An Altar for Our Sins
Part 13
Masterlist
Warnings: Angst, grave desecration, skeletons, ghosts, talks of cannibalism, injury.
A/N: I am so so sorry this took so long to write. It's not my fault 😅 my job is a lot more demanding of my time now. I have no idea when it will get better again.
Cemeteries at night are not as creepy as you thought.
Sure, it’s cold, and there’s a chill running down your spine as though someone’s standing right behind you, but you named the mysterious entity ‘Dave’ and you’ve begun conversing with him while Billy desecrates a grave.
His grave to be precise.
His human body rests in a grave in East Harlem, forgotten, the tombstone is barely legible, you’re only able to make out his last name in the darkness, below the heavy expanse of trees. You’d passed older graves in better condition on your way here.
You shine a flashlight at the two men, feeling the chill at your back shift to the other side.
“Calm down, Dave,” You murmur, “This is literally his grave.”
Both men pause their digging.
Matt’s expression is full of concern, and Billy’s just plain amused.
“She’s not hallucinating,” Billy murmurs to Matt, looking down to examine the two-foot deep hole he’s standing in, “She’s talking to the ghost standing behind her whose name is Hector by the way.”
You stiffen, spooked, stepping forward just as Billy picks up on how terrified you feel, stepping out of his hole to meet you halfway, embracing you in a comforting hug.
“Tell me you’re joking and there aren’t ghosts here.” You say into his chest, willing the sensation of being watched to go away.
“Not joking, but they’re not gonna hurt you, they’re just curious about us. Nosy.”
“I don’t like it. Let’s just go home.”
“Matt will take you home after.”
“Billy,” You protest, not liking this plan at all.
“Mistress,” he resists, kissing the top of your head, “This is the only way to get into purgatory.”
“I just- ugh- fine.” You release him, moving to sit on the blanket he'd laid out nearby against the trunk of one of the trees. He'd even manifested soft pillows for you to be comfortable while they worked.
Billy pauses, looks at you for a long moment, not wanting to leave you alone, but ultimately deciding that his cause to save you was more important.
You watch both men, digging quietly while you lean against the tree, fighting sleep, the hour is late and the sickness has started taking a toll on your energy. The green veins have expanded over your shoulder, and they pulse uncomfortably, shifting between burning hot and icy cold.
You let out a soft breath, eyes sliding shut as a chill runs over your toes. You find yourself looking through Billy’s eyes, as he shovels dirt out of his own grave, pausing to glance up at you, and the ghost of a frail young man, sitting cross legged in front of you and staring at you.
A startled gasp leaves you as your mind jerks back into your own body, turning to stare into the now seemingly empty space where you just saw a man.
“What the hell?” You say to Billy, your voice is kind of weirdly high-pitched and panicked, “You can see ghosts?”
“Would be a terrible demon if I couldn’t.” he answers.
You squint at the empty space at your feet, before raising a fist and extending your middle finger in the direction of the ghost.
You hear Billy chuckle.
“Matt, she just flipped off a ghost.” Billy says, tattling on you to the priest while your eyes widen in horror of what he’s going to think of you.
“Straight to Hell.” Matt responds, with a shake of his head, continuing to shovel without missing a beat.
You make a sound of protest, pouting at Billy when he grins at you.
That's so mean of you to tell on me, Billy. I don’t think I'll let you come for a few days.
His eyebrows shoot up, pausing for only half a second to look over at you.
Let me? His tone in your head is incredulous.
That's right, demon, you know what I mean. You're a serve first type of guy, and I'm sure if I tell you no, you won't argue.
You feel his discontentment, followed by the small acknowledgement that you were actually right.
This is what I get, he thinks in mock sadness, for trying to be a loyal demon.
Affection rises within you.
Loyal demon my ass.
I'll prove it, when I see you again. I'll show you just how loyal I can be.
The words are said with an undertone of desire in your head, and your imagination takes the tone of his voice and runs with it.
You imagine him on his knees, that look of hunger in his eyes as you study him, his eyes drifting down your body and then back up, fists clenching as though he can barely stand the distance. The grip of his hands on your hips, the way his beard would feel scratching against your-
Please stop, I’m getting hard, Billy’s aching voice fills your head.
