AN: Don't worry, I'm working on my other story. I just had to get this started and out of my head. Though the place isn't specified, the time is supposed to be around the late 1800s early 1900s. I hope you like it. There really isn't enough for this pairing ^^

There is a small town, more isolated than most, surrounded by wilderness. Fog rolls down the mountain each morning. It's like a comforting blanket; surrounding the town. The forests are bright green all year round and there is plenty of game for the village to survive.

The townsfolk are happy, content with their lives. But like all small villages, they have their fare share of tales and legends. Some are good, some are bad, the most famous one being on how the village was founded but there is another one nearly just as famous.

Deep in the forest, far past the area where the men hunt, lives a monster. Or so the elderly say. Apparently, this monster isn't a spawn of Satan but Lucifer himself, cursed now to walk the earth of men. No one goes out far enough to even see if the devil truly lives in the words for fear of being tortured and drug down to Hell itself.

But none of the adults believe it. Not really. It is simply a story to keep children from running off and force them to stay in bed. Michael was once one of those children and that story honestly terrified him but like most things, he grew out of it. Besides, he was the mayor's son and he couldn't be that wimpy kid who still hid under his quilt.

Several years later and Michael was now probably the most liked person, besides his father, in the town. He was kind but stern and reacted well with the children. He was also brilliant, athletic, and not to bad looking with his bright eyes and black hair.

His mother sadly died when he was only two years old so it was just himself and his father. However, that was enough for him and he enjoyed his life. He became an excellent marksman at a young age and now went out hunting, selling his kills to the town butcher to cut up and sell to the people.

One Saturday, as he always did, he went out hunting. His boots were laced, trousers on and cap tilted up. A jacket hung over his shoulders to keep away the light chill that early morning. He loosely carried his rifle in one arm as he took a puff off a cigarette that he held in his left hand. A bag hung over his shoulder and he had a bit of equipment to make some more snares.

He checked his current ones and four out of six had caught rabbits and squirrels. He fixed the snares, put the animals in the bag, and then hung it up in one of the higher leaves of a tree. There weren't any bears in the area and the wolves didn't come down this far so he didn't have to worry about his game getting stolen.

Michael had killed a few deer but not very many hung in this area so it was rare and normally happened during Spring or Summer anyway. It was Fall right now.

He went off, crouching down when he thought he heard something but so far, nothing appeared. There was a bird that flew over head but it was to far up and it wasn't worth wasting bullets. The forest seemed strangely quiet today which was odd. By this point, Michael had normally caught something else.

Still walking, he probably should've turned around and tried a different direction or given up for today but he didn't. He didn't notice that he had passed the normal hunting boundaries and was heading in to the supposedly cursed part of the forest.

Michael kept going when he suddenly stopped as a certain sound reached his ears. It sounded light a slight growl, defiantly a type of animal but not one he was familiar with. Carefully, he moved forward until he saw a small clearing where a type of wild cat had just bitten down on a rabbit's throat. The cat had little black tuffs on the tips of its ears and large black paws. Michael thought it might be a lynx but he had never actually seen one before. They weren't supposed to be native to this area.

Still, the animal could be used for food and even if it didn't taste good, Michael could still take the rabbit. All the large cat had done was kill it. He positioned his rifle, narrowing his eyes slightly as he aimed and got ready to fire at the animal.

However, he stopped when a person moved into his field of vision. The person wore a cloak that hid their face and all of their body. Whoever they were, they must've been pretty stupid by getting that close to the lynx thought Michael.

And yet, he became even more surprised when the person petted the cat and then bent down, picking up the rabbit. Without even meaning to, Michael took a step forward and a branch cracked loudly underneath his feet.

Jumping to the side, he hid behind the tree, his heart beating rapidly. He wanted to know who this person was but at the same time he was a bit frightened as well. It was only at this part that Michael suddenly remembered the tale of the devil in the forest.

No! That was silly. It was just some person, maybe passing through. Yes, that had to be it.

Michael turned back towards the field then, deciding that he might as well approach the figure, when he realized there wasn't anyone there. Wildly looking around, Michael tried to locate the person but he couldn't see or hear anyone. He began to back up slowly, eyes moving back and forth, when he felt something sharp being pressed against his back.

"Who are you?"

There was tremor that ran through the voice Michael noticed. A part of him thought of answering the question, but the more prideful side of himself took over and he decided that whoever this was, he could take of them easily.

He spun around, knocking the blade from the cloaked figures hands and pushing the man to the ground. Michael had been right. It wasn't incredibly hard. However, he hadn't thought of the lynx. The great cat jumped onto him, the weight of the creature knocking him to the ground and making the air go right out of him.

"No! Jose!" the figure yelled as they tried to pull the cat off. However, in the struggle, the hood fell down and Michael couldn't help the gasp that escaped his lips.

It was a boy, maybe a year or two younger than Michael himself. He had bright green eyes and short, dirty, blonde hair. That was all fine, normal. It was the boy's skin that made Michael flinch. It was scarred, red, and blotchy in a lot of places. Deforming what could've been a very pretty face. The skin around the temples and neck seemed to be the most affected from what Michael could see.

The lynx was off of him at this point and Michael took that opportunity, got up, and ran as fast as he could. He left his rifle behind but he didn't notice and even if he had, he wouldn't have cared.

The stories had been right! He had never seen anyone with skin like that, inflamed, and twisted. It was disgusting, terrifying, and anyone who looked like that must've greatly displeased God one way or another.

Michael could hear shouts from behind him, telling him to stop but he didn't listen. He kept running, his athletic abilities coming in handy but in his fear he also didn't pay attention to his footing.

