Archive of Our Own

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How you have fallen from heaven, morning star, son of the dawn. But you are brought down to the realm of the dead, to the depths of the pit.
    
-L-
 Lance is covered in dirt and blood and the gore of fallen demons. It's a chaotic hellscape, the land lit by fire; consumed by smoke and ash. He rises with a hand pressed to his ribs and a finger on the trigger of his gun, the barrel newly stocked and loaded. Around him, crawling and screeching and going for the kill, are the creatures from the rift.He swings his gun and fires without care, bullets slamming into skulls and stomachs. Blood splatters all around but the sky is already red, sunlight covered by thick clouds that never drift away. Lance grimaces, arms having long since gone numb from overuse and fatigue."Sam?" He shouts, "Tif?""Almost there." Tif huffs in his ear piece, the sound of her old truck engine loud in the background, "We'll get ya, just hold on!"Lance lets out a laugh, though it is breathy and scratchy. "Right. I'll just-" He shoots a strong dose, cutting holes through a huge demon on the outskirts. "I'll just keep these guys busy. Don't worry about me, we're havin' so much fun!"Sam barks a laugh, "Just shut up and focus, man."Lance grins and lowers his gun to slam in a new round, listening to the telltale clicks and shifts in adjustment. Once he's loaded, he begins a fresh assault. The demons fall in piles, the way they climb over the ruins of the city once freakish, now a normality. Lance feels close to nothing as he sends them back to hell.He wasn't always so stoic, of course. In the beginning, when the rift first opened, he was just as scared as everyone else. Terror was a shot through his chest, leaving him gasping and falling to the ground from the force of the sonic boom. Waves and waves of heat blew through the city streets, shattering windows and flipping cars and throwing people from their feet. Lance landed on his ass, hands digging into the cement on the sidewalk, glass cutting his face from the bakery windows behind him. Looking up, he saw only one beam of light before the ground began to shake, crumbling into the core of the world. Buildings vanished, quakes ruptured gas lines and caused explosions; fires raged and bridges sank to the depths.At the time, Lance could only run. He'd scrambled to his feet as fast as he could and he pushed through the screaming crowds, not bothering to look back as he heard unholy screeches fill the air."Rounding the corner now." Tif says.Lance can hear her engine closer, even the squelches as her tires run over fallen bodies and ram into those still trying to move. He hears her heavy music and there is a flash of light, the telltale shine of headlights washing over the carnage. Tires screech as the truck comes to a stop, metal spikes protruding from the doors, windows barred but spaced enough to allow the barrel of a gun. Shots ring out to match Lance's own and he starts to back toward safety, grin turned down in a frown in the midst of his concentration."C'mon!" Sam shouts, though now the voice doesn't come from the small mic in Lance's ear. He's closer, probably climbing onto the roof of the truck to gain better sight.Lance hurries as fast as he can, boots sliding in flesh and bone. He's almost there, he can practically feel the vibrations of Tif's music at his back, when it happens. There is a rumble, bone-deep and aching. It makes Lance falter, his eyes cast forward as all the remaining demons slow their assault. They turn, one by one, grotesque features lighting in awe. Or pain. Lance can't really tell. All he knows is the roll of his stomach in nausea, the high pitched whistle echoing around the decrepit city; traveling against a hollow hum. In the background, somewhere close, he can hear Tif and Sam screaming at him to run.But Lance is frozen. His gun hangs limp in his hand as the air morphs. Dark shadows look like sludge, like oil thick with the grime in the streets, twisting and sliding in serpentine motion. It spins and grows gargantuan, sending out wave after wave of pressure and hot wind. And, of course, the smell of rancid rot. It reminds Lance of the first breach in the rift, the way he'd gagged as he ran.Now, instead of a horde, there is only a foot that steps through. It's clawed but humanoid, ankle slim. Unlike the demons surrounding him, the figure is not entirely deformed. Long legs hold up a lithe abdomen, scaled like a dragon reflecting lava on brimstone. Fingers are abnormally long, clawed and black just like the toes, golden circlets digging into upper arms. There is no mouth, a gaping hole where their heart should be, groin void of sexual organs. Long red hair floats as if suspended under water, eyes shining gold, only the slit of a red iris visible. It takes Lance a moment to realize the demon's eyes are on him. As it fully enters the mortal world, the demon spreads wings that ooze and burn the ground like acid.And on its head, wrapping around fiery hair, is a crown of deepest onyx.Whispers fill the air and the demons immediately drop to the ground, bowing their heads until their faces are pressed flat. Lance feels his own knees wobble but he holds strong, flesh rising in goosebumps; pupils dilated."You are strong." The voice whispers, warping and slithering, echoing like the whistle that still travels around the city. "I have been watching you.""Who-" Lance furrows his brows, feeling as if he were outside of his body. Nothing feels real. The blood on his face trickles like rain, feeling hot. Warm. Comforting. "Who are you-""You kill my kin with hatred in your heart. I can feel it now. It pleases me." The demon hovers, feet pointed toward the ground. The wings beat but other than the air from the rift, there is no wind. "Surely you know who I am."Lance reflects, trying to pull information from the muddle in his brain. He takes a step forward but he doesn't even realize it, not even bothering to look down at the demons who cower in his wake. "I don't know who you are." He mutters."I am legion!"  The demon suddenly hisses, sounding like locusts, like thousands of angry voices.The words are a blade. They slice Lance open, leave his guts hanging, his shock making him stumble and stop his dazed stride. Legion. Or, to be more specific, demonic royalty. "What do you want from me?" Lance whispers, fingers suddenly wrapping tight around his gun again. He feels a renewed strength rising. The demon prince notices and if they could smile, Lance thinks they'd be grinning wide."Join us." The prince sounds excited, "It is an honor to take my hand."Lance glances at their extended fingers, at the way the claws curve upward. Their palm is open, a single symbol embedded into the flesh.Lance sneers, "Never."At this, the prince laughs. It's a dark sound, swallowing Lance up and leaving him to drown."Then you will return here as one of us." The prince says, "I will give you the opportunity to grow. To become what you are meant to be. It will take time, your glorious transformation. But when you find yourself here, at the end of all things, you will come to me as a God."Now, the whispers return deeper in tone, ancient by the click of the tongue and roll of the throat. There is new intent in these words and Lance can feel it burn him, slamming into his body with impressive force. It only stops when something bright flashes behind him, bringing with it a blinding light and cool wind.The demon prince looks up with a face turned to vicious anger, horns on their forehead growing sharper. There is an exchanging of words but Lance is lost to the torment in his body, a warring grip on sanity that threatens to send him to his knees. But he isn't so far gone that he doesn't see the way the demon prince suddenly turns their body, eyes focusing on him with clarity.Fear seizes Lance's heart but he can't even scream as he's grabbed, the demon's hand scorching his own just as someone else tugs him back, soft fingers gripping tight. His palm is torn from the prince's and he feels an arm surround his abdomen, holding strong. But the demon prince only looks pleased, skin tearing and bleeding as sharp teeth finally show themselves.Seconds before Lance is taken away, he realizes the prince is grinning.That he believes he has won.  "I love you." His mom whispers, body wispy and misty in memory. He is laying in bed as a child, arms holding tight to a poorly stitched bear. "You are so brave, Lance.""Mom?" Lance's voice echoes but his younger self doesn't move, already fast asleep.He remembers nights like that, when the world felt safe, when he was safe. With a whirl, the memory fades away. More and more take its place, bits of his life playing like an old-timed movie. His birthdays, the birth of his little sister, the way the door slammed when his father left them. There is his dog and him playing in the surf, froth and salt water drying on his skin: his friends, his family, his first girlfriend, first boyfriend, the taste of garlic knots on his tongue-Then there is the breach. Sirens go off in the city, the kind that usually alert the public to find safety with the threat of a tornado. Only the long, drawn out siren is too late. He's back in the middle of the chaos, demonic screeches at his back, people screaming and crying all around. He stands in the middle of the ghostly city, buildings covered in this strange dream-mist, faces blurred and unrecognizable. They surge around him, creating a path as he turns to see the rift.The terror he felt then, he feels again now. As if he hasn't been fighting tooth and nail for years, as if he isn't one of the best demon killers in the nation, he can feel his skin grow clammy with panic.Demons attack the people around him, biting their heads clean off their shoulders, stabbing them with sharp tails and sharp nails, gorging themselves on their guts. They ignore Lance as if they can't see him: all except one.He wonders if it followed him to this strange place. It could be possible that the demon prince had a defect, one underling that didn't listen to his orders and simply wanted to kill Lance no matter the cost. Lance grounds himself and feels his gun in his hand, suddenly sitting heavy against his palm. It's familiar and it's welcome, settling the panic he'd begun to fear would never leave.But just as he takes aim, just as the demon reaches his bullet range, the ground opens up beneath them. He falls fast and he falls hard, breath sucked from his lungs. His body is thrown to the wind, colors becoming blinding as the veil is warped, as time begins to reverse. Memories are in fast motion, voices and faces a spasm. He fears this will never stop, that the demon struggling to reach him will thrust a bony, rotting hand through his stomach before he can gain his bearings. Though soon, with a loud boom and a dark wash over his eyes, he finds himself slamming into something solid. It cracks and explodes, splintering from the violence, yet he feels nothing in his body break.Miraculously, as the dust begins to settle, he is alive.  
-K-
 Keith doesn't expect much to happen now that the work day is done. He's in his tattoo shop: normal. He's cleaning his leather chair, organizing his ink: normal.What isn't normal is the way his roof becomes a fucking war zone.Tiles fall and lights go out, wires torn and sparking from sockets. He shouts and holds up his tattoo gun as if it could do anything to protect him, the dust and drywall making his eyes blur and sting. He blinks fast, hand shaking as a strange clicking noise rises in the aftermath. It sounds like breaking bones and clicking tongues, like a bug with pincers that want to slice at his throat. It's an instinctual fear that builds in his stomach, something that shouldn't be familiar but still is.Something skitters and he whips his body to the right, seeing a hunched shadow pass near the front door, coming closer."Hello?" He calls, tattoo gun growing a bit more steady. "Who-"Just then, with impressive force, he is knocked from his feet. He lands on his tattoo chair and feels it become uprooted, the steel legs cracking the tile as it lifts from the force. Four arms surround him, nails piercing the leather, razor sharp teeth gnashing at his face.Keith doesn't scream. The instinctual fear turns to instinctual defense and he brings the tattoo gun up, the sharp needle piercing the creature's flesh. It shrieks, drool and blood dripping onto Keith's face. Six eyes go wide but there are no pupils, only a demonic glow, like magma rising. The teeth increase in number, the hollow of its throat becoming a vortex. And Keith knows that in a moment he will probably be eaten alive.He lifts a leg, intent on giving one last push before the inevitable.But soon, a deafening shot rings out. Brains and blood explode all over him, warm, thick and heavy. It gets into his mouth, drenches his hair. The creature shudders, mouth gaping seconds before it is thrown to the side. Its limbs slide across Keith's abdomen, leaving behind a trail of slime and decay. It falls with a splat, body twitching on the tile.And as Keith looks up, he stares into the blue eyes of a boy. He's covered in as much gore as Keith, his brown skin dirty and his mouth pressed into a serious line. A gun is left smoking in his grip, the barrel hot from where it pressed into the creature's skull. He holds out a hand and Keith takes only a moment to grab hold, allowing the boy to help him sit up from his previous petrified slump."You good?" The boy asks, voice surprisingly nonchalant given the horrific circumstances.Keith nods, just once, before vomiting all over the his shoes.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Keith stares at the boy with distrust, watching as he digs into a burger with little care for the corpse on the floor. He chews fast, eyes fluttering with each bite. They haven't spoken for the last thirty minutes, long enough for Keith to wipe his mouth and agree to find the boy something to eat regardless of his questionable appearance. Luckily, fast food never closes in a city as big as this. He supposes it's the least he could do, considering the guy just saved his fucking life."You wan' some?" He suddenly asks, holding out a fry.Keith just shakes his head, stomach still rolling at the smell lingering in the air. It's sharp against his nose and he rubs at it, fingers still a bit shaky. His shop is a mess and he's cursing the destroyed chair, the black leather ripped to spill the white fabric inside. Still, he sits on it with heavy legs."S'good as fuck." The boy sniffs and gulps down his soda, groaning at the fizz in his throat. "You know how long it's been since I had food like this?" Before Keith can answer, he continues, "Too long, that's how long. This is like, heaven. I mean, if heaven existed, but you know what I mean."Keith doesn't know what he means. On the contrary, he has no clue what the hell is going on at all."Who are you?" He asks again, the last three times left unanswered.The boy slides his eyes to Keith, sharp and fast. He studies Keith and though he's been at ease, Keith can see the hint of concealed violence beneath his skin. One wrong shift and he'd probably pounce, bullet flying toward Keith's skull.But when Keith doesn't move, the boy relents."Name's Lance." He swallows and pushes the fast food wrapper off of his lap. He lets his head rest against the wall, neck stretched, but keeps his gaze on Keith. "You?""Uh, Keith.""Got a last name?""Do you?"The boy smirks then, a dimple rising on his left cheek. "Touché ."Keith runs a hand through his hair, feeling clumps that he'd rather not reflect on. The last thing he needs is to think about brain gunk and torn skin nestled against his scalp."Mind finally telling me what the fuck just happened?" He snaps, feeling his patience thin.The shock is wearing off, he can feel it falling away.Lance hums, "That, my dear Keith, was your first encounter with a roach.""What the fuck are you talking about?""At least, that's what we call them. Me and my friends, I mean." He glances at the corpse, "They run around like roaches, just begging for us to step on them. Or put a bullet in them. Whichever comes first.""You aren't really answering my question."Lance rolls his eyes, "I'm from the future."Silence falls. Keith can't find the will to speak, let alone believe what he's hearing. Which, in the grand scheme of things, is probably stupid. He almost had his face eaten off, for fucks sake."The future." He eventually repeats."Yup." Lance shrugs and yawns, "And let me tell you, it isn't all flying cars and chrome and robots. It's fucking hell on earth. Literally."Keith glances at the creature on the floor, distaste heavy on his tongue. "So is that...?""Demon." Lance groans and gets to his feet, nudging the body with his foot. "Lower class, by the look of it. Just a grunt."Keith wipes at his face, squeezing his eyes shut beneath his palm. He takes a deep, long breath through his nose and when he looks up, Lance is staring at him with something akin to pity."Don't look at me like that."Lance shifts his eyes, "You gonna be alright?""I'm fine.""You're lying." Lance walks closer, lowering himself until he's squatting at Keith's knees. When Keith peeks from between his fingers, he meets Lance's inquisitive gaze. "I was like you at first. Scared shitless, thinking none of it could be real. But I got over that fear. Eventually."He smiles ruefully, looking up at Keith from beneath thick lashes."This doesn't make sense." Keith sighs and lowers his hands, looking at the blood staining his nails. "You just...just fell through my fucking ceiling from the sky and saved my ass and ate a burger with a demon laying dead on the floor and..and-""Yeah, I guess that's a lot to take in.""You think?"Lance's smile weakens but it doesn't fade completely, "I can try to explain everything to you. Tell you about it all, from the beginning. But it's gonna take time and you're not gonna want to believe any of it.""We have time." Keith looks at the mess surrounding them, "Because I'm not letting you go anywhere until you fix my fucking shop."  
-L-
 One thing Lance should have expected after waking up in Keith's shop is that he'd have to ask if he could stay with him indefinitely. He has no money, no licenses or identification, nothing to suggest that he's a citizen at all. Luckily, Keith seems mostly okay with the idea of him sticking around."My apartment is shit, by the way." He says, watching as Lance nails one side of a thick blue tarp to the roof. Keith is on the other side, holding down the plastic to ward off the wind."Dude. You have no idea how much I don't care. I'll sleep on the ground and it'd be an upgrade from where I was." Lance finishes and pulls the tarp taught on the other side, making sure there is no room for it to droop or leak. "You'll hear no complaints from me.""Where you're from.." Keith bites at his lip, "It's basically still earth, right?"Lance shrugs, "I guess.""So humans aren't completely wiped out by these things, then."Lance grimaces and sets the nails aside, meeting Keith's eye for a fleeting second. When he gets back to work he continues, "There are groups that specialize in killing as many roaches as we can, protecting pockets of people that can't fight. But there are some of us who work with them, too."Keith furrows his brows, "What?""Human's have always been drawn to sides, haven't we? Some think they're full of light, delusional to the belief that they'll eventually be saved, blindly following something they think is purer and more powerful than themselves. And some think that the world is already lost, so why not join those that revel in the dark? Why not have some fun since everything's already fucked up?""Which side are you on?" Keith asks.Keith watches him, probably noticing the way he glances down at his hand, the way he clenches his jaw. His palm is seared but he hides it well, using the torn sleeve of his jacket to wrap around the knuckles. Lance hasn't studied his flesh yet and he'll be the first to admit that the thought of seeing what has been burned there makes his skin crawl."I fall somewhere in the middle, I think. Neither too much one or the other." Lance finishes setting the tarp. When he stands, he tilts his head in thought. "What about you?"Keith looks up at him, dark hair framing his face. In the early morning light Lance is a bit taken aback, knowing the boy was cute even when covered in guts in the dark. But now that he's looking up at Lance, his face wiped as clean as it can be by his sleeves, he looks even better. It's been a long time since Lance has felt a flutter in his stomach but he swears that beneath all of his distrust and anger, it is suddenly there. That it is a small flame, eager to grow.Lance raises a brow, "Well?""I dunno." Keith finally stands and follows Lance down the ladder, the steps creaking beneath their weight. "I've never really thought about it."Lance smirks as they go inside, glad that the rising sun can provide light. It bounces off of the windows, glittering against broken glass and spilled ink. Keith stares at the destruction, looking ill."You never told me why you got sent back in the first place." Keith mutters, bending to pick up a shattered bottle. "And who sent you.""I thought I'd keep the conversation light for a while, you know? Talk about all the gritty details later, after we get some sleep."Keith rolls his eyes, "I don't think we'll be sleeping for a while." He glances at Lance, contemplative. "Or at least I won't. If you want you can go lay down in the back office while I talk to the police.""Police?" Lance raises a sharp brow, "Uh, buddy? There's a fuckin' demon on your floor. How're you gonna explain that?"As if suddenly remembering it was there, Keith looks at the body and his shoulders slump. He brings a hand to his nape, tugging at his hair."We could toss it in a dumpster?" He suggests.Lance places a hand on his hip, finger tapping at his chin. He looks around, noticing the lack of flammable substances and space for open fire. And when he glances outside he knows that the city will be waking soon, no doubt eager to start the day. All in all, this would be the absolute last place to burn a corpse; especially one that will smell as bad as this."Do you have a car?" Lance asks, noticing only a small framed motorcycle sitting on the curb.Keith shakes his head, "No.""Well we need a car." Lance strides forward and kicks the demon onto its back, staring at the gaping mouth and splattered brain. "And paint. Lots of paint."  
-K-
 "Before you freak out, I can explain." Keith holds Pidge by her shoulders, trying to keep her inquisitive gaze from the boy standing behind him. Lance waits by the door to the tattoo shop, arms crossed and eyes shut. If not for the small smirk on his lips one would think he's asleep."Why the fuck do you smell so bad?" Pidge asks, "Did you fall into a vat of toxic waste? Is that guy holding you hostage? What happened to your shop-""I can explain." Keith repeats. "But you can't freak out."Pidge just stares at him, brown eyes narrowed behind her glasses. They've been friends for six years and Keith still squirms when she looks at him like that, all assessing and judging. But he steels himself and delves into the the last few hours with detail, watching as she goes through the motions of disbelief."You're fuckin' with me." She scoffs, eyes shooting back to Lance. "It's not even Halloween yet, dude. This is just lame.""Pidge, if I were joking I'd be laughing. You know I can't hold a straight face against you for shit.""I'm still not convinced." She crosses her arms, "You know if you want to use my car for," She lowers her voice to a whisper, "a date, you can just ask, right?"Keith gapes, eyes wide. But before he can deny her accusation, Lance sidles up and wraps an arm around his waist. He doesn't hold Keith tight and if Keith wanted to step away he could."As pretty as Keith is," Lance sounds amused, "we aren't going on a date." He slips his arm away and motions toward the shop. "But if you want proof you can just go look. The roach is still on the floor.""Roach." Pidge deadpans, "A bug?"Lance grins, "Same difference."Pidge passes them with a grumble, the little ring of the door as it opens taking up the momentary silence."She's not a morning person, is she?" Lance waits, and Keith wonders if he's counting down the seconds until the explosion.When it comes, Keith can only wince.Pidge isn't one to get scared easily. On more than one occasion she's usually the one to do the scaring, finding glee in making Keith jump or her brother scream. But when she runs from the shop, she immediately grabs hold of Keith, her arms wrapping around him like a vise."What the fuck?" She gasps, gagging on bile from the stench. "Keith, what the fuck is that thing?"Lance sighs and runs a hand through his hair, "Look, I know this is all really fucked up and weird. But if we don't get rid of the body soon the whole city will be puking in the gutters-""Just give her a fucking minute." Keith snaps.Almost instantly, Lance quiets. His mouth thins and his eyes soften, just a little, before returning to tough blue crystal. He nods before turning back to the shop, saying something about wrapping the demon in left over tarp."What the fuck." Pidge whispers again, fingers trembling where they hold tight to Keith's shirt."I know." Keith says."How are you even alive?" Pidge asks, leaning back to stare at his blood stained face. "That thing seriously tried to eat you?"Keith nods."And that guy-" She shifts her eyes, quiets her voice, "he just shows up out of nowhere and talks about the future and demons? How do you know he didn't bring that thing here on purpose?""He saved my life." Keith tries to calm her, reminding her of Lance's heroics. "He could've let it kill me but he didn't. He shot it point blank.""So does that make you trust him?" She asks, meeting Keith's eye. Her own gaze is wide with shock but he can still recognize the turning wheels, the way she's thinking about this entire situation like a numerical problem."I don't know. Maybe." He says, "I think I need to trust him if what he's saying is true. Maybe...maybe he was sent to my shop for a reason."Pidge stares at Keith and takes a deep, long breath. He knows she's weighing her options, probably debating whether or not she's dreaming. But when she lets the breath out, she's seemingly made up her mind. "We'll take my car. But if he so much as lays one finger on you again, I won't hesitate to pepper spray him."  