You refocus on him, he doesn’t seem outwardly affected but you can sense the turbulence of his mind. He’s trying so hard to focus on the dirt in front of him, it’s almost cute.
“So what’s purgatory like?” You ask, trying to pass the time.
Billy pauses, sparing a glance at you, in his mind you hear the soft admiration of how pretty you are with your curious eyes. The bashful smile that pulls onto your mouth feels natural.
“Haven’t been myself, but other demons describe it as… true neutral. It’s just a realm of… ambivalence. Good and evil get sorted rather quickly, and the people left behind are those that didn’t swing one particular way when alive.” Billy answers.
Matt pauses, taking a breath while Billy resumes his digging. You can only see the top halves of their bodies from your spot by the tree.
“Even in a space like that, I’m sure there’s still some spectrum of good neutral and bad neutral.” Matt reasons.
Billy shrugs.
“It’s whatever,” He huffs, tossing a shovel full of dirt over his shoulder, “If I’m lucky, I might find someone I’ve wronged still lingering there.” He stops talking when his shovel hits something that makes a hollow sound. Matt pulls himself out of Billy’s grave while Billy drops out of your sight to clear the remaining debris.
You straighten, leaning forward to see if you can take a peek into his casket, finding yourself just at the grave’s edge when suddenly Billy straightens and dumps a pile of stuff beside you.
You make a small squeak of surprise, and in the soft darkness, you shudder when you finally identify that the pile of stuff is none other than a skeleton.
He keeps moving, your demon reaching for items on the other side of him, you hear the strike of a match, the smell of sage burning, but your eyes are still locked onto the skull sitting beside you.
His skull.
It makes you feel strange, to see the bones of his past life laid out beside you, dirty, and grimy, with a sheen of decay still lingering.
His bones.
In a suit that obviously doesn’t fit him anymore, and as you focus, you see deep gouges along his forehead and cheekbone- someone had carved his face up terribly.
Not just someone- his brother.
Your eyebrows draw together in sympathy as you reach for his lifeless face, one arm braced in the grass to keep you steady while you gently trace the gouge on his cheekbone.
He feels it. Your version of him turns to look at you with a stuttered breath, but you’re too busy tracing the carvings on his skull.
After a moment, you raise your head to look up at him, meeting his startled gaze with your pleading one.
“Don’t do this.” You finally whisper.
Your name is an ache on his mouth.
It makes your lower lip tremble uncontrollably, your mouth dropping open to suck in more air, to process what you’re feeling after seeing the bones of his past self.
“I’m begging you,” Your throat tightens as you say the words, a sharp pang as you try to speak, “Let’s go home.”
He keeps his expression calm, his resolve fixed, though you can feel it bend at the sight of tears filling your eyes.
Quietly, he shakes his head.
Your face shifts into one of pain, the swelling tears slipping down your cheeks, a hot path over your chilled skin.
“I can’t- Billy-” You press the backs of your hands into your eyes to wipe the tears away, you feel how hot your skin is now with this burst of emotion.
He reaches out from his spot inside the grave, gripping your calf in an attempt to soothe you.
“It’s going to be okay-”
“-No! Fuck, Billy you don’t know that. You don’t fucking know what’s going to happen. I could lose you, like I’ve lost everyone else, I could lose the one person that makes me want to live. And I don’t have any great avenging power. You could die, and I would have to go on existing in a world without you. I-” You breathing becomes something fast and unsteady. Snot and tears mix on your face as you struggle to breathe and cry and beg your demon not to do this.
You feel him pull you into his chest, kneeling in front of you while you soak his shirt with tears.
“Don’t do this.” Your fingers grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to keep him close, “My demon, my Billy, please, please, please.”
His resolve bends further, like a rubber band being heaved beyond its limit. If you pull some more, maybe it will snap. His pain is yours, and yours becomes his.
“You’re asking me to give up, before I’ve even tried.” He whispers into your hair.
“I’m asking you to stay.” You beg with conviction, looking up at him with watery eyes.
He takes a deep breath, glances behind you for a moment before letting out a big sigh. In his head, you recognise that Hector the ghost has said something to him.
“If the roles were reversed, could you do what you’re asking me to do?”
You feel anger burn in your gut.
