A/N: A massive thanks to everyone who took a chance in reading this and has been encouraging! I've got a lot planned and it's currently my hyper-fixation, so it means a lot! Yet again, a mega big shoutout to my beta, Nightglider124, and Kiome-Yasha for all her artwork and ideas!

Blood of the Lamb

:Destroyer of Worlds:

Gar stared at the bagged lunch on the kitchen counter like he was affronted by its existence. "I got you maple syrup, you know," he sighed dejectedly. "Maple syrup. Had to trade...well, you don't want to know what I had to trade, but let's just say it was something worth way more than bloody maple syrup, Meganne."

"Are you complaining, Gar?" Meganne, the housemaid, was busy preparing for Blood's breakfast, but she still made time to shoot the ungrateful man a dirty look in between her busy kitchen work. "After everything I've done for you?"

"No...Yes...I mean, no...Okay, maybe a little."

"Well, next time, how about you can just make your own lunch and get as fancy as you like with the meager ingredients we're given," huffed Meganne, dabbing at the sweat of her brow with her stained, linen apron.

"Come on," Gar pleaded petulantly, cocking his head to the side and fixing her with his best puppy dog eyes. "You know I'm not allowed to cook in your kitchen."

Meganne laughed humorlessly. "Hah! My kitchen. It's a good thing you're so adorable, Gar, because without your looks, I'm afraid there's not much else between those ears." She gave his cheek a playful squeeze and tug, much to his annoyance.

He pulled away from her and proceeded to make her an offer he knew she couldn't refuse. "I'll consider letting you touch the hair for a full two minutes," he bargained, running his fingers through the aforementioned, short, silken, ebony waves. Meganne hesitated, and she looked at the top of his head with a conflicted expression, chewing on her bottom lip. Her fingers — covered in flour — twitched, drumming nervously against the tabletop. Gar leaned closer, tempting her further. "You know you want to." He waggled thick brows.

Meganne inhaled deeply, shut her eyes, and looked away. "No," she told him rather sternly. "Not even for the hair, Gar. You'll need to do better than that." She then slid the brown paper bag closer towards him on the counter. Her final offer.

Gar's expression soured, and he grabbed the bland lunch she'd prepared for him begrudgingly. He kept his eyes narrowed at her the whole time, but Meganne was busy chopping, daydreaming, lost in her own bubble.

Shaking his head, Gar walked away, removing the twine necklace he used to leash the cupboard key to his body at all times.

"Going for an early drive?" Meganne chirped from the kitchen.

Gar smiled to himself before unlocking the drawer and pulling out the set of coveted car keys from within. He briskly tossed them into the air and caught them in his palm, the familiar jingle a welcome tune to his daily routine. "Apparently, Brother Blood's needed at Sanctuary this morning," he replied. "Nothing too crazy."

"Oh. So, you'll be seeing Vic, then?"

"I'm thinking about it. Why? Need more maple syrup?" he teased.

"No…" her voice drifted.

Gar lingered in the foyer and deliberated over whether he should forgo his heavy black coat today. It looked fairly warm out given the sun's brightness pouring through the windows, and all that black had a habit of making him sweat, especially in the heat. Finally, he decided to take it off, opting to stick to the black cotton dress shirt with the Church of Blood crest emblazoned on his right shoulder. After he hung the article of clothing onto a nearby hook, Gar turned around and found Meganne standing idly in the hallway, chewing on her bottom lip and staring blankly past him.

"What's the matter?" he queried, a seriousness replacing all previous, playful banter. Even his voice sounded different now; deeper, huskier. He furrowed his thick, dark brows and closed the distance between them within a few footfalls. "Meganne?"

She stared off through the frosted, skinny side-window by the door, bits of pancake batter caught in the auburn hair that escaped her handkerchief, and a dusting of flour marring her freckled complexion. Hugging her arms, she finally danced uncertain, hazel-green eyes towards the man hovering in front of her, concern colouring his features as he surveyed her.

Taking in a deep, shaky breath, Meganne licked her lips and stammered, "I've heard-I've heard things, whispers...There's something treacherous afoot, Gar. They've all been giddy about it, haven't you noticed?"

Gar shook his head curtly and leaned in closer, just in case there were ears nearby. "No. What have they been saying?"

