Craig Tucker had never really felt a strong calling to the church in his life. He'd never cared much for religion, but he hadn't been against it either. He became a youth pastor for only one reason: it made his dad happy.
He could have done just about anything else seeing as his grades had been stellar, he was extremely tall, and had an athletic build from years of multiple sporting seasons. His good looks didn't hurt him either. Before he had graduated, he'd been offered not only sporting scholarships, but a few modeling agencies had tried to scout him as well. If asked, Craig would inform people that the ministry was his passion, but that wasn't true. He loved the stars and the planets, and would have been the happiest if hired by NASA.
Yet, when his father expressed an interest in him staying close to home, Craig hadn't fought it. Above all else, he enjoyed boredom, and his father's suggested career offered just that. It took only three years to complete his degree, and being a well-known figure in his hometown, had not needed to go through the multi-year process of being assessed for hire. At twenty-one, Craig was the youngest full-time worker in the entirety of South Park. The young man wasn't one to do something only to please people, however, so he had thrown himself into his work with gusto, allowing it to take over his life. He enjoyed it now (or at least he told himself he did), talking to the youth of South Park and helping them cultivate a love for Jesus in their hearts. If he couldn't study the stars, he might as well study the Heavens.
So, how, one might ask, did he find himself in his current situation, surrounded by cultists? Tied to a cross? With demonic summoning circles drawn all over the ground under him? Craig wasn't even sure where they were, but he suspected the back room of the Catholic church. Crazy shit seemed to go down there often enough that no one would investigate strange noises coming from the room. He wasn't sure how he got himself into this mess, but he did know he was annoyed by it. He frowned, shifting his arms against his bonds. He was vexed by the skill in which they had been tied, recognizing the knots from his time in Scouts. Glancing around, he spotted a familiar face under one of the hoods and called to him.
"Hey, Firkle, what the actual fuck? I'm getting irritated," he huffed, hardly seeming concerned about his predicament.
"Quiet, conformist!" the teen yelled at him. "We need a sacrifice to make this work! It's not our fault you just happened to be here when we needed!"
"Motherfuck-" Craig was cut off as the circles on the ground began to glow in response to the cultists chanting. His eyes widened a bit, having not expecting this to lead to anything. Though, he supposed if Jesus was real, then it only made sense that demons would be too. After all, he knew for a fact the devil existed since he and Jesus had squared up when he was little in the town's boxing arena.
He was pulled from his thoughts as a demon began to manifest, the screams of the damned filling the room, great plumes of Hell fire shooting into the air. The first thing Craig noticed was the shock of wild blonde hair that covered the thing's head. The second were the two small, red horns that stuck out of the mess. Then the red wings that sprouted from his shoulders, and his tail, which swished around him, the barb on the end looking sharp enough to stab something clean through. Finally, Craig took in the creature's full body, unsure what to think of the thing's fuzzy goat legs. Or the ripped, green fabric wrapped around his neck like a scarf.
Once emerged entirely, the demon twisted his (did demons have genders?) neck side to side in rapid succession, cracking it loudly. His eyes blinked open, and he looked around the room at the cultists and Craig, taking in his new surroundings. "What do we have here?" he murmured to himself, close enough for only the young pastor to hear. Craig shivered slightly at the sound of the demon's silky voice. Though it was higher pitched and a bit scratchy, something about it also make it very, very clear that he should not be fucked with. Maybe it wasn't so much the voice as the horns that could probably gouge out an eye if rammed into his face?
"Oh, servant of the Dark One!" the cultists began to chant in unison. "Here we offer you a virgin sacrifice; please accept our offer, and bring havoc to the world! We live to serve you and the Dark One, and we willingly give you anything you desire!"
"You little fuckers!" Craig snapped, angry that they knew such a personal thing about him. Who the fuck was talking about his sex life, or lack thereof, with these assholes? It had better not have been Tricia, if she knew what was good for her.
The demon smirked lightly, the edge of his lips twitching up as he looked between Craig and the group. His wings, which Craig couldn't help but liken to a hummingbird with how fast they beat, brought him closer to the youth pastor. He looked him up and down curiously before speaking. "Well, sacrifice, do you have any last words?"