“That doesn’t matter. That is so irrelevant.”
“You know it isn’t.” He shoots back, hands cupping your face softly. His thumbs press into your cheeks, swiping at your tears, which only succeeds in making place for more tears. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted, even his flaws are worth the love. Your heart is breaking at the thought of his bones, lying right beside you. That the man you hold so dear could ever be reduced to that.
“You think you’re the only one here with something to lose? You think I’d be able to breathe for a second if I couldn’t feel you?”
You sniffle, pouting up at him as his calm words register in your head. The fire in you, cooling as you realise there is no stopping him.
“You’d be safer- if you’d never met me.” You mumble bitterly.
A soft laugh bubbles out of him, your eyes meet his in confusion, a little offended that he would laugh at such grave words.
When he catches your offense, he grins, his sharp teeth glinting down at you.
I would relive the worst parts of my life for an eternity if it guaranteed I would meet you.
Your lips wobble again, “Don’t say that. It’s awful.” You whine, defeated.
He dips his head, your eyes closing in reflex, as you feel his lips press to yours. You taste salt, and agony, and yearning, and you have no idea which one of you it belongs to.
There is no me, without you.
.
Parting, was no sweet sorrow.
It was fear, and anxiety, watching him lie in the casket where his human body once was. Watching his eyes lock onto you, drinking in the sight of you one last time as the door closes. Listening to the thoughts of how pretty you look, even in your devastation. Hearing the quiet promises he makes to himself as Matt buries your demon in his human grave.
I’ll be waiting for you, my demon. Are your last words to him.
His mind reaches out to you, brushing softly against your thoughts, reassuring you that he would be back, before you feel him disappear.
Billy? You call out, the sudden feeling of his almost instantaneous distance makes you panic.
There’s no answer, only a small flutter, where another person once filled a part of your head, a ringing in your ears, in the space he used to fill.
You let out a shaky sob, reaching for the fresh dirt covering his grave, burying a fist into the soil and fighting the urge to start digging.
“He’s gone.” You whisper to Matt, a silent witness to your insanity.
“He’ll find his way back.” Matt replies, his voice so full of confidence that you almost believe it.
You lean over his grave and you cry. You try not to think about the fact that you’re probably the first person to do so.
.
No one told him that purgatory would be so bright.
Billy groans, tossing an arm over his eyes as he takes stock of the weird feeling inside of him.
His horn had regrown, and it felt weird, like a limb that had grown too fast and lacked the strength that it usually would. The skin around it was tight and itchy, and he pressed his palm to it, the pressure easing the ache.
That wasn’t what was wrong though, sitting up, a groan leaving him as his bones feel strange in his skin. He could feel that his power had been diminished, only a bare inkling of it flickering inside of him. The shift between realms most likely burned up his energy, a cost he hadn’t totally anticipated.
He could hear water rushing somewhere behind him, he blinks a couple of times to get used to the light. Even then, he hates it, he looks up, and can’t find the source of the light, backing into the tree behind him in hopes that it gives him shade. It’s then that Billy realises that the air itself is what seems to be glowing softly.
That’s so stupid, he thinks with a frown. Why would the air do that?
Then, the wind blows, and he catches a small streak of light move past him, before fizzling out.
Billy pauses, studying the area with new eyes. A few leaves fall to the ground, leaving a glowing trail as it disturbs the air. It brings to mind the bioluminescence he’d seen with you, but instead of water, it’s the very air he’s breathing.
He stops breathing for a moment, wondering what exactly he was taking into his body. He raises his hands waving them through the air slowly, but nothing happens.
Billy pushes himself to a stand, noticing a lack of glow around him. He wonders if his demonic nature is to blame.
There’s an ache in his body, but he keeps putting one foot in front of the other. He needed to get his bearings, find out if there was anyone on this plane who would help him. He turns in the direction of the sound of running water, and begins trudging slowly. Light dances by in golden streaks when something disturbs it, he waves his hand in the air, still confused about why it doesn’t activate for him.
He hears a shrill cry echo through the forest from behind him, and it makes him pause. There’s no way to tell what that was- it hadn’t totally sounded human.
