This is in the same AU that "Broken Dollhouses, Broken Houses" takes place in but can be read alone.

Songs this was inspired by will be down in the Author's Note at the end.

Warnings: yaoi, sexual themes, religious themes, attempted rape, really badly translated English to Italian (I used Google Translate because I only know one language), gore, character death, horror, I don't own these characters, NO FLAMES

Please enjoy my dears!


The scenery passed by in a green, blue blur.

I hardly remembered what happened -waking up, my morning routine, getting dressed, eating. Getting in the car. I remembered none of it. But I knew it was happening, I knew where I was now. In the passenger seat of Nonno's red, Fiat Spider, him in the driver's seat, the crystal skies and bright, green trees of L'Aquila, Italy, meaningless as we drove. "Noi siamo qui,"(We're here) Nonno said, parking in a street spot in front of the church. A small, small church, leftover from the eleventh century with white wash walls outside, beautifully maintained, narrow, stain glass windows and new, brown roofing that contrasted with the old exterior of the church located half a mile from Parrocchia di Santa Giusta. The big wooden doors opened, a man with tanned, wrinkled skin and white hair that retreated from the crown of his head stepping outside in the hot sun, shielding his eyes as he looked at my grandfather's car. "Questo è il parroco, Lovino,"(That's the priest, Lovino) Nonno said as he turned off the car and the air conditioning. "Lui era abbastanza gentile da consentire di utilizzare la sua chiesa e quindi si può...purificare se stessi" (He was nice enough to let you use his church so you could...purifyyourself).

"Sì, lo so, Nonno. Gli dirò: 'Grazie'," (Yes, I know, Nonno. I'll tell him 'Thank you') I murmured, staring at the priest. The church. I had a bad feeling in my gut and I fisted my hand in the fabric of my button down shirt, around my middle. Nonno got out of the car but I continued to stare at the church. The priest that was staring back.

"Lovino," he said sternly, reaching in the car and pulling me out by the elbow, "Affrettatevi, non dobbiamo perdere tempo. Il sacerdote è in attesa e il demone è in agguato. Lo sento"(Hurry, we mustn't waste time. The priest is waiting and the demon is lurking. I can feel it).

I could feel it, too, but I wouldn't let Nonno know that. He lead me to the priest, who kept his eyes on me even though it was Nonno speaking to him, not me.

"Sì, ho capito," (Yes, I understand) the priest said to Nonno, laying a hand on Nonno's strong, broad, shoulder. He turned to me, "Lovino, nessuno è al suo interno. Sentitevi liberi di pregare e Lancisi del demone che è stato ti tormenta. Purificati del suo peccato" (Lovino, no one is inside. Feel free to pray and cast yourself of the demon that has been tormenting you. Cleanse yourself of its sin).I was tempted to contradict the man of God but I didn't. "Che tu possa trovare sollievo" (May you find relief). I simply nodded. They let me go as soon as I was inside the church with no air conditioning, making it feel stifling, and they closed the door with a firm "bang". Knowing I couldn't escape this -even though I wanted to, reminding myself this was the right thing to do -even though something inside me kept on saying that it was absolutely not the right thing, I walked up between the pews, my hands folded and my arms tucked against my chest. To the left of the altar was an alcove with a statue of the Virgin Mother, white candles in front of her statue.

I lit the white candle before dropping to my knees, knees clanking on the marble. Feeling the cold seep through my denim pants, I shivered. My palms, sweaty, desperate, palms, pressed against each other, a rosary with pink beads and a silver crucifix woven between the "holy" steeple of my tanned fingers. Breath wheezed passed my lungs -hiss, hiss, through barely parted lips. Words. The breathy, monotone symphony of them -the litany, rising to the top of the ceiling only to fall flat by gravity and a different type of glass ceiling -were shaped into prayers carefully constructed thousands of years ago. Prayers falling from my barely parted lips, lips tumbling and tongue tripping in my hurry to form them. Brow furrowed and knees aching, everything aching, the vaulted ceilings making everything echo, vibrate -hopefully -to Heaven. To God. I couldn't care less about the priests that had escaped the empty church, running away from a silence so thick, a clock -the relentless tick, tick, tick, time's running out -couldn't even dare to break.