-L-
 Lance listens to the pair talk while he sits in the back seat, knee jumping as they drive through the desert. The city he winded up in is on the outskirts of Arizona, where the horizon is never ending and blinding during midday. He stole some sunglasses from the console of Pidge's car before they left but it still does little to keep him from flinching from bright bursts of light. Three years without actual sunshine can really fuck you up, he supposes.Pidge laughs and Keith chuckles and Lance tries to pay attention. He really does. But he can't help staring ahead, taking in the world without carnage and death. It's beautiful and he can't believe he'd forgotten what it looked like, all clear skies and gorgeous blue and rocks that let lizards bathe in the sun. It's breathtaking and it's peaceful and it breaks his heart to pieces. "So we just have to light it on fire, right?" Pidge suddenly asks, tearing Lance from his thoughts.He clears his throat and nods, "Right.""It's that simple?"Lance shrugs, "You just worry about placing the wood. I'll do the rest."Keith looks into the rear view mirror but Lance knows he can't see his eyes. The sunglasses keep him hidden, giving him a faux sense of privacy in the small boxy interior. The boy stares at him for a good while before looking away, returning to the conversation.Lance is feeling the affects of his travel through time with a rolling, thick sickness. He gulps it down and wipes at the bead of sweat on his forehead, a flash of memory running sharp through his mind. For a moment he hears Tif shouting his name and the tires crunching over rocks are instead the breaking of bones; Sam is nodding along to the music and he throws a grin at Lance, the burn scars on his cheek looking shiny and smooth. But as they finally come to a stop, the memory is wiped clean. He shakes himself from his stupor and gets out of the car with a blessed intake of air, quickly walking to the trunk to lean on the hot metal. His fingers burn and his palm aches but the wrapping is holding strong. He flexes his fingers, knuckles tight."Pidge is about to pop the hood."Lance looks up fast, practically ripping himself away from the car. He licks his dry lips and nods, just once. Keith continues to look at him even as he ties his black hair back with a thick rubber band, a few strands refusing to remain complacent in the bun. It's a bit unnerving, feeling Keith's stare on him. Lance doesn't know if he particularly enjoys it, the way he feels watched, as if the boy could possibly care about his well-being so soon after meeting.The moment the hood pops Lance reaches inside, busying himself with what is normal to him. He hefts the body to his shoulder and uses his knees to hold up the weight, ignoring Keith's willingness to help. Pidge has already placed a bundle of wood on the ground and Lance lets the demon's body fall on top with a whoosh, logs splintering. He quickly accepts one of the buckets of paint and a large brush, glad that the patch of land they picked isn't complete sand."Stand back." He orders, already dipping the brush into the red paint.Then he gets to work.Drawing the symbols of hellfire can take time. He tries to recall every curve and twist, arm moving languidly as he circles the body. He connects one side to the other, letting paint drip all around. Hair falls into his eyes and he pushes the fringe back, the buzzed undercut the only relief to the heat of the sun on his back."Where'd you learn this?" Pidge asks, interrupting his concentration.Lance glances up at her, "My friend Maria. She knew a shit ton about this stuff. Even before the rift opened, she studied ancient symbols, demonic testaments and biblical theory.""So she's a pro, huh?" Pidge sounds excited, "I wanna meet her."Lance frowns, "Not gonna happen. She's dead."Keith shifts in Lance's peripheral but it's only a single step forward. He's smart enough to stay back as Lance finishes, ignoring the flash of pain in his chest. It's sharp as a barb, a thorn or molten knife. Saying the words out loud to anyone other than Tif or Sam just doesn't feel right."I'm sorry." Keith says, quiet enough that if Lance were further away, he wouldn't have heard it."Lots of people are dead." Lance stands and surveys his work, voice thick from emotions he'd rather keep buried deep. "My family. My friends. Probably you guys, too."At this, Pidge makes a strangled noise. It's pulled from her throat but Lance pretends he didn't hear it, if only because she turns her face away in embarrassment."Okay. This is finished." Lance grabs the match box from his pocket, "Once this roach burns there's no way it can come back. No resurrection. No pit stop in hell before making another visit. It'll just be gone."And with that, the match is lit. It flares bright before he throws it onto the pyre, the logs lighting almost immediately. He takes several steps back and grabs Keith's wrist on instinct, urging him to get away too. The moment they're safe from the blaze, Lance lets go.The fire grows to incredible height, burning hot and true against the backdrop of the desert. For a while the fire is mostly normal, red and yellow and blue at the base. But soon it transforms, only the very tips remaining white. The rest is midnight black, space-between-the-stars dark, embers falling like ash.Lance turns away before it's done, leaving the two of them to watch as long as they like. He simply walks back to the car and gets inside fast, feeling his legs shake against the leather seats. With a shuddering sigh, exhaustion bears strong on his body. He turns and lowers himself against the seat, letting his shoulder find the cushion, eyes blurring. At some point Pidge and Keith return, letting in a wash of warm air. But before the engine can even start, he's fast asleep.  
-K-
 Keith watches Lance sleep with his own slow blinks, hoping it doesn't look as creepy as he feels it does. Pidge is asleep in his room and Keith is settled on the floor, blankets piled to feign a comfortable bed.But he still can't sleep.Lance started making noises an hour ago, a short time after Keith carried him inside and placed him on his old couch. At first, Keith thought the boy was just dreaming. But as time wore on and the noises didn't stop even after Keith had taken a long shower, he found himself worried that the boy would do something drastic in his sleep: like grab the gun on the floor and start shooting with wild abandon. So, Keith carefully took the gun to the kitchen and decided to keep an eye on him, just to be sure. Just to be safe.Now, Keith tries to decipher his words. They are a flowing string of a language he has never heard, the syllables twining together, sounding ancient and frightening. Lance's breathing has picked up pace and his left hand clenches over and over, the makeshift bandage he'd wrapped around his palm becoming loose. With a gulp, Keith gets to his feet and makes his way to the boy, wondering if he should try to wake him. Maybe place a cool cloth on his forehead like Pidge used to do when Keith would wake up in the night from his own terrors.But just as Keith steps close enough to reach out, Lance shoots up. He grabs hold of Keith's neck and stands fast, pushing at him until the wall meets his back. His eyes are wild and unseeing. There is a strange glow within him, barely there, really. But it's so eerie it makes Keith freeze, something akin to pure fear settling against his spine."Lance-" Keith grabs at his wrist, shocked by the strength of his grip. His fingers tighten, making Keith grit his teeth. "Lance, it's me!"Almost immediately, Lance's eyes clear. He blinks and rips his hand away, looking as distraught as Keith feels.Keith coughs, words rough as he asks, "Are you okay?""Me?" Lance gapes, "I just...I choked you. I almost killed you and you ask if i'm okay?"Keith coughs again, the sound choppy. "If you wanted to kill me you'd have to try harder than that."The joke falls flat.Lance turns away and falls back to the couch, face covered by his hands. He breathes in and out, shoulders rising and falling. He mumbles numbers, counting from one to twenty until his voice isn't as raw. Until he doesn't look like he's falling apart at the seams. It's such a difference from his earlier cocky demeanor that Keith isn't really sure what to do, for some reason thinking the guy was perfectly fine with the entire situation. But whereas Keith only had one encounter with a demon, he reminds himself that Lance has seen hundreds. That he's lost everything, that he's been thrust back to a time that is safe. But it's apparent now that he still doesn't feel safe, even if Keith's apartment is small and warm and quiet."Lance?" He asks, though he keeps his distance.The last thing he wants to do is crowd him.Lance looks up at him, apology already written across his face. But before he can say anything Keith is shaking his head and walking to the kitchen, quickly filling a glass of water from the faucet. He brings it to Lance with slow steps, recognizing the tense set of his legs and arms. He sees himself in that body language, the way Lance has defenses up."I know what it feels like, waking up from something that tears you apart." Keith urges Lance to take the water and is glad when he does. He gulps fast, eyes fluttering shut as Keith continues, "I don't know if I trust you. It's hard for me to trust anyone, really. But I want to trust you. And I think that trust could start right here. Right now."Lance lowers the glass, confused. "Anyone else would send me away. They'd go to therapy and chalk all of this up to a very, very strange dream. They'd be happy if I left so that this problem didn't involve them anymore.""I think this became my problem the second you crashed through my roof." Keith smirks, a pleased heat growing in his stomach when Lance's lips twitch upward. "You know, when I saved you from the roach I thought you'd be...different." Lance admits.Keith flushes, turning so he can hide it as he sits on his blankets. "What do you think about me now?"Lance takes a moment to reply, leaning forward to set the cup on the coffee table. Eventually, however, he says, "I think you're a very pleasant surprise, Keith."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The shower steam builds with Lance’s heavy breathing and he knows this isn’t rain but fuck, he can pretend, can't he? How long had it been since he’d just let himself rest? How many times did he shower only to be covered in gore thirty minutes later? He reminds himself that he isn’t in some bunker beneath a city crawling with demons. He’s in a cute boy’s apartment, he’s stuck in the past, he smells something cooking and he just lets himself be. Blood trickles into the drain, running down the length of his body. He’s dirty as hell but he can’t allow himself to feel embarrassed because of it. All he can do is allow the dark mark on his hand to meet the fresh water, skin peeling to reveal the burn. “Fuck.” He whispers, recognizing the seal. Maria had shown him images of this and he’d barely paid attention, more content to take his gun apart and put it back together again than listen to more stories about hell. Now, he wishes he’d listened. All he knows is that the mark is a curse; a ticking bomb that will destroy him and make him anew. “The chosen Alaikdaii.” Her voices echoes around him. “Only given to a human when a prince in the Pit falls dead. If you have the mark, you will be the replacement.” Lance wishes he could scrub it away. But it is as permanent as his beating heart. He can do nothing but wrap it up tight when he leaves the shower, the ripped cloth settling against his knuckles. If Keith or Pidge were to see the full extent of the mark there would be questions. And he can’t afford giving them the answer right now. He doubts he’ll be able to find anyone else to truly help him. Standing naked, he rests his palms on the sink, hissing at the pain of the mark. But he doesn’t move as he stares at his reflection in the foggy mirror, truly looking at himself for the first time in years. He’s different. Once, before the breach, he had skin flushed with life. His hair had been a bit longer than it is now and he hadn’t been sporting a very jagged scar on the left side of his face. He brushes his fingers over it, remembering the way the demon’s talon had sliced him from brow to jaw. He’s lucky he hadn’t lost the eye. A knock shocks him out of his thoughts. “Lance?” Keith’s voice is quiet, “We made some food.” Lance clears his throat but it still sounds cracked. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be out in a minute.” He listens to the soft patter of Keith’s feet drift down the hall and he sags beneath the weight of what this all means. He tries to recall the demon prince’s words but they are already a hazy memory, jumbled with the rest of his life. All he can do, he supposes, is try to find a cure. He knows he can’t stop the breach. It’s inevitable, a single string of fate tying the whole of humanity to such darkness. But the least he can do is protect these two, their laughs drifting into the bathroom, totally oblivious to his distress. As he re-wraps his hand, he thinks of Maria. He thinks of Sam and Tif, how he’d distantly heard them scream when he was sucked into the vortex. He thinks of his family, who he couldn’t possibly visit. All of them are lost to him; but he can do something better now. He’s agile and he’s strong and he can kill any roach that tries to jeopardize this new friendship. At least, he hopes that’s what this is. Friendship. When he walks out of the bathroom, dressed in a simple black shirt and a pair of jeans that sit a bit too tight on his thighs, he prays that these two strangers really could be his friends. Lance has never been a solitary creature. He enjoys company and he loves, more than anything, to feel a sense of belonging. “Finally!” Pidge stands up from her place on the floor, leaving behind a plate of steaming food. “I’ve been needing the toilet for like, two hours!” She hurries past him and slams the door shut. Keith is smirking as he nods to a plate on the counter, which Lance happily takes. “Hope you like grilled cheese.” Lance breathes it in, stomach rumbling. “Fuck yes.” He sits beside Keith on the couch and tries to ignore the slight tension; not bad, not worrying. But it’s there and he guesses it’s because there is so much left to be said. Or, maybe, it is just his own internalized guilt for keeping the mark a secret. “This is good.” Lance sighs and leans back, slowly chewing the sandwich. He watches the TV with bright eyes, “Holy shit. It’s been so long since I’ve seen this show.” “You like cartoons?” Lance smiles and continues to watch, “I did.” “Do you miss it?” Keith asks. “The simple things.” “Of course. But where I’m from it’s not like you have much time to get emotional about it.” Keith hums and leans back, his legs spreading a bit. Lance glances at his thighs and the dip of his waist, his shirt hiked up to reveal a pale expanse of skin and the dark ink wrapping around it. “You have a tattoo?” Keith keeps his eyes on the TV, as if to keep them from Lance’s curious gaze. His cheeks are slightly pink. “Well, yeah. I own a tattoo parlor.” “Can I see it?” Finally, he glances over. His brows are raised and he takes a fleeting look at the bathroom door, as if debating how much time they have. Lance wonders if he’s purposefully modest around Pidge, if they’re similar to siblings or maybe just not as close as Lance originally thought. “Sure.” Keith stands and quickly takes his shirt off, revealing a twisting tattoo of a Chinese dragon, the scales shaded to perfection. “I did my abdomen. My coworker did the rest.” Lance whistles and sets his plate aside, rising to take a closer look. He leans down before walking around, reaching out a hand to trail a few fingers on the slightly raised skin. Keith jumps beneath his touch, hissing at the cold. “Why a dragon?” Keith shrugs, bumps spreading against his skin wherever Lance touches. And maybe he shouldn’t, most likely he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself. It’s been a long time since he’s been...intimate with someone. And right now, Keith is more than a perfect option. He’ll blame it on his new-self. The demon killing, rough and tough, selfish self. He steps closer, crowding Keith from behind. “I like it.” He says. “It’s amazing what you can do without color.” Keith hums again and he doesn’t move away, even when Lance’s hands find his hips. “Ew.” They both freeze and look over, watching as Pidge shields her eyes. Keith pulls away and slides his shirt back on, dutifully ignoring Lance’s smirk. “He was just wanting to see-” “Don’t care.” Pidge pushes past them to grab her stuff, “Don’t care one fucking bit. Just let me get outta here so I can do some research in peace. I’ll be back later.” “I was curious about his tattoo.” Lance says, feeling a bit bad. “Did you know he has it?” “Of course I do.” She rolls her eyes. “We’re best friends.” And with that, she leaves. Awkward. What an understatement. “Your food is getting cold.” Keith says.Lance simply goes back to the couch and stuffs his face, painfully aware of Keith's proximity.  Lance wakes to a pounding headache. He pulls himself from the dregs of sleep with a groan, blinking away the light, trying his best to refrain from punching the damn pillow beside him in frustration. Now that he’s in a relatively safe world, he assumed sleep would come a bit easier. He never considered he would have nightmares. Throwing an arm over his eyes, he listens to the rustle of Keith in the kitchen. They’d fallen asleep late after talking about random things; cartoons, music, places Keith has always wanted to go, places Lance had already been. It had been so normal, so peaceful, that Lance pretended it would last. Shit like that never does. The smell of bacon wafts into the room and Lance rises with a frown, his stomach growling. The nightmare lingers like a shadow, trailing at his feet as he goes to brush his teeth and wash his face. The demons had overtaken an outpost, slaughtering and devouring the people Lance had sworn to protect. This nightmare simply fed off of the memory. Shaking a bit, he wipes his mouth and takes a deep breath. When he opens the door, he puts a smile on his face. “You’re already cookin’ me breakfast?” He leans against the counter, watching Keith flip a pancake. “Careful, or I’m gonna think you have a thing for me.” “You have jokes.” “Always.” Keith glances at him over his shoulder, “I figured you’d be hungry. You eat a lot.” “Go without good food for as long as I have and you’d eat like this too.” Keith stacks two fluffy pancakes and slices of bacon on a plate before setting it in front of him. Lance motions for him to pass the syrup and gives him a quiet thanks before digging in. “Pidge called this morning. Said there’s this cathedral on the outskirts of town that practices some unorthodox things. Don’t really know what she means by that.” Lance speaks around a mouthful of food, “It’s a start.” Keith smirks and takes a bite of bacon, “If you say so.” Swallowing, he wipes his mouth. “Sorry. About yesterday.” “What about it?” Lance waves a hand as if shooing a bug, “The whole tattoo thing. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just been a long time since I’ve met someone like you.” “Like me?” “I dunno. Nice. Normal.” Lance meets his eye. “Pretty.” Keith flushes. It’s something Lance has already begun to enjoy, especially when he’s the cause of it. “Thanks?” Keith rubs at his neck, a nervous tic. “You’re welcome.” Lance grins. “Now finish your breakfast. We have a big ass day ahead of us.”  The cathedral is old as hell. Which, in Lance’s books, is a good thing. It means they have an archive and if they have an archive, they can have some answers. Hopefully. He walks in first, spotting a very badly concealed rune on the old wooden floor beneath his feet. He tilts his head to get a better look, spotting the familiar design of simple protection against demons. Funny, considering the mark on his hand only stings once after he passes over it. Taking his sunglasses from his face, his eyes still unused to the bright light of the morning sun, he looks around the place. It’s empty, the pews dust-ridden and the bibles strewn around haphazardly. “Whoever runs the place doesn’t seem to care much for appearances.” Pidge mumbles. Lance hesitates, holding out a hand to keep them back. “Or something like that.” He says. He grabs his gun from the strap on his thigh and holds it firmly, whispering an incantation. It’s memorized and it flows across his tongue, a quiet hiss in the silence. If Keith and Pidge hear him, they don’t bother asking what he’s saying. “Come on out!” Lance shouts, his voice echoing. Stained glass reflects across his body while he walks, shining on his skin in shades of red and blue and green. He looks up and spots Michael the Archangel. He scoffs at the sight of him slaying a demon, knowing the angels gave up on them a long time ago. Otherwise, the rift would have been sealed before humankind even felt a shift in the air. “If you don’t, I’ll kill you without talking first!” He yells. There is a scuff of a boot on the floor and Lance finally spots the figure in the shadows, draped in the robes of a priest. “You aren't burning alive wearing all of that?” The demon is of high class but the charade falls soon enough, revealing a man with four horns atop his head, his fingers long and clawed. His cheekbones are high, his skin rippling with scales. Lance only encountered a few of these in his world and the conversations never turned out very pleasant. “You don’t belong here.” The demon hisses. “Neither do you.” Lance keeps his gun in his hand but he strides forward, ignoring the way Keith calls for him to come back. When he steps onto the raised platform, he holds his gun high and aims it at the demon’s brow. “You said we could talk.” The demon snarls, sharp teeth protruding with drool falling from his chin. “Are we not talking?” The demon glances behind him but Lance presses the barrel to his skin, “No, no. You keep your eyes on me.” “You know what I am.” Lance tilts his head, “Like you said. I don't belong here.” “Then it comes into fruition!” The demon laughs, high pitched and grating. “My Prince has succeeded at last!” “You’re stupid, aren’t you? If they succeeded, why would I be here?” At that, the demon visibly deflates. “You’ve killed many of my kin.” The demon says. “Yet, I smell it on you. The fire. The pit.” He glances down at Lance’s hand, eyeing the wrappings. He grins. “Wait outside!” Lance calls out, knowing Keith will most likely want to stay. So, for good measure, Lance turns and fires the gun into the ground near their feet. “You ass!” Pidge shouts before dragging Keith away, back across the rune and out of the heavy wooden doors. The demon hisses a laugh and begins to circle Lance, “You have not told them this secret.” “I have no secret.” “You cannot lie now!” The demon licks his lips with a freakishly long tongue. “You know what is on your hand. But do you wish to know why?” “I don’t give a shit about that. I just intend to kill the one who put it on me.” The demon freezes. He tilts his head, bones snapping and popping as his neck elongates. “You cannot kill a prince.” “What is the Prince’s name?” “Why would I tell you-” “If you don’t, you die the real death. You don’t go back home. You won’t come back here.” The demon growls and launches himself at Lance, jaws popping as they open wide. He takes a snap at Lance’s neck but Lance is quicker, using the momentum of his fall to push at the demon with his feet. The beast flies back and slams into the wall, an old picture frame falling and smashing onto the ground. Lance rises quickly but doesn’t fire his gun. Instead, he picks up the long pole beside him, the golden cross on top glinting against the stained glass. “You have the mark.” The demon rises slowly, hunched as his back begins to morph. Spikes protrude, a putrid smell rising in the air. “But if you die first, perhaps I will be rewarded. You do not have what it takes to ascend.” “Your Prince thought differently.” “You do not speak for Alguth!” Lance barks a laugh, “You fucking idiot.” He’s gotten what he wants. As the demon charges, he flips the pole and uses the sharp end of the cross to slice at his neck. Black blood flies into the air, coating Lance like water from a fountain. He kicks the demon back again and tosses the pole aside, finally lifting his gun to aim steady. “You’ve given me the name.” Lance says. The demon’s eyes go wide, understanding falling over his face. “Your Prince will die.” Lance fires three shots into the demon’s head for good measure, brains splatting onto the ground. Lance dips his fingers in the blood and draws a sealing rune on the demon’s waxy chest, knowing he’ll need it to keep the thing from healing itself. Unlike Roaches, this kind of demon has a bit more power. Alguth. Lance thinks. Alguth.

