The former deputy vaguely remembered the fairy tales of his youth. Not the Disney ones with Prince Charmings and fun songs and happy endings. No, he recalled once, when he was a pre-teen, he read an old anthology of the Fair Folk. The Sidhe courts, the Fae, who were beautiful and immortal and loved to trick humans. His younger self had been entertained by tales of mortals who entered the Fae realm for mere minutes and found that years had passed back home. Or sometimes the vice-versa happened, and they would spend years as a faerie's pet and return home to find everything the same. A terrible thing to happen to anybody, but there was no way it was real.
God, he wished he still had that mindset.
Those Faerie tales were the closest thing he had to compare to his time with Bughuul. Bughuul never tried to take his soul or strike a sketchy deal or dump him into a lake of fire, so he must not be an actual demon. At least not in the traditional sense. Maybe he was one of those in-between creatures that lived by their own rules and thought too highly of themselves.
Of course, he wouldn't ask Bughuul about it. He would just get another "I'm a god you stupid human blah blah blah" speech.
The human didn't want to give Bughuul the satisfaction of letting it know he was thinking about it. The dark being was already narcissistic enough. But how could he not wonder? Bughuul was the only company he had nowadays. What was Bughuul's past? Was his entire existence nothing but killing and art? Not that he was terribly curious, but it seemed odd to go this long without knowing Bughuul on a deeper level. It was like never learning the name of your boss.
His memories of life before Bughuul were fading more and more everyday. At least, what he thought was a day. He never did learn about the passage of time in this realm. Was it the same as the human world, or was it controlled by Bughuul?
He knew he had a life before all this. He had parents and friends and coworkers and a purpose. But with every moment with his captor, every memory pushed into his head, every child he failed to save, it faded more and more away. The man tried so, so hard to hold onto what was left of himself.
Bughuul didn't make it easy. It seemed as time went on, the demon became more and more determined to own the man completely. Obviously, Bughuul could control him physically. It was the human's mind that he had to work for. It was like carving an ice sculpture with a butter knife. It would take time and focus, but eventually it would become what the demon desired.
The former deputy noticed himself changing, sometimes. He would go for long periods of time without thinking about Courtney or Zach or his mom. He would not be tormented of the thought of dead children and families he failed to save. He would be glad to be in Bughuul's company. What else but the deity offered any real companionship or entertainment in this dark place? It wasn't like he could talk to the hollow shells of children that roamed around. At least Bughuul understood what he meant when he spoke of more adult issues and feelings.
He was slowly but surely turning into Bughuul's little puppet. The thought of that would have once upset him.
X
Maybe he had finally lost his goddamn mind, but the man could swear that Bughuul was getting more friendly.
Not the "hey buddy let's get some beers and watch the big game" kind of friendly, but more like Bughuul was treating him as more of an equal. The demon's presence was never not domineering and oppressive, but the man no longer felt suffocated by it. It was just a feeling in the air that reminded the human not to step out of line.
Bughuul was now oddly...enthusiastic about being with his captive. How they spent time together hadn't changed, but Bughuul genuinely seemed to want to share his knowledge with the human, and to amuse and teach him. Or maybe it has always been that way and the human refused to admit it.
Once, Bughuul brought him a guitar. Isn't this particular instrument all the rage amongst humans nowadays?
The man idly plucked at the strings. "Yeah, it sure is." He knew at least five guys back in high school who were determined to start a band.
You should learn how to play me something, then. As long as it doesn't consist of that racket most "musicians" make.
He couldn't help but laugh. "Not a fan of rock, then?" He attempted to play the opening chords to "Back In Black".
Every genre has its virtues. Perhaps it is just a matter of taste. Bughuul took the guitar back and, to the man's amazement, played the entirety of "Hotel California". The long, grotesque fingers manipulated the strings expertly. Guitarists with thirty years of experience couldn't have played it better.
With time comes experience. The demon's voice was playful. Who would have ever imagined Bughuul was capable of that?