Meganne dipped her chin, forced a smile, and then patted down the wrinkles of his shirt like a camera was watching her every move. "Nothing. Just...just be careful. Promise me you'll be careful. Maybe the black market is better avoided today. You can always see Vic later in the week."

Gar gripped her by her shoulders and stared her dead in the eyes, searching her face with an intensity not unusual of him when surrounded by people he mistrusted. "Meganne…" He hadn't seen her this spooked in a long time. It was raising all sorts of red flags. "Talk to me, please."

She looked genuinely apologetic when she failed to answer him adequately. "I don't know the details, Gar. Only that security is going to be tight, which is why I don't recommend trading today."

There was some shuffling up the spiral staircase, wooden floors creaking with the newly added weight, the sound distracting both of them. Gar immediately let go of Meganne, hands falling inconspicuously to his sides. Touching was inappropriate and forbidden between people who were unwed, and the Rights dictated severe punishment for the behaviour. If you were caught, anyways. "Right. I'll keep that in mind then. Thank you, Meganne," he added through gritted teeth, pissed that they'd run out of time.

And just like that, everything went back to normal, as if time itself had resumed from a standstill. "Oh! Don't forget your lunch." The now cheery maid picked up the brown paper bag from where he'd left it and handed it to him, wearing an easy smile just as Sebastian Blood climbed down the stairs. Meganne had long since perfected her fake charms, and even Gar had a hard time discerning her ingenuity.

"Righteous morning, my Lord." They both greeted the man in unison. Meganne curtsied while Gar merely bowed his head, hands clasped behind his back, as customary of their individual rankings.

"The Dark One blesses you both today, and He has truly smiled upon us all." Sebastian grinned impossibly white teeth, and there was a hint of maniacal satisfaction glimmering in his blood red eyes.

Meganne and Gar exchanged brief, unsettled glances whilst Blood adjusted his red tie.

Although Brother Blood often looked pristine — almost surgically so — today he appeared even more regal than usual. His suit was freshly pressed, his platinum hair gelled back, and he'd donned all the impressive pins and enamels that spoke of his rank on the breast of his striped jacket. He was also positively beaming at the two most unimportant individuals that worked in his household. Meganne fiddled with the hem of her apron, but Gar could tell her worn, red-knuckled hands were shaking. He wished he could take them in his own in a sign of solidarity and comfort. But doing so in front of Sebastian would only mean more harm to Meganne.

And keeping her safe was the very least he could do in a world where he had no control over anything.

"Oh, it is a good day. A good day, indeed! A day for the histories!" Sebastian bellowed, grabbing his long, dark trench coat despite the good weather outside.

What did he care if he stunk it with sweat, anyways? It was Meganne who did all the laundry.

"Should I go get the car ready, sir?" Gar cleared his throat, trying to appear stoic despite his anger.

"Yes! Yes, of course! Get the car ready, will you, Gar? Mother will be down shortly. She'll need to be in attendance, you see. She'll be in charge of the preparations for the upcoming Celebration of Night."

Meganne went pale as a sheet of paper. Gar saw it almost in slow motion, the way all the colour drained from her face. He shot her a tentative warning glance, as best he could manage whilst in the presence of the Lord of the house. Keep your shit together, Meganne. Before he notices. He willed the words into existence, hoping he conveyed as much with his eyes.

"B-blessed indeed, s-sir." She dipped her head respectfully.

Gar cursed to himself, grateful there were none of Blood's Fallen Angels currently employed in his home. An uncomfortable silence settled in the foyer as Sebastian's smile faltered, ever so subtle, while regarding Meganne. Gar shuffled on his feet, swallowing hard, the popping sound magnified between his ears in the suddenly tense room. The soft chime of the grandfather clock could be heard ticking away, like a countdown bomb.

Shit.

The last time Meganne had stuttered in front of Sebastian, it had been at a dinner, when a few of his most notable guests were in attendance. That night, there'd been...serious ramifications for her embarrassing display. Not even Gar could save her from Blood's clutches, and even though Sebastian had not mutilated her as he easily could have — and would have been within his Rights to do so — it still made Gar resent the man a little more.

