Cain

I felt a smack on my chest, the feeling making my dreams chuck me out of my head and I groaned. I blinked in the darkness, a small far too familiar wailing in the next room making me want to end it all. This shit has been non-fucking-stop.

Iris yawned, removing her leg from my torso and turning away from me— taking all of the blanket with her. "It's your turn," she said sleepily.

"No," I muttered with my eyes closed. "It's actually your turn." I moved my arms under my head, preparing to go right back to sleep when I heard the flick of the lamp. I could feel the light against my eyelids and I grimaced, keeping my eyes shut. "Turn it off."

"The light or the crying?" She asked.

I grabbed the pillow from under my head and put it over my face, trying my best to drown out Saint's small screams. Iris and I offered to babysit, but I didn't know this came with the package. I figured he'd be like he always was...chill. He never cried. But that was all he'd been doing for the past three days.

"Both," I said, my voice muffled against the pillow.

"Baby, please." She tugged at the pillow. "I'm tired. I'll go the next two times. Please, just check on him this time."

I cringed at her plea, my insides going to that familiar softness where she was concerned. I used to thrive off women begging, but I hated it from her. If I could take 'please' away from her vocabulary, I would— she was too nice for her own good.

I sighed, tossing the pillow to the side and sitting up wearily. "I don't get why we can't let him cry it out, isn't that shit supposed to be healthy for them?"

I felt the bed shift behind me and felt her arms wrap around my shoulders. She placed a kiss on the back of my neck and I resisted the urge to fall back into bed with her. I closed my eyes, half fighting sleep as I held her clasped hands. "Please."

I cursed under my breath and heard her laugh softly behind me as I removed her arms. She knew exactly what she was doing. I shot her a look as she sat on the bed feigning innocence and holding back a smile. "You're amused, hm?"

"Just a smidge." She pinched her fingers together.

"Hm." I nodded slowly, my eyes falling over her curves. My shirt hugged her body, stopping just past her hips and the sight stirred something in me again. It always did. She used to hate wearing my things, but I loved seeing her in them too much to let her listen to those insecurities.

She shifted in the bed, pulling the blanket up. Her hand flew up, attempting to block my view of her face as she looked away from me. "Stop looking at me, Cain. It's four in the morning. Ogle me when I at least look decent."

I sighed, leaning over her on the bed. I clasped my hand with the one she had up and moved it behind her, pushing it down onto the mattress as our eyes met. With my free hand, I pulled the blanket away from her body and she rolled her eyes at me. "Decent is an insult- don't piss me off this late at night. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

She raised a brow. "I've been reduced to a thing now?"

I smiled at the sudden boldness and held back the urge to piss her off. "Things are possessions—"

"I'm not a possession."

"You are mine," I said, giving her a straight response. "You belong to me— I possess you. Just as you do me."

She looked at me for a moment, and my smile only grew as I could see her resistance fading. After a moment, she sighed. "Only you could make being called an object sound so sweet."

"It's an acquired skill." I kissed her cheek and she laughed softly as I pulled away, heading toward the door.

"Do you want me to wait up for you?" She yawned and my chest squeezed as I looked over my shoulder, shaking my head.  She knew I liked falling asleep with her, and I was sure if I wanted her to, she'd fight against the urge to pass out. But I had no idea how long Saint would take, the idea of her just waiting for me...I didn't like it.

It was almost laughable considering I had a career based on making women wait. How the tables fucking turn.

"Go to sleep, baby." She gave me a small smile before pulling the comforter up and snuggling into the bed and I sighed. She slept in the damn middle of the bed. We had sides. I was on the left, and she was on the right- where her nightstand and phone were but somehow she always ended up closer to me. She always claimed that I pulled her there, but this right here was proof that she was the culprit all along.

I would've had half the mind to take a picture—winning this small ongoing war between us, but I liked any excuse to be closer to the woman.

Another series of wails traveling down the hall reminded me just why I wasn't in bed with my wife and I groaned, mentally preparing myself for the worst; shitty diapers, throw up, temper tantrums...I'd seen too much.