He turns, tripping over some foliage that catches on his foot. He gives a swift shake of his head to try to clear the fog caused by interdimensional travel. He hears a click, and a swish, he doesn’t see the glow of the arrow cutting through the air until it buries itself into his chest.
.
The basement of Matt’s church feels creepier than when you were in it last. At least then, you hadn’t been alone, and you’d had Billy there.
You let out a soft breath of hurt. You couldn’t feel him, and it was like part of your soul had been torn away, leaving an empty, gaping hole that you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around.
It was dizzying. Like every bit of solid ground had been stripped away and you were forced to walk a razor’s edge or succumb to the darkness inside of you.
Matt… had helped you a lot. He walked you through finding your center, keeping you strong and motivated, telling you that you needed to stay grounded for long enough for Billy to get you the cure. He was very good at inspiring people.
Your only problem right now is that you couldn’t sit still. If you did, there was an endless torment of what ifs ready to grab your legs and pull you into mental oblivion. That first night without him had been torture.
But a week had gone by, and though your strength had waned a bit, you’d found something to busy yourself with so that you didn’t sink into depression.
“Breakfast!” You say cheerily to the one-eyed demon glaring daggers at you as you approach.
His face had mostly healed, but the eye that your demon had ripped out of Paimon’s skull wasn’t regenerating as fast as the rest of him was.
You sit at the edge of the pentagram, sliding the tray of eggs and bacon into the circle, but not before grabbing your breakfast bagel and unwrapping the quick napkin wrap you’d done.
He was quite the weasel-faced bastard, and when he’d tried to pick a fight with you the first day, you’d chucked a piece of salami at his head and told him to chill the fuck out.
For the few days after, he’d refused your meals, sitting in the corner sulking with his back to you, but his curiosity or maybe his hunger had won out two nights ago when you’d brought him a slice of steak.
There was probably a book somewhere, that admitted that the quickest way to a demon’s heart was with a prime cut of steak. Maybe it was a book you needed to write.
You’d managed to get him to eat, and now you were working on getting him to talk.
“If you have any special requests, I can try to get something more suited to your tastes.” You offer, as he reaches for the tray, pulling it towards him, before turning his back to you to begin eating.
“I like-” He finally says, and you feel your body perk up with excitement, “-thumbs.”
You try not to react in a horrified manner.
“Like… human thumbs?”
You watch the back of his head move as he nods.
Keep it together, you advise yourself.
“Sure, I can try to get those for you. How do you like them-” You gulp, “-prepared?”
He tilts his head to the side, “Prepared?”
Oh god you were really going there.
“Cooked? Or- if you want them raw-”
“-Cooked. Never thought of that. Interesting.”
Jesus Christ had you really just given him ideas?
“What’s- what’s so good about thumbs?” Why were you even asking?!?!?
“Tastes nice. Holds energy after death. Your demon’s thumbs upstairs would extend the lifespan of any human beyond the normal.”
You press your teeth together.
“That’s not my demon upstairs.” You say evenly.
You watch Paimon lift a shoulder.
“Tomayto. Tomahto.” He answers.
You shake your head.
“Those are the bones of someone I’ve never known. Those are not Billy’s.”
“Grind it into dust and sip it in tea.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“I know.”
“Why tell me?”
He shrugs again.
“What’s information to someone who can’t use it?”
“Useless.” You answer without missing a beat.
“Like you.”
Ohhhh, he was getting on your nerves.
“Maybe,” you say carelessly, “But at least I can leave.”
.
You're quiet at dinner, legs folded as you eat your deli sandwich. Across from you, Paimon examines a deep fried pork knuckle.
Matt and you just had a sharp exchange, and it plays through your head as you stab into some of the mac and cheese by your side.
He didn't want you coming down here, but you saw no harm in it. Matt had made a good point- that you didn't really know what kind of information Paimon was harvesting from you, or how he might use it against you.
You feel a strange feeling go through you, and you frown, pressing your hand to the spot below your throat, feeling a dull ache that sharpens into something else.
It must be the poison, you figure, staring down at your sandwich and suddenly feeling like you don’t want to eat another bite of anything ever.
You take a deep breath, putting the sandwich down, reaching for your bottle of water that you realise is already empty.
“So, what’s Hell like?” You ask, taking a deep breath to try easing the ache in your chest.