Pressing palms together tighter, praying quicker, words ceased to make sense. Slurring.

"What are you praying for?"

The new voice -deep, masculine -a voice that made thighs and chests hurt, a shiver going down my spine in guilty desire, a press beginning in my abdomen like a spiteful lover, suddenly broke my concentration. I knew that voice. The one that made my skin heat and blood chill, tongue to neck and words whispered in ears, lures and taunts and lies sweet as honey -drenched in honey -and deadly like arsenic. A voice that would demand, one minute, to "spread your legs, corazón, spread them wide for me" then, the next, "Do it, Lovi, push him down the stairs! If he wasn't around -if he was fucking dead! -you'd be Nonno's favorite!"

The voice only I could hear.

"Go away, you're not real!" I hissed, rosary clanking as my hands shook, trembling like the rest of my body.

"Oh, Lovi," came the reply, fingertips -so cold they were hot -grazing his cheek, "who told you that? The doctors? They don't understand what isn't right in front of their faces. The priests? Did they tell you you could pray me away? They don't understand us. This. It's all black and white to them, mi tomate."

Flinching back on instinct -not my instinct, theirinstinct -and fighting against the urge to submit myself to this devil of man, my fingers squeezed together. I could not give in to temptation. I could not let this evil thing control me, use me,dominate me. Especially in a church. "I-."

"Look at me!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms out at his sides, his brown wings flapping in response, "I am in a church! God's 'sacred ground' my ass!"

"I know!" I snapped, tears making the images in front of me blur, my throat sticky and hot. My right hand gripped the rosary, the other hand pushing aside the cotton of my shirt to take out a gold crucifix blessed by the Pope himself. "This...with this you can't get in my head," the words tumbling from my lips shakily, finally able to look up at the inhuman green eyes, that were the color of newly printed money, that glistened with shock and ever present mania, that were boring into my very soul, "You mean nothing to me, Antonio."

Green eyes, bright like newly printed money and spit shined emeralds, with horizontal pupils that belonged on a goat -not a man -widened. His ever present happy smile, one that gave off a terrifying impression of the insane, all consuming, energy, fell into a look of depression before contorting. Jaw clenched and brows furrowed in a way that betrayed his anger, fury that had never been directed in my general vicinity until then, Antonio lunged forward, his hand grasped the little, gold crucifix and there was a hiss and the sharp, metallic smell of flesh burning. Antonio yanked his hand back, holding it as the skin of his palm bubbled, gurgled and blistered, black blood bursting from the legions and pooling in the creases of his hand. It flowed over the sides, down his wrist, between fingers and down the tips of his claw like nails. "Fucking cunt!" the demon snarled, glaring at the crucifix resting against my collarbone. It felt too hot on my skin and I struggled not to rip the thing off, hearing it hiss like a snake; Antonio snarling and the crucifix hissing reminded me of two predators fighting over chunks of rotting meat.

"You can't control me anymore, Antonio," I whimpered, clutching the rosary in both hands once again. Eyes dropped to that strong jaw filled with enlarged, piranha like teeth, strong nose, full lips, the wild curls framing his face, the golden horns that curled backwards towards the back of his head, his bulging chest, biceps, his abs, the coarse brown fur that led to his hips and legs, covered entirely with that same coarse fur and hooves to match. In addition to those other worldly features, he had claws, leather wings that had the same consistency as a bat's and a brown, double pronged tail.

"Control you?! What lies have these humans been telling you?!" I didn't answer, my eyes on my hands, the rosary, Antonio's hooves, back at my hands. "You cannot wear that thing forever, mi tomate," the demon snarled, glaring at the cross more than me but his eyes contained fury towards both, "eventually you will take it off and, when you do, I'll be right there, ready to take you again. And again. And again." The threat was supposed to make me balk in fear, horror, not shiver in want, which I did instead of the former. He heard Antonio's hooves click away from me. There was a ripping noise as the demon opened a gateway back to Hell. The muffled sound of tortured screams echoing in the empty church before another rip, followed by silence, indicated the gateway's close and Antonio's departure.

I didn't know how to feel. The priest, and his family, said he was supposed to be relieved. All he felt was sick, gripping the crucifix around his neck and seriously considering yanking the fucker off.

