The ghost was my ghost- uh, not of me. But mine. I knew him well, though had never had a real chance to examine him closely before. And he'd never communicated with me before either-

Wait, was I hallucinating him again? Maybe we were here to meet someone else, and I had just led Micky into doubting my sanity by pointing to an empty booth. It had happened before.

I had first seen the ghost when I was three, I think. I couldn't be certain. It was just one of those old memories, so displaced I couldn't really be certain of my age. But he had been standing there, watching me, and I had only taken note of it in hindsight.

It was only when I was ten that I saw him again, and took him to memory. He had been on my way to school. He had been at the school, briefly, by the school yard. And he had again been standing by my home.

I had told my mother about this, and described him while she furiously dialed the police department. But she stopped at one point. Asked me a few questions for clarification. And put the phone down.

'He's not real.' She had said. 'He shouldn't be.'

And when I saw him at my high school graduation, my first day of college, and the odd days in between, I kept quiet.

So he was a ghost. Angels and demons were real, after all. Why couldn't ghosts be? It had only taken one casual comment about him over lunch, expecting a friendly 'yeah, I see dead people too' response, for Micky to explain to me ghosts didn't exist.

And hey, I guess that's how I learned I couldn't trust myself. But now he was real-

Really real? "You think so?" Micky said, and he started walking towards the ghost, even sitting down next to him. Speaking with him? Was I somehow getting the image of the ghost and that of a stranger mixed up?

I dully sat down. He seemed real. He had freckles. He was speaking. His black hair had been slicked back and he wore shades like some sort of movie star. He even had a suspicious trench coat to boot. I would have made fun of him more in my mind if I had been able to properly relax.

"Who are you here for?" Micky said with a sort of dazzling smile, evidently trying to please the ghost. I had missed the beginning of their conversation, but this seemed like a good entry point.

"...Martin." The ghost said. I would have been startled if he had said anything else. I hadn't seen him in years.

"Robles, huh? Say, The Blues is a pretty secretive joint. How did you get in here?" He seemed less interested now that the attention was towards me.

"The murder helped. My name is Cecil... Fear."

"Fear? That's quite a last name."

"It comes from the old english word for friend." He spoke serenely. How had he followed me to Hell? Actually, that probably shouldn't have been my first question regarding him. 'Who was he?' ought to have been first. Not a ghost, evidently.

"You last name means 'friend'? That's so much worse than fear. Fear is a pretty cool name, actually." Micky was starting to sound resentful about Cecil being interested in me. Now was the time I had to speak up before he got any more rude.

"It's a far fucking better name than Withers." Cecil almost snapped, and I was taken aback. He cleared his throat. "I've come to speak to Martin."

"Yeah." I said. "Sure."

"I hadn't meant to seek you out like this, but the recent string of murders has made me worry for your safety. So I thought I should meet with you and- and ensure your safety."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Cecil Fear." He said like a soundboard. "I'm here to protect you."

"Why?"

"Because you need to be protected."

"Why?" I almost wanted to scream at him. "Am I special? Is that why you can't leave me alone? You're real now though, and I don't know how or why any of this is happening, but I can touch you now." And I did, I just wildly stuck out my hand and touched his forehead. He jerked his head back immediately like it had burned him, and bumped it against the cushioned booth.

"...You are special. And I need to protect you until this danger passes."

"I'm not an angel, I'm not at risk. This is just an angry, species-racist demon on the loose. The police will find him probably today."

"He's tracking me, and he won't be caught."

"He's following you? Oh, so that sure makes perfect sense as to why you want me under your protection. Because the guy following you around won't find me there."

"You'll be fine. But just in case, I want to stay with you. I know you're hostile towards me, a random stranger-"

"You're not a stranger. You're a ghost."

Micky sighed. "Look, okay Robles, I told you not to bring up your ghosts. You're going to embarrass yourself again. Ha. Sorry Fear, I got this. He has some kind of complex for sounding insane."

"No, he's right. I think. God, ghosts aren't real, but-" Cecil took another breath and composed himself again. "He's seen me before. And I never introduced myself."

