Amenadiel stood at the counter at the hospital florist and tried to choose from the four different types of yellow flowers presented to him.

"What's the difference?" he asked, feeling a little overwhelmed with options.

The lady gave him a flat stare. "It depends on the message you want to give - the roses are a powerful declaration of friendly comfort, the sunflowers symbolize joy, the dahlias say 'you are beautiful', the-"

"No," he said over her.

She frowned. "No, what?"

"No to the dahlias."

"Your friend isn't beautiful?"

He gave her a pained look. "No, I mean, yes, she's beautiful, but that's not something I'd say to her. That should come from someone else. Of course, he's dead, so he can't buy flowers anyway, but he'd probably appreciate the gesture on his behalf... maybe we'll just... yeah, just throw those in too."

The woman stared at him for a long moment, before turning to her table to put something together.

Someone screamed.

Amenadiel raised an eyebrow, glancing out the shop window. People were looking but nobody was doing anything.

He'd been in hospitals a few times, but wasn't sure - were random screams normal?

The florist continued working until someone else screamed - a man this time - and footsteps came thundering through the lobby.

"What the...?" she mumbled, looking over her shoulder, scissors raised.

Amenadiel turned to look.

Two people ran past the small shop, their eyes wild with panic. They were followed by three more - one whose lower body was splashed in red.

More screams, wild and high pitched, rose from the direction of the cafe.

Frowning, Amenadiel rushed from the shop, joining a few bystanders and a security guard who were running towards the sound.

With a gesture, he slowed time to a crawl and pushed past them all, through the hall doors.

And into a nightmare.

Bodies lay scattered over the large space, some in pieces, their faces wide with the shock of their final moments. Blood lay in thick puddles on the floor, splashed over the walls, and dripped from the chairs, the tables, the soda and snack machines.

"My God," he whispered. "What happened here?"

A young boy - maybe eight or nine - walked out from behind the counter, his naked torso and legs covered in blood. He was busy wiping his chest down with a towel that may have once been white.

The boy looked up and smiled, with eyes brightly burning.

"I did."

Amenadiel stepped back, the muscles of his neck growing rigid.

This child was a celestial... but of a power he had never felt before - cold energy radiated from the boy in waves.

He broke out in a sweat.

"Who are you?"

The boy stepped forward and extended a blood-smeared hand.

"I'm your nephew," he said with a smile. "Hello!"

Amenadiel frowned deeply. "What?"

The child resumed cleaning, wiping the towel down his arms and between his fingers. "I could be clean in an instant, but I like how this feels. It's nice to feel anything."

The boy looked up at him and smiled again. "Can you see the resemblance? I think I take after mom."

Amenadiel took another step back, his eyes widening.

He did see it... Brown wavy hair, a rounded but long nose, pointed chin, but the eyes... the eyes were Lucifer's.

"Chloe's your mom?" he asked, not understanding this at all.

The boy nodded. "Yeah! I almost killed her coming out, but I think she's okay now. Father saved her."

"You're Lucifer's son?!"

How was this possible? He'd seen Chloe two days ago and there was no mention of a child!

And what did he mean by 'saved her'?

You are very slow, the boy's voice continued in his head. I was born today. Nine months would have been excruciating so I sped it up a little. I like this talent you have by the way, but I'd prefer a little more action.

The world sped up again. Moans and screams filled the air.

"STOP THIS!" Amenadiel barked, his heart hammering against his chest. Grunting, he forced time to slow again, and spread his wings out wide. "What are you doing here!"

"I'm experimenting," the child said amicably. "Trying to see how these things work." He said the last flicking a finger at a nearby corpse without a head. "So far I've found them to be very good at screaming, running, falling, and dying."

With a delighted squeal he ran to the other side of the counter and pulled a plastic container out of the fridge.

"They're also very good at making this! It's called chocolate cake!" He opened it, speared it with his fingers and pulled a chunk up to his mouth. "Would you like some, uncle?"

"You must STOP this!" Amenadiel cried, not knowing how to do just that. How was he supposed to stop a child? "You can't tear your way through these people!"

The young man frowned. "Yes, I can. Look."

Time sped up again, and one of the bystanders Amenadiel had passed entered the café and stopping dead, her hands rising to her mouth.

"Screaming," the boy said, as the woman let loose a terrified cry.

She turned then, her body geared to flee, one foot slipping in a puddle of blood.

"Running," he continued.

His gaze grew intent, and the woman grasped at her chest, her eyes growing wide. A gout of blood spewed from her mouth, and she fell to the ground, in front of another man who'd come running.

"Falling."

Amenadiel rushed towards the woman as she arched backwards with a choked cry, her arms flailing, farther than her body could handle.

"STOP!" he roared, and slowed time again just as the woman's back snapped.

"And dying," the child said, as time jumped forward and the woman slumped broken to the floor.

Teeth gritted in rage, Amenadiel turned and ran towards the boy, ready to sweep him up and take him from this place.

The boy clapped his hands. "A change of scene is a great idea!"