"Lovino." I jumped, a hand clapping my shoulder, tearing my eyes away from the rosary clanking in my shaky hands to look up at the aging priest. "E 'fatto?" (Is it done?)

"Sì, Padre," I responded, bowing my head. My face turned away, "il demone è andato. Si dovrebbe benedire la vostra chiesa" (the demon is gone. You should bless your church).

"Sono d'accordo. Che Dio sia con voi, Lovino" (I agree. May God be with you, Lovino).

"E con te, Padre" (And with you, Father).


As with everything I touched, life became a scourge for everyone around me. A plague. For all those I could have loved. All light from my life, no matter how hellish and black it was before, vanished completely, making me an angel of death for who ever came near me. A mannequin, a lifeless doll that couldn't feel anything except its own empty chest cavity. The church where I had seen Antonio for the beautiful, miserable last time, and the priests inside, had burned down. Upon hearing the new, my stomach had jerked and I had almost knelt over on the spot to vomit because I knew, God I KNEW, it was Antonio's doing. His wrath, his rage, the violent lash out to try and get my attention. Then there was Feliciano, cheerful, happy go lucky Feli, who was slowly sinking into depression, madness, or both. This was not Antonio's doing, but I knew it was somehow my fault all the same.

The hallow ache inside me grew and grew and grew and grew and grew and grew, until I could no longer recognize myself. A distorted image in a broken, fun house mirror. I felt like I was being eaten alive. Rotting like an aging corpse from the very depths of me, of who I was. Everything was hurting to the point where I could feel nothing. All I wanted was for it to stop -it was human, right? It was only natural to want to avoid pain no matter what...right? -so I filled my outter holes to fill the inside ones. I drank myself stupid most nights, too drunk to remember what happened after the sixth drink, unable to remember the name of the men I let fuck me, too drunk to recognize that sticking a syringe full of mystery liquid in my skin was a bad idea.

I was destroying myself but I didn't mind. That was the point, after all. Destroy "old you" with a sledgehammer until the old wounds ceased to matter anymore, replaced by new wounds. Better wounds. Ones that hurt more, ones Imade, that I controlled because, goddamn it, I had control!

When IT happened, I was walking -no, shuffling, I could barely walk at this point in my life -down the street, hugging my chilled body as the street lamps' orange light made my eyes hurt and my sunken cheeks look exaggerated. My eyes were glassy, vision foggy. Strung out on something that made image after image flash in front of me and made me anxious "let's do something, gotta do something, gottadosomethingnownowNOW!" anxious. I had to walk at an old man's pace so I wouldn't stumble drunkenly and fall on my face.

"Hey, baby, where the party at?" I ignored the man cat calling on the stoop of a house. "Come on, don't be like that. I can treat you real nice if you wanna do me a favor first and-."

"Fuck. Off," I growled, knowing that type of guy wasn't good news, even in my inebriated state. A total creep. The foreigner -his Italian was choppy and he was a pale blonde -pushed off the step, jogging up to me and grabbing my elbow.

"Why you gotta be like that-!"

"I'm not 'like' anything!" he spat, whirling around and trying to pull my arm away, "Don't fucking touch me!"

"Come on, baby, I got money on me-."

"Let me fucking go, you cunt faced bitch!" I snapped, somehow ending up cornered in a dark alley, "I'm not a fucking whore!"

"Just let me fucking do it-."

"No!" I snarled, ignoring the four fifty euro banknotes thrown at me as the man began to fumble for my belt, "St-Stop it! Now!"

"Hold still! Damn," the man said, breaking my jean zipper as he tugged on it harshly. With a choked cry that was almost like a sob, I punched him, removing my hips from his grabby hands. As people tend to be after being punched in the face, the man growled, angry, and shoved me against the wall.

My head hit the brick wall, tears stinging my blurry eyes and blood coating my teeth as I accidentally bit down on my tongue. I'm going to die...I hope, after he rapes me, I'll die. My hands uselessly pushed against the man's chest, a last attempt to stop it. He only bunched up my t-shirt beneath my arm pits, hearing the golden crucifix clink. He stared, transfixed, before he fisted the crucifix and tugged. I felt a sting on the back of my neck as the necklace chain broke and he pocketed the necklace.

