A Deal with The Devil's BFF

"What… like he made a deal with a demon or something?" Beth asked, her voice gone quiet as all the possibilities raced through her mind.

She almost wanted to laugh at the words that came out of her mouth, but after everything she'd learned over the last half-hour, she wasn't so sure any part of this was funny anymore. It had been a worst case scenario, more like an unfathomable prospect, when she'd left Lady Jadis's shop. But now it was all too real. All too terrifying.

"Sounds like some shit that dumbass would do," Daryl remarked.

"Can you stop saying that?!" Merle burst out. "I'm not that goddamn predictable, gimme a little credit here."

"You have a reputation, Merle," Morgan quipped without looking back at him. "And it precedes you. No use in gettin' all huffy about it now."

"Look, if he made a deal with a fuckin' demon, I ain't tryin'a get all wrapped up in that," Daryl stated, leaning forward in his chair. His grasp on Beth's hand loosened. "Whatever dumbass shit he did with his soul is his own damn problem."

Merle sighed and Beth glanced over at him suspiciously, but his face was still pale and his expression was unreadable.

"I agree," Morgan said. "Unfortunately, it's rarely that simple."

"So are you gonna tell us?" Beth asked, glaring at Merle expectantly.

He shifted uncomfortably against the wall but didn't open his mouth.

"We don't need him to," Morgan said simply. "It'll be easier fer all of us if I just find out myself."

"How?" Beth and Daryl asked in unison. They exchanged a glance before Daryl pulled his hand out of hers, reaching up to scratch his jaw awkwardly as she retracted her own hand and placed it in her lap. She felt the heat rising in her cheeks but tried to ignore it.

Morgan raised his eyebrows and gestured to the crystal ball. "Y'all think I'm kiddin' about this thing?"

Daryl chuckled and Beth shook her head.

"But how's it work?" She asked curiously.

Morgan grinned. "Allow me ta demonstrate."

He waved a hand in Merle's direction, urging him to join them at the table. Merle leaned away from the wall but hesitated.

"Get on over here," Morgan demanded impatiently. "Put yer damn hand on the glass. That's all you gotta do, it's not hard."

Merle didn't move. Morgan sighed.

"Don't make me turn these nice folks away after they drove so far ta get out here an' clean up your mess," he reiterated.

Beth watched Merle and when he remained motionless, a scowl on his face, she hissed out through clenched teeth, "Do it."

"C'mon, man - if you ain't gonna tell us, we gotta find out somehow," Daryl joined in, shooting a glance in Merle's general direction. "You want me ta help, you gotta fuckin' help me a little."

Merle groaned and stomped forward, angry and begrudging as he plopped down in the chair between Daryl and Morgan. With a dramatic sigh, he reached out and placed his open palm against the thick glass of the crystal ball.

"Now we're cookin' with gas," Morgan muttered, pleased. He gestured to Beth and Daryl and instructed them, "Go on now - you, too. Put yer dominant hands on the glass."

Beth exchanged an uneasy glance with Daryl, but he shrugged and gave her a look that said, Might as well. She nodded back before reaching her right hand out across the table. Daryl did the same. The glass was cool but it quickly grew warm beneath their touch.

Morgan leaned forward until his face was inches away from the crystal ball, staring into the open space between Merle's, Beth's, and Daryl's spread fingers and flattened palms. He cleared his throat and there was a long moment of silence.

"Okay," he finally said, his voice barely more than a whisper that seemed to echo off the cabin walls. "Now this is where it's gonna get a little weird. So prepare yourselves."

Daryl huffed out a breathy half-laugh. "Weirder'an it's already been?"

Morgan nodded and lifted his gaze to meet Daryl's. "Oh yeah. A lot weirder."

Beth was about to ask what he meant, but then the cabin faded away.

Morgan disappeared, his entire being dribbling away like wet paint being washed off concrete. Her breath caught in her throat and she looked over to see Daryl disappearing in the same fashion. Merle faded like a cloud of dust in the wind, leaving only darkness in his wake.