Keith is leaning against the car when Lance emerges, covered in gore and incredibly dark blood. He puts his sunglasses on and spots them, motioning for them to come. When they do, Keith can’t help but wrinkle his nose at the smell. “Sulfur.” Lance explains. “It’s a bitch to get out of clothes. But you know that already.” “You killed him?” Lance nods, “Yep.” “But what about answers?” “I got what I needed.” Lance glances at Pidge. “Feel free to search around. We have a few hours before that fucker gets back up.” She balks, “He’s coming back?” “Well, no . Not so long as we burn him.” He looks at the desert, and Keith follows suit. No wonder the demon chose this place. He’d hardly seem suspicious as an old priest, determined to bring the abandoned cathedral back to its glory days. Keith can’t help but imagine the people he’s lured inside. Who he’s eaten and betrayed. It makes him feel sick. Pidge huffs and marches inside, though she does glance back at Lance. He gives her a nod, as if to promise that she’ll be okay. That makes Keith feel a bit better, at least. “He told me the name of a Prince.” “A prince?” Keith raises a brow. Lance nods, “It’s important. The fucker's name is Alguth.” “Alguth.” Keith repeats. He hates the way the name sounds, how it bites the air. “How does this help?” Lance walks to the car and leans against the warm metal, crossing his arms. He flicks a bit of brain off of his shoulder, “If I know the name, I know how to work it into a summoning. Or, at least, I can theorize how to do it.” “Why the fuck would we summon a prince of hell?” Lance kicks at Keith’s boot, “To kill him. Duh.” “How the fuck-” “Exactly. How.” Lance sighs, “I know the basic summoning. But to keep the world safe and to keep Alguth contained? That’s gonna take some time for me to figure out.” “But what will killing him do, Lance?” For once, Lance doesn’t immediately reply. He looks up at the cloudless sky, his lips turned down in frown. “I figure it’s best to kill the bastard even if it doesn’t prevent things. Even if I can’t go back.” Keith balks. “Why would you go back? Why would you want to?” “I have friends where I’m from.” Lance shrugs and watches as Keith leans beside him, his hair lifting in the wind. It makes something flutter in Keith’s stomach. “I have a purpose there.” “Maybe your purpose has changed.” Keith isn’t sure why he said it. He feels his cheeks warm and maybe it’s a selfish thought, that this boy could be here for him. But then again, Keith has always been a secretly selfish person. He won’t deny that. Lance hums, “Either way, I have to do this. The fucker needs to die.” “Fine. We figure this out and you kill him. And say you don’t go back, then what?” “First of all, I’d rather you not be involved in the killing part.” Lance smirks ruefully and wipes at drying blood on his neck. “But if I don’t go back...I guess I keep doing’ what I do best. Hunt these things down. Kill as many as I can before the rifts open.” Keith nods and watches as Pidge returns, holding her hand to her mouth. She vomits near the cathedral doors but waves a hand at them to stay back. When she’s done, she places her hands on her hips and stares at the sky. Keith sighs, “Let’s just burn this bitch so we can go home.” “Why are you so desperate to go home?” Lance asks. Keith smiles, “No offense, but you need another shower. You stink.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Lance slams the knife into the roach with impressive strength, his muscles bulging with the force it takes to push through thick muscle and bone. Blood splatters across his face but he pays little mind. This is nothing. This is a piece of fuckin’ cake.

“How did it get in?!” Pidge shouts, having been the first back inside of the apartment.

She was knocked back into Lance’s chest when the demon had run down the hallway, its maws opened wide for a killing bite. Luckily, Lance grabbed the fucker and pushed Pidge away, effective pulling them in separate directions.