Almost immediately, I felt the weight on my chest keeping me from breathing -from living! -disappear. My inhuman sense of numbness replaced by the longing to have Antonio hold me, speak to me, anything -an emotion suppressed for days, which was actually three months -and absolute fear of the man about to rape me. No, no, no! Antonio, you bastard, help me! I didn't think my demon would respond, after all that he -no. No, there he was. A pressure, a separate presence in the back of my head, an outsider looking in, through my eyes.Antonio...Antonio, mi amore, mi amore! "HELP ME!"

"Damn it, you bitch!" the foreigner snarled, halting the unbuttoning of his pants to take out a switch blade, placing it on my throat. "Scream again and I'll fucking cut open your throat! I don't mind fucking a dead body!"

My involuntary whimper of fear became unnecessary because I felt Antonio get angry. I felt the presence in my mind enrage, the shadows in the alley darkening and I sobbed in relief. I would be ok. "He's here..." I mumbled, over joyed that my love came back, still cared enough to come back, "Oh, chigi, he's here! Grazie! Grazie!"

"What are you-?!"

"Mi amore, it's mi amore!" I sobbed, unable to calm my growing hysteria, bending at the waist and watching tears fall off my nose, "He's going to kill you for touching me-!"

"Shut up!" my attacker shouted, slamming me against the wall, afraid of my conviction and the excitement in my eyes, the switch blade nicking my throat. It nicked into the fragile skin, a warm rivulet of blood dripping down my neck and into the dip of my collar bone. "You crazy-?!"

"Voy a matarte..." (I'll kill you)

"What-?!"

"I'll kill you. I'll kill you. I WILL KILL YOU; VOY A MATARTE!" I giggled when I saw inhuman, green eyes appear from the shadows, tilting my head back and exposing my neck. I wanted Antonio to see it. See the crimson river staining my shirt, see the blade still pressed against my neck. I wanted Antonio to get angry, jealous, turn into the heartless, bastard demon I knew the Spaniard to be. I wanted to watch the perfect way Antonio tore the foreigner to shreds, to see that maggot die before Antonio took me -high on adrenaline -fucking me raw, Antonio's claws digging into my hips, my neck to my knees permanently marked with bite marks that would scar over.

I was greedy and I knew Antonio hated sharing.

Before he could scream or run, a hand shot out of the darkness. Claws dug into his neck, a growl belonging to neither man nor animal rippling through the air as the man was yanked back. As his body twisted, the blade sliced across my neck, the burning feeling radiating along the column of my throat.

Blinded by anger, and blood lust, Antonio didn't see me. He dug his claws into the other man's neck, blood leaking and dripping to the disgusting asphalt ground.

My hand on my neck, teeth gritted against he searing, searing pain, I tried to stop the bleeding. It spurted between my fingers.

Antonio slammed him against a wall belonging to another building, pinning the human. The demon lunged forward, teeth ripping into the man's shoulder. A gurgled scream went ignored as Antonio tore the flesh loose, humming as it easily slid down his throat.

The pain made my knees go slack. I slid down the wall, whimpering.

Antonio chuckled, baring bloodied teeth.

The side of my body hit asphalt. Antonio thrust his hand in the man's abdomen with a wet squish. He delighted in the blood that coated all the way to his elbow.

My neck went numb. My blood suddenly felt too warm -hot, burning, sick.

Antonio gripped the spine of his prey, throwing it to the ground. In a puddle of filth.

Grey crawled its way into my vision. Blurring. Antonio straddled his victim, claws tearing into him.

I couldn't feel my legs. Or my arms. I was dying and I was so, so terrified of being alone, without that crazy, demonic bastard that I loved with every part of my body. My soul. So much. "Ton...Tonio...Antonio..." I gurgled, fingers stretching, scratching against the dirty asphalt, trying to reach him. It didn't work. I was too tired. Too dead. "T-Ti amo..."

I watched as he looked over his shoulder, eyes widening in horror. "Lovi! Lovi, mi amor, no...no!" Hooves clanked against the ground as he hurried to me, lifting my limp body in his arms. "M-Mierda, no, Lovi, please!"

He was crying.

Why was I so stupid?