She was surrounded by blackness, swallowed up by an abyss of absolutely nothing.

And then things got a lot weirder.

Beth couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. She couldn't even think except to take in the scene playing out before her like some kind of old movie. Everything was hazy and surreal. She tried to comprehend what was happening but she couldn't even process why she was there or what she was witnessing.

All she could do was watch.

He was walking down a long, dark road. Laughter echoed out around him, deep and jarring, cold and foreboding. Malicious.

He couldn't see where it was coming from. The sound reverberated through his bones, sent a harsh chill down his spine. He stopped walking and looked around.

He was lost. He didn't recognize this place.

He found himself at a crossroads. There was no grass, just muddy earth and a long gravel road that split into two separate dirt roads. They both appeared to lead forward and drift off into nothing - shadows and darkness, a path he couldn't clearly make out.

The sky was completely overcast with heavy gray clouds. There was no sun to be seen. There were no birds chirping, no cicadas screeching, none of the nature sounds that should've been present. He looked back over his shoulder, towards where he'd come from. But the road was gone. There was only darkness in his wake; miles and miles of unending, black nothingness.

The deep laughter echoed out around him once more. He shivered. The dark purple ring around his neck itched but he didn't scratch it.

"The Horrible Merle Dixon… I knew you'd find your way to me one day."

Merle blinked and a man appeared before him. He had two great black dogs at his sides, sitting at attention. They looked like some terrifying cross between a Rottweiler and a Great Dane, with more wolf than anything else. Their sharp teeth peeked out from beneath meaty jowls. Their eyes were red - just like the man's. He couldn't have been less than 7 feet tall, with broad shoulders and a long black trenchcoat over patched-up, old-timey clothing and a pair of moss green leather boots. His skin was dark brown, nearly the color of charcoal and perfectly smooth without any wrinkles or signs of aging. The only mark on his face was the blood red tattoo below his right eye - a strange symbol that resembled some kind of weird compass. He looked like he could be anywhere from 26 to 66 years old - it was hard to tell exactly. His hair was in long, loose dreads that reached the middle of his barrel chest, nappy and even blacker than his complexion, although the neatly-trimmed beard on his face was speckled with gray. He had sharp cheekbones and a strong, defined jaw, and his large hands were folded over the top of a cane. The head of the cane was a shiny silver skull.

He was laughing, grinning to bare a set of large, straight, pearly white teeth.

And Merle had always been one to find humor in most everything, but right now he didn't feel much like laughing. He couldn't figure out what the hell this guy thought was so funny.

In all honesty, he was pretty fucking confused. And lost. And he really didn't like being lost. Almost as much as he didn't like being the butt of the joke.

"The fuck's so funny? Who the hell're you? Where am I?!"

The man laughed harder. He clasped the cane before him, standing tall and smug. Merle didn't much care for smug assholes.

"All that time spent thinking you were the smartest guy in the room, so ignorantly assuming you had it all figured out… Now look at you, Merle." The man spoke perfect English, though there was a thick Creole accent to his deep voice. "It's quite the rude awakening, isn't it? People like you are exactly why I've stayed in business all these millennia." He chuckled coldly. "Oh, I have to say, this never gets old."

Merle clenched his fists at his sides, calling this man every derogatory name he could think of inside his head. But the words couldn't seem to find their way to his mouth like they normally would.

When he finally found his voice again, it came out hoarse and shaky. "How d'you know my name? What the hell is this place?"

The man's grin widened. "This is what comes after, Merle Dixon - after that long and fruitless life you led."

Merle narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"You're dead," the man clarified, his menacing smile unwavering. "Welcome to the Crossroads. Next stop: Hell."

This time, Merle couldn't help himself. He began laughing, loud and obnoxious, his belly shaking. It wasn't really funny, but… it was kinda funny.

"You gotta be shittin' me," he said once his laughter died down. "This is Hell? I was expectin' a lot more'an this." He gestured around him, visibly unimpressed.

The man's smile didn't falter, though. He shook his head and explained, "No, this is the last stop before you get to Hell. This is where you get a little taste of God's sweet mercy."

