Tom dances with an unknow girl by accident at the Blood Moon Ball, ruining his plan to tie his and Star's soul for all eternity. Will this become the bigest mistake of his life or will he find the right path by taking a wrong turn?

Before you start reading I will just warn you: This is not a Tom x Star nor a Tom x Marco fanfic... and I will not hint to that nowhere in this story. So, don't flame, complain or beg about it. It is not negociable.

Anyway, to those who still wanna give this story a try... thanks and you are welcome to stick around.

As always: italics are thoughts, the " o " is a page breaker, bold is for emphasis.

Tom, Star and Marco (along with the other characters of Start vs The Forces of Evil universe) belong to Daron Nefcy and Disney Television Animation. Any other charcaters are of my own invention.

A/N: I'm deeply sorry for not posting in a long time. I had a horrible "writer's block" and I know an apology is not enough, but I hope you enjoy the following chapter - Thank you, guys, if you still come here from time to time to check on this story. =)

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I'm looking out the window with my chin resting on the palms of my hands and my elbows on the windowsill. A depressed sigh escapes my lips.

"Hang in there, Cille", Marco's voice is behind me and I turn slightly. I m not in the mood to talk to anyone at the time.

"I'm fine", I mumble unenthusiastically. The guy seats beside me and places a mug next to me on the windowsill.

"Hot cocoa", he says, "it helps lift my spirits when I'm blue".

"If you haven t noticed", I caress my arm, showing him my skin, "I'm always blue". I smile sadly at my lame attempt of a joke. Marco snickers some but immediately clears his throat to suppress a chuckle.

"Ehm... you know what I mean", he says, "Star and I want you to enjoy your days here. We want you to enjoy the coming party, too". The guy retreats not waiting for my reply - not that I have one or the energy to come up with one. I'm left alone with my thoughts again. I keep staring out the window.

Three days after our fight, Tom opened the portal and told me to go through it. He only said I was going back to Earth and I would stay there until further notice. He said nothing more and I didn't ask. We avoided eye contact as much as possible and into the portal I went. Star and Marco received me warmly - the portal appearing in Marco's living room.

I have a suspicion that Tom got rid of me, that me going back to the castle is not going to happen. The preparations for Star and Marco Christmas Party are coming together. I help a bit here and there but most of the time I perch myself on a window - usually, Marco's room window -, and stare out as if the answer to whatever happened between Tom and me would magically pop there.

It's a nice, Christmas-like night: snowflakes fall steadily and slowly, covering everything in white; the neighbor houses are all adorned for the occasion, inside and out. Christmas trees glow by the windows while the silhouettes of the houses residents flicker and move around the place. Probably getting the last details ready for Christmas Eve, I think even more depressed. Maybe if Tom and I had talked the issue out...

"I own you!..."

I clench my teeth and frown - angry and hurt - at how offhandedly and conceitedly Tom said that. The worst thing is that he isn't wrong, technically speaking: his mom bought me like a slave and gave me to him as a birthday present, for God's sake!... and yet, I thought that he didn't care about it. What made him change his mind?

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

He is wearing a very clichéd studded, black leather pant with buckles and rings along the side of the legs, a studded leather vest - if the black strips crossed like an x over his bare torso can even attain that definition -, his spiked bracelets and black metal-rimmed boots. A black, blindfold-like mask resting on his forehead.

Tom looks the Great Hall from his vantage point at the top of the staircase that will lead him to his first Sabbath. To his liking, the Hall seems to have been redecorated by a half-drunken, sadist, Casanova wannabe: shackles adorn the walls at irregular intervals - some hidden in alcoves for the couples that want privacy and others at plain sight for the bold -; close to these spots, there are racks with every tool imaginable to give pleasure, pain, or both. Fluffy red and black carpets cover the floor. There are love seats, divans, pillows, and cushions arranged all over the place. A long counter is set against the back of the Great Hall. Maids - now in skimpy and scanty clothing and leather - are arranging the beverages and snacks to be offered at the party.

"Only the finest maids for our guests", a voice says beside Tom, "they look delicious. Dont you think, son?"

"Keep dreaming old man", the young demon taunts, "mom will cut your balls and parade them through all Hell Town if you dare as much as to look at any of them".

The King snickers, amused. "Let me tell you something, son", the salmon-haired demon replies, if you think you know your mother better than me, you are terribly mistaken. I know her in and out of bed".

"Dad!", Tom growls with a shiver, "I don't really need to know that! I have enough with my anger management therapy. I don't need to add 'parental perversions' to my list".

The King studies his son's profile: a mix of his and his wife features... yet, perfect in their arrangement. "You would have made a gorgeous daughter", he finally says.

"I'm lucky I wasn't", Tom retorts, throwing a fierce glare at his father.

"You forget that gender doesn't dissuade a Lust Demon", the King's lips brush his son's ear slightly.

"Argh!", Tom roars and elbows his father chest, "I don't know how mom can stand you! You, perverted old man!". He turns to look at his father - who is rubbing the abused spot on his chest -, and notices his serene eyes scanning his face. Tom turns his back to the King again.

"Are you worried about the Sabbath, son?", his father asks.

"Not particularly", Tom shrugs his shoulders. The King nods and pats his son's back.

"Did I ever told you how your mom and I met?", the velvet voice of his father envelops him like a blanket. Tom has never known if it is a trait of all Lust Demons - a way to mesmerize their preys - or if it s a talent only the King has.

"Vaguely", the young demon says, sedated, "you met her at a Blood Moon Ball, if memory serves".

"Right", his father nods in approval, "but we didn't dance at that Ball".

"How come?", Tom asks still feeling numb and calm. He hears his father sigh.

"It's a story for another time son", the King says, soothing and comforting, "guests are starting to pour into the Great Hall". Tom can see it. More guests are arriving and taking seat among the furniture and cushioning of the Hall.

"One piece of advice, though", his father trails, "no matter if a girl wears the heaviest, bulkiest, manliest suit of armor or the cutest, lacey, pinkest dress of all: treat them as the most delicate, precious, and valuable being in your existence... and they will fall to your feet".

Tom wakes from his sleepy trance right after the King s words fade away. He turns around, looking for his father, but he is standing on his own.

"Tch!", he growls, "annoying excuse of a father". He takes a big gulp of air and sighs, preparing to descend to the Great Hall to hear the opening speech made by the King and Queen.

Good thing Cille is safe with Star, Tom thinks, relieved.

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A/N: Sorry for the long wait and the short chapter. No need for reviews unless you feel like doing so. Thank you for reading this story so far.