All day, after Lance had cleaned up and didn’t stink to high heaven, they had been scouring the local library for shit Lance knew wouldn’t be there. But, to placate Pidge, he’d agreed to standing close by while she and Keith had flipped through books full of religious places and people and objects lost to time.

“I don’t know.” Lance huffs a breath and brings the large butcher knife down one last time, right through the brain. Gore spills to the floor, pooling in a mess of lumps and slimy secretions. He throws the knife aside and runs a hand through his hair, now soaked and stained

again

. “But this means they’re getting in easier somehow.”

“From the future?” Keith asks, holding his own pocket knife.

It was smaller than the one Lance had stolen from the kitchen but it had done the trick good enough. He’d managed to slice the roaches stomach, deep and jagged. It had bought them the few seconds they needed for Lance to act.

“Maybe.” Lance stands and flexes out his hand, the hilt of the knife having sat painfully against his palm. “Or there’s an open rift.”

“Rift?” Pidge asks.

Lance rolls his neck, an old habit. Usually he’d be doing this shit for hours and he’d be tense halfway through. He turns to look at them, blinking away the sting of a drop of blood in his eye.

“A rip in dimensions. An opening that allows them through. They were opening in small doses even when things were normal, like now. People would end up missing and be found days later, slaughtered and half-eaten. Even if it was in a big city they blamed it on animals, maybe a loose serial killer if the demon was messy. It was their only logical reasoning.” He nods to the corpse. “Guess this one found us by sniffin’ me out.”

“Fuck.” Keith stares at the blood soaking into the hardwood.

“Hope that shit doesn’t leak through. Imagine it dripping into someone’s dinner.” Lance tries, and fails, to make them laugh.

Okay, so they aren’t ready for that yet.

Pidge looks at Keith, “Don’t you have guns hidden around here?”

Keith quickly drops his own knife and heads for the back of the apartment, returning a few minutes later with a safe. He sets it on the counter and pushes in a quick combination to open it, two handguns and several packs of bullets sitting inside.

“You couldn’t have mentioned this earlier?” Lance eyes his own gun, left useless without a new round of ammo.

Keith shrugs, “Honestly? Didn’t think we’d run into one of them again like this today.”

He pulls out a gun and loads it quickly, flipping the safety on and off before laying it on the counter. Each twist of his wrist and quick swipe of the chamber speaks of experience. Lance watches him, how his eyes remain focused until it’s done.

“Anyway.” Keith glances at Lance, “We got ‘em now.”

Lance nods, “But this place isn’t safe.” He looks around, “Get anything valuable or important to you.”

“What? I can't just leave. I have rent and the shop-”

Lance frowns, “We can’t stay here, Keith.

You

can’t stay here. Even if I left, they’d still find you here because of my scent. I won’t let that happen.”

Pidge sighs, “Great. Awesome. They’re sniffing us out like the hounds of hell.”

“Nah, if those were after us we’d be really fucked.” Lance says. “We’ll just have to keep moving until we find a safe place. As safe as it can be, at least.” He grabs one of the guns and places it in the sheathe on his leg. “You have a bag I can use?”

When Keith hands him an old red backpack he shoves his gun into it, not caring that it’s out of bullets. He just knows that it’s his, that it has his initials carved into it, and he’ll be damned if he leaves it behind.

“I…” Keith runs a hand through his hair, glancing at Pidge only once, “I know a place. It’s out of the city.”

“Yeah?” Lance nods, “Good. Get your shit and let’s get moving.”

They drive fast, Keith pressing the gas to avoid red lights and heavy traffic. He gets them to the freeway by early evening, the back seat of the car packed with only two bags and a picture frame. Lance tries to glance at it from time to time, spotting the beginnings of a family posing for the camera.

They’d dropped Pidge off earlier, only after Lance promised the roaches wouldn’t be able to find her at her own house. If they’re tracking him, they won’t bother her. Though, he did tell her to burn her clothes for good measure. God forbid they sniff him out on her hoodie.

“We’ll be there in an hour.” Keith suddenly says, his voice quiet.

Lance takes his eyes off of the backseat and finally looks at him, noticing the way his jaw is clenched. He’s uncomfortable, his grip too tight on the steering wheel.

“I’ll burn the roach the second we get there.” Lance tries to comfort him. “And add some protective seals around the place. It’s a house, right?”

Keith shrugs, “Shack.”

“Shack.” Lance nods, “Good enough.”

The radio plays a low beat of music from a station in the city and Lance soaks it in, having missed music. His old phone had long since died and been destroyed where he’s from and with it gone, so was all of his music. Now, he leans over and turns it up a bit, eager to fill the silence.

Looking out of the window, he watches as cars pass over the freeway. The city is becoming lit with neon light as the sun sets, highrises glowing, cars glinting on the streets.

“It’ll be a mess when we get there.” Keith eventually admits. “I’ll have to clean it up a bit.”

“I’ll help.”

“Nah.” Keith shakes his head and switches lanes, “You just do what you do best. I’ll handle the shack.”

Lance glances at him, watching as his hair shifts around his face from the open window. The wind is chilly as the sun goes down, clearing out the stench from the trunk.

“If you want to go stay with Pidge, I get it.” Lance says, watching the expressions shift on Keith’s face. He furrows his brows, lips turned down in a small frown. “You’ve helped enough.”

“Yeah, I’ll just go play video games and get back to work. Just forget that you exist.”

Lance grits his teeth, “Better than you winding up dead.”

“I thought we already had this conversation.” Keith says. He glances in the rear-view before taking an exit, “I told you I'm not going anywhere.”

Lance sighs, “Can’t blame me for trying to save your life.”

Keith rolls his eyes, “When the rifts open, you think I’m safer

away

from you? You’re the one who said I’m probably dead in the future.”

The thought makes Lance’s stomach twist. He feels bile rise but he swallows it back down, instead digging his nails into his unmarked palm. An image of Keith flashes in his mind, ravaged and torn and bloody. It makes him anxious, almost enough to jump out of his fucking skin.

“Either way, I’m sticking with you.” Keith eventually continues, his shoulders loosing a bit of tension. “This should be the last time we have to make this clear.”

Lance smirks, “It won’t be.”

When he looks at Keith, he’s pleased to see the boy starting to smile.

Keith hadn’t lied when he said the shack was exactly that; a shack, run-down and outdated. He walks inside with unease in his gut, eyes roaming over the old leather couch he’d spent many nights passing out on. He looks at the kitchen and notices the pots and dishes are exactly where he left them but he’s beyond grateful they aren’t caked with rotten food. The place only has one bedroom and bathroom. He prays he can still flush the fucking toilet with well-water.

Outside, Lance is getting busy with burning the corpse. Keith glances at him from time to time as he pulls old blankets out of a closet, watching as he hoists the roach over his shoulder before slamming it back on the ground a good distance away. As tall and lithe as Lance is, he has more than enough muscle. Keith gulps and gets back to work, doing his best to keep from thinking about any part of Lance’s body.

He sweeps as best as he can and opens the windows to get rid of the dust, sneezing over and over as it irritates his nose.

When he’s finished, having made it as comfortable and welcoming as possible, he sits on the couch and looks around. The last time he’d been here, he was addicted to alcohol and mourning the childhood he’d always wanted. Now, while that mournful feeling returns, he can at least say he’s not so self-destructive. He isn’t seventeen anymore, not so prone to destroying his mind and body for the sake of escape.

He hears something against the door and jumps up immediately, grabbing hold of his gun in a tight grip. While he knows that Lance is more than capable of handling himself, he can’t help but be on edge.

When he rips the door open, Lance’s hand remains in the air. His fingertips are stained red, his brow raised above his sunglasses.

“You good?” He asks, watching as Keith glances from him to the door.

Keith gulps and puts his gun on the small table by the door, “The hell is that?”

“Protection.” Lance says, slowly getting back to work. He paints a circle around a strange symbol.

“How is that going to protect us?” Keith asks, smelling decay and smoke in the air. He looks out at the burning roach, watching as the flames turn black. “It’s paint.”

Lance smirks, “The paint isn’t going to protect us, Keith. But the symbol will.”

“How?”

Sighing, Lance takes his sunglasses from his face and meets Keith’s eye. “Maria had to teach us the basics. God forbid you try to sleep in an old subway car and get swarmed. The symbol is like a ward, almost making this place invisible to anything demonic.”

“Oh.” Keith nods, “Right.”

“Don’t worry, okay?” Lance gets back to work, quickly finishing up. “I got you. We’ll be safe here as long as I do this...for a while, at least.”

I got you. I got you-

Keith wishes he could say the same, that he could possibly be so comforting to Lance. But the boy is better equipped to deal with all of this and they both know it.

“I’ll unload the car.” Keith clears his throat and shoulders past Lance, feeling helpless. “I packed some food so we can make something to eat.”

Lance just nods before moving on to the windows.

“It’s so quiet out here.” Lance says around a mouth full of spaghetti.

Keith is efficient with only four foods: toast and bacon, grilled cheese and spaghetti. He slurps up a noodle and nods, listening as wind brushes against the roof.

“It’s nice.” Lance continues, sitting next to Keith on the couch. “Peaceful.”

“I guess.” Keith says. “I got pretty lonely out here.”

Lance looks at him, “Why were you alone?”

Keith shifts and shrugs, “It was better than the foster homes.”

Nodding, Lance stares down at his food. He looks like he wants to say something comforting but the mere thought makes Keith uneasy. So, he scoots a bit closer and nudges his shoulder with his own.

“But it was mostly fun.” He lies. “I was a kid with a fake ID so I got booze from town and could stay up until sunrise. No rules, no nagging, just me and the desert.”

Lance scoffs a laugh, “How did you not get caught?”

Keith shrugs, “No one knew where I was. To them, I was just another runaway.”

“Well, at least you aren’t alone now.” Lance puts his bowl on the coffee table and leans back, stretching out his long legs. “I think I’m pretty good company.”

Keith clears his throat and copies him without meaning to, settling until he can place his head on the back of the couch. He stares at the ceiling, his heartbeat loud in his ears. The space between them is small, one move and he’ll be touching him.

“Pidge will be here in the morning. She’s gonna borrow her mom’s car.” Keith reminds him, “I just hope she gets some sleep and doesn’t stay up all night doing research.”

“She reminds me of Maria.” Lance’s voice is suddenly somber. “Smart, calculated, funny. I’m glad you two have each other.”

“Me too.” Keith smiles, “We met by accident. I was friends with her brother first, actually. She followed him one day to my shop because she thought he was meeting up with a girl and wanted to sabotage it as revenge for something he did.” He laughs, “Instead, she found him getting a tattoo of the

name

of a girl, which was worse. Tried to knock the tattoo gun out of my hand and fucked it all up. Which turned out good in the long run, since he and the girl broke up like two weeks later.”

When he glances at Lance, he’s already looking at him. Keith feels a flush starting at his neck, loathing his pale skin. It’s impossible to hide.

“Anyway,” He clears his throat and looks back at the ceiling. “After that she started showing up to the shop a lot to complain about things going on in her life, especially when she started her second semester of college. We just got closer as time went on.”

Lance hums but doesn’t reply. Keith can still see him looking at him in his peripheral vision. He opens his mouth to say more but finds that all of the words are stuck, lodged in his damn throat.

Luckily, Lance breaks the silence. He rises and stretches his arms above his head.

“Does the shower work?”

“Yeah.” Keith nods toward the small bathroom. “Water probably smells like dirt, though.”

Lance laughs, “That’s fine. I’ll be quick.”

After he leaves, Keith remains. He stares at his bowl of spaghetti and the roof, at his hands and the spot where Lance was sitting. He doesn’t let himself think of other things; of sad, disturbing, violent things.

Instead, he eventually gathers their bowls and gets them clean. He distracts himself as the shower runs, knowing that he has to. He can’t fall apart here.

Waking slowly, Lance blinks against the bit of sunlight filtering into the room. He shifts in the bed and feels a tangle of limbs mixed with his own. Keith’s skin, Lance realizes, is softer than he thought it would be. He felt the tattooed skin, how it was risen, but avoided the rest. Now, he feels his arm against his chest and looks down, practically breathing in his mop of black hair.

Gulping, he slowly eases himself out of Keith’s grip. He slides from the bed and doesn’t risk looking back, knowing he’ll want nothing more than to return, to forget the world for a while longer.

But as he walks into the living room, he hears the knocking at the door and reality slaps him in the face. He shakes away his fluttering emotions, feeling like a damn teenager, and opens the door fast.

“Woah!” Pidge holds up her hands in the face of the gun. “What the fuck, dude?!”

Lance winces, “Sorry.”

“Yeah, I bet.” She scowls and pushes past him, holding a large binder in her arms. She makes her way to the couch but thinks twice after glancing at the bedroom door. “Follow me.” She says.

Lance follows her outside, both of them taking seats on the porch. The early morning is cool and fresh against Lance’s bare skin but he doesn’t mind. He’s glad he didn’t put on a shirt, instead content to soak in the air.

“Okay, so.” Pidge opens the binder and pushes it between them on her lap. “I know I don’t know shit about where you came from but I did manage to make some leads.”

“Yeah?” Lance leans closer, eyeing the printed pages.

She points, “This is the abandoned cathedral we went to the other day.” She trails her finger on the map. “The one’s circled are also abandoned, I figure we'll have luck at those. The ones with stars are brand new, the rest are in use and totally out of the question. I figure no demon will really be in a crowded place of worship, right?”

“Okay?” Lance watches as she flips a few pages. “So, we need to hit up the abandoned one’s first.”

“Right.” She nods, “And I also found this.”

Lance sees the photo of a man, blurry and a bit low in quality.

“Who’s this?”

“A guy who specializes in demonic theology. Demonology. Whatever you want to call it.”

“He could be a total fraud.” Lance says.

Pidge scoffs, “I did my research. He’s a total recluse most of the time, like some kind of modern day genius hermit. He wrote two books and yes, I’ve already ordered them.”

Lance smirks, “Of course.”

“So, we hit some of these leads. See if you find anything useful.” She glances at the door, as if making sure Keith won’t come out. “Maybe you and I can go by ourselves today.”

“Why?”

She shrugs and closes the binder, “This place…he needs to get used to it again. If he avoids it so soon he’ll just be a mess later.”

Lance glances around, eyes scouring the red rocks and crests of the land. “He only opened up a little bit last night.”

She nods, “He went through hell as a kid. But I can’t say much else. It’s his story to tell.”

“I know.” Lance picks at the bandage around his hand. “While we’re out, can we stop by a convenience store or something? I need to stock up on some first aid kits.”

After leaving a note on the counter, lying that they’re just out to get supplies and food, Lance and Pidge find themselves tracking down the first church. It’s in the heart of the city, in a mostly rundown neighborhood, decrepit and empty except for the occasional bystander walking around. Lance gets out of the car first, popping his neck as he stares at the locked doors.

“Can you get in?” Pidge asks, rolling down the window on her side.

Lance nods, “The lock looks rusty. It’ll be easy.”

“You sure you don’t want me to come?”

He smirks and leans down to ruffle her hair, “No offense, but Keith will kill me if you get hurt. I’ll come get you when I’m done.”

She rolls her eyes but sits back in the seat, crossing her arms in submission. Lance looks at her a moment longer, making sure she isn’t really pissed, before turning back to the church. The roof is caved in and he guesses lack of funding ended up making the place useless. Only a few blocks over all of the buildings are new and polished, the small lawns manicured.

He pulls at the cheap lock a few times before it budges, eventually snapping with a sharp ring. He lets it fall to his feet before slowly easing the door open with his foot, nose scrunching at the smell of decay. Looking around, the windows boarded, he can spot the faint carcasses of rats and stray cats.

He shuts the door behind himself with a firm click, stepping over god knows what, to make his way deeper inside.

“Hello?” He calls out, easily slipping his gun from the sheathe. He holds it firmly, making sure the safety is off.

Dust hovers in what little light filters between the rotting boards, dancing in the beams. Lance walks through them, his steps crunching on broken glass.