Merle blinked, taken aback. It suddenly didn't feel so funny anymore.

"Yes, even you - the pitiful firstborn son of William Dixon and Leanne Jacobs - will be offered compassion in the wake of all your sins," the man went on. "This is where you get one last chance to make something worthwhile of that long, pathetic life you wasted. All fifty-one years, eight months, seventeen days, thirteen hours, eleven minutes, and seven seconds of your time spent on Earth."

Merle was thrown off only momentarily by all the things this guy knew about him. Then his natural snarky defenses kicked in.

"Well I know you ain't God, an' yer a little too dark ta be Jesus - so're you the Devil? Came out ta welcome me yerself, did'ja?" He guessed, smirking. "Shoulda known The Infamous Merle Dixon would get a li'l VIP treatment from Satan himself."

The man laughed and shook his head. "Don't flatter yourself. Lucifer is busy with much more important matters. When it comes to sad little souls like yours, I've always had the final say."

Merle frowned.

"I am Papa Legba," the man went on, flashing that toothy white grin again. "And I am generously offering you a chance to atone for your biggest mistake, Merle."

"Hah!" Merle barked out. "Biggest mistake? Which one?"

He laughed and surprisingly, Papa Legba did the same. Though he was clearly finding it humorous for different reasons.

"Well I sure as shit ain't callin' you Papa. An' I can't say I've ever heard a you neither," Merle remarked smugly.

"That doesn't surprise me," the other man smiled patiently. "Small minds like yours rarely know of my existence, nor can they fathom the power I hold. I've been here since the Beginning of Days. And I will remain until the End. Waiting. Billions know my name, and even more dread the very sound of it."

Merle eyeballed him doubtfully and muttered, "O-o-kay… whatever you say, dude."

If this asshole was trying to spook him, it wasn't gonna work. Merle wasn't the type to be scared of anybody, no matter how big and black and intimidating they were.

Papa Legba chuckled. "It's safe to say you fully expected to go to Hell. Correct?"

Merle nodded. "I never tried ta be a saint. Heaven sounds awful fuckin' boring anyhow."

Legba let out another deep chuckle and went on, "You realize that means an eternity spent being tortured in every way imaginable? It's not a party."

Merle shrugged nonchalantly. "Whatever. 'Least I'll know everybody there. Figured it wouldn't be too bad s'long as I got a couple familiar faces around me."

Papa Legba laughed harder at this. He grinned, shaking his head. "You truly are something else. This will be even easier than I could've guessed."

"Huh? What're you talkin' about - am I goin' ta Hell or what? Quit beatin' around the bush an' get this show on the road already."

Legba seemed amused. He went on, "You like to gamble, don't you, Merle? You're a man who won't turn down a good deal when he finds one."

Merle nodded, hesitating. But his attention was piqued. "Sure. Never said no if there was somethin' decent in it fer me. Why?"

"What if I told you there's a special place in Hell? Reserved for those like you?"

"I'd tell ya that you ain't the first asshole who's said that ta me." Merle cackled.

Legba laughed as well before continuing, "Except I mean it quite literally. If you want the VIP treatment during your eternity in Hell, then you'll wanna make a deal with me."

"I fuckin' knew there was a VIP! Alrigh', you got my attention. Keep talkin'."

"I am the only one who can promise you such a thing, Merle Dixon." His red eyes narrowed intensely and his voice lowered, "Those with no rightful place on Earth or in The Promised Land often find their place with Papa Legba. It comes at a great cost, but it is its own greatest reward."

Then he shrugged and casually added, "I mean, if you care about your soul's eternal resting place."

"Alright, alright - I get it. Ya already sold me," Merle said, sucking his teeth and eyeing Legba suspiciously. "I'll make a deal with ya. But I ain't gonna beg you fer nothin'."

Legba chuckled. "Not yet, you won't."

"What d'you want from me, exactly?" Merle asked. "What's the stipulations here? Any fine print I oughta know about?"