Being his only other trusted associate, Sebastian had positioned Gar outside the room that evening. He'd been forced to stand idly by the locked door while Meganne received her punishment, trying not to wince every time he heard the belt crack against skin. The blows had only grown more severe each time she'd cried out. The inside of his cheek had bled from how hard he'd been gnashing his teeth.

Later, when the rest of the house had fallen asleep, Gar had helped tend to her wounds as best he could. But there wasn't much a bag of ice and a driver with clumsy hands could do for her. He'd been useless then just as he was useless now.

Thankfully, Sebastian's smile remained intact today — albeit somewhat strained — and he nodded with contempt at the copper-haired maid before disappearing out the front door. "Gar, let's go. Now, please."

He truly must have been in good spirits, and that in itself was alarming, but all Gar felt was relief. He exhaled, letting go of the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and, with one last, lingering look at Meganne, he complied with a curt, "Right away, sir."

There were few places in Belial that Dick Grayson outwardly despised. Places that made his skin itch, where he'd never set foot unless absolutely mandatory.

Sanctuary was most certainly one of them.

For most of his life, he never believed in silly things like ghosts, or spirits that haunted the places of their unjust death, looking to torment those still living. As far as he was concerned, they were just stories made to scare children. But, knowing the history of Sanctuary — of what it once used to be — he couldn't help the way the strange, warm wind that blew rose the small hairs on the back of his neck whenever he was near the place. Let alone inside it.

Dick tried to hide his anxiety and physical discomfort regarding the archaic walls, refusing to look out the car window at its tall, old brick towers for as long as he possibly could. It manifested in sweat on his brow, and fingers tapping on his already bouncing knee. Steeling himself for the wretched nausea that was no doubt going to plague him the moment he set foot in the place, Dick took one last swig of water from a bottle, wetting his parched mouth. God, he just wanted this thing over and done with, so he could be far away from here.

Reluctantly, and with a deep, steadying breath, Dick finally worked up the nerve to get out of the car. He shut the door behind him and was drawn by some invisible force to now stare up at the impressive building towering before him. Ironic, the old cathedral used to be a church, a place of worship, a lifetime ago. And what was it now that they'd eradicated all the Unbelievers?

The newly erected statue outside, in the centre of its yard, would have everyone believe that it had indeed remained a place of worship. Only this statue was not that of an angel, nor a saint, nor any patron of religion. He was Trigon, destroyer of worlds, and the statue in his likeness did not betray that menacing title.

Dick staved off the unnerving feeling of the four stone eyes which appeared to follow his every move.

"Is it mandatory? All this security?" His right-hand man for the day's activities, Raptor, had joined his side, brandishing his assault rifle and adjusting the sling over his broad shoulders. "Ain't ever had to be dispatched for a wedding planner." He chuckled to himself, low and throaty.

Dick tugged at the collar of his crew neck shirt. It was too hot to be out and about in full service uniform, but they couldn't exactly show up in their Sunday best. "If only that were the case," Dick replied grimly. He took to fixing his own holster and unzipped his vest, feeling weighted and disgustingly warm under the blazing morning sun.

The two men then started walking towards the daunting entrance of Sanctuary — so aptly named. All around, soldiers from various units were milling about, keeping an eye, communication devices wired to their ear, echoing indiscernible commands. Always watching. Always listening. Always armed. But they still knew better than to stop and question Dick, of course.

"The Celebration of Night, last I checked, didn't need this many eyes, sir." Raptor held his gun a little tighter, giving the other men looks of mistrust as they ascended the stone steps. In a whisper, he added, "They expectin' Rebels about?"

Dick quickly flashed his identity badge at the uniforms standing guard at the heavy oak doors, took one final breath of fresh air, and then entered the damned building. "We're weeding them out, one by one. Can't be many left by now. But...the information tonight, it's sensitive. The Church likely doesn't want it getting out, reaching the ears of our enemies," explained Dick.

Normally, he didn't care to divulge too many details to a low ranking officer like Raptor. But, talking helped take his mind off the way Sanctuary made him feel. Like worms crawling beneath his skin. He could still smell the incense they used to burn here, in offering, could still feel it's smoky warmth. They'd even kept the pews and stained glass, but the cross was gone. Once upon a time, it had been a literal blood bath. Sebastian had laughed then, bathing in the Pool of Blood, a man renewed. Dick could still remember it vividly, the metallic taste in his mouth, and all the red. He could still smell the gunpowder and the death pervading Sanctuary, like the echoes of a haunted memory. Hundreds had been killed here, sacrificed. Dick chanced a glance at the cement walls, and found most of the bullet holes were covered up now. Most.

