AN: Hey guys! I know it's been a good while since I updated, but I didn't forget! I've just been working on a lot of different projects, that's all. Anyway, here's the new chapter. Let me know what you think, and as always, enjoy!

XI

It was Aziraphale's prompting that brought them to Lilith's home. Somewhere, deep down, that had been Crowley's hope. He genuinely went to his friend to ask if he'd spoken to the demonness, but while there, he also knew that –if worried enough- Aziraphale would want to search for her, removing the responsibility from Crowley's shoulders. It meant he could look for her guilt-free, without betraying his demonic side.

They swept through the empty club, the building closed given the early hour of the day. Crowley led the way. He knew Aziraphale was smart enough to remember the layout, but Crowley was his shield as well. Crowley could snap open locks and glamor people casually, while Aziraphale would hold a level of guilt if he did.

With his hands in his pockets and a noncommittal pace in his step, Crowley headed for Lilith's door. A level of anticipation surged within him. He knew, for whatever reason, that they would step into her office and the Mother of Demons would be sitting behind her desk tending to clerical work. She'd ask why they were there, bat her eyelashes and stare at them with her fiery eyes, and Crowley would have to admit that he'd been worried for nothing. He'd have to admit that she willingly chose not to visit him that night because she was finished with their dalliances.

The thought caused a very real pang of hurt, but he kept his expression blank.

When he reached the door that divided the business from the personal, Crowley snapped. He didn't bother checking the knob and simply compelled it open. The door gently glided on its hinges, revealing the room within.

"Lilith!" he bellowed, much as he had with Aziraphale earlier in the day.

He casually strode inside with his angelic mate behind him and paused. A wave of cold, the deepest of deep colds, instantly wrapped its slender fingers around his chest and squeezed tight. It robbed him of his breath and the ability to move.

Lilith wasn't sat behind her desk. She wasn't leaning over it with her nose in a ledger. In fact, the desk wasn't even in its place.

"Oh my," Aziraphale breathed the words more than spoke them.

The pair were standing in the middle of a battle ground.

Plants had been knocked over, spilling soil and chunks of broken pottery across the crumpled carpet. Lilith's desk, an object that easily weighed a few hundred pounds, a massive structure made of solid, ancient wood, was tossed over onto its side. Everything that had once been on top of it was strewn about.

The couch she had set up in the seating area had been charred, patches of burnt fabric marring the once-eggshell white of it. Her coffee table had been broken, reduced to splinters. The pair of chairs that surrounded the small table fared no better. One was broken in half –or perhaps torn in half- and the other had smashed into the bookshelves that lined the wall just to the left of the door. Books had been destroyed because of it, their pages scattered. To Aziraphale, that probably hurt the most.

The felled tree where the snake once sat basking and warming itself in artificial sun was broken, as well. Given its odd position, Crowley assumed someone had picked it up and used it as a rather unconventional bat.

Dried black blood stained multiple surfaces and charred circles littered the area. They were standing in the middle of a warzone.

"Something terrible happened here," Aziraphale muttered.

He needn't have bothered. Crowley knew it, too.

A flash of panic rose within him and he reacted on instinct.

"Lilith!" He shouted. Crowley raced for the spiral staircase on the other side of the room, jogged up it briskly and darted into her bedroom. There was nothing. "Lilith!" He yelled again. Crowley searched her bathroom as well, but as before –nothing. There wasn't even a stitch of clothing or furniture out of place. Nothing upstairs had been bothered. He ran for the edge of the second-floor landing and looked down at his friend. Crowley couldn't hide his worry. "She's not here." He said, pointing out what Aziraphale already knew.

The angel's brows pulled together and his blue eyes filled with fear of his own.

"This blood," Aziraphale said, pointing to one of the nearest rivulets of it that had been sprayed across the floor, "Its demon blood."

Crowley muttered, I know in his mind. They both knew what happened. Hell had come for Lilith, and they found her. Or, also possible, one of the black stains belonged to her.

The demon slowly descended the stairs and returned to his friend's side. His brow was pulled together and a very real prickle touched his eyes. The pit in his chest was fathomless, and he knew it threatened to choke the life out of him. It was not unlike what he felt when Aziraphale had been discorporated. The only difference really was Lilith wasn't an angel like Aziraphale or Crowley was. She had no body that could be replaced. If she died, she was gone. There would be no returning for her, and he knew it.

For what felt like an eternity, the pair lingered in the middle of the mayhem without a clue as to how they were meant to proceed. Both of them were clearly lost and before Crowley or Aziraphale could speak or attempt to come to some sort of resolution, Aziraphale perked. Crowley noticed his friend's odd expression and turned. Whatever he'd spotted was hidden just behind the demon's shoulder.

For a moment he saw nothing, until, a hint of movement drew his attention as well. Shortly after, the black head of Malum, Lilith's snake, poked out through some of the broken leaves of a grouping of plants.

He emerged partially, revealing perhaps a foot of his body. His yellow and black eyes drifted between the two, his pink tongue flickered, and then Crowley heard it. A soft, whisper of a voice entered his mind and he knew in an instant that it was Malum.

"She was taken," the voice said softly.

"By who?" Crowley asked plainly. Out of the corner of his eye, Crowley could see Aziraphale's curious expression.

"Demons." Malum said disdainfully. "Too many to fight."

Anger, a very high level of it, rose within Crowley. "Where?" he asked through a tight jaw.

"Somewhere," he replied. "Days ago."

Crowley thought back to his missed 'date' with Lilith. She must have already been gone by then, which meant she hadn't intentionally missed it. The guilt followed his anger.