He doesn’t answer. You let out a soft groan, twisting your body to lie on the cold concrete, wishing you’d brought a couple of pillows. You turn to look at Paimon, finally seeing a semblance of the man below the bruises. You notice there’s nothing of comfort in the circle, and you grunt, fighting to rise to a stand, with a murmured comment that you’d be right back.
Okay, maybe you shouldn’t be grabbing pillows and sheets for the demon downstairs that had a hand in poisoning you, but you can’t seem to stop yourself, and when you return a couple of moments later, you find him in the same position as before.
He turns his head as you dump your own soft sheets into the pentagram, making sure not to graze the edge of the circle with your foot. You keep some of the pillows for yourself so that you can sit comfortably.
“These are yours.” Paimon says, reaching for the duvet, bringing it up to his face, taking a deep inhale.
You watch with gross horror as he closes his one good eye, savouring whatever he can smell on the sheets.
“Sorry… The church only has scratchy sheets so I brought some from home to use and I thought you might appreciate them, but watching you breathe them in like a creep has me regretting it honestly.”
He makes a hum of amusement, looking up at you. You grab the empty water bottle beside you and chuck it at his head.
“Quit being creepy.” You scold.
The object doesn’t even touch him.
“They tell me a lot about you. How fitfully you sleep, how much you cry, how long you have left before your mind begins to forget.”
You swallow, eyeing him evenly, waiting to see if he’ll elaborate.
It’s a hook, you know it is. He wants you to ask, he wants to deny you the answers.
You smile warmly at him despite his obvious bait.
“Did you like the pork knuckle? It’s a delicacy in Germany.”
“I also know a way to check in on your demon.” Paimon offers.
Bingo.
“And I suppose you’ll tell me only if I answer three questions?”
He doesn’t respond to that, and you get the feeling that he wants something more.
“What good is checking in on him? I won’t be able to help him.” You argue.
“What if you could save his soul in exchange for yours?”
You pause, turning away. Your immediate thought is that you’d do it in a heartbeat, but then you think about Billy having to exist all by himself. Maybe he might move on, and meet another person, or maybe he doesn’t, spending the rest of his life tormented by the ghost of you.
Was one possibility worth the risk of the other?
“I’d save his soul if I could… but I know he wouldn’t want it.”
“Why?”
You glance up at Paimon, “Why what?”
“Why would you save his soul? Why wouldn’t he want it?”
You can’t help the smile that pulls onto your face.
“I don’t know.” You answer bashfully.
“You lie.”
Rolling your eyes, you stand.
“Think what you like, Paimon, but I don’t have to answer your questions. I don’t even have to be here.”
You turn, stumbling off.
.
He wakes up, and presses a hand to his healing chest.
He'd seen you in his dreams last night, and the feeling of your presence lingers as he wakes, an ache of something missing, something he longs for in this fucking shithole of a place.
Matt had suggested a realm of good neutral and bad neutral, but there was something lingering under that, an evil hidden among the neutrality.
The angel had revealed that to him, when he’d awoken, strapped to her table as she’d examined a handsaw with the intention of cutting his horns off.
Her wings were barely there, only shimmering iridescence on her back where he knows he should have seen feathers.
Purgatory, the realm of true stillness, did not like beings that could tip the scales. It aimed to make neutral beings out of everyone, especially near the center of the realm, he’d seen that part on her handdrawn map after he’d gotten free and killed her.
Killed an angel- that was definitely not gaining him any points in heaven.
Closer to the center, around what the angel had marked down as a point called the Stillpoint, was a circle of neutrality, an area described in her journals for truly apathetic beings. Standing inside the circle for too long would scrub every extreme emotion you had. For Billy, this was a no-go zone.
He didn’t want to become like her, those empty eyes, unseeing of the hurt she had caused, in her attempts to feel something, anything, she had attacked beings born from Heaven and Hell, harvesting the personification of their extremes, the good and evil of it, consuming it until she could feel something other than numb.
He wonders how many beings like her were trapped here in purgatory. With the way the arrow wound was still tingling, he really didn’t want to encounter any more.
According to her map, there was an entrance to Hell on one end of the map, and the entrance to Heaven on the direct opposite. He was… somewhere in the middle.