Craig looked around him for a moment, taking in all the little shitty teenagers that were trying to fuck him over. Deciding he might as well go all in on the one thing that might save him, he locked eyes with the demonic creature. He couldn't help but notice the unnaturally green color they held, but he was a supernatural being, so Craig supposed he wasn't actually that surprised to see it. The demon's eyes widened slightly as Craig looked into them, and he thought that the demon might have backed up a bit, though it could have been his imagination. "Oh, whoever-the-fuck-you-are," he answered blandly, "I offer you in return these ten cultists for sacrifice. Fuck off and leave me alone, I have a youth group to be in charge of."
Silence filled the room, none of those gathered having expected this answer from the man. Shortly after, laughter cut through the heavy quiet, and all eyes went to the demon. "I accept your sacrifice," he purred, then turned to the gathered teens, his eyes turning the shade of molten lava, the pupils retracting to slits as a sadistic grin took over his face, revealing jagged teeth.
The cultists screamed and tried to run, frantically scrabbling over each other, but they didn't get far. The demon hardly had to try as he captured them, ripping their souls from the bodies and leaving the empty shells in heaps on the dirty floor. Not a single cultist made it to the door before they were dead.
Tossing the souls carelessly through the glowing circles he had come through, the demonic illumination that had been radiating from the portal vanished and the candles that had been the only other light source went out. In the pitch blackness, Craig found he could see the demon's eyes, which had returned to the green he had first seen, glowing slightly and turned on him.
"Now... who are you, human?" he asked, his beating wings drawing him closer to Craig, who was still tied to the cross. "It doesn't seem very pastor-ly to willingly damn a bunch of children to the fiery pits." Craig could feel the wind from the demon's wings ghosting over his skin as he began to circle him. "Then again, I suppose you don't seem much like a pastor anyways."
Craig frowned. "I don't care what you think. If you aren't going to untie me, kindly fuck back off to wherever it is you came from. Those shits weren't going anywhere but Hell anyway, not after this bullfuckery."
The demon laughed at him, making Craig's face flush with anger. He opened his mouth to speak, but froze, feeling the demon's tail snaking against his arm. He turned his head to look at it in the dark, straining his eyes to see. Was this Hellish being going to kill him and leave anyway...?
The next thing Craig knew, he was dumped onto the ground, the ropes that had kept him in place severed by the barb on the creature's tail. He grunted when he hit the floor, but quickly jumped to his feet. "What the fuck, dude?" he snapped, brushing himself off. Placing a hand on the wall, feeling the chipping paint under his fingers, he walked towards the door. This room definitely needed an update.
Finding his target, Craig flicked on the light switch, blinking rapidly to adjust to the sudden, florescent change. He looked back at the demon and found he was still watching him. "Uh... are you just going to stand there?" he asked. What exactly was he supposed to do in this situation? More importantly, why wasn't the demon speaking? He hadn't had any trouble earlier. Then Craig saw then the fear on the other's face. Filled with confusion, the young man stepped towards the blonde creature, holding his hands out palm-first to him. He wasn't sure if it was to protect himself or be comforting, it could honestly go either way.
"Hey, what's wrong with you?" he asked as gently as he could. Beating around the bush was never his strong suit. He was surprised when the demon spoke, confirming his suspicion that something had spooked him. His voice wavered and his eyes were wide, conveying the terror the Hell spawn was feeling.
"We're in a c-church," he forced out, a slight whimper on the end of his words.
Craig frowned. "Yeah. We've been here the whole time. What's wrong with you?" he repeated. When he got another whimper in response, the youth pastor found himself actually feeling sorry for him. Craig let out a heavy sigh and motioned the other to follow him. "Just stay close to me; the faster you're out of here, the faster you'll feel better and you can go on your way to spread, what was it those shits said? Havoc? Just do that."
The demon gulped and glided swiftly to his side, grabbing onto the back of Craig's jacket tightly with a clawed hand. Craig couldn't help but be shocked by the vast change between the monster that had entered into the room and this quivering thing following behind him now. He passed quickly by the stage, the demon letting out a pathetic sound of distress when he saw the giant cross with Jesus' image hooked high up on the wall.
The youth pastor hurried through the front into the aisle, having to keep himself from just running to the door. For whatever reason, hearing how afraid the Hell creature was of the place was upsetting something inside him. He didn't like it one bit.