"Information, sir?" Raptor pressed, pulling Dick out of bleak thoughts.

They'd reached their destination. Two more guards stood outside the double doors, like statues with weapons.

Dick turned to address Raptor. He searched his face with a grim gaze. "Regarding the wedding of course." He forced a tight-lipped smile and patted the man on the shoulder before vanishing beyond the doors. The guards stepped in the way when Raptor tried to follow, and shoved him back roughly with their rifles. "Authorized clearance only. Get lost, scrub."

Gar really wanted a smoke. Just one cigarette. Sometimes, the craving hit him hard, even after all the years he'd managed to stay away. Unfortunately, the servant quarters — deep in the bowels of the cathedral's basement — was always filled with the lingering scent of cigarette smoke, like coffee to a caffeine addict, or freshly baked goods to a starving man. Sometimes, when Gar would turn a corner, he could still see the butt of one laying on the floor nearby, and it took every ounce of willpower to walk away from it. Should Sebastian so much as catch a whiff of it on him, he'd be transferred to a new house within a week. Normally, not a big deal, except that Gar couldn't stand the idea of leaving Meganne alone with the Blood family, and whatever other man they hired to replace him as their driver.

So, instead, he tucked his hands into his pockets and walked into the kitchens, the doors swaying behind him.

Inside, the maids were busy preparing the morning meal for the Devout, and the smell of eggs, bacon, coffee, and baking bread filled Gar's nostrils. His stomach grumbled in response, and he salivated, dishearteningly pulling out the bagged lunch Meganne had prepared, and staring at it with a look of disdain. With a dejected sigh, Gar tossed it into the nearby garbage — landing at the bottom with a heavy thump — and walked further in, scanning the busy room for a friendly face while ignoring his empty stomach.

He didn't actually have many close friends in Belial, and that was more of a choice than anything else, despite the constricting rules regarding camaraderie among servants. Attachments were dangerous in a place like this. People one loved could die the next moment and there'd be nothing anyone not in direct power could do about it — and sometimes, not even then. Others just disappeared, which, to Gar, was worse. The not knowing, it was always worse. Holding onto some foolish hope, seeking familiar faces in all the strangers that walked by. It was a special kind of lifelong torture, and it could be argued that Gar himself hadn't stopped looking for her, even after all these years…

He quickly pried his mind away from the darkest corners of his thoughts, and forced an eager smile at Victor Stone, currently busy frying up a few scrambled eggs.

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in," Vic noted, but he was also smiling from ear to ear. "Fancy seein' you here, so early, Gar. Really threw a fast one at all of us this mornin' with this unscheduled visit," he clucked, shaking his head.

Gar took a seat at a nearby table and sighed, running a hand through his thick, black hair. "You're telling me. Thought I'd sneak by with a few extra hours of sleep today. You got any coffee you can spare for me? Or, better yet, a cigarette?"

Vic shook his head, robotic shoulders bouncing in mirth. "You know damn well I don't tolerate smoking in my kitchen. You want a cig, you can trade for it. Outside of my kitchen. Besides, ain't that maid that's been sweet on you fixin' you a meal nowadays?"

Gar tapped his fingers against the metal table. "You're going to need to be more specific there, tin can."

"You want that cup of coffee or not, short shit?"

They both laughed. Exchanging insults had helped normalize things between them, especially regarding their precarious positions in society.

The story was that Vic used to be a Rebel soldier in the war. Rumours — likely somewhat embellished — said he'd ranked highly, helping wipe out a chunk of Trigon's army. Except he'd made one crucial mistake; he'd gotten caught.

Gar regarded all the parts of Victor that they'd taken during his interrogation, or at least the uncovered parts that he could see, not obscured by clothing.

Feet, fingers, arms, an eye, and part of his face and scalp. Each replaced now with functioning metal.

Everyone has a use in Belial. To be useful is to stay alive.