He fell, his pants ripping and his shirt tearing. Michael didn't care about that either but he did care about what he fell on which happened to be a very sharp, pointed rock. A cry of pain escaped his lips as he got up and tried to run but only succeeded in falling again.

Unwilling tears pricked his eyes as he looked down at his knee. Blood was spreading and he could see rocks, dirt, and a blade of grass stuck or lodged into the wound. He quickly tried wiping away the contents of the forest floor and get up again but that didn't help. The entire leg hurt like hell and Michael wouldn't have been surprised if he had pulled or sprained something.

In his pain, he hadn't notice that the boy had caught up with him, the lynx still by his side. "Please—"

Michael immediately spun around and tried to back away. "Get back!" he yelled.

"I don't want to hurt you though," the boy replied. He looked hurt that Michael kept running away and knelt down as if to appear less menacing. He even said, "Shoo Jose!" and the lynx went away. "I won't hurt you. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to frighten you."

The boy crept forward again but this time Michael didn't move away. However, every fiber of his being was on edge, ready to bolt if he had to. The boy knelt beside him, a hand coming out from underneath the cloak to inspect the leg. The hand's skin was just as damaged as the boy's face and Michael guessed his entire body looked like that.

"I think you might've broken your ankle. It looked like you fell awkwardly," said the boy and Michael realized that he hadn't gotten that much farther ahead. Though not strong, it was clear this one was quick. "Let me help you."

He tried reaching towards Michael but the son of the mayor still flinched away. However, as he continued to look into the boy's pleading eyes he slowly let him help him up. As he tried to put pressure on his foot, he only then could tell that it probably was broken like the boy had said.

Fear still gripped him and Michael still wasn't sure about this boy but he let him guide him deeper into the forest even though his senses told him he should go in the other direction. The going was slow and painful, taking a lot longer than either would've liked.

However, they eventually got to what looked like a small, roughly made home. Before he even got inside, Michael could tell that it was a one-room place. It was strange, there not being a bathroom or any type of lights. Even though he had grown up with candles, the town had always had running water since he was alive and electricity had arrived for them when he was about six.

The boy led Michael to the bed which was really just cloth that was packed with straw. When the boy took off the cloak, there was more distorted, exposed skin and the cloths that he wore were clearly handmade.

He moved around, gathering a small bucket of water from one corner and a roll of cloth as well. As he went about, Michael couldn't help but let curiosity get the best of him as he asked, "What's your name?"

"Lucifer."

The name made Michael gulp slightly as his thoughts moved back to this boy being the devil. "Your parents actually called you that?"

"Yes. What's wrong with it?" asked Lucifer, a slightly confused look coming across his face.

"Well it's just that . . . it's the devil's name. My guess is it's not exactly a good thing to be named after him," replied Michael uncomfortably.

"What's a devil?"

Now Michael was really confused. "He's the leader of Hell. The opposite of God pretty much."

Lucifer laughed slightly as he said, "You're not making much sense. I honestly don't understand this God or Hell stuff that you're talking about."

"Did your parents never . . ."

"My mom raised me here. She told me to never ever go to a village because they wouldn't take kindly to my . . . condition I guess is what you'd call it."

"Where is your mom?" asked Michael.

"She died two years ago. Her grave is behind the house. It took forever to finally carve everything into the rock for her gravestone."

Sympathy washed over Michael. This kid had been out here by himself with zero company for two whole years? And before that the only other person he ever saw was his mother? "What happened to your father?"

"I don't really know. Mom once said that he left us but that's all she ever said about him She didn't like to talk about him."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright. I don't mind. What about you? Where do you live?"

"In a town not far from here."

"There's really a town that close?"

"Um, well yes," replied Michael. "You mean you've never just gone out and explored the area around here?"

"No. There wasn't ever any reason to and I'm content with my life style. So who are you in this village?"

"I'm the son of the mayor." At seeing Lucifer's confused face he quickly said, "He's like the leader of the town. My mom died when I was about two."

"Ah," Lucifer simply stated, nodding slightly. He then bent down, pressing a dry piece of wood that had been cut fairly straight against the leg that might be broken. He tightly began to wrap the cloth around the foot, ankle, and leg, muttering sorry every time Michael winched. He seemed to understand a lot about broken bones but Michael didn't ask.

When that was done with, Lucifer then got the water and a clean rag to begin cleaning out Michael's knee. Michael noted that despite what he might have thought at first, Lucifer's skin was pretty soft and he was extremely gentle as he cleaned the area.

Bending away slightly and looking at the wound from a few different angles, he finally seemed happy with the results and began putting up everything.

"You should stay off of that for a while and I'd suggest not going hunting for a while," said Lucifer. However, as he turned to look back at Michael, he immediately rushed to his side, pushing him back on to the bed. "And where do you think you're going?"

"Home of course."

"How long do you usually stay out hunting?"

"Why does that—"

"How long?"

"Until about mid day, sometimes a bit later than that but why does that matter?"

"It's still pretty early in the morning. You can rest for a little while here and then you can finally start hobbling back to your town," replied Lucifer.

"I really should be getting back though—"

"Please."

The small word interrupted Michael as he looked up at him. A slightly pained expression had appeared on his face that made Michael worry and frown. Lucifer elaborated by saying, "I haven't talked with someone for so long. Please, just . . . can you please stay a bit longer?"

Michael looked up at him, at the large, wet, green eyes, and the suddenly very fragile looking form. He made Michael think of a small puppy, lost with no one to be with and only wanting at least one friend.

It was at that moment that Michael couldn't believe that anyone would ever call Lucifer a monster or the devil.

"Yeah," he said with a small smile. "I'll stay a bit longer."