Would you like me to teach you?
The man hesitated. The offer was tempting. But why was Bughuul asking? Did he have some ulterior motive, or was he just bored? Surely Bughuul would rather be teaching the human some old hymn about itself than an Eagles song!
And yet… hey, what did he have to lose? Why not enjoy himself for once.
"Sure. I'd love to learn this."
He could tell Bughuul was pleased. Arrange your hands like so…
X
There was nothing no god loved or coveted more than a willing servant.
To have a being who had the utmost respect for it, who would obey and listen and pray and offer to it. To love and adore it and keep it's name alive. To devote their whole selves to their lord's will. That is what Bughuul had been lacking for thousands of years.
Even in his prime in Babylon, he never had true worshipers. All the attention always went to Moloch. Bughuul never understood what his brother had that he did not. They were the same in almost every way. And yet, it was Moloch who had statues graven in his image. It was Moloch who had temples and priests and servants. It was Moloch who had fresh infants sacrificed to him on a regular basis.
It was Moloch who was remembered.
Bughuul still reeled over the shame his brother caused him. How could he not see that Bughuul had been starving? True, their kind was not merciful. Bughuul seldom had visitors to his sparse, run-down temples and they only came after paying homage to his brother. It was not his name that was whispered in fear amongst Nergal and Ereshkigal and Anu's. It was not him humans plead for clemency from or turned to help for their silly problems. There was no appreciation for Bughuul's fine knowledge of art and music. There were plenty of other gods to turn to for inspiration. To the mortals, Bughuul only existed to eat. So why sacrifice their young when they got nothing of value in return? It didn't help that their attitude soured his temper quote often. More people died than what was perhaps necessary when this happened.
So surely Moloch, who possessed everything Bughuul did not, would not notice when his bother stole some of the young souls that were meant to be the elder god's. Bughuul hadn't even taken that many – just enough to ease the ache of hunger. But Moloch found out, and the temperamental bull had taken away Bughuul's mouth, along with his pride and reputation. He lost any respect that he had amongst the gods and went into exile. The wounds dealt to his mouth healed, but the mental scar never would.
As with the rest of them, his name and visage faded with time. But they had plenty of things to remind the mortals of their existence. Bughuul only had his symbol and the art his children made for him. It was after Babylon fell and the world moved on that Bughuul required the children he captured to record their sacrifices and then pass on that knowledge to another. That way, Bughuul would never be forgotten. He would never starve again.
And yet, the way humans continued disrespected him over time bothered him. Really, who would have the gall to destroy his images, his art, his passageways like those "Christians" did so long ago? So many less opportunities, so much less food. He was pushed even further into the shadows.
But he made sure those few images were preserved. Those who came across them suffered at his hand. His blood lust only rose after each ritual.
What he loved about this modern era was how easy it was to record and show images. He lured in children quickly and efficiently with the help of technological toys. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this full.
And while having so many ghostly servants at his disposal was grand, it wasn't the same as having true followers. Bughuul desired someone who was not under his possession, and yet still loved him and was loyal to him. He wanted a human who was devoted to him and him alone.
There were not many volunteers, so Bughuul made his own.
His pet human had come a long way from being a small town police officer. Good-natured and intelligent but never taken seriously. Potential squandered on trying to stop things that were far out of his control. Long hours at work keeping him from any craft or higher cause.
Being in Bughuul's care had done wonders for him. The man became harder, but not unapproachable. His focus and want of control over other beings grew stronger. He would be a natural leader amongst other humans. The children showed more respect toward him now. They knew their master's right hand man when they saw him.
It had taken some work, but the former deputy had let go of many of the ideals and creed of his former life. What good was protecting humans when they sinned so readily and caused so much harm to each other? What good were screaming brats than to be food for his god? What good was any life outside of Bughuul's realm?
