⚠️⚠️⚠️TRIGGER WARNING.⚠️⚠️⚠️

TAGS: Implied/Referenced suicide, Implied/Referenced assault, Implied/Referenced Sexual assault/violence, Emotional Manipulation, but like…it's mild, Gaslighting, but also mild, Supernatural Entities, but it's really just God and like one demon, Murder, also mild, A Bit of Gore, Um…blood?  Blasphemy, blasphemous proclamations on Damian's part, religious undertones, religious conflicts, this is actually lowkey and highkey religious, um…there's a lot of talk about God, Catholic Church References, but it's mild and I'm not Catholic so I apologize. Pop off kids, I was too lazy to name the uncle and cousins, okay?! Not Beta read we die like men, screw this, I wrote this for 6 hours straight, Damian is hot, but I was too lazy to give him a proper backstory, just know he's a prince of hell, #justiceforangel, he's a sad kid y'all, this is purely self-indulgent guys, the only Christmas-related stuff this thing has is mentions of snow, I swear, I think I have a problem lmao, I'm a sinner y'all, I took too much advantage of this 3k word count, this story isn't as bad as the tags make it, I swear, it's actually kind of light compared to what I write lmao, I think this is all, apologies to Christians who may get triggered by this, Merry Christmas ig ❤️

Read at your own risk.⚠️⚠️⚠️

• • •

The drive to the church was insufferable, filled with unwanted chatter and stupidly loud laughs resonating over the radio.

With heavy breaths and shaky hands, Angel fought to keep his tears at bay, his palms fisting his thick jeans in futile attempts to keep them stable.

He was crouched awkwardly in the corner of the car, his hip digging painfully into the door as he was being squished at the other side by his cousins, their elbows hitting him with renowned fervor.

His redemption came quicker than he thought it would as the car stopped by the church entrance, his uncle urging everyone to get down.

The snow covered his feet the second they met the ground, and he shivered, the unforgiving cold wind hitting his skin.

“Move.”

The order had his head whipping around to face his eldest cousin who shot him a disgusted glare. Angel flinched, his legs having a mind of their own as he stepped to the side and fixed his eyes on his shoes in a non-verbal apology.

He let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding as the other simply walked past him without saying anything else, his siblings following behind.

At least they were in a good mood today.

He waited until they'd gone far ahead of him, forcing his lithe frame to withstand the harsh weather before shuffling his feet towards the church building, still trying to maintain a good distance between them.

He settled at the back seat, farthest away from the pulpit and the overly religious people that usually occupied the front.

He hated church. Nothing good ever really came out of it, and he was convinced nothing ever will. But it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter. His uncle, as hypocritical as it seemed, was a ‘devoted’ Catholic.

He could see his family greeting the priest as they took their places in the front, trying their best to live up to their perfect Christian family reputation - one that didn't involve Angel in any way.

And he was more than happy they didn't involve him. Being in the church - this one specifically - made his skin crawl, and it was appalling to him in the worst way.

He wanted to leave. But he couldn't afford to do that. He couldn't risk the possible hospitalization that came with defying his uncle, much less in public.

So he had to endure it. Just for the few hours that he would be stuck here.

The lights were blinding, and Angel had to force himself to not hiss like a snake, regardless of the fact that it wasn't even natural light.

He squinted his eyes, rubbing them with the back of his hand until his vision cleared as he blinked away his drowsiness.

His eyebrows furrowed, his face forming a frown as he came face to face with an empty church. He glanced at the antique pendulum situated at the church’s north wall, reading the time as best as he could in his apparent sleep-induced haze.

“Do you feel better?”

A voice spoke from behind him. Angel flinched, his mind finally registering the hand that softly squeezed his shoulder.

His eyes focused on the head priest who gave him a polite smile, looking as patient as ever.

Angel anxiously nipped at his bottom lip, instinctively picking at his nails as he lowered his eyes yet again, the action of apologizing a Pavlov response to him at that point.

“S-Sorry, Father. I fell asleep…” he stuttered out, his voice trailing off in guilt.

The elder's smile only widened, and he brought up his hand to caress Angel's hair.

“You looked tired,” he responded, his pearly whites practically glowing underneath the Christmas-themed church lights, ”so there's really no reason to apologize.”

The silence was loud, and Angel's uneasiness was starting to get the better of him. He brought up his trembling hands to pry off the hand on his shoulder, wearily smiling up at him.

“Father-”

"Why don't you come into my office? I could get you something warm to drink before you head home, don't you agree?”

No. Angel didn't agree. In fact, that was the last thing he wanted. It didn't matter if this wasn't the previous priest, and if the other one had been transferred to another town. He was never setting foot in that office again.

“There's no need for that actually. I-I'll just head home now.”

