By faith Moses, when he had grown up, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter, choosing rather to endure ill-treatment with the people of God than to enjoy the passing pleasures of sin, considering the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of Egypt; for he was looking to the reward. By faith he left Egypt, not fearing the wrath of the king; for he endured, as seeing Him who is unseen. -Hebrews 11: 24-27
With each step, he couldn't help but fear it could be his last. Damien couldn't kill him, he knew that well enough. But something was whirring in that malicious mind of his, and Kyle just didn't have enough information to stop whatever notions he had. He grunted with a rough squeeze around his shoulder, eyes dropping down to his bound wrists and a snarl playing on his lips. He was fucking helpless. He was right back at fucking square one down here. No use of his damn powers, stuck just waiting for someone to rescue him again.
'I'm too fucking old for this damsel shit,' he thought in exhaustion. He was too old last time, too, but teetering on thirty and being trapped was enough for his pride to collapse and flail on the ground in a childish tantrum. He looked back up, narrowing his eyes at a raised black and flattened object lingering in the distance. A chill ran down his spine. This seemed familiar. Way too familiar, but he couldn't seem to place it. His confusion was interrupted with another deep grip of claws against his skin, face twisting in a wince. "Why the fuck didn't you just use a fucking portal?" he snapped, reaching the end of his patience. "I don't need a fucking tour."
Damien grinned slyly, "Because. The more you walk, the more you lose," he purred, dragging a bony finger through a still-trickling trail of blood running down Kyle's exposed forearm. "The more you lose, the weaker you are, and the easier this'll be."
Kyle's brow knitted, trying to figure out just what the hell he was planning, but coming up short. Something to do with his damn puppetry? Some kind of experiment to make him subservient outside of trying to avoid his threats?
Damien felt his confusion and laughed to himself, reaching up to snare Kyle's chin and make him look straight ahead at the object there were approaching. "Recognize it yet?" he asked, Kyle's lashes fluttering as he tried so desperately to put together the puzzle that he was being handed. "Well. Maybe you don't, since you were unconscious when I brought you here," he hinted, grinning madly at Kyle's face dropping into a horrified realization.
Kyle's spine stiffened, legs trying to halt their advancement before being forced to continue onwards. Stilted pieces began to emerge, remembering little more than blinding pain, awakening from what he thought was a nightmare only to find he'd been thrown into one. Nothing but panic and hate, groggily finding claws and a damning mark on his hand, his mouth awkwardly rearranged with longer additions and a burning in his blood that still haunted him regardless of how long ago it was shed. Back to the ritualistic slab, back to the foundation of the curse he'd been suffering through for over five years. Back to what had effectively ruined the rest of his life.
"What are we doing here?!" he snapped, panic beginning to override his planning, terrified that Damien had found a way to make him completely demonic, wash away all hints of his humanity and celestial grace he'd spent so long learning to counterbalance against their dangerous adversary.
Damien hummed, "I already told you. We're fixing a certain problem you've put in my path. You've been under God's hands for far too long," he flicked him pointedly. "Tell me though, how does that feel?"
Kyle blinked, still fighting through possibilities, "What the fuck do you mean?"
"I mean how does it feel being the only demon under His domain? Bet it's lonely, isn't it?" he cooed. "Bet it kills you being the only one up there with no wings, new faces coming in and seeing you and being afraid."
Kyle's lips pursed shut, trembling with anger. He hated this, because he couldn't even fucking tell him he was wrong. He'd met a decent amount of new additions at the gates, their paths crossing in front of Peter, Kyle being greeted with horror. More than once people had panicked that they'd gone to Hell instead, far more than once had requests been made to God to smite him and keep the angels safe. Kyle often was nearby when such requests came about, having to be dragged over and watch his husband launch into a snippy tirade over how Kyle was the only reason there was even still a Heaven to go to. Heaven did nothing more for Kyle but make him tired, did nothing but really drive in just how different he was, especially in a world where everyone else's wings had the exact same number of feathers in the same shining pristine white. Angelic perks aside, it wasn't worth having to be flown everywhere like a child or seeing veteran angels berating the newcomers for their disrespect. He wanted the attention away from him, not directed so blatantly at him he may as well be sharing God's ethereal glow.