“Are you a priest?”

Lance stops and turns toward the voice, finally noticing the shift of shadows. The pews have been piled atop each other as if frozen in hopeful renovation. He squints but can’t find a solid figure, instead watching as two red eyes blink in the darkness.

“No.” He eventually replies. “I’m not so tame.”

“Neither am I.”

The figure shifts, sounds of crunching bones filling the air.

Lance takes slow steps forward until he’s close enough to smell the worst of the stench. If he wasn’t used to it, he would gag; vomit and heave. Instead, he waits.

The demon saunters closer and closer, until the tall thing is breathing right in Lance’s face.

“You come for answers. I can smell it on you.” It hisses, a long tongue escaping it’s mouth. It licks at Lance’s cheek, the slimy appendage curling against his skin.

Lance grits his teeth, “Obviously.”

“I have killed no human.” The demon says, moving to lick at his throat. “Though you do taste delicious.”

Lance urges himself to remain calm, to wait and endure.

The demon breathes with a wheeze, “Another human came to me once. Years ago now, I hardly remember his face. But I remember how he tasted.”

“I thought you haven’t killed anyone.”

“I tell you the truth.” The demon backs away and squats again, reaching for a fresh cat corpse. They bite into it with a sickening squelch, “He was a curious thing.”

Lance wipes at his cheek with his hand, wincing. “What did he want to know?”

“Why should I tell you?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll kill you.”

“You’re going to kill me anyway.” The demon chuckles, rough and dry. “I’ve been waiting for someone like you.”

“You want to die.”

The demon clicks and hums, claws tearing the cat apart.

“Just tell me what he wanted to know, anything you can remember about him, and I’ll make your death quick. Painless, even.”

Red eyes look up at him, “Promise, little hunter?”

Lance sighs and squats in front of the decrepit beast, loathing the need for conversation at all. If anything, he wishes this situation would turn out like the last bastard he’d killed. At least then he could feel good about it.

“Yeah. Promise.”

The demon crawls closer and reaches out before Lance can stop it. It grabs his wrist and slices the bandage on his hand until it falls away, the tongue returning to swipe at the symbol. It groans before letting go, seemingly pleased.

“He knows of the rifts.” The demon starts, red eyes meeting Lance’s own. “He says he’s studied them, has found them in the most obvious places. Places of filth and immorality, where human beings give in to their more…sadistic pleasures. He wanted to know of a time frame, as if I alone could predict when my Prince’s would rise.”

Lance gulps, “And this was years ago?”

The demon clicks, the sound rising from its throat. “Five.”

“What was his name?”

“That, I cannot say.” The demon inches closer and closer, until it’s face emerges in the lowlight. “I only know that he had dark hair and a very prominent scar, right across the bridge of his nose.”

Lance scowls, watching as puss seeps from open wounds on its face. It’s dying and Lance wonders, momentarily, if he needs to kill it at all. Without feasting on human flesh, it is fading away.

“Why do you want to die?” Lance asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“I’ve grown tired.” It admits. “Tired of waiting, tired of wallowing in the dark. The time for my kind will come but I am too impatient now. I simply wish to rest.”

“Why not return to hell?”

The demon makes a scoffing sound, as if it could laugh. “I will find no rest there.”

“Don’t expect me to feel sorry for you.”

“Never.” The demon licks at the blood on its face. “I wish I could slaughter you. That I knew you were coming ages ago, so I could feast and await my death with a full belly. But there has been no one before you who could kill me the right way. Only self-righteous holy figures who might banish me before I simply returned.”

Lance stands and looks down at the demon, watching as it practically grovels at his feet. It’s holding back, keeping itself from lunging at him.

“Is that all you can tell me?”

The demon grabs his ankle, claws digging in.

Lance raises his gun, “Is that all?”

The demon clicks, “He told me he hailed from Rome. That is all I know.”

The gun fires. Black blood splatters across Lance’s face, droplets hitting his throat.

He stares at the corpse, feeling no remorse. His breathing goes heavy, his blood hot. The edge of his vision blurs until he’s stumbling back, dropping his gun at his feet so that he can hold his head. Ears ringing, he folds into himself, feeling bile rise until it overflows. He vomits all over his feet and the floor, dry heaving as the ringing in his ears turns to an all-too familiar sound.

The voices are more like screeches, hisses and growls. They echo, driving Lance to his knees in the middle of the church. He grabs at his throat, a fire growing.

When he looks down at his hand, each blink making the world around him flicker, the symbol glows a vibrant red. It is fire in his skin, a molten lava that pours against his fingers.

“-Lance-”

He can’t breathe. Each time he tries, he feels a sludge against his tongue. Like tar, it sticks.

“-Lance!” The voice gets closer.

He takes his hand from his throat and holds it up, warding whoever it is off. He thinks of Pidge, he thinks of Keith-

He refuses to hurt them. In the midst of the attack, he backs away and scoots until he’s beside the corpse of the demon. He feels the gore against him but he can’t see anything at all; it’s all gone black.

A hand falls on his shoulder, the warmth of a body squatting in front him. The hand tightens its grip until he’s tugged into waiting arms, all of his strength giving out at once.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Keith paces, livid. He glances at Pidge, who looks ashamed and defiant, her eyes sharp but never meeting his own. She simply looks at the ground or at Lance, who is a heaving mess on the couch.He’s sweating profusely, his hair sticking to his flushed skin. He’s covered in the black blood of the demon he’d killed, looking worse than when Pidge had brought him back to the shack. How she’d lifted him, how she’d gotten both him and the demon into the car, Keith doesn’t know. She says it was adrenaline.“What if he’s fucking dying? ” Keith stops in the middle of the room, watching as Lance’s eyes flutter.“He’s not.” Pidge clears her throat, “He’s…just sick. That’s all.”“What the fuck kind of sickness makes him burn like that?” Keith snaps. “It’s not a simple fever, Pidge. He’s practically boiling when I touch him!”Pidge shakes her head, “I don’t- I don’t know, okay?”Keith curses and grabs another washcloth from the kitchen, making sure it’s filled with ice before he brings it to Lance’s head. He presses it down, moving another cloth against his throat, steam rising almost instantly. Lance groans but doesn’t open his eyes. He simply turns his face toward Keith.Keith can’t console him. He can’t do anything more than this, making sure he’s gentle when he brushes Lance’s hair from his temple.“You said the demon was already dead when you got inside.” Keith glances at Lance’s hand again, having avoided looking at it as much as possible. The symbol is burnt into him, as if a scalding iron had pressed deep enough to find the bone. “He doesn’t have any wounds other than that.”Pidge glances at it but quickly averts her eyes again. “I asked if he needed me to go in with him.”“And of course he said no.” Keith sighs. “I’m not mad at you.”Pidge rolls her eyes, “You have no reason to be.” She gives him a small smile. “But this does suck.”“Yeah.” Keith uses the cold cloth to wipe at Lance’s cheeks and jaw. “There’s nothing we can do right now. We just have to wait.”Pidge sprawls on the floor, arms stretched out. “I fucking hate waiting.”  Keith sits in front of the couch, leaned against the coffee table for support. His eyelids are heavy with the sound of the desert at night; crickets, wind, sand rushing over the tin roof from wind. Beside him, Pidge is fast asleep on the ground, curled up with a blanket and old pillow. She’d refused to go to the bedroom and although Keith wishes she would have, he’s also grateful she hadn’t.He doesn’t know if he’d be able to do this alone.The emotions he feels when he looks at Lance, who was only a stranger several long days ago, are anything but simple. He gulps at the way his chest clenches when Lance groans, his face morphing in pain.And Keith can’t do shit about it. It makes him want to scream, to go back to the church and burn it down. Instead, he inches a bit closer.Lance shifts, his face turning toward Keith. His skin is still covered in a thin sheen of sweat but Keith finds that the cold washcloth does little for it. With a quick, deep breath he extends a hand to Lance. He knows the touch will burn him, that it will be as though his skin will to peel away from the muscle.But he can’t stop it. He doesn’t really want to. He touches the pads of his fingers against the crook of Lance’s elbow, pushing down to feel the faint pulse that lingers. Beyond the pain this brings, Keith feels insatiable relief. Although Lance is shifting, moving and groaning, there is still fear roiling in Keith’s gut.He pulls his hand away before getting to his knees. He dares not touch the inflamed mark on Lance’s hand but he won’t stop himself from doing this instead. With a gulp of trepidation, he reaches out and lightly traces the slope of Lance’s cheek. He runs his fingers against the bridge of his nose, against his shut eyelids, above his furrowed brows. He finds scars and he lightly brushes over them.He doesn’t stop, finding that it’s almost impossible now. Instead of pulling away when the heat beneath his fingers begins to feel like blisters, he continues on, starting a low hum in his throat.It’s an old lullaby, a quiet thing.   Lance has been burning. He wishes, more than anything, that he could just wake the fuck up. Because although the pain is scarily real he knows that what he is seeing surely isn’t.It can't be. The world is just as he remembers it: it is inflamed, scourged, torn to pieces. He can see smoke rising for miles upon miles, the cities breaking down beneath the weight of the open rifts. But he can’t move. He is chained to the burnt earth and although he pulls and pulls until he is bleeding beneath the cuffs, they do not give. They do not break.Whispers surround him, the screeching, hissing sound echoing throughout the land. Lance winces against the sound but he can’t do anything to ignore it. It is becoming branded within his mind until it becomes his own voice, until his mouth is opening against his will so that he can release the words himself. Stop! His thoughts battle, Stop, stop, stop- A hand falls upon his back. He feels the soft touch between his shoulder blades before it pushes harder. So hard, in fact, that he fears he will stumble down the towering hill he’s chained too. But then he is grabbed, an arm slithering around his waist to hold him up.There is no time to try to see who it is that touches him. One moment he is focused on the warmth at his back, how the stranger holds him close, and the next he is screaming. The hand between his shoulder blades begins to push through. Claws are forcing his skin apart, breaking his bones.Below him, the legions of demons are rushing. They are running to the hill in droves, thousands upon thousands of them sprinting desperately to get to him. Lance is going to swallowed up, he’s going to be dragged down-A soft voice lifts beneath the shrieks of the demons. He hears it against his own scream, how it ebbs and flows on an unseen breeze. And that breeze feels like a balm against his skin, it washes over him like cold water, like rain.It feels so good, so sweet, that Lance begins to sob. The voice overtakes that of the whispers until it is all he can hear. He latches onto it, he dares not let it slip away from him. Another wash of the breeze touches his skin and he leans into it like a hand upon his cheek, holding him up. Slowly, the pain in his back begins to fade.In this dream, his vision goes blurry. But it is light around the edges, as if daylight were breaking, as if it were going to bloom across the dark horizon.Lance waits for it, he reaches for it, until the chains splinter and he breaks free.   Lance wakes with a weak gasp and Keith jumps, his voice faltering with shock. He balks when Lance’s eyes flutter and his face regains color, the flush beneath his skin returning like paint spilled on a blank canvas.Keith pulls his hand away quickly before rising to grab a glass of cold water, knowing he most likely needs it more than anything. But before he can move Lance’s hand is shooting out to grab his own, his fingers tight and unrelenting. More than that, however, Keith almost deflates in relief at how cool they are. There is no stinging, fiery pain. “Stay.” Lance says, his voice barely more than a whisper.Like a believer in front of a holy figure, Keith sinks back to his knees. He allows Lance to pull him closer until he’s practically leaning over him. He stays like that, eyes roaming over Lance’s face, his breath a stutter in his throat.When Lance opens his eyes, his lashes are damp and bluer than ever, almost glowing.“What happened?” Keith forces himself to ask, practically shaking against Lance’s chest.Distantly, he notices Pidge shift and rise from her sleep. But he can’t focus on her, he can barely blink without fear that he’ll open his eyes and Lance will be as seemingly close to death as he was only moments ago.Lance shakes his head, his tongue licking his dry lips. Though his eyes are wide and distant, Keith can see that he is trying to focus. His gaze is flitting around Keith’s features.“Okay.” Keith pushes his questions aside, “Okay, it’s alright. We can talk about it later. Just let me-”When he goes to get the water again, Lance pulls him down. He wraps his arms around him like a vise, digging his fingers into Keith’s body to keep him there. Keith quickly moves to settle atop Lance so that he doesn't stumble to floor. If he falls Lance will surely follow, his hold on Keith unrelenting.“I’ll get it.” Pidge suddenly says, already knowing what Keith was so adamant about retrieving.When she returns, Keith gently lifts himself but he doesn’t go far. He makes sure that Lance knows he isn’t leaving, that he is just shifting to grab the glass. When he brings it to Lance’s lips, he uses his free arm to lift Lance’s head so he can drink.The water seems to shock him out of his stupor enough for him to ease his hold. He keeps a hand on Keith; his shoulder, his arm, his hand, as Keith rises a bit on the couch. When he sits up in a straddle against Lance's waist, Lance rests his hand on Keith’s thigh.“God.” Pidge suddenly rushes forward and does her best to wrap her arms around Lance. “Don’t do that to us. Don’t do it again.”Lance, thankfully, lets out a soft breath of a laugh. He lets the empty glass drop to the floor before throwing an arm around Pidge, his hand ruffling her messy hair.“Sorry.” He croaks.“Yeah.” She says, voice muffled against him. “You better be.”When Lance looks above her head, he meets Keith’s eyes. They lock together but for once Keith isn’t looking away. He feels the weight of Lance’s hand on his thigh and he listens to Pidge sniffle and although the emotions he’s feeling are a jumble in his head, he knows that the bond the three of them have has doubled. Tripled, even. Realistically, he shouldn’t be so attached to Lance. He shouldn’t be so close to breaking down at the soft look in his eyes.Still, he feels his throat grow tight.Lance finally drags his gaze away when Pidge leans up, talking about how he needs to drink at least five more huge glasses of water. She rambles, as she usually does when she’s scared or emotional.Keith doesn’t mind the interruption. He continues to watch Lance, unsure of what he should do, of how he should act. He’s straddling the guy but he doesn’t even feel awkward or worried about it. If anything, he wishes he could lean back down and sink into Lance to make sure the laugh he hears is actually coming from him.He only looks away from Lance’s face once, just to check, just to make sure.The symbol on his hand has dimmed but it has not disappeared. When Lance notices his stare, he curls his hand into a fist to hide it.But there is no hiding it now; it is seared into Keith’s mind.