Not bothering to wait for the priest's protests, Angel scurried out of the church and into the impending blizzard.

He would rather freeze to death than let another man of God touch him again.

By the time he'd walked a great distance, the snow had reached up to his knees, effectively slowing down his movements a great deal.

That was over an hour ago. The blizzard had affected his vision as well, rendering him unable to find his way back home. Not like he wanted to go back anyway. The last thing he needed was to get punished on Christmas Eve.

He had long abandoned the thought of going home.

So here he was - struggling to hold onto the last bit of consciousness he had left as he took steady and well-calculated breaths from his spot on the ground, progressively being buried alive by the snowstorm.

He felt like his limbs had frozen in place, and it hurt to breathe. Angel could only hope for his God to put him out of his misery soon.

He couldn't feel anything anymore, and the sky had considerably darkened, leaving behind his dying being with ragged breaths and rapidly blurring vision.

Angel wished his parents were here. He prayed for the warm embrace of his mother to shield him from the harsh cold. But she was long gone as well, soon to be finally together with his pitiful soul.

He couldn't help but recall his most memorable moments, most of them being his uncle leaving a concerning amount of bruises and sores all over his weak body. Or the numerous times his cousins had used him as a ‘stress reliever’. And he, ever so eager to please them at the time, had simply kept quiet and let it happen.

Of course, they had continued, and it had simply become something part of his daily life.

Now that he thought about it, he should've never tried to persuade his father to stay with him when he'd seen him on the roof the night his mother had died. He should've jumped with him and died together so they would've all been a happy family in heaven.

A mistake on his part, really. One which he regretted so deeply.

If he'd died back then, he wouldn't be going through such a painful death now. At least it would've been by his decision.

Darkness invaded his vision, and Angel could faintly make out a tall figure crouching next to his head, reaching to run its fingers along the delicate skin of his face.

Maybe he was hallucinating, but the hand which seemed to be the only life source around him felt unreal. It was warm to touch, disturbingly so, and it had a hard, non-human-like feeling to its skin.

He summoned all possible willpower, his voice strained and rough.

“H-Help me…”

Angel could barely make out a faint chuckle - sinister and dark - as the hand gripped the side of his face gently, ceasing its caresses.

“Why?”

The question threw him off more than he thought it would.

Why did he want to live? Wasn't he just wishing death upon himself a few minutes prior? Why was he changing his mind now? But it didn't matter why anymore. All Angel knew was that he wanted-

No. He needed to live. The opportunity was right in front of him, and he would do anything.

“Anything?” he heard the person ask.

And maybe Angel was stupidly desperate. He wasn't sure why he was desperate, but it seemed his main driving force was regret.

He regretted not ever standing up to his cousins, his uncle, and even the church's previous priest. He regretted everything. And just once, he wished that everyone around him knew what it was like to suffer like he had. To feel his pain. To be helpless and not be able to do anything about it. To lose everything and force themselves to live just because.

To die.

He tried his best to force out a yes, unsure if the person heard him.

He wasn't conscious long enough to know, though. The last thing he could see was a faint glow of red and gold where he supposed the man's eyes were, and the reply he got repeated itself like a mantra in his head, dwindling down to nothingness just like the world around him.

“So pretty…”

** * ** * **
** * ** * ** * **

When he came to, Angel found himself in an unfamiliar room. Large blood red curtains with black designs on them were draped over the walls from ceiling to floor. The bed with which he laid was way too comfortable to be deemed normal, dipping under his weight at the slightest movement. The room was adequately lit with the chandeliers and dangling lights at the ceiling.

He took a deep breath, letting the room's warmth and scent fill his nostrils and he immediately relaxed.

His body still felt weak and was still shaking, so leaving the room to explore was out of the question. Not like his captor would be stupid enough to leave the door open anyway.

He could hear distant footsteps approaching the room from the other side, and Angel started panicking all over again. His memory was in shambles, his inability to contrate on anything frustrating him even more.

What was he thinking? What if the stranger was some kind of criminal? What if he planned to kill him?

“Calm down, darling,” he heard from the door frame.

Angel looked up, squinting his eyes at the being before him.

He was dressed in a black tank top and grey sweats, his black hair reaching his neck. Behind him sat a pair of black and gold feathered wings, spread majestically on each side.

He had wings.

He had wings.

“Who- What are you?” Angel choked out after awhile, scurrying further up the bed, desperate to put a reasonable distance between him and whatever that was.

The man reached for a nearby chair, plopping down on it and crossing his legs.

“Your saviour.”

“Look I don't-”

“You said you would do anything to live, right? Well, this is your opportunity. I'm here to help you.”