"You don't know that I don't have wings," he grumbled.
Damien chuckled, "I threw you past the gate. And you still belonged to Him. So yes, I do know. And besides, that gets passed down in our line, little one. You can save Earth as many times as you want, but you'll always be dirt in Heaven's eyes."
"No, you're the one they think is dirt. I just inherited your fucking side effect."
He shook his head. "Still? Even after all this time? Figured you would have the wherewithal to accept that you and I are so close," he hissed in his ear. Kyle's eye twitched, uneasily focusing on the now-visible ridges of the basalt slab. Damien hummed, a claw tapping against Kyle's shoulder. A countdown, Kyle's weary mind whispered in torment. A countdown to what, he didn't know, but that didn't stop his stomach from curling, his instincts from screaming at him to run. Just run and take his chances to get Kat out.
Too much risk, he reminded himself through a shaking breath. Kat couldn't defend herself here. He couldn't use his powers. Valefor could only do so much to assist and stood no chance against Damien. He had to just do this, play it by ear and pray that Kenny would figure this out sooner than he could. He knew well enough there were ten divine figures gathered around a room, plotting to find a way to get them out. They weren't going to stop, and, despite his circumstances, despite the past's turn of events… he found miniscule comfort in such a fact.
They came upon the altar and Kyle bit his lip nervously. It was bigger than he remembered, far too distracted by newfound powers and veins getting ripped from his back to take note of such menial things. "Why are we here?" he finally asked, keeping his voice flat and controlled. He needed something to hold onto. Something to remind both Damien and himself that he was no simple victim.
Damien grinned, eyes sparkling with promise as he whipped Kyle around and shoved him back. Kyle hissed as he slammed onto the rock, his skull ricocheting with a nauseating vibration. A gasp was brutally beaten down as Damien forced his way between his dangling legs and leaned over him. Kyle's jaw trembled, despising the low simmer of Damien's lust pervading between them. "First thing's first," he declared, a palm sliding up Kyle's hip and waist, trailing further until coming to a stop atop his forehead, keeping him still. Kyle watched, chest aflutter with worry as that damning red glow seemed to penetrate his defenses all over again. "Revoco," Damien purred, hand tightening atop his skull. Kyle's body wracked with a small convulsion, losing a yelping gasp amid his bewilderment. Damien watched, beyond thrilled at an eye beginning to match his own, teeth struggling to hold onto Kyle's order and follow Damien's. "There he is," he sang under his breath, beyond enthralled at the art that he had created reforming right before his very eyes. Mortality didn't suit Kyle, he thought. He handled the power influx too well to want to represent something so weak.
Kyle settled onto the slab with a groan, nerves firing warning that he was traipsing too close to pain, that they knew it was incoming after this initial display. A simple cover-up spell being repealed left him exhausted. He wondered how awful it would be for more power to be ripped from his body.
He didn't want to know.
Damien hummed, hand sliding back down to Kyle's hip as he readjusted to being back in his default form. A forked tongue clicked, slipping into Kyle's pocket and ripping out his phone, turning it in his hand. "You won't be needing your little warning timers," he informed him, waiting for Kyle to finally look at him once again and grinning. "You're staying as I made you." His claws broke through the screen and Kyle sneered.
"Stop breaking my fucking phones," he snapped, flinching as Damien threw the useless plastic off and away, leaning back over him. They stared in silence at one another, the tension mounting and Kyle unable to halt his shaking. This was too much all at once. He'd always thought if Damien came back for him, it'd be no sweat, that Kenny would be by his side throughout every moment and they'd take him down once and for all. He didn't account for this, didn't want to imagine how cornered he could get. Maybe it kept him sane, maybe it just made him grossly unprepared. "Did you really fucking drag me out here to take away something that'd go away on its own anyway?!" he bit.
He shook his head, a gleam slashing through rubies. "Oh, no no no. That's merely step one. And… that's just for my benefit."
"Everything is always for your benefit you spoiled sack of shit!" Kyle barked.
Damien smirked, hand moving up to cup his face. "Very good. You remember," he praised. "What you're here for is much more than aesthetic, little mouse. You're coming back to me."
Kyle scowled, "Feel like you need God for that little trick since He's the one calling the shots on me."