"Ah, that's the tricky part," Legba said, holding up a finger and wagging it in Merle's direction. "Part of the deal is that you cannot know the full circumstances of the deal; you must figure it out along the way. And if you fail, you will not be the only one to pay the price."

"Huh," Merle grunted. "Sounds sketchy. I'ono if I like that."

Legba shrugged, clasping both hands around the skullhead of his cane once more. "It's too late to back out now. You've already agreed."

Shit, this guy was a real stickler. But then again, Merle should've known better than to expect anything else when dealing with one of Satan's close pals. He should've watched his mouth a little better, especially when he was fixing to make a deal with - what he could only guess was - a literal demon.

Whatever. He'd make it work in his favor. He always did. Besides, VIP treatment in Hell didn't sound half bad. Wasn't like he had a whole hell of a lot of other options. (Or any options at all.) He might not be able to keep all the spoils and fuck this guy over like he normally would, but he'd be damned if he wasn't gonna try and squeeze a little more out of it for himself. There was always a little more in it for ol' Merle.

"So how the hell's that supposed to work?" He asked. "How'm I s'posed ta keep my end of a deal if I can't know the stipulations? That don't make no goddamn sense, Legba."

Papa Legba smiled back. "Think of it as a final journey of redemption for your weary soul. Like your father used to say: 'it builds character.'" He laughed coldly at his own joke.

Merle swallowed hard, a little put-off by the mention of his pa's near-forgotten motto. Those had always been some of the worst whippings he'd ever received from the old bastard. He still had the scars on his back to show for them.

He quickly composed himself and snapped, "The fuck does buildin' character matter when I'm already dead? How d'you expect me ta get anythin' done if nobody's gonna be able ta see me? You expect me ta haunt somebody till they do yer bidding for you or somethin'? I gotta go an' possess somebody 'cause you can't?"

"Nothing like that," Legba assured, smirking. "Calm yourself. You'll figure it out along the way. You're a smart man, Merle - right? You've always been able to forge your own path. You've always been more strategic than most other people realized… wouldn't you say?"

The tone of Legba's voice sent a cold fear through Merle's entire body, though he didn't understand why. His mouth had gone dry and the purple mark around his neck was itching again. He refused to reach up and scratch it. He nodded.

"Let's make a game of it, shall we?" Legba's smirk grew into an excited smile. "I'll give you a clue and a motive, and - hell, I'll be generous and answer one question as well."

"A game?" Merle choked out. "What if I don't wanna play?"

Legba shrugged, appearing completely unaffected. "Well then, I guess you can go back to Earth without any sort of clue and we'll just hope for the best. If you fail, you lose even more than you've bargained. But hey - maybe you'll figure it out all on your own. Who's to say?"

"Uh - alright," Merle quickly said. "I-I'll take the clues. The motive - whatever you got. I ain't never been so good at solvin' mysteries."

He had to admit, the idea of being tortured for all of eternity was getting scarier the more he thought about it. And he wasn't one to back out of a decent deal. No point in changing things up now that he was dead.

"I know," Legba grinned. "Now listen: there is one person on Earth who can help you. This person is a Visitor, constantly travelling between this plane and the last. Perhaps you can find them. Perhaps you can convince them to help you."

"What's a Visitor - "

Legba put up a hand to silence him. "Hunh-uh - that was your clue. Now here is your motive: as I said earlier, you're being given the chance to fix your biggest mistake."

When he didn't say anything else for several long seconds, Merle burst out, "My 'biggest mistake?' What the hell was my BIGGEST mistake? That could be fuckin' anything!"

Legba smirked and replied simply, "Your brother."

Merle's stomach dropped down to his feet and it suddenly felt as though all the air had been knocked out of his lungs. He gaped up at Papa Legba, blinking rapidly and trying to comprehend what he'd been told.

Shit, did he just use his only question without thinking about it?

"What's Daryl gotta do with this? We barely even talk anymore," Merle snapped, fear rushing through him like cold water. "Leave him out of it, he's still alive. If I'm dead, it shouldn't - hol' up, how'd I die anyhow? 'S that got somethin' ta do with all this?"