I wanted to be like Feli, love like Feli, a perfect, church going, God loving, angel like Feli. In the end, I lost my love and was the cause of a church burning down. Tears ran down into my mouth as I realized how much I had fucked up. All because I wanted to walk the path of light in order to gain the affections of those on Earth. "Sorry..."

"No, no, shhhh," Antonio said shakily, his blood soaked fingers running over my face, memorizing it for the millionth time. The last time. He tried to smile, a desperate look in his eyes. "I-It'll be alright. Don't worry, mi corazón, te amo. Everything will be o-ok."

I breathed sharply through my nose, my hand groping for the back of his neck. Once I had it, I pulled him down, a broken smile on my lips. "Love you." I kissed him. It was passionate and slow, tongues and lips as I tried to desperately suck his flavor into my soul. Blood, sin, burning, tears, iron, fresh cotton, gold, silver, something earthly like lumber or upturned soil, exotic spices, something purely Antonio and Spanish coastline. I sucked him in with a sob, squeezing his neck and bicep tightly -as tight as I could -before sighing into his mouth. My arms fell, my head dropped to the side, a veil of numbness -grey and black- falling over my eyes.

At least I died with my lips tingling from his.


I opened my eyes and was blinded. Nothing but white around me.

I sat up on my elbows and looked down. My neck and the front of my shirt was covered in blood. "Wha-?"

"You're between life and death." My head jerked up, eyes wide as I saw a young man -practically a boy -where there had been no one before. He had soft looking, blonde hair that ended at his chin, big, dark blue eyes, a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and his shoulders. He wore black, velvet pants, knee high, black leather boots with a three inch wedge heel and -at least -ten buckles and a black, long sleeved fish net shirt. The boy's all black clothes sharply contrasted with the white around us but, despite the intimidating image, the boy looked sweet, his eyes and smile gentle. "You don't have to be scared, Lovino, I won't hurt you. Promise~."

"So...I'm not dead?"

"Oh, no, you're dead. Dead as a door nail," he said with the same smile, a small giggle escaping his barely parted lips, "but this...this is where you get to decide if you want to go to Heaven or Hell."

"...That's not a very hard choice..."

The boy giggled. Again. "Lovino, let me finish~" he tsked, but he didn't sound angry at all, only playful. "If you pick Heaven, Lovino, you will become a Guardian Angel, trying to lead people in towards the light. After you work off your sins, you will become an Angel and spend eternity in Paradise."

"And...and if I don't?"

"You will be changed into a demon. After you died, your Antonio sliced his neck and offered his blood to you, hoping to turn you into a demon so he could be with you. For eternity. But your consent is need for it to work. This is where you decide. Go to Heaven and live happily or become a demon, like Antonio, and serve under one of the Seven Princes of Hell, bringing nothing but misery, death and punishment to any soul that deserves it."

By the time this boy was finished speaking, my head was buzzing. What the fuck? This has to be some sick joke my Nonno was playing on me! But...my neck still felt the phantom ache and pinch of a blade cutting through its flesh. "Who-Who are you? Who the Hell do you think you are?! How the fuck do you know this?!" I demanded, voice cracking as I edged away from him.

Oh, and his already soft face softened even more. Like a mother looking down at a babe frightened awake by a nightmare. "I was like you once. Human. Before I fell in love with the son of Lucifer. A demon. The same as you," he tucked hair behind his ear, looking bittersweet, "My name is Matthew, demon in the legion of wrath." With his words, his appearance shifted. His pupils narrowed to look like a snake's, red rimmed his irises -trapping the calming blue in the center, scars appeared on his chest -around his rib cage, shoulders and neck of teeth and a long, jagged scar went from a burn mark in the center of his abdomen and going to the bottom of his rib cage. Behind Matthew were black angel wings that smelled of burning. "All humans are guaranteed Heaven until they commit an unforgivable sin. Genocide, murder, rape, willingly becoming a demon. These painful wings that constantly burn are the punishment I -we -must bare."

I stared in awe, gasping, because even though those wings smelled of cinders, ashes and death, they were beautiful. He was beautiful. Wearing his scars like fine silk, like battle armor.