He cocked a superior brow. "Are you familiar with the phrase selling your soul to the devil?" he questioned. "Willingly handing over control takes it out of His hands. Most He can do is send one of those prissy bitches like your little husband to convince you otherwise." He paused, grinning. "But, you don't even get that option. It's all up to you and just how much you're willing to do for your daughter."
He blinked quickly, fingers twitching and regrown claws poking into his palms. Anything. He'd do goddamn anything to get her out.
He just didn't want to know what path that would take him down.
Kyle swallowed a throatful of pride, shivering. "What do you want?"
Damien's smirk grew darker, hearing an echo of the past, just as famished as he'd been so long ago in a cave with a nearly disabled Kyle. The tears, the utter horror. He could have it again. He could have it all again. "You," he purred, claws running down a heated cheek.
Kyle was nauseous at such a familiar riposte, right back to the weakest he'd ever felt, right back to where he officially thought his life was over and he could never be clean again. Right back to nightmares of being held down by shadows, of Kenny unable to get to him and help him. Of having to just accept his fate. He didn't know if he could do it all over again, didn't know if he could face those pitying expressions, the tiptoeing Kenny had had to adapt to once they got home. He was a survivor, that's what his husband called him. Never a victim, never anything less than his fighter.
Kyle just didn't know how much fight he could have left, how much more Damien could tear down from the inside out. It'd taken three years for the nightmares to finally slow their stride to a near halt. He wondered how long it could possibly take the second time around.
Red and green eyes slipped shut, breath staggering at Damien continuing to so casually touch him, taking an ownership that even Kenny wasn't so bold about asserting. He wasn't stupid, he had no choices. Kat was out there, scared and confused out of her mind. He just wanted to stall, wanted to pretend that Heaven already had their plan and were ready to come get them out. But this was just too delicate an operation, it could never be so easy. Never for him.
"…Fine," he whispered, cringing at fingers curling in excitement along his face.
"Good boy," he cooed, claws slipping along crimson curls and ripping him up to sit.
Kyle flinched at the feeling of his cuffs being torn off his wrists, looking down at his freed hands and flexing his fingers. He could fight. He could. He could call Damien's bluff, think that Gragor would never know. They could just go at it fang-and-claw until one of them was beyond repair…
Not with Kat on the line, he reminded himself quietly. Far too much at stake.
"Look at me," Damien grinned, tipping his chin up. Kyle took a deep, steadying breath before doing as told, instantly locked in a possessive grip that he knew was nothing short of staining on his psyche. Damien's other hand came up, Kyle lingering on Resurrection's scars embedded into the flesh and grimacing. So close.
They'd been so close.
A sudden materialization formed in the empty palm, Kyle blinking at a dagger popping before him. He gulped, knowing the original was still in Heaven, abandoned as Damien had been dragged away. It was a reminder, a story prop. It was something kept far out of Kyle and Kenny's sights if it could be managed. This one seemed even older, the handle a tarnished, muddy silver and a chip missing out of one of the encrusted jewels. "Lucky you," Damien took his attention back. "You don't even have to summon me. You get to jump to the best part."
He shoved the dagger into Kyle's hand, watching him look at it in a tantalizing mixture of rage and defeat, fear and that stubborn fire that could never seem to be doused. The grip bit into Kyle's palm, a tightening fist digging it deeper into his pentagram, entire body reviling such an item as a toxin. "What is the point of this?" he muttered, staring at the blade with hazed eyes.
Damien smirked. "A few things. If you foolishly decide to go against our agreement and try to escape with your little runt, I can call you right back and snap both your necks. And so when you die, you don't get to go to Heaven and cry to McCormick. You get to come right back to me."
He narrowed his eyes, looking at his assuredness with caution. "What do you mean when?"
He grinned, "That's for later. Now. Shall we get started?"
Kyle growled under his breath. "Fine."
"Good. Cut your hand, and deep. I need blood that you draw on your own."
He glanced down at his free palm, seeing the mirroring mark he shared with Kenny and shaking his head. The dagger traded hands, Kyle unable to let himself mar one of the few reminders that he wasn't by himself in this disaster. He held the blade to the pentagram, pausing with a tremor running through his arm. "What does this change?" he asked.
"Hmm?" Damien cocked his brow, too distracted waiting for blood to spill to catch his words.