Legba shook his head. "I answered one question. The rest is up to you, Merle."

"But I don't even know all the stipulations yet! This ain't fair!"

"Life's not fair. Did you really think Death would be?"

Merle sighed in defeat, hands on his hips and shoulders slumped. "Touché, Papa."

Shit. Shit shit shit fuck. He was really up a creek without a paddle now. He wasn't no damn detective, how the hell was he supposed to piece this puzzle together? How was he supposed to find one stupid person out of seven fucking billion? Unless that one person could be his brother… was it possible that Daryl could be the one who was able to help him? Maybe they'd have to help each other? Daryl wouldn't like that, but he'd do it. Merle had no doubt his little brother would come through if he knew Merle needed him. But what if he couldn't? Would they have to involve some kind of third party? Something inside him told Merle that it wouldn't be that easy. This Papa Legba guy was serious and he wasn't giving Merle much wiggle room.

Regardless, Merle tried to wiggle.

"So if I can't do it - or if I jus' decide not to - what happens? I get tortured in Hell? Can't be much worse'an bein' stationed in Afghanistan. Or growin' up with my old man."

Legba laughed loudly and the sound echoed around them. Then he said, "The Middle East is nothing compared to what awaits you in Hell. Your old man will be able to tell you - he's already down there. I'm sure he's nearly accustomed to the constant agony at this point. You'll be free to ask him for tips once you two are reunited." He smiled maliciously and added, "You put him there, after all. It's only just that you would be eternal roommates."

Oh, fuck. Fuck that. Shit just got way too real. No way in Hell - literally - would Merle spend eternity next to his piece of shit pa, listening to him moan and complain. Fuck. That.

"But Daryl'd be left out of it," Merle contemplated aloud as the thought drifted through his mind. "So... "

Goddammit, the things he'd do for his dumbass baby brother.

"For now," Legba said ominously. "Until he meets his end and faces the same eternity. It won't be a party but it will certainly be a family reunion - of sorts." He chuckled.

"That ain't fuckin' funny, man," Merle scolded, eyes narrowed.

Legba's smile immediately vanished and the look in his eyes made Merle freeze in place, the breath hitching inside his chest.

"No, it's hilarious," Legba said firmly, his red eyes flashing to crimson. "I told you this deal would come at a great cost. A reward such as mine must be earned. And if you go back on your word, you will pay the price with more than just your cheap soul. Papa Legba cannot be deceived. I'll take your brother's soul for my own as well."

"What - ! How the fuck does that work?! His soul ain't mine ta even offer!"

"Yet you did. You've always been more than willing to let others deal with the consequences of your actions… Since the moment your mother took her last breath, your brother's soul has rested heavily in your hands. Were you truly too blind to see that, Merle? Or did you turn away from the fact, just as you turned away from everything else that had any real meaning?" He shook his head in disappointment and smirked. "You molded him. You shaped your brother's essence more than anyone else ever could have. You nearly gave a purpose to your life - but then you fucked it up. Just like you fuck everything up. You followed the most self-serving path, as you always have. And along the way, Daryl was left with the insurmountable debt of your sins. His soul was left to drag around the rotting dead weight of your existence."

His voice seemed to boom with finality as he declared, "For all of eternity, the few people you ever loved will pay the price for your transgressions, Merle Dixon."

Merle was stunned speechless. He'd forgotten how to breathe.

"And yet, I am offering you a chance at redemption. A chance at something that nearly resembles salvation. What more could you possibly ask for?" Legba's thick eyebrows rose upward, his tone softening just slightly. "A chance to not only redeem your precious brother's soul, but to give it a push in the right direction…?"

"A push in the right direction? 'S that the same thing as savin' it? I mighta fucked up later on, but I wasn't the one who fucked 'im all up ta start. That was Pa."

"You'll soon find out how everything you did - and didn't do - is all intertwined; how it will affect you and your brother's souls for the rest of Time. And if you think you can take a detour or cheat your way past Papa Legba, there will be many more than you who must face the dire consequences."