ROME - THE DAY OF THE APOCALYPSE
Takashi Shirogane tugs at the white collar of his suit with a grimace. He loathes it, completely despises it, but he figures it won’t hurt to play the part when it comes to this.He leaves his apartment with a very special gun strapped to his thigh, the weight of it more of a comfort than the crucifix hanging from his throat. He knows exactly where he’s going but he keeps his wits about him, his eyes scanning the darkest corners of alleyways. It's taken weeks to finish the seal, to build the entrapment, to prepare himself for another assault on his soul. Yet, as he continues his brisk pace, he doesn't find much fear within him. Only determination. When the building finally appears before him he does not hesitate. He walks inside with heavy steps, his boots hiding several lethally sharp blades. On his back, beneath his long-coat, a specially curved sword rests in a leather sheath. He isn't sure that he'll need to use any of it but it's always better to be prepared for the worst. He absentmindedly touches the scar on the bridge of his nose, twisted memories threatening to resurface. He passes the broken lock on the gate of the grounds and bypasses littered, rotting debris as he enters through the unhinged door. He smells the stench before he enters the top floor, the abandoned hospital a maze of graffiti covered corridors and upturned rooms filled with aged medical equipment. He strides down the hallway as bulbs flicker and burst behind him, the light they are filled with not received by any power company. His own blood creates such things, it always has. Only now, with the knowledge of what he must do urging him forward, does he ignore the exploding bulbs. To anyone else, this would be a worrying thing. To him, it is a good sign.He’s finally caught up.When he kicks in the decrepit door to the final room, he finds the demon trapped within the cage he’d constructed only three weeks ago.The demon shifts in the darkness but Takashi can see the amber glow of its eyes, he can see the color shift to a deep yellow, like a flame has been encased within.“You come at last, priest.” The demon speaks, spitting the last word.But this voice is not like the others. It is not a jumble of growls nor is it a giveaway to what the beast truly is. It is formal, almost human in its softness. Takashi hesitates just for a moment, long enough for the demon to laugh at his expense.“You expected a low-rank.” The demon says, slowly getting to its feet. “You thought this would be easy.”Takashi steps closer, rolling his steps over broken glass. Behind him, the door slams shut.“Who says it won’t be?” Takashi replies, keeping his voice low and controlled. If the demon senses fear or weakness, it will use it. “I’ve destroyed plenty of you.”“Oh, none like me.” It says.With a hiss, the room begins to brighten with flames hovering and flicking within the cage.Takashi stops, blood going cold.The demon in the cage rises to its full height, long hair falling against its shoulders, dark wings dragging on the ground. Upon its head is a dark crown. Barefoot, it steps close to the cage bars, clawed fingers wrapped around the metal.“Would you like to know my name?” It whispers, “I feel the need to give it. You have done what no other has ever done before.”“And what is that?” Takashi asks, grabbing a small book from his coat pocket. The pages are thick and ink-stained. Stealing it from the lower levels of the Vatican hadn't been easy. It's taken him years to infiltrate the ranks of the exorcists, to pretend that he is as weak and powerless as them. The demon hisses a laugh, “You have summoned me. A Prince. Can’t you feel it? Don’t you want to taste the power I hold? I can share some with you. We can make a delicious deal.”Takashi frowns, “What a weak prince you are to be trapped by a human.”At this, the Prince bares his teeth. They are razor-sharp.“If you kill me,” The Prince warns, “you will unleash the beginning.”Takashi hardly takes demons for their word. He feels the bridge of his nose sting in phantom pain before opening the small book. The words, though pretty much indecipherable to anyone else, read easily to him.He begins as the book hovers between his hands, a soft white glow starting within his palms.“You are a fool. You will condemn this world.”Takashi ignores him. He chants the words softly, feeling them roll against his tongue. Never before has he done an exorcism as powerful as this. The white glow brightens around him, filling up his eyes until they are overcome with it. The light overtakes his pupils as it shines outward in beams.The Prince laughs and laughs, hysterical. But soon the laughs are turning to incessant screams, the sound piercing the air. It blows the windows from the room, uproots the floor, and threatens to send Takashi plummeting back through the wall. If not for the seal on the ground and the bars forged with holy steel, he is sure this creature would already be out. But he holds strong as he turns a hand until his palm is facing the demon. His fingers spread, the white light filters from his mouth and fingertips. Beams reach the demon with a ear-bleeding boom but Takashi cannot focus on that. He cannot worry about the people within the ancient city hearing it. The Prince pulls at the bars of the cage and writhes as white flames begin to engulf him. The flames travel from his feet to his legs, up his abdomen, along his arms. His feathers burn away, turning to nothing but ash. “My kin will not forget! My throne will be filled!” The Prince screams, black blood leaking from his eyes and his gaping mouth. “My heir will be stronger and they will devour what you have taken from me!” Suddenly, the Prince’s scream is cut short. His flesh peels away as the flames consume him entirely. The entire room fills with the white light, swallowing up everything that is dark and wrong and evil. Then, with no warning, there is a deafening silence.The book falls back into Takashi’s hands as he blinks, the white light fading. The room is filled with the falling ashes of the Prince but it does not touch Takashi’s skin, none of it even comes close to touching a hair upon his head. He stares at the cage, noticing how the bars are molten and falling away, dripping like lava to the uprooted floorboards. He loathes that he will now have to start from scratch. “An heir.” Takashi speaks to himself in the new-dark. He bends to gather ash into a small vial, “How interesting.”When he rises, he wastes no more time in the room.If anything, he knows that he will need to get right back to work. He knows that he will have to kill this heir just as simply as he destroyed this Prince. And across the world, long before the sun rises for a new day, the first rift begins to open.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Rome.”Keith holds his head in his hands as Lance repeats the word, his voice quiet in the night. The fire that scorches the demon is dimming and although the stench in the air is still quite strong, none of them have moved away from it. Keith supposes it serves as a good reminder; this is what he’s now up against, what he now knows to be real.“Okay.” Keith sighs and rubs his eyes, “So, we get to Rome, fine. How the hell do we find this guy after that?”Pidge shifts on the ground, crunching rocks beneath her sneakers. “From the shitty image I found of him, he’s wearing the outfit of a priest. I’m assuming we head to the Vatican.”“Do you really think they’re gonna just let us walk in?” Keith finally looks at her, “What should we do? Knock on the door?”Lance scoffs a laugh, “That’d be funny.”Keith looks at him and he gulps, trying but failing to meet his eye. What happened isn’t leaving his head. It’s stuck. He sees Lance on that damn couch but in his imagination, the cursed thing, Lance doesn’t wake back up.Lance gives him a soft look before moving to sit beside him on the makeshift bench they’d made out of old plywood. Their knees knock and Keith tries very hard not to glance at his freshly bandaged hand.“We’ll figure it out.” Lance says. “But that’ll be after we figure out how to get there.”Keith nods, “I might know someone who can help.”“Yeah? Who?”“Just a guy.” Keith frowns, “Used to hang around him before I got my shit together.”Lance nods but doesn’t press, no doubt picking up on Keith’s feelings about the matter. And Keith wishes he could open up about it, he really does. But with his nerves fried and his mind on edge, he just doesn’t think he has it in him to delve that far into the past.So, instead, he stares at the fire. He needs sleep but he refuses, if only because he doesn’t want to take his attention away from Lance.As if picking up on his thoughts, Lance leans a bit closer.“I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He says. “Stop worrying so much.”“How can I not?” Keith snaps.Lance sighs, “Okay, I’m not goin’ anywhere if I can help it. How’s that?”“Barely comforting.”His bemused laugh makes Keith relax his shoulders, the tension having kept him stiff. He glances at Pidge and watches how she stares at the notebooks she’s filled with possible leads, although her eyes always return to the man in the photo. She’s focused and in her own little world, her mind probably working overtime.“Are you gonna tell me what that is?” Keith eventually asks, keeping his voice low.He doesn’t have to look at Lance’s hand to know that his question is obvious. Lance flexes his fingers, the bandage tight against his palm.“I’m still figuring that out.” He admits.“We need to get rid of it.” Keith continues, “Sear it off, strike it out. Something.”“I don’t think it will be that easy.”Keith shakes his head, “Maybe this priest guy can do it. I won’t give a damn about the rifts or the demons or the end of the world until it’s gone.”Lance is staring at him but Keith doesn’t turn to meet his eye. He’s playing with the material of his pants, pulling at loose thread. The admission is more like a confession. He knows it’s selfish to put Lance above the whole of humanity but he can’t help it. He tells himself he’d feel the same way if it were Pidge, if she were branded instead. But he knows that it’s still…different. That his desperation to fix Lance comes from a different place than one of familial love or friendship.“If the priest can’t help me, I need you to be okay with that.” Lance says, turning a bit to keep Pidge from overhearing. This conversation has shifted to something purely personal.“Not gonna happen.”Keith has always been stubborn. Once he’s set his mind on something or felt even a spark of passion, he clings to it endlessly.Slowly, as if to not spook him, Lance reaches out. He brushes a thick strand of hair away from Keith’s throat, his fingers grazing his skin. Keith feels it like livewire. He jumps at the touch but his eyes flutter when Lance pushes his fingers against the hair at his nape.“You need sleep.” Lance says.Keith hums but doesn’t move, more than comfortable with the gentle touch. It sends shivers up his spine, makes his skin break out in chills. A hot spot blooms in Keith’s stomach and he doesn’t argue when Lance tugs him closer, until his head is resting on his shoulder. Lance’s hand continues to brush through his hair and Keith knows that he’s trying to get him to relax, to relent.When he does, he doesn’t even realize it. His eyes slip shut and with the soft sound of the crackling fire and Lance’s breathing, he drifts.   Lance follows Keith through the small hallways of the nightclub, the distant bass shaking the walls. People occasionally pass but they’re too drunk or high to pay them much mind. Lance is grateful for that, considering his gun flashes from time to time beneath his jacket.Pidge is waiting in the car with their bags, her attention swept up in research. She’s barely spoken other than to tell them both to shut up when they’d begged her to stay behind. Lance smirks at the memory, knowing now that these two are stuck to him like glue. And, of course, vice-versa. He can’t bare the thought of going to Rome alone now. It wouldn’t feel right without them by his side.Especially Keith. He’s grown on Lance slowly but with impressive strength. Every atom in Lance’s body is drawn to him like a moth to a warm flame. Even now, he rarely takes his eyes off of him. He’s fiercely protective even if he knows Keith can handle himself. Even if he knows he’s being an absolute dumbass for feeling such deep emotions at all. It would be safer if Lance simply disappeared, if he left no trace at all.When Keith pushes a final door open, Lance instinctively steps in front of him, pulling himself from his thoughts. He looks around with sharp eyes, the weight of his gun on his hip comforting. One wrong move from anyone or anything and he’ll send bullets flying; demon or not. Places like this have always existed and he knows the type that frequent them. He knows they lack almost all morality.A man looks up from his phone with pierced raised brows, his eyes immediately landing on Lance. He looks him up and down with a frown, though that quickly changes when Keith steps around.His smile is suddenly quite big, “Keith! Long time no see!”Keith grimaces, “Rolo.”“What do I owe for the pleasure?” Rolo puts his phone down on the desk his feet were propped on.“Keyword, owe.” Keith crosses his arms, “Unless you conveniently forgot what I did for you.”“Never, never! I just assumed you moved away or something. It’s been three years.”Rolo stands and walks to Keith, his eyes flicking to Lance hesitantly. Lance steps a bit closer to Keith’s back, not liking the way Rolo sizes him up. How Keith knows the guy, why he’s owed by him, is something Lance feels completely uneasy about. Whatever Keith was caught up in years ago is a dark thing.“We need to get out of the country.” Keith gets right to the point.Rolo nods, “Don’t you have a passport?”“I do.” Keith tilts his head back toward Lance. “He doesn’t.”“So go get one.”“It’s not that easy. He doesn’t have a birth certificate. No social security. No ID.”Rolo whistles, “You really involve yourself with the worst people, Keith. If you were gonna get wrapped up in some shit like this you should’ve just stuck with me.”Lance bristles, wanting nothing more than to put the guy in his place. But he doesn’t overstep, guessing that this interaction can go sideways pretty fast. So, he waits. He keeps at Keith’s back but he doesn’t speak, he doesn’t let him see the way his hand hovers near his gun.“Can you give me what I need or not?” Keith asks, casting aside the very obvious longing for reaction that Rolo craves.Rolo glances at Lance again before sighing and walking back to his desk. He pulls a key from his pocket before opening the top drawer, lifting a faux-bottom to reveal stacks upon stacks of documents and cards. He looks at Lance for a lingering moment before continuing his search. The silence in the room is loud. There is tension and a thin line being tread.Lance shifts his attention to the people standing around the room, all of them watching the interaction with rapt focus. He studies their posture, how they glance at Lance’s waist, no doubt spotting the glint of his gun while Rolo remained oblivious. Still, they don’t move. They’re like dogs waiting for an order to attack.“Here we go.” Rolo finally breaks the silence. He pulls out a manila folder and flips it open, motioning for them to step closer.When they do, Lance sees that the man has rounded up a social security card, a birth certificate, an ID and a passport. He meets Lance’s eye before he shuts the folder and slides it across the desk, waiting for Keith to grab it before pulling his hand back.Lance doesn’t need to know where he got all of this from. He can tell that the man’s hands are stained red.Keith turns to leave and now that Lance can see his face, he recognizes the expressions for what they are.Fear. Anger. Hatred.“This has been fun!” Rolo calls out at their backs, “Come see me again some time! Don’t be a stranger.”His voice grates against Lance’s ears. It’s not in his nature to lash out at people. At least, it wasn’t. Now he wants to turn around and put a bullet in the guy. The urge is strong and it feels wholly unfamiliar- he’s used to doing it to demons, not shitty people. But there has been a shift within him, something that twists his thoughts and emotions. He clenches his branded hand and fights against it as the door shuts behind them.Keith walks quickly, eager to put distance between himself and Rolo.When they exit the club Lance takes a large breath of night air. He inhales as deeply as he can and holds it until it burns. When he lets it out, Keith turns to look at him.“Are you okay?” He asks, brows furrowing. “Lance?”Lance hears him. He sees him and he can feel him. But this dark feeling is overwhelming to the point that his vision begins to blur. Gulping, he shakes his head and grabs Keith’s wrist in a vice grip. He pulls him down the street to the parked car, unrelenting until Keith is sitting in the driver's seat and the door is firmly shut.When Lance gets into the back seat, he locks his own door.“Lance.” Keith urges, turning to look back at him. “Lance.” “Go. Just drive.” Lance says, pushing his sunglasses against his eyes.The last thing he needs is for Keith to see this change within him.Pidge turns to look at him as Keith starts the car, her glasses slipping down her nose. She studies him but Lance says nothing. He stares at her behind his sunglasses, but he doesn’t really even see her.He doesn’t relax until they’re out of the heart of the city, away from the club and the man within.He doesn’t take his sunglasses off until they’re in the plane and thousands of feet in the air.  Vatican City opens up beneath them a few hours after noon. Lance stares out of the plane window after a long sleep, ignoring the snacks that the stewardess had handed out and the uneasy feeling in his gut. Beside him, Pidge leans against him but she doesn’t say anything as they begin to descend.Throughout the walk in the busy airport and even the tourist-strewn streets, Lance doesn’t open his mouth. He simply watches Pidge and Keith, keeping at their backs, longing for his gun. They’d stashed it as subtly as possible but that means it’s wrapped in almost an infinite loop of materials, the box it sits in appearing to be nothing more than a brand new laptop box. He’s grateful the airport personnel they’d encountered appeared fed up with the surge of holiday crowds and hadn’t bothered to slice the box open.Unlike the infinite heat of the desert, the city is bathed in a cold day. Lance looks around to study the decorations and realizes, almost stupidly, that Christmas must be quickly approaching. He hasn’t thought of the holiday in years, that sense of normality having long been stripped away.Now, however, he lets his eyes linger on the lights; on the brightly wrapped gifts in storefront windows, on the way children point and beg their parents for some new toy or apparel.