Once he got the front doors open, the demon sped out. He flew across the street, turning back to glare and hiss at the building, his barbed tail lashing. Craig followed him after shutting the doors behind him and locking them. It was late, and the sun had long since set, leaving the two only the light of the moon and stars to see each other. The town didn't have streetlights this far from the business area of South Park.
He stood beside the demon, hands slipping into his pants pockets. His left hand curled around his phone, and he tapped the screen a few times lightly, wondering if he should call someone. Then again, who was he supposed to call? Father Maxi? No way in, well, Hell, was he calling the Father to come and help him.
"What's your name?" he asked, getting tired of thinking of him as 'demon'. "Do you have one?"
"I had one." The answer was not what Craig had expected. As though sensing his thoughts, the demon let out a breath, a cloud of white filling the air around them, bringing Craig's attention to the fact that it was fucking cold in the perpetually snow-covered town, and he hadn't grabbed his coat. "When I was a human. I had a name then."
"Which was?" the pastor pressed, rubbing his arms lightly. He could feel his ears freezing already, and not for the first time lamented the fact that he had lost his favorite hat some years ago. It had just disappeared one day, and being the stubborn person he was, Craig had refused to replace it, telling his mother if it wasn't that one, he didn't want any.
"I... don't remember," the demon sighed, running his hand through his hair. Or rather, grabbing a handful of the blonde locks and tugging on them harshly. Without a second thought, Craig reached out and pulled his hand away, but didn't let go once he'd achieved his goal. The other was warm, almost like a space heater, and Craig used this to explain why he found holding the Hell creature's hand so... comfortable.
"Well, I can't just keep calling you 'demon' or 'Hell creature', can I?" he reasoned.
The creature stared at their joined fingers, then turned away, yanking his hand free. "Sure you can, just like I plan to keep calling you 'human'."
"Craig."
Green met blue as he spun back around. "Excuse me?"
"Craig. That's my name. Call me Craig."
The demon frowned. "Fine, Craig. If we're going to be specific, I'm not a demon. I'm an imp."
"So, I guess I'll call you 'Imp' then. At least until I have a proper name for you."
The newly dubbed 'Imp' rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Call me whatever you want. I'm not staying here for long."
"Got some place pressing to be?"
"... shut up."
Craig's lips twitched up into a slight smile. "Fine." He looked the other up and down. "Are you cold?"
Imp shook his head. "No, I'm never cold."
"I am. I'm going home. Come with me."
The creature glared at him suspiciously. "Why are you being so nice to me, Craig?" he demanded, spitting out his name like acid. "I would've, and could've, killed you just as easily as I did the others. You're part of that." He guested towards the church. "Why is a member of that being good to me?"
With a shrug, Craig pulled out his phone, clicking the home button to lit the screen. "Because as a pastor it's my job to be good to everyone, no matter who they are," he reasoned, checking to see if he had any messages and the time. Hmm, it was pretty late, he must have been in that stupid back room for a few hours. His sister had sent him a text, too.
Imp tilted his head, quirking an eyebrow at the youth pastor. "Says the guy who gave up ten people to me not twenty minutes ago," he muttered.
"Eh, my patience has its limits. Firkle's been at the end for a while now, and I have no idea who the other dicks were, so I don't care about them." Craig stowed his phone away once more, and grabbed Imp's hand for the second time. "Come on, my sister wants me to come home. I told her I'm bringing a guest; don't make me a liar."
Imp frowned but didn't pull away this time, allowing himself to be dragged down the street behind the young man. "She won't think it's weird you have an imp with you?" he asked. "I'm not invisible, you know. You aren't in a movie were you're the Chosen One and the only person who can see me."
Craig paused, glancing over his shoulder at the blonde. "That's true. Can't you change how you look? Like, lose the horns, tail, wings, teeth... and do something about your legs?" he asked, eyeing him up and down. "I don't care how you look, I doubt Tricia will either because we've seen some weird shit in this town one to many times for someone who looks like you to phase us, but I suppose I should worry about my dad. If he asks, you're a homeless youth looking for a place to stay the night and the heating is broken in the church so I brought you with me."
Taking in this information, Imp ventured another question. "You still live with your parents?"