Merle grunted. "So it's like a bet… Can't say yer the worst person I ever made a bet with," he grumbled unhappily. "But this shit comes with interest? I thought the afterlife was s'posed ta be a little more reasonable than that."

Legba chuckled and jabbed a thumb towards the sky. "You're thinking of the Upper Floor. We do things a bit differently around here." He winked and flashed that sparkly white grin for the millionth time. Too damn cocky for his own good, in Merle's opinion.

This guy was really starting to get on his nerves. Merle didn't like when there was a bunch of nonsense fine print, all these shady details and bullshit mysteries. And who the hell tricks somebody into a deal that quick?

Nonetheless, he got an inexplicable sense that Legba wasn't one to be fucked with. And when it came to Daryl, Merle wasn't sure he was willing to take any chances.

Although that wasn't gonna stop him from trying to sweeten the deal. Just a little. Just so he could feel like he got something more out of it. He couldn't leave feeling inferior to this dark-skinned prick. Not after all his ass-backwards stipulations and stupid jokes. Especially not after he so blatantly threatened Daryl.

"I want somethin' else," Merle declared, straightening his back and forcing himself to meet Papa Legba's deep red eyes.

The purple ring around his neck was itching like crazy now and it was taking every last ounce of willpower within him not to scratch at it wildly. He was nervous. And he fucking hated feeling so nervous, so antsy, with his hands just doing nothing.

Papa Legba perked up, smirking. He looked Merle up and down before lazily asking, "You truly are willful. You dare ask for more?"

"Jus' one more thing - a small thing. Ain't much else I could ask for, sure. But I gotta get somethin' 'fore I go out doin' all this legwork that you don't wanna do," Merle explained, hoping his politeness would help to persuade the other man.

Legba tightened his grasp on the skullhead cane and glared down his nose at Merle. "I like your guts, Merle Dixon. You're obnoxious and atrocious. Yet I sense a familiarity in your dark, disgusting soul. It's been centuries since I last dealt with someone so entertaining. You've already shown more respect than I could've ever expected from you. And I know you humans thrive off positive reinforcement, so I'll be generous this time…" He tilted his head to the side and asked, "What do you want?"

Merle opened his mouth but Legba stopped him to add, "There is no going back on the deal we've already made. This must be additional. I don't waive rules or make exceptions for anyone. Not even you."

Merle quickly nodded and tried to sound convincing as he suggested, "'M not askin' fer no exceptions. Just some smokes. I want cigarettes - AND a lighter that works. I'ono if that's part a the deal fer the VIP section but even if it is, I want 'em now. So I got somethin' ta do while I'm stuck on Earth."

Legba blinked, obviously surprised. He smirked like it was a joke. "Cigarettes? Really?"

Merle nodded again, speaking more decisively, "I smoked my whole damn life an' I ain't stoppin' now. Shit, even people in rehab are allowed ta smoke. 'M not gonna ask fer the drugs or the booze or nothin' else like that, but I reckon a pack of smokes that don't ever run out is a pretty reasonable request. 'Specially if I'm gonna be searchin' fer some singular random person that can see me somewhere within the seven billion fuckers crowdin' the planet. You got any idea how stressful that's gonna be?"

Legba laughed, long and slow.

"You gonna try ta tell me I'm wrong ta ask fer a li'l perk of my own, Papa Legba?"

He studied Merle with crimson eyes, endlessly amused by the recently deceased man. Then he nodded.

"That's the most human - yet the least ridiculous - request I've had all year," he smiled. "Deal." He snapped his fingers.

A pack of cigarettes and a lighter solidified inside Merle's pocket. He patted it with his hand and grinned. It was about damn time he got something outta this debacle.

"And for that, you will give me the soul of another," Papa Legba declared. "If you succeed, your soul is mine. If you fail, I will have your soul and your brother's - and I'll send them both to the lowest depths of Hell. Now, because of your selfish request, you will owe me a second soul regardless of your success. And it will be obtained by any means necessary. Papa Legba does not deal in uncertainties."

