As all things, it began with innocent intent.
On her part, at least.
She'd only been passing by, weeks after he'd invited her to "come back soon". The invitation had been tossed to her and her sisters, an offer to sit down and chat with the young devil. She didn't know how long she'd hesitated - had it been only a few moments or had it been days that she had mulled over the risk of going to see him? - but she had overcome her fear of consequence, and tapped her knuckles against the door of the demon's upscale lair.
He had opened the door, smiling and welcoming her inside, offering cookies, offering an ear to listen to her stories and offering paper to capture her scribbling art. It was strange, Bubbles knew, to pay a visit to what should be an enemy and even stranger still, to enjoy herself while in his company.
He listened, he joked, he fed her attention and flattery. All in innocence, of course.
At first.
When the time came to take her leave, Bubbles had waved her goodbyes and was so happy to have struck a bargain to make a friend of an enemy.
The city of Townsville would never again know the mischief and terror that Him could inflict upon it, so long as Bubbles came to pay him kind visits in secret.
It seemed simple enough. Bubbles would make time for Him, and Townsville would know a joyful reprieve from his malice. The girl saw the arrangement as no sacrafice, not a burden, nor a duty. She often found her lighthearted self smiling at the thought that she alone had tamed that most dangerous beast, Him, simply by giving her time and friendship - her only regret was that their arrangement had to remain a secret from the world.
Him, for his part, often found himself smiling at the thought of their agreement for far different reasons.
Somewhere, in a realm separate from her own, a massive clock began to tick away the time that Bubbles had left in this life.
It began as once or twice a week that she would pay him a visit after school, pleading the need for extra tutoring as an excuse to her sisters. They accepted her words for truth; Bubbles had never been known to lie, and they had no reason to suspect.
Him would set out a plate of cookies or muffins and smile, watching as she ate. He would provide her paper and crayons, and then move in a slow circle around her as she lay on the floor or sat at the coffee table and drew him a picture.
He would listen, he would advise.
Bubbles would tell him of her adventures and jokes that she had learned in school.
All too soon, their time spent together would be up, and off Bubbles would go.
Back to her family, back to her life, a bright streak of blue in the sky.
Years passed, and as they grew, so their arrangement grew with them.
Somewhere in the years that passed, Bubbles had reached the age where she no longer needed to make excuses for her whereabouts after school. Her sisters had their own lives to look after: Blossom and her campaign for senior class president, Buttercup and her part-time job as a self-defense instructor.
With familiarity, there was trust. Bubbles grew fond of the odd demon, and he had favored her from the very beginning.
As she had grown older, he had suggested that she begin to visit him during the evenings. "This is ideal," he had told her. "The day is night to me. The evenings are not too late for you, and not too early for me."
Bubbles had agreed with his reasoning, apologizing for her past habits of visiting during a time that he might have been better off sleeping rather than entertaining her childish whims.
"Don't worry over what's past." He'd said easily. "The evenings will better suit us from now on."
And so they continued on with their meetings, their secret kept under the cover of the dusky twilight hours.
It did not happen often, but there were occasions when the two had little to say to each other; there would be no charming ideas to discuss, no adventures to speak of, no clever jokes to fill the silence of his home. It was Him's simple solution that they would watch a film - lady's choice of course, for he was ever a gentleman.
Him cared nothing for her choice in film, he was content only to have her by his side, to feel her precious trust in him grow.
There were small things he wanted from her. A small lock of her sunny blonde hair. A smile to cheer him. More of her time.
It was easy. He only had to suggest and coax rather than make a demand; it only took a few sage words, a well-placed piece of advice, and she would give Him that which he wished. And what he wished was no great sacrafice, Bubbles had told herself. He has no one else, he is lonely here.
But Bubbles was one of three sisters. From her inception, burst into being, she had never been alone.
She knew nothing of true loneliness, though she would soon come to intimate terms with Him's desperation.
One night, she'd asked of his origin.
It was a quiet night spent inside, as it was a storm raging just beyond the reach of his threshold. She could see the trees being thrashed by violent winds as the rain came down in hard, icy sheets. The lights in his home had flickered a time or two, though Him was not worried for he could see in the darkest night and it would be his pleasure to guide her.
But she had asked Him a question.
Where he had been born, when, and what it was to be part of a demon family.
He had regarded her with his steady golden gaze. "I was not born a demon," he'd told her simply and flicked his forked tongue. "I was born a man."
This had shocked and confused her. "What happened?"
"I met a temptation too great to resist." He had said, and he laughed at the joke only he could understand.
Somewhere, the massive clock struck in a tone that only the demon could hear. Bubbles's time was up.
It seemed to her to have happened all at once, striking without warning. One moment they had been seated beside each other on the sofa, preparing to watch a film. This had become their tradition for Saturday nights, and still always their secret.
Her sisters wouldn't understand.
She had turned to Him, offering a clawful of popcorn from the big bowl, the same bowl they'd used ever since they began the routine of Saturday night movies. She'd turned to see his eyes burn bright, the bowl knocked from her hands and he was upon her, a crimson beast with her wrists clamped in one claw while the other made quick work of her nightgown and short robe. They had been his gifts to her for her birthday. He'd wanted her to have something to wear when she came to him, her clothing torn and filthy from battling evil, something that made her look like the young woman she had become.
She wasn't a PowerPuff Girl anymore. That's what he'd said.
She had heard of this, of seemingly tame animals turning on people, giving in to their wild instincts. So shocked, so terrified and appalled, she said nothing. Not a word of protest passed her lips. She was so damned resigned that Him had to wonder if she hadn't somehow wanted this all along, from the very day she had entered into their agreement. Her time in exchange for his disregard toward the city she so loved.
Her gaze was fixed to a point high on his ceiling, where the beams of a rafter met to support the weight of his house. The house she would never see as the same again. Her body had been attacked a number of ways over the years, but never like this, never. She laid back on the sofa, taking him in, allowing his assault as he moved against her, within her, atop her.
Distantly, she felt the sting of a sharp fang pierce her skin, where her neck met her shoulder in a gentle slope of muscle and sweetly perfumed skin.
When it was over, she only had one question for Him. "Why did you do this?"
He opened one lazy dragon eye to regard her, and explained to her simple mind, as the scorpion once did to the trusting frog, "It is in my nature."
The demon allowed her to gather what remained of her pride and leave him, fleeing away with such power that she parted the black clouds of night.
It did not matter. He knew she would soon return, and he was nothing if not forgiving. He would embrace her as his own again before the sun rose.
Bubbles flew home, diving with the speed of the falcon. Shaken, horrified, shamed.
She moved through the house, ignoring the Professor's concern when she passed him in crossing the living room, headed for the stairs. Her bedroom, a haven of vanilla scented candles and powder blue wallpaper. Leaning back against the door, she breathed in, hard and deep, her mind fighting to understand what had just happened.
Him. Why did he do this? How could he?
She felt a twinge in her shoulder and fingered the small wound for a moment before moving toward her desk mirror.
The demon's bite had drawn blood.
Bubbles came to realize then, that Him was nothing if not a patient monster. It had only been a matter of time, and he'd warned them in the past that he never gave repeat performances – pretending friendship for well over a decade had been his greatest performance yet, and it would soon prove to be his one true triumph over an innocent heart.
She looked in the mirror and spied, with dawning horror, a flash of crimson gold in her gaze.
"It is in my nature", that's what he'd said.
And soon, very soon, it would be in her nature as well.