“This is the place.” Pidge suddenly says.Lance had hardly noticed the way the crowds had begun to thin. He’d been so caught up in watching the normalcy that he’d completely missed the trek to the small housing unit. Looking up, the building appears old as hell but ultimately comfortable enough. Stepping inside, they all breathe a sigh of relief.“I hate crowds,” Pidge mutters, throwing her bag onto the hardwood floor.The place creaks as they check it out, from the tiny kitchen to the even tinier patio. There’s only one bedroom but Lance doesn’t mind. The couch looks comfy enough.“So, even if this guy is in this city, we still have the question of how to find him.” Keith sighs as he sits on the edge of the couch, tugging his own bag over to dig through the clothes. He slides out a long box and opens it easily, taking the hilt of the knife in his hand. “If we can’t find him, this trip was useless.”“It’s not a matter of finding him.” Lance finally speaks. He crosses his arms as he leans against the wallpaper-plastered wall. “We’ll just have to draw him out.”Keith looks up at him, “How do we do that?”“A demon.” Lance shrugs. “This might be considered a holy city but roaches don’t care about that. If anything, they’ll cluster here because the souls will be that much more delicious.”Pidge frowns, “Gross.”“In any case, the two of you will stay here-”“Fuck that.” Keith rises. “I’m going wherever you go. Pidge stays.”“Hey!” Pidge tosses a hairbrush at Keith’s feet.Lance and Keith stare at each other, both of them ignoring Pidge’s protests. But Lance can easily see that this is a losing battle. Keith won’t budge.So, he relents. “Fine.”“Fine.”Pidge throws her head back in a sigh, “You’re both insufferable.”Smirking, Lance reaches into his own luggage to retrieve his gun. The moment the metal is in his hand, he relaxes. His breathing comes easier, his nerves returning to a low simmer instead of an anxious boil.“Before anything else, we need to eat.” He says, wanting to establish a sense of comfort and safety. He doubts their time here will be anything but. “I’ll go find something.”“I’ll go with you.”Lance glances at Keith over his shoulder, his hand halting on the door handle.“You’re like a puppy.” He smiles.Keith huffs, “Shut up. Let’s just go, I’m starving.”As they walk out of the door, Pidge shouts, “Don’t forget where we are! Get me something saucy!”“Lock the door,” Lance replies before shutting it with a heavy click.He doesn’t move until he hears the locks click in place. Then, he pulls a tiny bottle of paint from his jacket pocket. He creates the rune with easy precision, knowing that Keith is studying the symbol. He wonders if Keith is trying to remember it, to learn it.“Won’t other people notice that?”Lance glances around as he finishes up, “Look at the place. I doubt anyone will care.”The complex is a bit run-down, not that any of them care. But with a place like this comes a certain sense of freedom. There will be no landlord checking on them every damn day. Once he’s finished, they finally make their way down the stairs.The sun is falling lower and lower in the sky and with it comes a brisk, new chill. Lance breathes it in, his hands shoved deep within his pockets.“Does it get cold?” Keith asks while they walk, “In the future, I mean. Does it still get cold?”“Nope.”“What does it feel like, then?”Lance sniffs at the smell of food in the air. He follows the trail before replying, knowing there’s no use in wording things carefully or gently.“It feels like hell.” He says, noticing how Keith has wandered closer to his side. “Stifling, heavy, hot. The only time it ever got cold was when a rift would open again. The temperature would plummet after the initial burst. In a way, we were grateful. We’d feel it and enjoy it before getting prepared. It always meant a fresh wave of roaches.”Keith nods, their arms now brushing together. Lance looks at him, noticing the way he’s huddled in on himself.So, risking a whack to his stomach, he throws an arm around Keith’s shoulders. Keith stiffens fleetingly before relaxing.The closer they get to the scents of food, the more the crowd begins to thicken. They sidestep people easily but Lance can see the way Keith’s eyes flicker, how they catch on the lights that shine better now that the sun is setting.“Do you like the holidays?” Lance asks.Keith hums, “Not really. After my uh- well, growing up, I didn’t really celebrate. Didn’t have the option to. Not like usual families, at least. No big get-togethers, no vacations, no presents in the morning.”“Why not?”“I grew up in an orphanage. Never lasted long in foster homes and if I managed to make it to the holidays, I was usually gone the next day.” Keith grimaces, “I was too much trouble.”Lance’s chest clenches. He studies Keith’s expression when they stop outside of a small restaurant, his arm slipping away from his shoulders. When Keith looks at him, his mouth is still twisted in a scowl.“I always liked the holidays,” Lance says, hating the pinched expression. Keith is always more beautiful when he smiles. “My mom used to catch me shaking boxes of presents. She’d hit me with a spatula or her hand but never enough to hurt. Just enough to make me jump away from the tree.”Keith smirks, “Yeah, I bet.”“Why don’t you go in and order us something? I’m sure they get tons of tourists so it shouldn’t be too hard.”“You’re not coming in?”“Nah, I wanna take a second. Haven’t felt winter in a long time, remember?”Keith huffs a laugh, “Right. I’ll be back.”Lance watches him enter the busy restaurant, taking a moment to make sure he’s in line before turning back to the street. He glances around, eyeing the people who pass, before stepping off of the sidewalk.   “This is so good.” Pidge groans, her mouth full of food after they’d all showered. “Like, way better than the stuff back home.”“Yeah, because it’s authentic.” Keith chides.Pidge rolls her eyes, “Duh.”Lance smiles as he takes his plate to the sink, running water atop it to make sure nothing sticks. A small radio plays Christmas songs, the language lost to them but still very jolly. Lance hums with the tune as he continues to stock the fridge with the bottles of sparkling water they’d picked up on their way back. They’d also gotten a bottle of wine but he places that in the freezer to cool much faster.He’ll take this night, this single peaceful night, to ignore the weight on his shoulders. He’ll eat and drink and laugh and ease into the faux safety they’ve found themselves in as much as he can. He’ll do it and he won’t feel guilty about it, either.When he turns around, Pidge is settled onto the couch, a thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Jet lag has her eyes hooded as she pats her stomach, talking to Keith about overeating. Her words slow and before Lance can protest, she’s out like a light. Her head lolls, a piece of bread falling from her hand onto the floor.Keith shakes his head as he rises, taking both of their plates to the sink.“I can sleep on the floor,” Lance says, making sure to keep his voice low. “We have enough blankets.”Keith flicks water at him, “The bed is big enough for two.”“I wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable with that.”“Why wouldn’t I be?” Keith turns the sink off, “We’ve already shared a bed back home.”Lance shrugs, “Just trying to be polite.”Shaking his head, Keith turns off the lamp in the living room before making the small trek to the tiny bedroom. There, the light is golden and soft. It casts shadows as he peels the sheets away from the mattress before quickly sliding in.“Cold?” Lance asks.“Very.” Keith’s eyes light up, “We have that wine, right?”Lance laughs but goes to retrieve it. He shuts the door behind him when he returns, quick to open the bottle and pass it to Keith.“Forgot glasses.” He says.Keith shrugs, “It’s fine.”He takes a big gulp before passing it to Lance, motioning for him to sit beside him on the mattress. It sinks beneath Lance’s weight but when he tastes the wine, he finds himself relaxing back with a sigh.They pass the bottle back and forth, both of them seemingly very comfortable with the silence. Outside, the city is still awake. There’s a festival happening but neither of them really feels like participating. Instead, they enjoy this; the heater whirring in the corner, the radio from the living room still distantly playing songs, the wine warming their blood.“Oh.” Lance sits up, suddenly remembering something.“What?” Keith quickly takes up his knife, “What is it?”Lance chuckles, “Nothing that requires that. Here.”He slides the small package from his pocket before discarding his jacket on the floor. The room is heating up well enough that he doesn’t need it anymore. He holds out his hand, watching as Keith eyes it, his brows furrowed.“You gonna take it?” Lance holds it closer, glad when Keith’s fingers wrap around it. He holds it gently, cautiously. “It’s not gonna bite you.”Rolling his eyes, Keith tugs at the small red ribbon. It falls to the blanket, the crinkle of the brown paper suddenly making Lance nervous. His eyes flit between the box and Keith’s expression, his grip tight on the bottle of wine.When Keith opens the box, his lips part but he doesn’t say anything.“I thought it was cool.” Lance quickly fills the silence, his pulse racing. “You don’t have to wear it. I mean, now that I’m looking at it again, I guess it’s kinda strange. It’s not like…I don’t mean to be weird. But I saw it in a window and thought oh I bet Keith would like that. It seems like your style. If not, I can always take it back-”“How did you afford it? Do you even have any money?” Keith interrupts.Lance twists his mouth, biting at his lip. “I don’t think they’ll even notice it’s gone.”“So you stole it.”Lance smirks, “Yeah?”Keith lifts the ring from the cushion of the black box, holding the silver band up to the lamp light. It’s nothing exquisite, nothing that suggests it was made specifically for one person. But Lance thought the design of the trail of stars around the band would remind Keith of the night sky in the desert. Or, maybe, Lance was just being foolish.Suddenly, Keith tugs Lance out of his incessant thoughts.“I hope it fits.” He says, softly. His cheeks are pink, though he hides his eyes behind a thick fray of hair. “If it doesn’t, we’ll have to get a chain.”He brings it to the middle finger of his right hand. It slips on with ease and it sits snug enough to keep from falling, even when he shakes his hand to test it.“I just wanted to get you something. For Christmas. I’m sure you and Pidge exchange gifts or something anyway.” Lance clears his throat and takes a swig of wine. “But I figured I’d get you something before we get wrapped up in shit again, you know?”Keith finally reveals his face entirely, his eyes surprisingly bright. “It’s nice. I love it.”Lance nods, “Good.”Keith shifts closer, his skin warm when it touches Lance. His hand comes to rest hesitantly atop his own, their fingers interlocking. He squeezes just once.“I mean it. I really like it.”Lance glances at him, “I’m glad.”Keith takes a moment and within that moment, Lance thinks he’ll pull away. Return to his side of the bed, and roll over to sleep. But breath is soon on Lance’s jaw and it makes him tense, a deep flutter starting against his solar plexus.Keith’s lips press softly against Lance’s jaw. He lingers there before dipping his head, his forehead now resting where his lips had just been. It's a shy move, unsure and so endearing that Lance can't help but draw in a breath to stop himself from saying something stupid. The tension between them, that's been there for weeks upon weeks since they first met, is as close to snapping as ever. It's somehow tighter, strung around both of their bodies, connecting them. Lance knows, just from the tidbits he's learned about Keith, that making the first move doesn't come naturally. While being overwhelmingly brave when faced with apparent dangers, it seems he will soon draw back and return to the walls he's built around himself. Something snaps inside of Lance at the thought of letting this pass. He blindly places the wine bottle on the small bedside table before sliding his palm against Keith’s throat, his fingers tangling in the thick hair at the nape of his neck.When Keith looks up at him, his eyes are hooded, though not from fatigue.Lance captures Keith’s lips in a swift swoop. Keith gasps against him before opening his mouth eagerly, his hands raising to tug Lance on top of him. He opens his legs and Lance settles between them, the kiss becoming feverish, almost desperate. Their tongues meld, and their hands travel; Lance slides his to Keith’s hip, Keith holds onto Lance’s nape, the other traveling against his ribs.Lance pulls away from the kiss to press his lips to Keith’s neck, right below his ear, along his jaw. He grazes his teeth over the hollow of Keith’s throat before exploring the other side, the sound of Keith’s breath stuttering making Lance almost ravenous.He sucks at Keith’s skin before swirling his tongue, enjoying the way his hips push up against Lance, and how his fingers dig into his arms.When he leans up to look at him, Keith’s lips are wet. His lashes flutter with each blink.“Why are you stopping?” He asks, his voice breathy.Lance gulps, forcing himself to return to his senses. “We’ve been drinking.”“So?”“So, I’d rather continue this when alcohol isn’t in your system.”Keith scowls, his nose scrunching. “I started it.”Lance groans as he rolls off of Keith, his head spinning a bit. “That wine is strong.”“I’d want this even if I wasn’t drunk.”Snorting a laugh, Lance turns his head. Keith is staring at the ceiling, his chest heaving.“Are you pouting?” Lance asks.Keith glares at him, “No.”“You sure?" Lance enjoys the sharp cut of his eyes. "It kinda looks like you're pouting.”Keith opens his mouth to say something, probably to snap a sarcastic retort, before ultimately stopping himself. He simply drags his eyes away from Lance before turning to his side, still facing him but hiding his eyes.Then, the glare returns as he says, “I’m cold.”Lance hardly doubts that’s true. Still, he shuffles closer, until Keith’s head is placed snugly beneath his chin. A hand, now slightly timid, slides against Lance’s ribs. He shoves a leg between Lance’s own but ultimately relaxes, his breathing returning to a slow pace. They don't speak, not that they truly need to. Comfort returns like a balm.Like this, Lance falls into sleep better than he ever has. Lance loathes the return of the sun. He’d had to pull away from Keith quietly to keep from waking him before going to brush his teeth. When he’d emerged from the bathroom he smelled coffee and found Pidge already awake. Now, Lance’s eyes stick and linger on Keith’s throat. On the small mark there.Luckily, if Pidge noticed it as well, she hasn’t felt the desire to say anything.“The map of the city is huge.” She points at it on her computer, “But this seems like the best spot. Reviews say it’s been abandoned for almost a decade. Some want to fix it up, others want it torn down.”“It’s better than nothing,” Keith replies, his cheeks still pink from catching Lance’s stare only minutes ago.“I’m guessing you both want me to stay here.” Pidge looks up from the screen. “I won’t argue. But I will go out and get something to eat while you're gone.”“Here.” Keith places his knife in her lap. “Just in case.”Thirty minutes later, they’re back on the street, which has quieted significantly.“Guess the festivities raged all night. Everyone's probably sleeping off their hangovers.” Lance says.Keith clears his throat, “Guess so. But that’s good, isn’t it? Considering what we’re trying to do.”“Yeah, that’s good.” Lance follows the map on Keith’s phone, “We’re almost there.”Like most grand cities, the residence of an abandoned church usually means the entire area is mostly deserted. It means that the city progresses elsewhere, that the old streets are unkempt, and the buildings are forgotten. Lance stops outside of the church, his eyes trailing up the towering walls all the way to the steeple. It’s a cloudy day, one that promises rain or snow. Ignoring the frigid wind, he pushes against the door until the old rusty hinges give way.Unlike other churches in this state, the inside of it is mostly untouched. Dust floats from the stained glass above, each pew remaining right where they were left. Even the bibles are still shoved against the back of them.Lance sniffs as his steps crunch over leaves brought in from the few trees outside. He makes his way down the center aisle as Keith remains by the door and he’s grateful he’d listened. It’ll be easier for him to escape that way.“Notice anything?” Keith asks, voice echoing.Lance tilts his head, listening for any telltale signs that they already have company. But the shadows of the church aren’t deep, he can easily see each and every inch of the place.“We’re alone.” He says, “Which is what I was worried about.”Now, he’ll have to summon a damn roach here. He’ll have to risk a fight, a slaughter, as daylight continues to shine outside.“Keith,” Lance starts, “Why don’t you-”“Absolutely not.”Turning, Lance frowns. But just as quickly, a sound rises behind him. He watches as Keith’s eyes widen, his hand reaching for his knife out of habit. But the sheathe is gone, left with Pidge.“Don’t move.” Lance orders. His voice is sharp, slicing, and strong. “Don’t fucking move, Keith.”Thankfully, Keith listens. But his muscles are clenched and Lance knows that he won’t stay still for very long.Lance pulls his gun from his hip and spins, raising it to point directly at the roach who emerges.Only, it isn’t a roach. It isn’t any stinking, disgusting wretch of a beast.The man has his own gun risen, his black-gloved hand holding steady. His eyes flash as he steps slowly from the small room behind the altar, a long coat brushing against his ankles.“I knew I smelled you.” He speaks, his voice deep and without the suspected Italian accent. “I felt you enter the city.”Lance doesn’t reply. He doesn’t move an inch. But when Takashi Shirogane’s eyes flit to Keith, Lance feels his stomach drop. He takes two strides forward until the barrel of Takashi’s gun is close enough to press into his skin should he go forward even an inch more.Takashi’s eyes shoot back to him.He sneers, “Demon scum.”Then, with no other warning, he fires the gun.