"What - no! Hey, that wasn't the deal!" Merle cried, outraged. "You said it couldn't be an exception to the first deal we made! Uncertainties, my fuckin' ass. Yer goin' back on yer own word, Legba!"

Papa Legba laughed condescendingly. "I said you couldn't go back on the first deal - I never said it couldn't be an addition. You stated your stipulations, and I stated mine in return. Papa Legba does not make deals at a low cost."

Merle frowned. "Papa Legba doesn't this an' Papa Legba doesn't that," he mocked, rolling his eyes. "How the fuck was I s'posed ta know?"

"You're an ignorant mortal, Merle Dixon. Though you are a half-decent negotiator," Legba admitted, somewhat amused. "Consider yourself lucky; you've managed to obtain the easy end of our bargain. Very few can say they've persuaded Papa Legba to offer more than what was originally proposed. I'm not even demanding any dark or light soul in particular, all I demand is a soul. That will be simple enough for you… I must be feeling terribly generous for a change. It's been a long time since someone convinced me to make an addendum."

He chuckled and shook his head. "You've truly swindled me today, Merle Dixon. You should be proud of yourself."

But Merle didn't feel like he had. In fact, he got the impression that Papa Legba was always a step ahead of him, no matter what he did.

Merle forced a tight-lipped smile. The undeserved pride that had always resided within him was nowhere to be found right now. The cigarettes in his pocket suddenly felt like a heavy lead weight.

"One more question," he muttered.

Papa Legba's eyes lit up. "Pertaining to our deal? You've already used your one question. If I tell you anything else, it will no longer be fun for me." He pouted sarcastically for a second. Then his expression morphed into a grotesque grin of sick amusement.

"Nah," Merle shook his head, unfazed. "Not that. I jus' gotta know: 's there lotsa pretty girls in that VIP section? Bitches that'll suck my dick AND swallow once I'm there?"

Legba burst out laughing, leaning forward on his cane until his dreads shagged down over his face. Then he leaned back and composed himself before responding, "All that and more, my dear naive mortal. Hell's not so bad if you can get yourself on the right lists."

He winked and Merle smirked, feeling a little more hopeful.

"Good luck, Merle Dixon. You're gonna need it."

Before Merle could ask what he meant by that, Papa Legba was lazily waving a hand. And suddenly, the two dogs at his sides were leaping into action, teeth bared as they snarled threateningly and locked their murderous gazes on Merle.

He looked to Legba desperately. "What - ?"

Papa Legba raised his eyebrows and grinned, baring his white and shiny teeth. "Run. Run for your life, Merle Dixon. Run for the lives of those whose souls you've dared to offer at my feet. Run until you find them." He chuckled, an empty sound pouring from his throat. "And once you do, you cannot stop. There is no due to Papa Legba that goes uncollected. My Hellhounds will seek you out. You will not slow down until they are satiated. And they will never be satiated until my debts are paid… in full. With interest."

His cold and loud laughter echoed out around Merle, as though it were falling from the clouds above.

"Run for everything that ever meant shit to you, Merle. Run… NOW." Papa Legba cackled louder. Colder. It filled Merle's ears with a painful, deafening ring.

The hounds growled and leapt at Merle. But before they had the chance to reach him, he was turning and sprinting in the opposite direction. Like his very soul depended on it. Because it did.

His blood rushed and his legs pushed him forward as he raced down the gravel road. He headed full-speed into the never-ending darkness and pitch black shadows, the menacing growls and barks of the great black dogs following behind him.

And then he stepped out into the bright Georgia sunlight.

Everything else disappeared. It all went silent, even the seemingly unending laughter that had engulfed him mere seconds ago. He glanced back and saw that the hounds were gone.

He was outside his yellow Caution tape-draped cabin. He was alone.

Merle was dead. But he was far from gone.

to be continued...

A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed my depiction of Papa Legba. I took some creative liberties with him, and I'll probably keep doing that with various lore throughout the fic :)