"You've been stalking me my whole life! On Earth, even! And you never age!" I exclaimed in as quiet of a voice as I could muster.

"Demons age slower than humans. Did no one teach you that?" I had learned that back in my introduction seminar, but it hadn't occurred to me until now that it helped explain one of the many problems I had with the situation.

"Fuck you." I said under my breath, and I put my head on the table for a moment.

"I want us to just be friends, Martin. I know it's odd, but Hell's an odd place. If we ignore context, maybe things can just be normal."

"There's nothing normal about hanging out with a stalker demon bodyguard that I don't need." I said dully.

"There's going to be a lot of death soon. I don't know. Perhaps if we mutually agree to skip the step in our relationship where one of us is angry about the other and move right into the sarcastic dialog, you won't feel so resentful of me."

I just groaned.

"I'm going to stick around you like it or not, you know, so you might as well like it." Cecil declared.

"Just give me a single good reason and I'll cheer up. Why do I need you again? What's worth protecting about me?"

Cecil looked at a loss for words. Annoyingly enough, that was probably going to be his excuse. Something like 'oh, there's no way I can define why you're so important!'

"You're you." He said. "I'll explain things eventually, I know. But for now... I mean, what's more worth more than a human life?"

"I'm a demon. And you know, I keep forgetting I'm a hellhound too. If some killer gets near me, I'm pretty well equipped to defend myself."

"You're a hellhound?" Cecil seemed confused. "Not really something I would have predicted."

"Yeah. I work in sales."

"Sales? Under Kelsey Ashe?"

I blinked. "Have you been away?"

"I've been on Earth, I mean- wait, is Kelsey dead?"

"Not that I know of. Who is he?"

"God, like- Kell's ex-boyfriend, owner of a couple brothels, this real shiny slick guy who clearly dyes his hair. Has these fuzzy white wolf ears. An incubus. You know."

"You clearly do." Micky said. I hadn't really been paying attention to him truthfully. He seemed to have found himself a lunch. "Spouting all this Few trivia. Do you know who I am then?"

"No." Cecil said. "I haven't been in Hell for years, mind you. Sort of out of... the loop."

"Well, The Few's mostly disbanded. Not even formally called The Few anymore. The military branch is all gone. Kelsey's gone under the radar mostly- I have no idea what he's been up to. Kell's been running a lot of the board lately with Stacy and Noel. Glenn's attending law school on Earth I think, while Lane retired a years ago. Everything's sort of coming down."

"That's- How's Kell doing?"

"Good? I haven't spoken to him in ages myself. He married Christina, so I assume he's pretty happy. Occasio has all the power, but I'm under the impression Kell's the only bastard left who knows what he's doing."

I was about to mention he was here right now, but Micky spoke before I had a chance. "And yes I know he's here today."

Cecil looked around until he found Kell. "He married Christina?" He said with distaste. "Why'd he do that?"

Micky nodded. "Yeah, I know right? Like, what do they even have? Do you think it's some kind of coverup thing?"

"Kell's not the kind of idiot who would need a coverup in the first place." I had the impression Cecil was insulted by the very idea.

"Enough!" I again cupped my head in my hands. "Let's stop the petty chitchat. I'm going home. Micky, I'd suggest you come with me."

"Oo, it's rare for you to take charge like this." He sounded delighted, and stood up with me.

Cecil looked at me confused. "No. Come with me."

"No?" I said. "I'm going home."

"I'll follow you."

"That's not ever a solution you should fall back on. 'I'll follow you'- like doing something weird is going to change my mind. I really don't have room in my life for weird things."

Micky laughed, and tried to coax a high-five from me. "Man, you don't have room for anything in your pathetic life!"

"That's going to hurt one day." I said quietly to him as we walked away from Cecil's table and across The Blues.

"I would hope so. Then maybe you'll learn to let these things happen. I'd literally kill for something this exciting to happen to me."