"Why?" he asked the snake.

"Blood," Malum said. "They want blood."

Crowley's head dipped and his mind swarmed. He hadn't realized that only half of the conversation met Aziraphale's ears and he knew little to nothing.

"What's happening?" he finally asked.

"Demons took her." Crowley replied, shifting his attention to the angel. "They're going to take her blood."

Aziraphale's face fell. "Oh dear," he muttered. They both knew the danger in the situation. But Aziraphale soon looked at him in confusion. "How do you know?"

Crowley tilted his head marginally to the side. "He told me." He pointed at the snake.

"You understood him?" Aziraphale had trouble comprehending, which in turn confused Crowley.

"I'm a snake." Then he paused. "Was a snake." Then he paused again. "Am a snake?

Understanding washed through the angel's face.

"Food,"

The soft, distant whisper of a voice drew Crowley's attention. More of Malum's black body had emerged as he slithered towards them, hovering in the air as he did.

"Need food," he repeated.

"Oh, right."

Crowley extended his hand and Malum quickly slithered up the length of it, conforming to the demon serpent's body as he did. Once settled, Crowley gave the angel his attention once more.

"Food," he said, telling the man in white why he'd taken the snake.

"Ah," Aziraphale nodded. "Perhaps we should leave."

Crowley nodded and with Malum wrapped securely around his shoulders and down the length of his arm, the pair left. All the while, Crowley's mind raced with a thousand different thoughts.

The cold, unforgiving floor offered a strange sort of comfort. There was a small stone, a broken piece of concrete that dug into her cheekbone. It hurt a little, but she couldn't move. She didn't have the strength.

Lilith laid there, her arms still jerked behind her back, still chained to the floor, and still wearing the dress she'd worn to have dinner with Aziraphale. It was ruined now, but that hardly mattered to her.

Slow, haggard breaths were the only sound in the cell. She could hear nothing beyond her walls, or beyond the steel door that kept her secured. She didn't know how long Beelzebub planned on keeping her, or how long she'd been kept already. All she was certain of was they had finally taken enough blood and starved her enough that Lilith could no longer heal. She was weak, as weak as a human consumed by the flu. Lilith had never been sick a day in her life, but she knew –somehow- that it was the same.

Locks gave way, clicked and slid along their slats before the door opened. Lilith didn't even flinch as the cell was filled with the dim, fluorescent light of Hell. Her eyes ached and burned, but they remained open. They were focusless as they stayed foxed to the back wall.

The shadow spread over her and grew smaller as the figure approached. Her senses might have been dulled, but Lilith's nose wasn't bombarded by the stench of the familiar. Whoever stood behind her was a newcomer.

"Wow," A male-esque voice said. "Lilith," He chuckled gleefully.

She assumed he was one of the fools who thought she was someone important, or a sort of demonic celebrity. Silence stretched between them because she had no ability or desire to speak.

"Well, uh…" His voice lingered, filled with uncertainty. "Brought you something."

In the back of her mind, she heard the shuffle of feet and a soft whimper. A moment later, Lilith smelled blood –sweet, delicious, human blood. It was rife with innocence and it stirred something deep inside her, a level of hunger she hadn't felt for a long while. The demon inside her churned and roiled, it bucked against the weak skin shell that kept it in check.

Her eyes blazed. The Hellfire that made up her irises glowed with a newfound intensity. Her fanged teeth grew within her mouth, expanded to the point she had no choice but to part her lips to accommodate. Her fingernails extended as well, curling into dangerous claws. Lilith tried to rein in the creature before she lost control. She hadn't let it out in eons and she wouldn't give Hell the satisfaction.

But it smelled so good. Whatever she'd been brought smelled so, unbelievably good.

Somehow, Lilith managed to crane her head back to better see the door. A growl, unnatural and terrifying, crackled in the back of her throat. The creature within was clawing at the surface… until she saw the offering.

A child, perhaps no older than five, stood in front of the demon. It was a little girl clutching desperately at a toy. She had light, dusky skin and a head of tight, dark, spiral curls that were cut short. Her cheeks were damp and stained with tears. She sniffed repeatedly, whimpered and choked on her cries.

Lilith instantly recoiled. She curled in on herself, brought her knees as high up as she could, and attempted to bury her face in them. They'd brought her a child.

"You nee' to eat," the demon said.

Lilith shook her head repeatedly. "I'm not eating a child." She growled. Her voice sounded wrong, twisted by a number of things.

"Well, I got orders," It said in a flippant, non-caring tone. "You gotta keep yer strength up so they can keep bleedin' ya. I suggest ya eat."

She heard a shove and a second later, the sound of the little girl stumbling. She fell onto the concrete with a loud smack and instantly let loose a series of cries that churned Lilith's stomach.

"I'm going to kill you." She hissed through her teeth. Lilith jerked her head back and leveled her eyes solely on the demon standing in the doorway. She must have looked horrifying because the little girl screamed and cowered, and the demon scampered back. "I'm going to kill every last one of you. Every. Single. One."

The demon's eyes were wide, its jaw set in a tight line to keep it from trembling. She huffed and breathed deep. The sound of it bounced off the walls and clearly sent another wave of fear through the demon. It quickly reached for the door and slammed it shut, locking her and the child within.

Lilith began to cry. She curled in on herself once more and began to sob. She didn't want to hurt the little girl, but hunger raked her body. If she'd been human, Lilith stood a chance of ignoring the urge. But she wasn't, and hadn't been for some time.