"Lovino, these are the crosses I bare," Matthew said, his wings extending as he stepped closer to me, "and these are my scars that I willingly received to become a demon and be with my love" -he motioned to his body -"and this is the mark of my legion, the army of Aamon whom I willingly fight for." Only a few feet from me, Matthew lifted his hands, turning them palm up. Burnt on his palms was a design that was pointed at the end but curved at the top, an aye in its center. "Lovino Vargas, what is your decision?"

I looked at his palms, his scars, his wings that I saw kept on molting but never running out of feathers. Did I really want that? To hear the endless cries of the damned, to bear an ugly scar on my neck from my untimely -fateful? -death, to feel the pain of sensitive feathers burning and falling off? And then I remembered. Antonio. Antonio who had cried for me, held me with firmness so I knew he was there -I wasn't crazy -and gentleness so I felt cherished. Loved. I remembered the book of rituals, which I had used to summon him, believing it to be a farce. I remembered our adventures, how care free he made me, how I laughed easily when I was around him. I remembered how easily he had made me submit to him -only him, bending me over and leaving me on a line between pleasure and extreme pain, how cold his breath was on my ear but how hot his words were, the coarse hair on his bottom half rubbing me just right as his thickness slid in and out. In and out.In and out.

I remembered how I felt when he said "I love you" for the first time and every time after that.

"I'll-I'll be with Antonio?"

"Yes...yes you will."

"Then...I choose him. I choose Hell!" I shouted, smiling brightly and grabbing Matthew's hands, "I choose Antonio!"

Matthew grinned. "I knew you would." In a swooping motion, Matthew gripped by face, smashing his lips on mine. I struggled, liquid pouring into my mouth and making everythingburn. My screams and pleas were muffled as his inhumanly long tongue pushed the liquid further down my throat. It burned and burned until I couldn't move. I curled into a fetal position, twitching, my head on Matthew's soft thighs. He wiped black liquid from his chin. "Sorry. That was the only way I could get you to drink Antonio's blood," he said, running cold hands soothingly over my trembling body, "Just accept the pain. The process will go faster that way."

I screwed up my eyes, curling into him as I trembled. I didn't know how long it took for the biting pain to ease but, when it did, I opened my eyes.

Black. Thick, black darkness. And so, so cold.

"Welcome home to the Legion of the Envious. Lovino...you will have so much fun down here."


OMG DONE!

Ok so that took me forever and sorry about the grammar mistakes. I'll try and fix all (or most) at one point. When its not so early in the morning/late at night.


IMPORTANT NOTE: for the symbol on Matthew's hands, go on deviantart and look at the symbols that Larsjacks has on their account. That's what the symbol is and I know I did a horrible job describing it.

IMPORTANT NOTE: this is how I imagine the whole legion deal going down. For humans that become demons (like Lovino and Matthew did) their deaths determine what legion they're in. Since the whole reason for Matthew's death was his rage against the people who wronged him and his lover's (Gilbert/Prussia) rage against those who wanted to take Matthew away, he belongs to the Legion of Wrath. For Lovino, since he kicked Antonio out of his life in order to be more like his brother (Envy), which led to him drinking/doing drugs, which led to his assault and, basically, his death, he belongs to the Legion of the Envious.
Gilbert and Antonio are a bit different since they were born as demons (which is why their features are more inhuman than Lovino's and Matthew's which resemble closely to fallen angels and retain A LOT of their human appearance). They belong to a certain Legion based on which one they were born in. Gilbert's father was Lucifer, for example, so that means the he belongs to the Legion of Pride, and Antonio was born from Mammon and is part of the Legion of Greed (I tried to hint to this when I was explaining what Antonio tasted like, which were mainly things that, over the years, people have killed to get -ie: cotton, gold and spices -due to their desire to increase profit via trade and what not).


Songs I was inspired by:

Embrace the Evil by Upon this Dawning

Don't Pray for Me by Asking Alexandria

Natural Born Sinner by In This Moment


I'm sorry if this offended anyone's religious beliefs. I respect your beliefs, in all honesty, and this story is just a little thing that was produced thanks to the creative juices in my head. This is not an attack on what you belief and, if you don't like it, I respect that and all I ask is that you don't leave disrespectful reviews.

Thank you and I love all of you no matter what~!

With love,

~Kitty