I thought about what he said. And how useless I was. But seriously, when two different people on two different days come and try to tell you you're special, it goes to your head in the worse sort of way. I didn't believe I was special. But I believed something had to be wrong with me if a bunch of lunatics were convinced I was.

I turned around and placed my hands on the table, leaning over to meet Cecil's sunglass-obscured eyes.

"Fine. Come home with me."

"Now that's something I wouldn't have imagined you ever saying." Micky laughed. And I think Cecil laughed with him.

"Since I've agreed to your whatever of a plan, will you tell me a little more about who you are?" I asked Cecil as we left The Blues and The Banes.

"No." He said in reply. "...I represent a couple of people who want to keep a couple of people safe. Including you. So I am keeping you safe, thus. That's all I'm saying for now."

Micky walked in front of us. "So we heading back to my place?"

"Uh. Do you have a spare couch?" I said.

"Nah. I'll sleep on the floor, it's ok."

"I was really planning on heading home."

"Robles, your apartment is tiny. Do you really want to cramp your new friend in there? You can take my bed, he can have my couch, and I'll chill on the floor."

I didn't want to ask for how many days I was expected to live with Micky, or how long Cecil would be following me. Considering his previous incidences of stalking, probably he'd be with me until one of us died. Which was honestly horrifying. Generally, the great vastness of time freaked me the fuck out, and I only tried to think a max of two years in advance. Right now, it looked like those two years would consist of Cecil following me. Fantastic.

"How have you been liking Hell?" Cecil asked suddenly, quite nonchalant.

I was off put. "Seriously, I'm not going to treat you like a friend just because I'm letting you stay where I can keep an eye on you.

"I'm just wondering if you wanted to talk, that's all. The more we talk, the more we can bridge hostilities."

"No." I told him, and then forced myself to stay quiet for the rest of the trip.

It was actually hard for me to do. I'm a bit of a nervous talker, I guess. When I'm stressed, I tend to babble about absolutely any mundane thing I see. And Cecil stressed me out like nothing else, especially with his constant and poorly hidden glances my way while he walked beside me.

I held my tongue until we reached Micky's apartment complex. Then I couldn't help but say "I'm not in any danger."

He didn't respond, but he kind of frowned and looked sad for a second.

"Just relax." Micky said, putting up calming hands and evidently trying to break up the coming fight early.

I exhaled sharply, the sort of sigh you make only when you want your frustration to be heard. I felt dumb about it a moment later, purposely riling myself up so Cecil perhaps would feel bad, but it was honestly worth it. He made a sound like a soft giggle. Fucking asshole.

I was not in the mood to look at him any longer, and when he and Micky took the elevator up, I opted for a very tiring climb up the stairs. Another choice I felt pretty dumb about a few seconds into, but at least I could always claim I was doing it for my health.

When I came to the apartment, they were standing in the hallway, waiting for me. We walked in silence through the door, and when we were inside, Micky closed the door and stood in front of it like he was trying to look responsible.

"Martin, you need to stop being so resentful of Cecil. If he brings us trouble, that's a good thing. But let's not let infighting stop us from... killing murderers or whatever."

"As long as I'm here, everything should be fine and safe." Cecil said. "I'm here for protection."

Micky pointed at him. "But that murder guy's following you?"

"Somewhat."

"Excellent." Micky said, but he said it in spanish for some reason. Excelente. I'm not really sure what he was trying to convey with the switch. Then his whistled, again for unknown purposes, and started going around the house and gathering blankets. I guess making his bed for tonight.

Cecil and I were left standing in the main kitchen and living area. We looked at each other rather unabashedly. Just kind of stared each other down. I did not want trouble, and he was trouble. This should have been a simple problem to solve.

But Micky's constant reminders of how boring I kept my life were on the surface of my mind. It was true that I let my life rot into such a state that even as a shapeshifting dog demon, I felt utterly bored with my life. Maybe if I did just let the absurd happen, I'd find something that clicked with me.

I nodded at Cecil clichely. What was I even affirming? He seemed confused at the action, but nodded back.

"It won't be bad forever." He said.

And I thought, fine. It won't be bad forever.