Kyle's eyes flickered up to meet his. "This agreement. What does it change regarding me?"
"Nothing but ownership, little mouse. If I could take that heavenly bullshit out of you, trust me, I fucking would. But… it may come in handy," he shrugged lazily. "Everything stays the same, except that you belong to me again."
"You never fucking owned me. And this doesn't change that," he sneered. "God doesn't fucking own me either. Controlling where I fucking go when I die doesn't mean jack shit. I've told you before and I'll fucking tell you again: I'm not the property of anyone."
Damien watched the fury, the betrayal splashing through his corneas, a sly grin creeping up his face and elation rising in his chest. "Oh. You hate Him right now. Don't you?" Kyle paused and he barked out a cruel laugh. "Bet He promised to keep your little runt safe, didn't He? Promised I'd never touch her. It's the only reason you even have her. Isn't it?" He cupped Kyle's chin, loving the subtle twitches of his profile as his thumb's claw scratched along his cheek. "Little mouse, I didn't know you were going to have a crisis of faith over this," he jeered.
"I'm not," he said steadily. "Kind of fucking hard to when I'm on a first name basis with Him."
"Just because you know He exists doesn't mean you believe in Him," he countered. "You don't think He can do anything to help you. Again. He's going to sit in His little watchtower and just watch you suffer all over again. Doing nothing but offering sympathy, telling McCormick that you'll figure out what to do about it all. What kind of God is that?"
Kyle scowled, taking his head back. "He's not there to fight."
"No. Instead He gets McCormick to do it for Him. Him and those seven other winged pussies. Can't even fight His own wars, drags your family into it instead. He's the reason you're a recluse. Why you're so afraid of the world turning its back on you."
Fangs gritted in frustration. "He's not the one who poisoned me."
"He's just the one who set the chain into motion. Didn't He? If He'd fought His own war, McCormick and yourself would've been none the wiser. Could've been happy. Which, would've been tragic. Because then I never would've gotten a hold on you."
Kyle's anger hit a critical spike, the truth and disgust of the matter slamming into him like a blizzard, left eye springing with light and hair bristling. The need to attack was fierce, to defend his dignity, his family, his faith.
"May want to reconsider," Damien warned him, voice far too calm for the levels of resentment spawning between them. "Remember: You're not the only one who gets hurt if you fight this time. Cut your hand. Now."
With great apprehension, the embers in his iris faded back down, and he forced his shoulders to slump. He hated this. He hated this. He should've goddamn listened to Stan in high school when he'd suggested Kyle take up goddamn meditation to learn to get his fiery temper under control. Lord knew that he needed that level-headedness before he destroyed everything in his life. He let out a long, frustrated sigh, swiping the blade through his pentagram, wincing at the skin so compliantly splitting open and filling his palm with tainted blood. He stared as it moved to drip between the webbing of his fingers, how dark and evil it looked. Kenny and Kat would scrape their knees, the world greeting the shade of roses. Not Kyle. Nicks from shaving and being bumped with a kitchen knife in his hand brought out a color Kenny had once described as black cherries.
It was an apt comparison. Bitter and inconvenient to work around, clustered and not the status quo.
He let out a small grunt of surprise as his wrist was snatched, looking up at Damien so hungrily focused on his wound. 'He's going to kill me,' Kyle decided, drooping in exhaustion. 'Over and over. He just wants to watch me die.' Whether through gradually chipping away at him until he was a shell or just clawing him through the throat, he wasn't sure. But it was unavoidable, that much was clear.
A claw dug into the gash, Kyle wincing and fingers curling reflexively as he nestled in the muscle. They stood in silence for a few moments, Kyle quickly losing his tolerance. "Are you doing this or not?!" he snapped.
Damien smirked. "I don't think you understand. You have to make the contract." He leaned down towards Kyle's face and grinned. "So. Tell me: What is it you want to protect?"
Kyle considered, wondering if he could slip in an 'everyone and everything sans you' and get away with it. But he could see something brewing, a storm on the horizon. Damien wasn't just here for his capture. There was something much larger at stake that he would never let Kyle contractually avoid. He only had the next best thing he might be able to collectively name. "My family," he muttered.
