. He tugged, and tugged, trying to disconnect the metal rod from the wires. With desperation, I gave one final tug, until finally, the antenna got free.

Alastor felt a new type of excitement now. With this one thing, he could wipe away the memory of that little cretin once and for all. It was kinda ironic. A creation by someone he began to loathe would be his greatest salvation.

He remembered hearing how the procedure was done from old acquaintances at his work. The patient would come, suffering from some mental malady they couldn’t shake off. Shell-shock, hysteria, schizophrenia, any sickness of the mind that could be diagnosed could be fixed. All the doctors at the mental asylum had to do was stick a tiny hooked needle under the eye, reaching the brain. Slowly, carefully, the doctors would slowly use the hook to remove a small part of the brain. And just like that, they were cured. No more screaming or crying or bad memories. Just calm. Pure unadulterated bliss.

Now it was true that Alastor was no doctor. He barely trusted them as much as he could throw them. But his fingers were nimble and thin. So much so that he was sure that he could do the job on his own. After all, the process was so simple. All he had to do was slip the thin antenna under his eyeball, poke around in his brain and just…tear it out. And that would be that. No more Vox. No more bad thoughts. Just peace.

Alastor ran to the bathroom and used his bloodied hand to pick up one of the mirror shards to see his reflection. Alastor bit his lip, blood dripping down his chin. This would hurt. This would hurt a lot. He hesitated as he stretched one of his eyelids and put the sharp bit of the antenna under his eyeball. This would hurt so much. His heart beat frantically as he thought how much pain he will be in.

But it will all be worth it in the end. If he could just tear it out, he could be free. He just needed to be brave. If he could just tear it out, he would be ok.

The shadows watched over him, conversing at him. Watching their body about to do what needed to be done.

“You don’t need that bastard. He would have only dragged you down if you joined him. Only gotten in the way of things.”, The tall shadow lectured him, voice booming inside Alastor’s head. “Be quick about it. Be quick and tear it out.”

The little shadow sobbed, his voice barely above a whisper. “The pain is too great! I can’t bear to live like this anymore. Please, save me from this terrible grief and tear it out! Tear it out! I beg of you.”.

The antenna was grazing his eye now, barely touching the conjunctiva. He was scared, so scared. This would hurt, this would hurt so bad. But he had to do it, he had to. His breath quickened as he tried his best to angle the antenna properly. All the while the voices of the shadows became more fervent.

“Just tear it out, You never liked him anyway…”

“Please, tear it out, I can’t bear it anymore, please!”.

Tear it out…

Tear it out…!

TEAR IT OUT…!

Alastor screamed as the antennae entered his eye.

….

The first thing that Alastor noticed was the near blinding lights above him. This wasn’t death. He knew that. He got up and stretched his body, looking around. The second thing that Alastor noticed was that he was in Rosie’s Emporium. There was no one around. It seemed to be closed. And the last thing he noticed was that his vision was impaired, and something seemed to be covering his left eye.

Alastor’s ears perked up as he heard footsteps come into the room. Sure enough, there was Rosie in her usual red and mauve ensemble, though she seemed to be wearing a new hat. She was holding a tray with a bowl on it. Rosie’s voids for eyes widened as she noticed that Alastor was awake.

“Oh, you’re awake!”, She explained coming over to him. “How you ya’ doing darling?”.

Alastor rolled his eyes and looked away from her. Alastor and Rosie had both their good and bad days. As much as Rosie was fun, fanciful and friendly, she was also quite demanding and condescending. It didn’t help that his soul was in her hands, as even as Alastor had a fair amount of freedom, when Rosie could get demanding, she was demanding. So seeing him after he had a little…episode was a conflicting set of emotions to say the least.

“Let me guess.”, Alastor said with a sigh. “You were the one who found me after my whole Lobotomy stunt.”.

Rosie nodded, a small smirk on her black lips. “I knew that something bad happened to ya as soon as you stabbed yaself in the eye. Believe me, I didn’t think it was that bad at first. I just thought ‘Oy Gavult, what has Alastor done this time?’ Come to find out ya bathroom mirror’s broken, ya sink was filled with puke and you were lying unconscious with…this thingy in your eye.”, She held up the antenna and threw it behind her, it ending up in a trash bin.

“Can you believe that’s not the craziest thing I’ve ever done?”, Alastor asked playfully.

Rosie faked thinking for a bit before responding. “I definitely believe it." she responded.

Alastor laughed. As much as he and his soul bearer butted heads, he must admit, she had a sharp wit. He sighed though, remembering his damaged eye. “Is it-?”

“No, it's not permanently damaged. At worst ya will need to bandage and disinfect for one week and then wear an eye patch for another.”, Rosie said. “We can get it in the traditional black. But if ya want something that matches your tastes, I can pull some strings, see what I can do.”.

She held out the bowl she was carrying on her tray. “Sinner blood soup? I just made a whole pot. I added extra offal and green onions, just the way you like it.”.

Alastor took the bowl and ate it greedily. He was hungry. Not the empty feeling that he’d been feeling either. It was actual hunger. Alastor licked up the last drops of soup from the bowl. “I feel like I haven’t eaten in days. How long was I out for?”.

Rosie thought about it. “Twenty-four hours, give or take a few. I think ya just passed out. From pain or exhaustion, I don’t know. All I know is, ya were gone for a while. What was all that about, anyway?.”.

Alastor looked away. He couldn’t tell her all that. Everything about it made him feel too exposed and uncomfortable. “I…don’t wish to divulge that information. Let’s just say that the past few months were not that great.”.

Rosie shrugged and put the bowl away in her kitchen sink. “Suit yourself. By the way, I suggest you take a shower. You do not smell good.”.

Alastor sighed, a bit of frustration in his voice. “Yes mam’.”.

As he walked upstairs to where the bathroom was, stripped bare and turned on the hot water, he began thinking about things all over again, thankfully now with a clear head. While he did clearly have regrets, for the most part he realized what is done is done and there was nothing he could do about it. He said what he said and there was no taking it back. Still, a small part, cried out at wanting to make amends. It was strange feeling remorse for his actions, even if it was tiny, but it seemed that there was nothing he could do to get rid of it. Not now anyway.

He hoped that with time, this small lingering feeling of guilt and confusion would go away. He sighed and closed his eyes. Ruminating over potential squandered.