Billy didn’t really know exactly where he was, the map was very vague, probably in case it was stolen it wouldn’t reveal the exact whereabouts of her house, which was frustrating.
The river was his only hope. He’d remembered hearing it when he’d first woken up here, and according to the map, the river cut Purgatory right through the center, fanning out at the gates of both Heaven and Hell, but refining down to a very narrow line at the Stillpoint.
He’d been worrying over the map for the last hour, and unfortunately, if the assumptions on his whereabouts were right, he was going to have to go through the Stillpoint.
Going around might take too long, and the risk of encountering more people was likely on the outskirts of the neutrality circle. He simply couldn’t take the chance, being so far away from you and not being able to know how you were doing was absolute torture to him.
For all he knew, the poison could have accelerated its progress without him there to heal her, she could already be bedridden, or dying.
He refused to think the worst. If she was already gone, he thinks he would know, even in this shithole of a realm.
.
Billy's first body sits in one of the hidden back rooms of the church. It's a small place with no windows, where they occasionally hold bodies temporarily during funeral services. It- he- rests on a table in the middle of the room in a grey linen body bag, there's a musty smell of earth and slight decay clinging to it.
Matt had brought the bones here to keep them safe, with the intention of reburying them when Billy came back. You hate looking at it, at the reminder that Billy could die, and leave you here all alone, and the only thing you'd have to remember him by was his old bones.
You know if Billy knew about the thumbs, he might encourage you to use them, and maybe you should, anything to buy him as much time as you possibly could wouldn't be a bad thing.
But ugh… thumbs? No way, ew, get out of here and go to Hell, Paimon.
You hadn't even mentioned it to Matt, because some part of you was very worried that if he found out, he might try to convince you to use it, or unlikely as it may be- force you.
You weren't here for his thumbs anyway, you were here to remember him, to keep those memories sharp for as long as you possibly could.
You were starting to forget things, details of your childhood, your first teacher, your first home, things you didn't like losing but you'd sort of made your peace with it. You didn't want to lose any of him, and you were scared that by the time he made it back to you, you might not remember him at all.
You unzip the body bag slowly, your heart slamming into your ribcage when you see his skull. It's so much different now when he's not around to comfort you.
The sight of it is so unnerving that you have to close the linen bag for a moment, shutting your eyes, and searching your thoughts for memories of him to comfort yourself.
Macabre, is the word that comes to mind when you peel open the bag a second time. The gouges in his skull makes you feel a physical ache. They must have hurt so badly and you can’t help running a featherlight touch over the scars. There’s one on his cheekbone, and his forehead, the bone is porous to the touch- it almost feels fragile to handle- and it makes you hurt in such a unique way.
This wasn’t your demon, but it sort of was. This was the man that shaped him into the monster, and these were the hands that condemned him to Hell.
You pause for a moment, remembering the bad things, and for a moment, you almost feel like you could hate him, if you didn’t know him the way you do.
Would you feel this way if you’d met him then?
You know you wouldn’t. You know it took literal Hell to shape him into the man he is. Into the man you love.
It feels strange to reach for his skeletal hand, the bones are cold to the touch, dry. The lack of flesh is palpable, the surface doesn’t give because you squeeze it, there’s a gentle sound as they knock together. It feels wrong, intimacy without warmth, contact, without connection.
You reach out to him, imagining there’s a thread connecting you together, you pull on it in your head. You wanted your demon.
You close your eyes and you demand his presence.
.
He’s just found the river when something familiar washes over him.
It makes him pause, eyebrows drawing together in confusion when he feels a light pressure in his chest.
Your connection sputters to life for just a moment, and Billy takes a deep breath, reaching for you as hard as he possibly can, drilling through the void in his head where you used to be in hopes that he can get to you.
Mistress? He calls out in hopes that you can hear him.
His hand tingles, and he raises it to his face. There’s nothing out of the ordinary- no marks or symbols- but something feels different.
Another tingle, and he feels it then, three squeezes on his left hand, so vividly that his brain cannot comprehend that there isn’t something there.
He tries to squeeze back, but there isn’t anything to hold. He doesn’t think that closing his fist has the effect he wants it to.
Inside of him, his chest tightens, hope fills him.
Billy smiles.
.
.
.