Fangs clacked in thought, Damien nodding slowly. "I'll allow it. I'm feeling generous." Kyle rolled his eyes, whimpering at another firm press into his hand. "And… what are you willing to give for this arrangement?" he purred, eyes alit with thrill.
He glanced at the hand in Damien's grasp, the bloodstained silver ring situated on his fourth finger. He wondered how Kenny would view this. If he'd be screaming for him to stop, or if he'd be miserably nodding, knowing that they were out of alternatives for the time being. Kyle just wished he didn't have to do this alone. Not again.
In a meek whisper, echoing in his head like a sonic boom, he locked into that eager stare and held back a quiver. "Me."
"All of you?" Damien pressed, giving him a warning squeeze to watch his snarky mouth.
"Yes."
"Good boy," he praised, free hand slamming up and grabbing his throat, twisting him with a staccato screech of surprise to slam down lengthwise onto the slab, his dagger falling to the cracked ground with a subtle clang. A fire awoke in his stare, expression what Kyle could only describe as crazed. "Hoc animus est datum," he hissed, pressing against Kyle's throat until his lips parted in a choked cry, moving with one knee atop the block to hover over him. "Hoc corpore est datum."
Kyle's eyes went wide, nerves dancing on edge and a effervescent shock rushing through his limbs, congregating at his chest. His wounds spilled more blood as his heart rate rose, feeling dizzier and weaker than he had in years. Instinct was screaming for his power to protect him, but he couldn't seem to find the ability to tap into it, mind too muddled with burning and vicious, glowing eyes.
"Haec potentia est datum," Damien continued, mouth twitching in a maniacal grin. "Accipio." He grunted, a warm rush swelling through his fingers, melting against Kyle's neck and into his bloodstream. "Hoc est servus," He declared. "Qui repraesentat quatuor. Quod album, et rubeum, et nigrum, et pallidus. In mea potestate et demanda."
Kyle screamed, arching as the parasite inside his chest blazed with heat, wrapped around his organs with blinding pain. Damien kept his head tilted up, unable to see anything but that malicious gaze staring him down, wondering if he was reaching into his chest and literally tearing out his beating heart. His body couldn't help itself, kicking and balking, eyes flooding with tears and unable to recognize Damien straddling over him to keep him down firmer, grinning at him so cruelly. He was dying, his mind decreed, a louder declaration than it'd asserted in his initial poisoning. He was so sure. He was leaving Kenny a widower, Kat without her dad, Valefor without his owner.
Damien shook his head, amused at his resistance. "Stubborn little mouse," he murmured, watching Kyle unconsciously fighting, twitching and choking. "Bet it hurts. Bet it's just killing you." He leaned down, turning Kyle's head and moving to breathe against his ear, feeling that involuntary shudder rush down his struggling form. "You're only allowed to die when I say so," he informed him. "And you fucking will." He paused, lips spreading in a fanged grin. "Wonder if McCormick will hold back killing you this time. You're not gonna give him much reason to stop."
The words held no meaning, but the grating tone sent a rush of foreboding through Kyle's subconscious. He yelped, tears leaking out of his eyes as his inner bindings seemed to snap, rushing in his bloodstream and organs, settling in different pieces. Another marionette trick, Kyle thought wearily, brain trying to find its function. He was a puppet again. Felt the same. He could feel Damien's hold, could feel nothing but heat and dismay. Parts of him were being plucked, his body an orchestra for his captor to conduct.
He attempted a wheezing breath, his struggles simmering with each separate piece of the puzzle falling into their chosen places, Damien's hold on his throat loosening just enough for him to remember how to work his lungs. His eyelids drooped, confusion settling in as he waded through a tepid tide of fatigue. Trying to lift his free arm, he whimpered as his fingers barely left the stone, muscles refusing to comply.
Damien chuckled, taking his finger from Kyle's leaking palm, tonguing off the blood and watching him with delight. "You'll be fine," he assured him, petting along his jawline. "Just have to sleep it off." Selling one's soul was never an easy burden for the body to take, the few mortals that'd taken up such an offer falling weak for days or weeks on end after their agreements. Kyle probably could have just been a little off his game had he gone into this with full strength, but Damien wasn't willing to risk what a tired mouse could unwittingly do when cornered. After all, he'd had such a long day, Damien figured he'd earned some rest by being so good and cooperative.