"Dad technically lives with me. Tricia is still in high school, and mom is in Florida. Once Tricia graduates, dad and her will move down with mom. They already gave the house to me, since I'm out of school and I work here, there was no point in my living anywhere else," he explained, starting to walk again. "So, while I can bring home whoever I want, dad still likes to question everything I do. I'm actually looking forward to them all leaving, then I'll have peace and quiet."
"I see."
Craig didn't look back again, but he felt when the other shifted his appearance. His wings must have been the first to go, as soon after, he felt a heavier weight resisting his pull slightly, and heard the clicks of hooves on the snowy sidewalk. Not long after this was replaced by the soft tread of shoes. He hoped he would have pants on when they got to his house.
They turned onto his street and arrived on the porch of the brown, two story house a few minutes later. Craig took out his key, unlocking the door and stepping inside, letting go of Imp's hand. He felt strangely cold at the loss of contact, but pushed past it, calling into the house that he was back, letting the warmth of the place wash over him. He rubbed at his ears and stomped his feet to return the feeling to them faster.
He received an annoyed grunt and a yelled hello in response. Entering the front room which was a combined living and dining room, Craig found his father sitting at the dinner table by the far wall, reading a newspaper. The man was clearly a giant, even when seated. He had a thick frame, likely a mixture of muscle from sports in his younger days and years of eating food that probably wasn't the healthiest. He had red hair, unlike Craig's black, and it was thinning in a circle around the top, leaving a little poof of color on the crown of his head.
The red headed man glanced up at them as the front door shut, his eyes lingering on the imp for a moment before dropping back down to the page in front of him, shuffling them together lightly.
"I see you brought a friend," he said without looking at them. "My name's Thomas."
"Uh... Hi." Imp left his sentence there, having nothing else to say to Craig's father.
"He's staying with us for the night," Craig announced before any silence, either awkward or tense, could form. "He showed up at the church for a place to stay, but the heating is broken so I brought him with me." He turned for the first time to look at Imp, and was startled by how much shorter than him the Hell creature was. The top of Imp's head only came up to his shoulder. He was relieved to see transforming his legs to look normal had given him pants at least. One less awkward thing to have to explain.
"Hm. Does Mystery Guest have a name?" a new voice asked from the kitchen. A girl walked into view, looking far more like Thomas than Craig did, her hair a strawberry blonde, tied up into pigtails on either side of her head. She was also tall, though not quite the height of her brother, her eyes about level with his chin. She leaned against the doorway, looking their visitor up and down. "Wow. I didn't expect a major hottie, Craig. Why do you always leave out the most interesting parts? Is this one yours?"
Craig blinked, then flushed darkly when he realized what his sister meant. "Tricia! It's not like that-" he argued, but was cut off by his father.
"I didn't know you swung that way, son. Doesn't change the fact that you need to use protection, though. Always wrap it before you tap it," Thomas said, no inflection in his tone.
Now Imp blushed, making a strange grunting sound.
"Dad! Tricia! It's not like that!" Craig practically screeched. He could remember easily the last time he had wanted to die as badly as he did now. It was never. He had never wanted to end his existence as much as he did in that moment.
Thomas let out a disbelieving humph. "No judgement, son. We still love you no matter what. I'll keep it a secret for you, as I don't know how Father Maxi would feel about a gay man teaching in his church."
Craig threw his hands into the air, exasperated. Giving into the knowledge he would never win the argument, he stomped past the two, leading Imp to the kitchen. "Whatever. I hate you both. What's for dinner?"
Tricia had made spaghetti for the family, it being easy and fast. She mentioned multiple times during their meal how smart she had been making dinner, seeing as it had been so easy to throw more pasta into the pot to feed their surprise guest.
Imp was quiet for the most part, but Craig found himself watching the other. For a creature from Hell, he sure didn't seem all that bad. Imp had mentioned that he'd been human at some point, how long ago was that? What kind of person had he been? How had he ended up in Hell?
Once they had finished eating, Craig washed the dishes, finding that doing menial tasks were a joy to him. Likely something to do with the boringness of them. Imp stood beside him, having elected to stay close to the youth pastor over talking with Craig's strange family who had major interest in him.
"Probably should have come up with a name to give them for you," Craig said casually. "Didn't think it through all the way."