The horror stories suggested that the Devouts enjoyed turning all their Rebel prisoners into eunuchs as a cruel joke, and Gar didn't need to see Vic naked to know there was way more damage hiding beneath his clothing. Despite the months of torture, however, he hadn't broken, they'd said. He'd spat in their faces and told them he'd die first. And, for fun, they turned him into a cyborg instead and sent him to work for them, knowing that he would never climb the ranks his entire life.

Humiliation of their enemies was a tactic deployed by the Cult of Blood more often than Trigon's army. And Vic was a prime example of that violence. A warning to any and all who would dare oppose them.

"I want coffee," Gar answered, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. "Who knows how long this thing is going to take, and I'm fighting a mean hangover and starvation as we speak."

Cyborg raised his brow, pausing in his plating of the breakfast sandwiches he'd put together. "Don't tell me, you're already almost out of booze? I don't see anythin' you brought to trade."

"Too risky." Gar shook his head, and then glanced out the glass window, into the actual cafeteria, where guards stood loafing about with their shiny rifles and black army gear on proud display. "Too many eyes crawling around in this place. Not to mention, he's got the Fallen out today. So, how about that coffee...please? One cup, they'll barely notice it's gone."

"You're gonna have to ask one of your girlfriends. Jill's on beverages. Why don't you go bother her?"

"She's not — don't call her that." Gar's chair scraped along the tiles angrily as he got up to his feet.

"Whatever, man." Victor dismissed him with a wave from his robotic hand.

"See you around, Vic." Gar stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants and walked down towards the maid's section of the kitchen. Victor was head chef, but the women would help prep and do minor tasks that he'd assign them.

Like beverage duty.

It was always a little uncomfortable walking amongst them, chittering and whispering when the soldiers weren't looking. Gar couldn't help the way his face flushed hotly when he'd catch some of them staring. Girls talked, after all, and he'd undoubtedly earned himself a bit of a reputation regardless of his efforts.

He kept his head down and walked a little faster, the smell of freshly brewing coffee growing stronger as he went.

Jill was humming quietly to herself, wiping down the counters with a washcloth. Singing was technically forbidden. Most music was. Luckily, the soldier on duty hadn't walked by yet. Gar grabbed her gently by the arm, effectively stifling the song, killing the notes on her lips. Jillian gasped, startled, jumping back until she saw that it was him.

"Gar! You frightened me! I thought you were a Fallen." She broke out into a shy smile and wiped frantically at the wisps of loose, blonde hair that framed her face. Some of the tips were still faintly dyed a pastel pink, suggesting they'd long since forced her to cut it all off.

Jillian wiped her wet hands on her apron and smiled sweetly at him. "It's...nice to see you again so soon. Have you brought trade?"

"Not today, I'm afraid. But I was hoping you'd spare me some coffee? Vic's in a mood." He turned on his charm and leaned in close enough to take in the sight of her ocean-blue eyes. "So I've come to haggle with you instead." She blushed and Gar decided he liked the look on her. He knew what he was doing.

Jillian fussed and gathered her bearings. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a coy smirk. "Except you've got nothing to offer me in exchange. Wanting something for free, that's not haggling, Gar. That's theft."

He feigned shock at her accusation. "Theft? Me? Surely...there's something I have that you want…"

When he was sure no one was looking, he gingerly fingered the oval buttons of her skirt, his hands hidden from view below the counter. All the while, Gar never broke eye contact, regarding her with parted lips and an inquisitive, dark stare. Jillian's breath hitched in her throat and she visibly shuddered at the subtle intimacy.

Maids, they weren't allowed sex. They were specifically picked for work and chores. Never pleasure.

But Gar was standing close to Jill the maid. Too close. If a guard saw them, they'd be punished immediately, maybe even executed. But in some cases, the thrill made the sex even more satisfying. Like a proverbial middle finger to the Church of Blood and all its bullshit rules and regulations.

Jill gulped. "The usual spot then?" she asked breathily, unable to remove her gaze from his toying fingers.

Gar bunched the sides of her modest skirt and squeezed the fabric in his fists. He lowered his head and leaned in so that his mouth was by her ear, hot breath tickling her flushed, exposed neck. "Meet me there in ten," he whispered with an anticipatory lick of his lips.

A/N: You're probably all wondering where Raven is at this point, and what the heck happened to Kory, but fear not, friends. All the questions will be answered soon! Thanks for reading!