He hummed, hopping off from over-top of him and bending down to pick up his dagger and Kyle's chains, meeting that half-lidded stare. "So good," he taunted. "If you stay good, I'll even let you see your runt once you wake up. It's all give and take from here on out, little one"
Kyle could barely comprehend him, worn mind focused on telling him to fight his way up and run. But he just couldn't, his limbs seemed to weigh so much. He groaned, trying to grip the rock as Damien so nonchalantly moved to pick him up from his supine position. He hefted him into his arms and snorted, feeling the light sway of Kyle attempting to force himself to struggle away. A wave of violent dizziness slammed into him and he whimpered, head lolling into Damien's shoulder and his eyes slipping closed. Damien felt him limbering as unconsciousness began dragging him into the darkness, letting out a satisfied hum and staring at the ground.
Casually, he slipped down into the shadowed portal appearing before him, he and Kyle falling with ease through the chasm. He couldn't help the excitement spreading through his chest. This had gone too smoothly. Even overconfidence couldn't have predicted it'd be so flawless, that Kyle would already be struggling with knowing who he could trust at this point. The man just felt too much, couldn't distance himself enough to keep himself protected from the risks of his family, his friends, his god.
Worked well enough for Damien as far as he was concerned.
A jerk of Damien's head shooed stray bangs from his eyes, looking down at Kyle's limp, cradled, and bleeding form, unable to help his laugh. He could only hope everything else would play so smoothly in this game. He glanced up at the approaching end, smacking his lips and readjusting Kyle in his grip. He smirked, feeling Kyle falling into the crook of his neck, imagining the disgust he'd be demonstrating were he awake, the pure anger that his husband would be feeling seeing him in such a position.
He squinted in the slightest as they came to the low lighting of their destination, Damien effortlessly popping out of the ground into his room, cracking his neck and sighing happily. This felt right, holding all the cards, playing his pawns as he saw fit. This power was one he relished in, one that he hadn't experienced for far, far too long. But the times were changing, and he had his ironclad lock.
With ease in his step, he moved across the floor, letting Kyle drop from his arms into a bowed pile on the bed. Kyle didn't so much as make a sound, too far gone and out to awaken for anything. Damien tongued over his lips at the notion, a hand falling so possessively on Kyle's hip, squeezing with need. A need to get out his frustrations, take back more of what he'd earned. He made a small sound of consideration, shoving Kyle onto his back and leaning over him. Fingers twitching, they slid through curls of nostalgia, tilting his head back and pulling him up, eyes flickering to his exposed neck ripe with his mark. He wanted to make more, wanted Kyle to wake up bare and bruised, breaking down that he'd been defenseless to protect himself… But no. Not while Kyle didn't know, not while he couldn't fight or agonize over what he was being put through.
That just took all the fun out of it.
Instead, he opted to grip Kyle's still-bleeding pentagram with his own, squeezing them tightly together. He let out a long, pleased breath as Kyle's palm melded back into one piece, a throb ricocheting between their matching marks. Damien took his hand back, laying Kyle back down onto the mattress and looking between his own throbbing symbol and an innocent, unknowing face, smirking.
Steps one and two were oh-so-easily marked off his list already. Next step was all on him and a demon who'd been working on his pet project for nearly six months, ready and waiting for Damien to take what he'd demanded. He slid off the bed, gripping Kyle's discarded chain and snapping both cuffs around his lifeless right wrist. "Just wait until you wake up," he murmured, pushing back a lock of hair obscuring closed eyes, his own twinkling with the promise of the future he'd so precisely laid out for his little mutt. "Tomorrow's hunt won't be as easy on you as this was."
A/N – Translations:
Revoco - Retract
Hoc animus est datum- This soul has been given
Hoc corpore est datum – This body has been given
Haec potentia est datum - This power has been given
Accipio – I accept
Hoc est servus – This is the servant
Qui repraesentat quatuor – Who represents four
Quod album, et rubeum, et nigrum, et pallidus – This is the white, the red, the black, and the pale
In mea potestate et demanda – In my power and demand
I'm gonna blame all these damn Latin things in this story for why it's taking so long mkay? Mkay. Thanks for R&Ring!