It had taken me less than a week to realize that the best birth control was an unruly child. One hundred percent effectiveness...

Guaranteed.

I turned, facing the dark hall toward the little demon's room, and stifled a yawn as I walked the few feet to his door. "What could you possibly need now?" I groggily pushed the door open and flipped the light switch on, the soft orange light filling the space.

I looked at Saint, his small hands wrapped around the edge of the crib as he looked up at me wide-eyed. "What?" I walked toward him and raised a brow. "You cry and now you're surprised I'm here?" I paused a few feet away and looked down at him. "You'd tell me if you were being neglected, hm?"

His cries that ceased the moment I walked in began to start up again and I groaned, reaching out to carry him but my head spun before I could make contact. I held onto the railing of his bed, grasping for a bit of balance as I shut my eyes. A pain soared through my head and I winced. "Shit!"

I blinked, dots beginning to fill my vision as my body went weak. I could hear Saint's cries fade into the background as my body hit the cool floor.

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Buzz.

Click.

Buzz...

Click!

I could hear the familiar sound of a fluorescent light, the artificial light hitting my shut eyes— urging me to open them and get the fuck away from here. I had put enough people in this situation to know what exactly was happening to me. I'd been a headache to plenty of people in this long lifetime...karma caught up to everyone. I knew I'd get a turn eventually. I just didn't think it'd—

"Oh, please stop with the whole inner monologue. You're not dying yet," a man's voice said with a small scoff, followed by another insufferable click! "If I wanted to hurt you, you'd be tied up, wouldn't you? I find critical thinking pivotal in times like this."

My entire body felt light. Light enough that I could finally take keen notice of the fact that nothing was binding me. But too light to the point where I felt like I could float away any second.

I opened my eyes, wrapping my hands around the wooden armrest of the chair for steadiness as I looked at the man. A chill ran through my body as I met the pure charcoal black that adorned the slots where his eyes should've been and a smile spread across his solemn face. "Who the fuck are you?" I asked calmly, not giving away any ounce of uneasiness. Sure, I was shocked at first...but I'd seen worse.

"Oh." He sat back in a chair of his own and crossed his legs. "Do you not see the resemblance?" He flicked the top of a lighter open in his hand before closing it and I cringed, finding the source of the obnoxious sound.

I ignored him, looking at the space around us. There was nothing. Just an inky blackness that went on for miles each frantic way I looked. I shot up from the seat, my nerves firing by the second as I grabbed the strange man by his collar. "Where the fuck am I?" I snapped. "I fucking swear if you laid a finger on—"

"I wonder if this counts as child abuse," he thought aloud and I  reached at my waist and for my gun. When I felt nothing, I sorely remembered I was in bed before all this shit happened and I cursed. "Are you looking for this?" He hooked a finger up, my gun dangling on it as his eyes, if I could even call them that, studied it.

I grabbed it from his fingers and turned it to him. My finger wrapped around the trigger. I had questions: one being how I ended up here and the other being how to get out, but if he so much as moved...I'd blow his brains out.

He sighed. "I can't say I didn't see this coming..."

"Who are—"

He crossed his arms. "I have a question first."

"That's now how this works," I said. "I have the gun. I ask the questions."

"So," he began. "How long does one have to cry to get some attention? Do you all think I like begging?" Huh?

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Logically, I've eaten like a pig...there's nothing more I could want. When do you ask yourself 'Hm, maybe Saint is crying because he needs to speak to me?' But no, you stick food in my mouth, pat my back raw, sing those wretched nursery rhymes..."

I froze, my finger still firm on the trigger as his words passed through my mind. Saint? My mind ached at the confusion as I looked down at him and he sighed, wrapping his hand around the gun. "You're not one of the smart ones. That's why I wanted to speak to Aunt Iris." He sighed. "Just imagine my surprise when you came instead of her. Please kindly remember you're here purely because I'm running out of time. You were not my first choice."

There's no way...

"Also? If you're going to start a pattern or schedule for when the both of you check in on me, keep it. I don't like to be surprised."