Bughuul knew the human sometimes wondered how time passed in his realm. Bughuul could indeed control it, to an extent. He often made it run slower in order to make his souls last longer. It only speed up when a new family moved into a bait trap. He used the extra time to train and mold his human to the perfect disciple, the most devoted prophet. It was just as he always wanted since he brought the man here.
He learned from observing the religions of Western families that humans liked the idea of a god that loved them. They would give themselves over to a being that promised eternal love and protection. Bughuul did not think he was capable loving anything or anyone like that. But his fondness for the human was always growing. Bughuul knew even now he would never let the man go. Bughuul would keep him safe in his realm and untouched by time until the universe collapsed in on itself. And the man would be glad for this.
There were many plans Bughuul had in store for them. But one small issue stood in the way. His pet still held on to the lingering remains of his old life. Those would have to be disposed of before he could become a full-fledged priest.
It was time to put his training to the test.
He found the man reclining on his couch with a book. A common sight. Come here.
His human jumped up and rushed over to Bughuul's side, eager as a puppy. "What is it?"
There was still something to be desired in the way of respect, but at least the disgust and apprehension was gone from his voice. He took the human's uninjured hand and squeezed. (It was beyond him why the man refused to let Bughuul heal that particular wound.) I need you to come with me. I have a task for you.
X
The past four years had not been easy for Courtney Collins.
Of course, life had not been easy since she met Clint. But at least then she had hope. She had her boys and her health and for a brief moment, she found a man she could trust.
The man who claimed to be a former deputy was one of the few good men she ever met. He wasn't doing his private investigation work for money or fame or attention. He was a good soul who had only wished to help people. For a night, Courtney thought she could keep this man. She thought the universe was finally cutting her a break. She could live with a kind man and her boys could have a positive role model.
But he was snatched away right after she lost her baby Zach. (The way Clint died was horrible, but she had no reason to mourn him for long.) The events of that night would never cease haunting her. Dylan, God bless his little soul, had done his best to explain to her what had happened. Ghost children, snuff films, family sacrifice – it was all so bizarre. If she hadn't seen the monster herself, she would never have believed a word of it.
Bughuul. Courney never did any research on the monster. It was hard enough that the thing killed her son and the man who tried to save them all. She was afraid that trying to find out more about Bughuul would only summon it to cause her more misery.
Courtney did her best to move on, for Dylan's sake. Her baby still needed his mother. With the loss of Clint, Zach, and the deputy, they were all each other had. The one stroke of good fortune was that Clint left her everything in the will. They had plenty of money to pack up and move to a newly built house across the country. No one knew them or their story. They could start over and build a new life. How ironic that this was the first time in her life she felt truly free.
Dylan struggled the way most kids would. He blamed himself and cried at night and clung to her. These were wounds that only time could feel. He was twelve years old now. Still a little timid, but he had friends and did his best to be happy. He rarely spoke of his brother or the events of the farmhouse. Courtney knew it was too painful for him right now.
She had just returned home from work. It was a modest job at the local craft store. They received enough business for her to have a steady income along with the inheritance. Courtney could leave in time to meet Dylan as he got off the school bus. They would cook dinner together and talk about their days before going to do their own thing. It was a good routine for them. She just wished Zach was here to share it.
This evening went the same way. After washing dishes while Dylan went to watch television, Courtney only wanted a warm bath and a nice book. But as she put the last plate on the drying rack, a terrible feeling came over her. It was a burst of cold coupled with a deep, foreboding dread.
When she turned around, the deputy was standing right in front of her.
Courtney gasped and staggered back against the sink. The caring man she once knew looked so different. His once tan skin was pale and gaunt. His eyes were dead and his mouth was set in a firm line. Her eyes strayed to his left hand. The same two fingers were still missing.
"It's...you," she gasped. "You're alive! But-but how?"
"How do you think?" he responded, voice monotone. "Bughuul saved me."
"It saved you?" Courtney echoed. She could hardly process those words. "I thought that thing had killed you!"
Something flickered in the man's expression. "Bughuul spared my life when he could have taken it. He took me into his world and showed me a better way."