"I get the feeling you don't think a lot of things through," Imp answered, earning a laugh from the other.
"I can't say you're wrong. I'm not known for being rational."
"That is the impression I got."
They fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound the scrubbing of the brush over the dishes and the occasional hum of the faucet. As he was setting the last dish into the rack to dry, Tricia poked her head into the room.
"So, where is Misty staying?" she asked.
"Who the fuck is 'Misty'?" Craig rolled his eyes at his sister from his spot, having a guess as to who she meant. It didn't make it any less stupid though.
"Him. Mystery Guest. I'm calling him Misty until he gives me something else," the girl answered, raising her hand to flip off her brother's back. "I thought it was obvious."
He returned the gesture without looking, feeling the presence of the infamous Tucker sign like a sixth sense. "It was, I just thought you would have a bit more creativity."
"And I thought you would come out of your closet with a better fashion sense. Looks like we're both disappointed."
Craig spun around, ready to fight his sister for her comments, but Tricia had already retreated. Her laughter echoed from the living room into the kitchen, and he groaned, rubbing his face with his damp hands.
"I suppose it's still a valid question," Imp put in. "You forced me to come all the way here, so tell me where I'm being put for the night."
"You can stay in my room. I'll sleep on the couch," the exasperated man sighed. "You might want to lock the door too, or Tricia will come in to bother you. She doesn't always respect people's boundaries."
"I find myself entirely unsurprised to hear that." Raising his arms over his head, the blonde stretched until his shoulders and elbows popped loudly. He sighed in satisfaction, letting them drop back down to his sides. "I hate to break up the party, Craig," he said, his tone mocking, "but being pulled from Hell is actually a pretty tiring experience, as is shape shifting. If you don't mind, I'd like to rest."
Had it been anyone else, Craig was convinced he would have either thrown them out or kicked their ass. But, hearing Imp tease him made his chest fill with an unusual warmth, almost like amusement, and he was quickly coming to enjoy the sensation.
"Sure. Just go upstairs, first door on the right." He watched his guest go, then returned his attention to the sink full of warm, soapy water. As he pulled out the plug and began to wipe down the counters, his thoughts wandered to his day.
It had started off normally enough, getting up a bit too late to prepare himself fully for the day, yet still too early for his liking. He'd showered, dressed, and stopped by the local coffee shop. He didn't like to go to Tweek Bros. if he could avoid it. He didn't know why, but something about the place always felt... off. Like something important was missing, but for the life of him Craig couldn't tell what it was. Not to mention the coffee from that place always made him feel shaky and it took him a while to calm back down. Maybe they just had to much caffeine in their drinks. Regardless, he had then gone to the church and been in his office doing paperwork until lunch when he had been invited by Father Maxi to eat at City Wok and discuss possible improvements to their teaching methods. Father Maxi relied too much on scaring the shit out of people for Craig's taste, while the youth pastor was too lenient for Father Maxi.
Father Maxi had left before him to go to the post office, and Craig had returned to the church on his own. Entering the building, he'd discovered a group of teens sitting together in the pews murmuring to one another. While not a common occurrence, it happened often enough that Craig hadn't thought twice on it. He'd offered a simple greeting, gaining a few in return before he went into his office. Firkle, that dead son of a bitch, had been the one to run into his office yelling that they needed help. He'd gotten up and followed him, and the last thing he remembered before waking up in the back room was a sharp pain stabbing into his arm.
He looked down at his arm, pushing his sleeve up to inspect the area. Craig could see the puncture wound and huffed in annoyance. Whatever, he was out and alive now while all those motherfuckers were burning for eternity.
He left the kitchen, heading to the living room where his sister and father were lounging. He dropped himself onto the couch, splayed out across its length, pressing his cheek into the cushion.
"What's the matter, Craig?" Tricia asked, glancing up from one of her textbooks. She was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, homework spread out all around her. Thomas was in the armchair off to the side, scrolling through sport feeds on his phone.
"Nothing. Just tired. It's been a long, weird day," he croaked, feeling the exhaustion settle over him like a blanket. "Could use some sleep."
"Then go to your room and sleep," Tricia retorted, rolling her eyes. "I think I saw Misty go up just a bit ago. I'm sure he could help you at least relax."