Almost upon the child, Amenadiel ran into something hard as the hospital cafe changed into a terribly familiar room. He'd slammed into his own coffee table, in his own home, breaking it as he tumbled forward to the boy's feet.

"This place is nice," the boy said, nodding as he looked around the open living room of Linda and Amenadiel's home. Ceiling fans swung lazily above, and the space exuded warmth and welcome.

"God, no," Amenadiel whispered, struggling to pull himself from the remains of the table.

"What was that?!" came Linda's voice from the bedroom. She emerged, holding a wriggling Charlie in her arms.

"Linda, no!" Amenadiel roared, jumping between the bloody child and his family. "Get back!"

Linda's eyes grew huge as she took in the boy in the middle of the room, and she swung Charlie back protectively.

"Cousin!" the boy shouted, and ran forward on little bloody feet towards them both.

Amenadiel tried to catch him and push him back, but was violently thrown across the room - he slammed into the wall and through, punching a hole in the drywall and dislodging bricks on the other side.

Everything grew distant for a moment until Linda's scream tore through the silence. Grasping for the powdered edge of the wall, he struggled to pull himself up as the cry of his child rose in the space.

"Stop! Please, whoever you are," he moaned, clawing his way to his feet. "Don't hurt my family!"

The boy stood in the room, bouncing Charlie in his arms with a wicked grin. His son was wailing. Their eyes met and Charlie reached for his father, but the boy swung him around again with a smile.

Linda stood behind them, her head and arms back, frozen in time. A streak of blood ran from her nose.

"I am the Third, Amenadiel," the child said, hugging Charlie close. "I knew your Father before the birth of this universe. He trapped me in a chunk of dark matter and let his son wear me as jewelry. I'm a little upset about that, which is why I'm breaking so many of his toys."

Amenadiel approached slowly, a hand raised in peace. "Please give me my son back."

The Third squeezed his face close to Charlie's as the toddler wailed. "Would you like to be broken, little baby?"

Charlie reared his head back.

And head-butted the Third in the face.

"NO!" little Charlie yelled, and poked his thumb into the child's eye.

The Third screamed and staggered back, dropping Charlie to the floor. The toddler landed on his bottom and promptly speed-crawled to the nearby couch.

Amenadiel flew forward, hoping to grab the Third and get him away from his family, but the boy twisted at the last moment, still holding his eye, his teeth bared in fury. Amenadiel was slammed into the kitchen, shattering the counter, the oven, the lights.

He rolled to the floor, looking up through the blood leaking into his eyes as the Third walked towards him.

And the Third screamed, as Charlie stabbed the boy in the foot.

With a Hell blade his favorite aunty had given him.

"BAD!" Charlie yelled, pointing a tiny finger at the bloodied child.

Wailing, the Third reached down and tugged the blade free, just as Amenadiel staggered to his feet and went for his boy.

"Your child is such a SHIT!" the Third roared, and snatched Charlie up by the leg, sweeping him from Amenadiel's grasp.

Amenadiel was slammed back again. He slid along the floor and through the dining room table.

Charlie screamed as the Third held him high. The dark child drew up the knife and turned it in his hand as blood dripped from the edge.

The world tore open in the middle of the room - a writhing wound in the universe leading to an expanse of absolutely nothing at all.

Heart pounding, Amenadiel pulled himself from the splintered timbers of what used to be their table, and spreading this wings wide, he flew, focused only on the knife and his infant son.

The Third turned to him with a grin and threw Charlie at the tear.

"NO!" Amenadiel roared, twisting in mid-air. He raced to catch his child, snatching Charlie into his arms at the last moment, and rearing back from the wound's edge. The void drew at him, and his wings worked frantically to pull them both back.

Until something tore into his lower back, deep under his ribs. He arched with a gasp, his wings stretching wide, then cried out as the thing - the Hell blade, he knew that now - was pulled free.

Slumping forward, Amenadiel held his son close and tried to turn away from the voids mouth, but it took him. The room vanished, and he spun slowly with his child in the utter darkness as the opening to the universe of his father's making began to close.

The Third appeared as the portal narrowed further.

The child waved. "Bye!"

The last of the light was gone.

Amenadiel's last thought before passing out, as he tried to lock his arms about his wriggling boy, was of Linda.


I'm just going to leave this here:

I don't write tragedy, not with major characters.

Not sure when the next update will be. Sorry to leave everyone with this cliffhanger. %) As I said, things get dark in this story.

But there is light ahead.

Waaaaay ahead. %)

If you're enjoying this story, or if you think I'm a horrible person, please leave a comment! :) Thank you all for reading :)

PS: Aunty Maze is a great teacher. ;)


Btw, I've got to say something, and this is just for the folks. One person has been kind enough to spare the time to leave a review for quite a few chapters. I think you're the only reason I'm still posting here. I'm thrilled to know people are reading it. That's a great feeling. But the biggest joy outside of writing fics is hearing how people felt about what the characters are doing in the story. Because I write without a plan. Two thirds of what I write is a surprise to me. I don't get to talk to anyone about it, so I hang out for reviews to have my little moment of 'omg, I know!' XD