Courtney felt the sting of betrayal. What had happened in that motel room years ago?"A better – How could anything that monster showed you be good? Do you even remember what he did to Zach? To the Oswalt family?"
There was a crack in the icy expression. His face scrunched up in confusion. God, had he forgotten them already? "How long were you gone?"
His expression saddened. "I-I don't know. It feels like it's been fifty years."
The more they talked, the more alive the man seemed to become. She needed to keep him interested in the conversation. The dreadful feeling had not left her. And yet, despite that, she couldn't squash the small bit of hope that this man has returned to her for good.
"Mom?" came her son's small voice from the doorway. "What's going on?"
Dylan's shocked expression must match her own. He was looking at the deputy like he was seeing a ghost. To both adults' surprise, he rushed over and wrapped his arms around the man. "I thought he took you, too."
After a moment, the man hugged Dylan back. "He did."
"Why are you here now?" Courtney asked. "Did it let you go?"
He stiffened and let go of Dylan. He shook his head as if to clear it. "No. No, he didn't."
Fear overcame her. She knew they could not fight the monster, so they needed to flee. She would not have it in her home. Courtney grabbed her friend's good hand. "Let's go. Right now. We can run away like we were going to back then."
The man didn't agree, but he returned her grip. "No. Courtney, listen. You – you have to get out of here. Take Dylan and – Ah!" He took back his hand and clutched at his head.
"What's wrong?" Dylan whimpered.
"I can't fight him! Please -!"
They all noticed when the dark form appeared in the room. It was the monster that took her son and ruined her life. Bughuul. He was looking at the former deputy in silence.
"No, please! I changed my mind! I can't do this!"
He doubled over in pain.
Courtney knew Bughuul must be the cause of it. Anger pushed its way through her fear. She grabbed a chef's knife from the rack and pointed it at him. That got his attention. "You bastard! Leave him alone! Go away or I'll kill you!"
She got the feeling he was laughing at her.
Bughuul sauntered over and gripped the man's dark hair. It must be communicating with him somehow. It took a few long moments of tense silence, but the struggles and the protests stopped. His expression became cold again. "Yes, I know. I'm sorry, I just – I know."
Bughuul stroked the man's head like he was a dog and stepped back.
The man who used to be a deputy and her friend and protector stepped forward and took the knife from her hand. She knew how this would end. She clutched Dylan to her and covered his eyes.
He mouthed "sorry" at her before the blade came down.
X
Bughhul observed the scene around him with glee and pride.
The kitchen was painted with the blood of Dylan and Courtney Collins. Four years ago he hoped to see them burn, and now he was able to see them bleed. His pet had done a remarkable job. Through teary eyes, the man ended the lives of those he once loved. All because Bughuul requested it of him. True, he stabbed them through the hearts first and then drained them of blood, but the results were the same. The look of fear and betrayal in their eyes had been delicious. He should have brought one of the children to film it.
The human knelt on the wet floor and stared at his crimson stained hands. He was forcing his mind to remain blank so he wouldn't cry over what he'd just done.
Bughuul knelt before him and placed a hand on his shoulder. I know this was a large task. I am very pleased with you.
The man made a choked little sound and kept his head down.
Bughuul could not have that. He grasped the man's chin and lifted his gaze to meet his own. You have done as your god requested. You should be standing tall with pride. I will not have you mourn over those two. You know why they had to die. The momentary lapse of control over his future priest was troubling. He should not have hesitated. But there was still plenty of time for further training.
"I don't feel proud," the man admitted. It came out as a whisper. He knew it wasn't what Bughuul wanted to hear.
Bughuul framed the man's face with his hands. You will someday. I will help you learn how to repress this wretched pity you feel. You know I am your only path to happiness. There is nothing for you in this world and tonight you have cemented that fact. Your place is by my side and nowhere else.
The man didn't look completely convinced, but he smiled and nodded.
Bughuul guided his pet to his feet. Come, let us go home.