Angel gulped, a look of realisation dominating his features as his memories came flooding back. The church, the blizzard, dying in the blizzard - everything clicked.

God, he was so stupid. If he'd just stayed with the priest instead of running off, he would be home by now. It didn't matter if he was maltreated at home, at least he knew what to expect. But now, he didn't even know what he was talking to.

He should've turned around and gone back to the church. Maybe then he would've came across-

“Do you really think that church of yours is safe enough to keep me out?” his ‘saviour’ spoke up, effectively cutting off his train of thoughts. “Darling, I could burn that place to the ground if I wanted to. It's far too tainted to even count as a mere sanctuary anymore.”

Angel furrowed his eyebrows, staring at the latter quizzically. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

“Oh, is that so?” he leaned forward, staring intently into Angel's eyes as he said lowly, “Raping children on an altar should be enough to properly taint an entire building, shouldn't it? But of course, you should know exactly what I'm talking about firsthand, Angel.”

“H-How do you know my-”

“I've been watching you, darling. Your soul was in far too much agony to ignore. Even all the way from hell. It makes me wonder how God was able to turn a blind eye to it for so long. I just had to take matters into my own hands.”

At that, Angel snapped. Kidnapping him was one thing, insinuating that the God he'd spent his entire life serving, even after what his uncle had done to him, intentionally feigned ignorance to his suffering was another.

“God didn't-”

“Want you. He never did. And he sure as hell doesn't want you now that you have a contract with a prince of hell, darling.” he chuckled, his eyes dark and empty. He dipped his tongue out, wetting his bottom lip before he continued. “You're dirty, Angel. God doesn't need another broken, tainted soul. And you, darling, need a saviour.”

Angel didn't know when he'd started crying, his words sinking far too deep. He could vaguely register the man - or demon, better yet - wrapping his arms around him.

His hold was warm, just like his mum's. And for the first time in years, Angel let the tears flow.

The man was right. Angel was pathetic. He was tainted, broken, ruined beyond repair. And God would never want a broken vessel like him. No one wanted him anymore.

“Darling, you're safe here,” he whispered into the boy's hair, running his hand through his brown locks. "I'm the only one that can ever accept you like this. I'm good for you…”

** * ** * **
** * ** * ** * **

Damian, the demon Angel had apparently signed a verbal contract with, was actually Satan—the Prince of Hell that represented wrath.

He didn't really know anything about them though, which Damian found funny because he was Catholic, but it didn't matter. What mattered was the deal he was meant to complete.

It was already done halfway, considering Damian had branded him while he was unconscious. What was left was the part where he had to grant Angel's deepest desire and everything would be fine.

Angel didn't really understand that part, but his new ‘owner’ had told him not to worry.

By the time he'd let him leave the room, Angel was back to where he'd collapsed the previous night.

He'd shuffled to his feet, dusting the bits of snow on his clothes and ignoring the stares from the children on the streets as he'd made his way back to his house.

They'd decided to make him cook and clean the entire kitchen as a makeshift punishment for last night, which wasn't really a big deal since he did that on a normal basis.

The rest of the day was uneventful. His cousins hadn't touched him, neither had his uncle, and he'd simply spent the night staring at the door, ready to run or hide in case any of them changed their minds while he'd be asleep.

Heat.

Angel woke up surrounded by heat. He'd coughed his brain fully awake when his nose had picked up the smell of smoke in his sleep.

His first instinct was to kick off the covers, bringing his hand up to cover his nose and mouth as he'd made his way out of his room to find out where the fire was coming from.

He stopped dead in his tracks, tripping on his own feet in the living room as he fixed his gaze on the sight before him.

There were body organs everywhere, and he could vaguely make out the sight of his uncle's ringed hand burning by the couch.

“Angel…”

He watched as the older man's remnant skin wrinkled and burst into flames, spreading around the house and effectively cutting off whatever he wanted to say.

Panic flooded his senses, and his eyes darted around the room. The entrance was jammed, and the only way to the back door was through the fire.

His knees met with the hardwood floor, his body weakening as his back met with the wall, the flames getting closer each second.

Angel could feel himself getting lightheaded as he was forced to inhale more smoke, and his throat burned.

He could finally feel reality slipping away from his grasp, eager to leave him alone to his demise by the flames.

His breathing was constricted, as if a hand was wrapped around his throat, and in his fading vision, he caught a glimpse of a black and gold feather burning in the distance, alongside what he assumed to be one of his relative's fingers.

Angel smiled pitifully to himself in satisfaction, the feeling of faintness and pain spreading throughout his nerve-endings as his system shut down and his soul departed from his body, leaving behind his body to be burnt to ruins as it ascended to his new home.

He was safe.

© Keziah .O. Mala-Rejo.
Tgr_Hoeshi