"Saint?" I asked in shock, hating how puny my voice sounded as I lowered my gun. A grin spread across his face as he nodded slowly and I took a step back. How? A minute ago I saw him in his bed...I almost carried him. But now he was...this. "What's wrong with your eyes?"

"What's wrong with them?" He raised a brow and I returned his blank stare. "Ah." He nodded slowly and I plopped back into the chair. "Yes, I've been told they're a bit unnerving."

"I've seen your eyes, though. They're...not like this."

They were brown.

"Purely for your comfort," he said. "I've seen what my true eyes state can do to fragile minds..."

"Your mother," I interjected and he shook his head.

"Birth mother," he corrected. "But yes, drove her insane. That myth about people falling in love with their babies when they first see them is a lie. You can be ugly, that's fine...but if you look how I did, prepare to be abandoned, hm?"

"Huh." I thought for a moment, dropping the gun to my side before standing up straight and taking a look at the nothing around us. "Can't say I blame her if you did this shit to her. It's fucking creepy."

He laughed bitterly, adjusting his tie before holding a hand out and looking at me silently. I looked at him for a moment, trying yet failing to understand his expression. I didn't realize how much of a role the eyes played in being able to understand someone until I stood there and waited for something from him- anything. But all I saw was darkness manifested into the shell of a man staring up at me.

It's Saint, I had to keep telling myself that so I didn't lift the gun back up to his temple and empty the barrel.

"The gun," he spoke. "I'd let you hold onto it, but your thoughts are quite...loud."

I raised my brows in mild surprise before scoffing. "Of course, you can read minds."

He smiled. "Only in here." He took a look around before relaxing into the seat.

"Where exactly is here?"

"You know, if you were this curious about most things in your past, your life would've been very different."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He laughed softly, shaking his head before gesturing toward the seat behind me. If this were anyone else I would've demanded an explanation, but I didn't necessarily feel like pissing off the anti-Christ. I was cursed with immortality, but I had a feeling he could change that very quickly. Would he though?

I sat down, keeping the gun on my lap trained in his direction. "Why am I here?"

"My mother..." he replied, "your sister, hasn't called in a week to check in on me. Doesn't that concern you in the slightest?"

I shook my head. "Her and your dad...they have a lot going on—"

"Yes. The drugs."

"You know?" I exclaimed.

"I know a lot."

"How long have you known?"

He checked the watch on his wrist and shrugged. "From the start, I guess."

"And you didn't tell any of us?"

"I rather not interfere." He sighed.

"He's your father..." I said. "What if he died?"

"He wouldn't have."

"He could have overdosed."

"He couldn't have."

"How could you be sure?" I asked.

"The same way I'm sure everyone I care about will wake up in the morning. I make it happen."

"Ah, so you're God now?"

"No." He shrugged a shoulder before smiling. "But I'm a worthy contender."

"Why am I here, Saint?"

"My parents are in danger," he finally said. "And for the first time, there's nothing I can do. That's why you're here."

I tilted my head. "Which parents..."

"Don't be dense"

"What?" I asked. "It's a logical question...because you can't be talking about my sister and Syn."

Sure, I hadn't talked to them in a few days, but what were the odds that two of the most powerful people in the world were in danger? And why would me or Iris of all people be the ones he called if they were? I could help with mortal parents if that was the issue, but if Syn and Queen were in trouble it had to be with some otherworldly celestial shit that I had no power against—.

"I am talking about them," he said and panic began to settle in my chest. "And as powerless as you think you may be right now, I have you beat. That's why you're here."

"Why am I still here then?!" I stood up, urgency springing me into action. "I need to go!"

He laughed, shaking his head. "And what is it that you think you can do?"

"Whatever the hell I have to."

"You're going to get yourself killed." I shot him a furious look and he crossed his arms. "It's just the truth. Which is why I need to be the one to go."

"How?" I questioned. "You're a child."

"That's where you come in," he said. "I need to borrow something from you."

"What?" I looked at him cautiously, watching as a slow grin spread across his face.

"Your body."

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