Not having enough energy left to yell at her, Craig lifted his finger to his sister, letting that speak for him.
"Just don't be too loud," Thomas suddenly added. "I need to get up early for work in the morning and Tricia has school."
As quickly as his tiredness had come, it vanished as Craig leapt off the couch, spluttering indignantly. "For the hundredth time, I'm not gay!"
"Nothing wrong with being gay," his father replied sagely.
"I never said there was!"
"Oh, shut up and go cuddle your mystery boyfriend," Tricia finally snapped. "I need to finish this homework before tomorrow and that's not going to happen if you don't quit your bitching."
Red faced and mortified, Craig stomped to the staircase and started up. "I'm not fucking gay, and I swear to God if I hear it one more time-!"
"Seems rather blasphemous for you to be using the Lord's name in that manner," Thomas cut in, giving his son a sly smile.
"Gah! You two drive me crazy! Move out of my damn house already!" Craig spat before running up the last few steps. Turning his attention to his bedroom door, he strolled to it purposefully, grabbing the knob and twisting it harshly to alert Imp to his presence before swinging the door open. He entered and slammed it behind him as hard as he could, his gaze on the purple carpeted floor.
He leaned back against the wood, rubbing his eyes in frustration.
"What's your problem?" Imp's voice asked, filtering through the fog of irritation that has built itself up in Craig's mind. He sighed and looked up, his eyes nearly popping out of his head.
Imp was laying across his bed in a pair of Craig's old pajama pants, which were far to long for him, with no shirt, and Craig's pet guinea pig sleeping lightly on his bare chest. He quickly turned away, red coating his face once more. He wasn't fond of how often that seemed to be happening today.
"What are you doing with Stripe?" he retaliated, choosing to ignore Imp's question in favor of his own. Stripe didn't let anyone but Craig touch him, not even Tricia. No one had ever been able to hold the little fluff ball. It seemed strange to him that of all the other people in the world, the second being Stripe allowed close was literally a spawn of Hell.
The creature scoffed and sat up, cupping the tiny animal against his chest to keep him from falling. "He kept making this weird sound at me. I opened the cage and he jumped into my hands. When I put him down on your bed, he started jumping all over the place."
"He popcorned for you?" Craig stepped closer, lightly rubbing the guinea pig's fur. "He doesn't do that very often, not even for me."
"I don't know, dude, I just watched him until he stopped and he started making that sound at me again. I put my hand out and he crawled onto it and nuzzled me," Imp huffed, carefully passing the pet over.
"Wheeking. It's called wheeking. Guinea pigs do it for a few reasons, but it's most likely he was doing it because he wanted attention."
"Whatever it was, it was cute. That's the only reason I didn't do anything to shut him up."
Before Imp knew what was happening, he found himself forced backwards onto Craig's bed, the other kneeling over him with sparkling eyes. "You think Stripe is cute?" he demanded, holding the small creature in his cupped hands. "You do, right?"
"Uh... yeah?" Imp's eyes shot side to side as he tried to think of how to wiggle out of this awkward position. "Did you want me to lie?"
Craig watched him for a moment, then got up, adding over his shoulder, "You keep complimenting Stripe and I might go for real gay." Realizing to late the words that had come out of his mouth, Craig quickly went over Stripe's cage, placing his pet back inside to avoid looking at his guest.
"For real gay, huh?" Imp finally repeated, breaking the embarrassed silence.
Craig had never been happier that he had mastered blank facing in his childhood. Turning to the other, he approached again, pulling off his loose tie and tossing it on the floor, forgoing his own pajamas. Ignoring Imp's squeaked protests, he crawled into the bed beside him, forcing the blonde to shift closer to the window.
"W-What the hell do you think you're doing?" Imp snapped, struggling to look more angry than surprised, but failing.
Craig put up a hand, covering Imp's mouth. "Shh. No words. Only dreams." He then laid down and turned his back to the other, shutting his eyes. He listened to Imp splutter on for a few more minutes before giving up and shifting, laying down beside him, facing the wall.
Biting his lip, Craig willed sleep to come to him. Today had been more than he was willing to deal with. He liked things nice and boring, and this situation was far from his preference.
Peculiarly, he found he didn't mind as much as he thought he would.
