All characters belong to Marvel.
"You did a fine job beating him today, Creed." Satan murmured, petting Sabretooth's head absently. Claws pricked his scalp and his face was forced to look up at his master. "Now go clean him up."
The order was supposed to be cruel and humiliating as the Devil unlatched Creed's chain and kicked him across the marble floor of the chamber towards the door. Sabretooth picked himself up and grabbed the yoke with two empty buckets on his way out, which had materialized from nothing.
With eyes watching him from everywhere, he filled the buckets at a pump. The water was rusted and smelled of sulfur. To get to the crucifix field on the outskirts of Hell, he would have to cross the river Styx, not to mention walk the distance with the weight of the buckets on his shoulders. He was content enough not to have to enter the Forest of Despair or the rape pits.
Sabretooth attached the now filled buckets to his yoke and descended from the marble citadel where Satan resided, the feel of soft, dewy grass on his bare feet already a distant memory as he left the towering gate into the beginning of Hell itself. Winged demons circled overhead like vultures, screaming and laughing at him.
Time was not a construct in Hell, it could have been an hour or a minute that he was walking, it all felt like an eternity to him. By the time he found the river's bridge, his feet were bleeding from the sharp rocks. He truly was at the edge of Hell now, not even the demons had followed him out this far to taunt him. The moaning of those nailed to the crosses across the river were sailing on heated winds to him as he lowered his yoke and unlatched the buckets.
He checked around him again and emptied the feted water over the dry land. Creed scooped up water from the Styx and carried them across the bridge with him, walking through all those forgotten, looking for the man that had killed him, landing him in Hell. Puck was speaking to him, once again, hiding behind a rock. Logan gave a slight nod but went limp when his nose picked up Creed's scent.
Sabretooth watched the little man run off again into another hole as he approached Wolverine's cross. He put the buckets down slowly and pulled out the washcloth that was soaking in one of them. Once the cool refreshing water touched the crucified man's skin, Logan sighed at the tingling sensation and opened his eyes at his life-long enemy.
With a strangled, and painful voice, Creed advised him not to drink the water before he began to wash Logan's face of blood.
"Why?"
The more Sabretooth talked, the more blood ran down his neck from the collar he was still wearing. Spikes were buried deep within his throat, a preventative measure for him opening his mouth. "Styx will make you forget everythin' an' you'll be no help to us. On your body it help t'forget th' pain. Makes you strong again." That was the longest sentence he had managed since being fitted with the collar. He dumped the rest of the bucket over the runt's head, wiping at his mouth to prevent any droplets from running in.
"You're with Puck then? What's in it for you?" Wolverine spit air through is pursed lips to blow the rest of the water away from his mouth, feeling the effects of the water restoring his body.
Creed couldn't risk speaking again, but the dead look in his eyes perhaps explained enough. Bending down, he began wiping away blood from the runt's lower half with water from the second bucket.
"Saaaabretooooooth, what are ya dooooooing?" Called one of the flying demons. Soon a swarm came, all calling out asking the same question in unison, drawing attention to him. The screaming became overwhelming and only stopped when Satan's horns crested the hill.
Finishing what he could quickly, Sabretooth stilled with the washcloth in hand on his knees and waited for his master to approach.
"Wolverine looks surprisingly refreshed for a man nailed to a cross." He could feel the burning eyes bore into his flesh. "This is not the water you brought with you." There was a click as his chain was reattached to his collar and he couldn't help but let a yip escape his lips as Satan dragged him up by the neck, lifting him higher than he was, his toes leaving the ground. "You thought that so long as Wolverine was fighting fit, it would give you some reprieve from me. You guessed wrong my little bitch."
The Devil was clever and quick, but he was not a telepath, and Creed thanked his lucky stars for that, because if he ever found out what Creed and Puck were actually up to...well, they were already dead. Sabretooth went sailing into a particularly sharp outcrop of rock and he heard his shoulder blade crack. All he heard was "rip his flesh off" before a flutter of batting wings engulfed him and he was being carried by the demons to another pit he knew all too well. His struggling did nothing but encourage their laughter before he was dropped.