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Keith jolts in abrupt shock the moment the gun fires, Lance’s body dropping with a heavy thud. His eyes inch downward as blood spills and pools around, creating a sickening puddle. His breath is snatched from his throat, his eyes widening in horror at the sight of Lance laying motionless at Takashi’s feet. The gun smokes and without thinking Keith is moving, rushing forward instantly to keep Takashi's finger from pulling the trigger again.He slams into Takashi with impressive force, tackling him to the ground and knocking his gun from his gloved hand with relative ease. Keith doesn’t feel himself, it’s as if he’s left his body, like the whole room had vanished except for the man he’s found himself on top of the sound of his own hyperventilation. He reverts to the survival he had to perfect as a child, as a teenager, as a young adult who had fallen in with the wrong crowd. He's nothing but rage, blacked out with instinct. His fist slams into Takashi’s face with a crunch, blood spurting from his already scarred nose. Keith rips the knife he finds strapped to Takashi’s hip from the sheath and he plunges it, using both hands with the intent to press it hard enough to force the blade through muscle and bone.Takashi doesn’t let it happen. He grabs hold of Keith’s hair and yanks, effectively tossing him to the side as if he weighed nothing at all. Keith rolls to stop himself from slamming his head into the wall, his body crouched in an old, defensive, familiar way.“You’re human.” Takashi huffs, wiping the blood from his nose. It streaks across his cheek, “Yet you’re attacking me for this. Why? Have you made a deal with him? Sold your soul?”Keith doesn’t bother answering. He rushes forward again, swiping the long blade at Takashi’s abdomen, thrusting it toward his ribs when he’s deflected. Takashi doesn’t hit Keith but he doesn’t let him get too close either, using his body to turn and twist away from the sharp tip of the blade without shifting his feet.“I don’t want to hurt you.” He says, though when Keith manages to close the distance in a frenzy, Takashi wastes no time in finally slamming his fist into his jaw. He bends quickly and takes his gun in his hand, though he keeps it lowered. He stares at Keith, “I don’t want to kill you.”Takashi’s brows furrow and the gun raises, and Keith should have known the guy was bluffing. He aims the barrel of the gun at him, his finger hovering over the trigger.Keith scowls and brings his arm back, hoping to at least throw and slam the knife into a vital artery before he’s shot.However, before he can, his wrist is held back. Fingers wrap around him, gentle but stern.“There’s really,” Lance’s voice is strained, wet with blood as he coughs, “really no need for all of this.”Keith’s stomach drops with utter disbelief when he glances back, eyes caught on Lance’s face. His forehead is still bleeding in tendrils down his face but the hole from the bullet has closed, the skin connected as if he’d attained internal stitches.“Lance?” Keith breathes.“Neither of us wants him hurt, yeah?” Lance’s voice and gaze are directed at Takashi, his grip loosening on Keith’s wrist enough to allow his arm to drop. Still, he places his palm on Keith’s hip, rooting him in place. “Why don’t you put down your gun and we can talk like civilized-”Takashi fires the gun and Keith can’t anticipate the strength with which he’s thrown, once again, to the side. Lance has pushed him out of the path of the bullet but it doesn’t hit him again, either. He shifts his shoulders to the side just in time, the bullet barely grazing the material of his shirt.He winces and draws his own weapon, though his voice retains reluctance. “Again? Really?”Takashi doesn’t move from his spot, a deep frown etched on his face. His eyes flit across Lance’s features, sticking to the closed wound on his forehead.“Impossible.” He seethes. “Even if the initial shot didn’t kill you, it should have revealed your true form.”Lance rolls his eyes, “Yeah, sure, if I was a fucking demon. Which I’m not. Obviously.”Keith slowly gets to his feet, glancing between the two of them. He debates standing in front of Lance again, more than willing to act as a biological shield. But the look Lance gives him, the slice of his eyes, keeps Keith right where he is.“I smell-”“Yeah, you said that already. You smell it on me. What else do you smell?” Lance interrupts.He hesitates as Lance takes small, guarded steps closer. Keith keeps pace with him, though he remains a bit behind him, shadow incarnate.Takashi glances over Lance’s shoulder, meeting Keith’s eye.Lance shields him from view. “We aren’t here to hurt anyone. We haven’t struck some deal because, quite frankly, I don’t even know how demons usually do that. Now you’ve done nothing but waste our fucking time.”“Why are you here?”Lance breathes a hesitant sigh of relief before slowly holstering his gun, holding his hands up in front of his chest in mock surrender. Keith steps closer to him until he can brush their arms together. He’s yet to accept that Lance is actually alright and even as he feels the warmth of his skin, he wants nothing more than to drag him out of this.Instead, his fingers twitch toward him, glad when Lance grips him back momentarily.“We need help.” Lance says, “But it’s a lot to explain and I’d rather not do it with that gun in your hand.”Takashi scowls, “I don’t really give a shit what you want. Just explain.”Takashi paces in front of them, his long black coat whipping at his feet. He listened to them in silence, displaying absolutely no emotion on his face when the story started strong. Even to Lance, it sounds insane: time travel, the hellish future, the demise of the human race- he cringes.He’s leaning back against an old pew, his legs splayed, a hand resting on Keith’s thigh. Keith has leaned close and Lance is intensely grateful for the physical tether they’ve created. He’ll be damned if Keith leaves his sight right now or, even, ever.Momentary death, it seems, has strengthened their convictions.Lance watches Takashi pace with hooded eyes, though his heart beats rapidly. He isn’t sure what to expect. He isn’t completely confident this guy won’t lash out again, disrupting this semblance of a truce.“The major rifts have never been found.” Takashi suddenly speaks, his voice echoing against the tall ceilings. Outside, the sunset has begun to cast scarlet rays against the intricate stained glass and hanging, dusty chandeliers. “I’ve looked for them for years. I’ve scoured the Vatican's underground libraries, and I’ve traveled to each location I could think of. In the end, there's nothing.”“What about the small rifts? Have you at least sealed them somehow?” Lance asks.“Yes.” Takashi stops his pacing to face him, “But there are thousands more. Smaller, more niche. I close one and it seems another one opens up somewhere else across the world.”“How do you know?” Keith asks this time, his eyes never leaving Takashi. He’s been watching him like a hawk.“I feel them,” Takashi admits. “It’s a phantom pull in their direction.”Lance nods, “So, the little tidbits we’ve found out about you online aren’t total bullshit, then. Which means, in theory, you could help us.”“Summoning a demon of higher rank is always a risk. One that I only partake in when I’m sure of the kill. The higher up you go, the harder it is to vanquish them, but they reveal more than anything lesser.” Takashi glances over at Lance. “I was planning to summon one soon.”“One at a time?” Keith raises a brow, “Doesn’t seem like it’ll do much considering just how many there apparently are.”“The higher up I kill, the deeper the fracture grows. Like a thawing lake, eventually the fracture will split the lake in half. One side will falter, dipping in the water. It creates profound weakness.”Lance loathes the way he talks as if he were some grand hero in a story. He knows that it’s not so simple. He knows that no matter how many fractures are produced, they can easily be repaired. His hand stings as if in agreement.“I only need you to summon one for me,” Lance says. “Alguth.”Takashi’s frown deepens. He’d already mentioned that he’s never summoned a prince before.“If what you say is true, and this prince has sent you back to our time, he must suspect you will try to hunt him down. That you'll try to change the course. Don’t you think he’ll be more than prepared for that?”“I don’t really care what he’s preparing for,” Lance admits. “I don’t even know if killing him will actually change anything. But I need to try.”Takashi blinks at him, debating, before nodding his head back, motioning for Lance to follow him. He rises but halts, Keith’s grip on his arm strong.Lance glances down at him, “I’ll be fine.” He touches his finger to his forehead, “He can’t get rid of me so easily, remember?”“I won’t kill him,” Takashi says. “You don’t have to believe me. But even if I were to try right now, as he said, it wouldn’t work.”Keith practically sneers at him, “If you touch him, I’ll put my own bullet in your fucking head.”Takashi nods, “Noted.”Lance sighs and ruffles Keith’s hair before swiping his thumb against his cheek, hoping that the touch is reassuring. He turns back to Takashi and strides behind him, allowing the man to lead him away from Keith. They walk toward the altar and the space behind it, passing beneath an overhanging arch where a crucified Christ should be.Lance blinks at the change in light as a door shuts behind him, effectively casting them in privacy. The room is small but filled to the brim with materials; books, scrolls, weapons, strewn papers and pens, and even glass jars filled with disgusting remnants of roaches. He wonders if they’d simply gotten extremely lucky by picking this church or if Takashi has rooms like this spread throughout the city. “Why the need for this?” Lance taps on a jar.“Research.” Takashi admits, “One of my assistants also likes to keep a collection.”“Weird hobby,” Lance mumbles.Takashi hums and moves to lean against a nearly empty shelf. It’s yet to be filled with anything useful, it seems. He takes his gun from the sheathe and Lance stills, only for a moment, before the weapon finds its spot on the shelf beside him. He gives a pointed look until Lance takes his own gun and places it on a table.“One of them will be back soon.” Takashi continues, “Until then, you need to tell me everything.”“I did.” Lance crosses his arms.“No. Everything.” Takashi glances down at his wrapped hand, his jaw ticking with the quick grind of his teeth.Sighing, Lance supposes this is the only way. If he wants this guy’s help, he’ll have to do whatever he can.The fabric falls to the ground in a swoop and Lance wastes no time holding out his hand, palm up. The symbol glows the same as ever. It's molten lava pulsing and twisting against his veins, wrapping like a snake against the muscles and bones.“Alguth did this. Everything he said is a bit murky now.” Lance lies, "Maybe he sent me back for no reason at all. Maybe he just thinks it's funny. I don't know."Takashi pushes away from the shelf, his gloved hand immediately finding Lance’s wrist to hold him in place. He stares at it, barely blinking, before pressing his own palm down flat atop it. Lance grunts in pain, flinching at the abrupt, sharp sting. Worse than acid poured over a wound, it sends jolts running up the length of his arm.“What’re you doing?”“Shut up.” Takashi snaps, though his voice has gone monotone. Hushed.A faint white light shines from between his fingers but most of it is kept contained between their palms. For a fleeting second, he believes that whatever Takashi is doing will work. Maybe, for once, something will be easy. He can get this thing removed and continue on, without the overhanging dread of being branded.But soon, Takashi is yanking his hand back, teeth flashing in a pained grimace.“How could you let this happen?”Lance balks, “What? You think I just held out my hand for him?”Takashi meets his eye, “Tell me. When the prince touched you, did you feel anything specific? Other than pain?”“A tether,” Lance admits quickly, figuring he should tell a smidgen of the truth. If he does that, at least this guy won't pick up on the lies so easily. “I feel pulled…to something. Maybe similar to how you feel drawn to the small rifts?”To the left, a door that Lance hadn’t previously noticed inches open. His fingers twitch toward his gun but Takashi halts him with a hand on his forearm.“Did you finish?” A voice asks, “Was it a new demon in the city?”The man lifts his head to brush off freshly fallen snow from his thick, brown hair. He holds several books in his tattooed arms, though even Lance can immediately tell that the tattoos are not decoration. They’re intentional markings, specific runes that take a skilled hand to complete without fucking up. They’re protective but unlike tattoos, they aren’t permanent. He must have to get them redrawn and re-done over periods of months, similar to those littering Takashi's body.And Lance knows, without a doubt, just by glancing at the skilled swoops and lines, that somehow the two of them have met Maria. His friend from the apocalypse is alive now, of course. Lance hasn’t forgotten that all of his friends are out there somewhere: Sam and Tif, Maria and Luka. But seeing Maria’s work now sends more of a shock through his system than he thought it would. He wavers on his feet, drawing both of their attention.“Who is this?” The man begins.“How is she?” Lance gulps, his voice suddenly strained. He feels strong emotions swell, pressing heavily on his heart. “Maria. How is she?”The man gapes, his eyes shooting from Lance to Takashi in question. But Takashi is taken off-guard as well.“It’s just,” Lance waves a hand in the air, gulping down a threatening sob. “I know her. In the future, I mean. She uh, saved my life more than a few times and we traveled together. I protected her so she could do her work, which was always a headache, honestly. But by doing her work, she helped us survive.”“What?” The man asks, no doubt thinking Takashi has harbored a deranged person.“She’s fine,” Takashi replies in the man’s stead, thankfully answering Lance’s original question. “She’s one of the best rune-markers I know. She’s home visiting her family right now. Won’t return for a while.”Lance nods, gulping down the relieved sob he feels in his throat. “Good. That’s good.”“Takashi.” The man runs a hand down the length of his face, “What’s going on?”Lance takes the back seat while Takashi explains, the man’s eyes skirting toward Lance time and time again, shock and confusion evident. When the symbol on his hand is mentioned he doesn’t even resist the man’s touch when he approaches, his lips parting in what he can only assume is equal wonder and disgust.“Holy shit.” He breathes, leaning closer. He doesn’t touch the mark like Takashi did, though he does come close. “This is, just, wow. If Maria were here she’d be losing her mind over this. She didn’t help you out when you got it? Why not?”Lance glances down at the man, “She wasn’t around.”He meets Lance’s eye, “Why didn’t you go to her afterward, then?”“Because I was thrust through a fucking time warp and slammed into the past.” Lance despises the last memory he has of Maria, how she’d screamed and screamed and- “She’s dead.”Both of them freeze and maybe Lance should have been a bit more couth with that admission. He probably should have eased into it, and lessened the blow.“How?” Takashi asks.“Brutally,” Lance admits, knowing it would be pointless now to hold back. They obviously care about her. His stomach rolls and twists as he shuts his eyes, the scene in his mind fresh. “I tried to save her. We all did. But she wouldn’t listen…she just ran right up to the hound and tried to tackle it away from some kid. We tried to shoot it but we had to stop eventually or we'd risk accidentally shooting her instead. The hound didn’t budge until it was finished with the kid and then it turned on her. Once a hound has its teeth in you, there’s nothing you can do about it. You’re done.”“Nothing? At all? I mean, we’ve never encountered anything like that so I wouldn't really know, but-”“Hunk.” Takashi interrupts, settling a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Drop it.”Lance lets out a shuddering breath the moment Hunk pulls away from his hand, his expression shifting to one of instant remorse. The room is tense, Lance feeling only seconds away from either screaming or sobbing uncontrollably, like a child. Thankfully, Hunk distracts him.“Right. Well, this is good, right? This apocalypse you’re talking about hasn’t started yet and she’s alive in our time. So, now that you’re here, maybe she can help you as she did in the future. Only now she won’t risk her own life doing it.”In the distance, a grand bell begins to ring. It echoes around the entire city, the deep sound reverberating in his bones. He straightens and bends to grab the fallen fabric, intent on re-wrapping and hiding his hand.“It’s like an infection,” Takashi says. “I couldn’t remove it when I touched it like I can with others who have been marked. And those are usually from their own mistakes, their deals struck with lesser demons easier to overcome. But it felt like a festering wound, like it was traveling beneath your skin. It's nothing like what I've encountered before.”Lance gulps, “So, we haven’t even started and we’re already stuck.”“We can try again. I’ll need to talk to Maria,” His eyes shift to Lance, “and she might know a way. It could take time. I’ll make sure to keep her away from this city for as long as I can. But if you really know her, you’ll understand that she’s headstrong. She’ll show up eventually anyway.”“Wait, wait.” Hunk throws up his hands, “Do we even have time? If he was sent back then that must mean the rifts will open soon, right?”“Right,” Lance says. "So, if I'm doin' my math right, that means the end of the world is in like...four months."Takashi picks up his gun, “Then, we work fast.” He sheathes the weapon, nodding at Lance. “You need to lay low. Keep a ward wherever you’re staying and don’t go out for anything other than necessities. I’ll get back to you when we find something useful.”“No.” Lance shakes his head, “I can’t just sit around. I’ll help. I’ll kill roaches for you if I have to. But I need to do something. Anything.”Takashi seems to understand what he can’t say; that sitting and waiting will eat him alive.“If that is your decision, that boy you’re with, make sure he stays safe. Send him home, if you have to. I won’t have any human hurt.”“I’d never let anything hurt him,” Lance says. “Never.”“Good. Because if you do, I’ll keep putting a bullet between your eyes until you don't come back.” Takashi pats Hunk on the shoulder as if telling him to get to work. Neither of them miss the way Hunk’s attention lingers on the healed flesh of Lance's forehead. “If you feel any abrupt changes within yourself, if you feel that the tether goes taut and you can't stop yourself from following the tug, you come to me.”Lance nods and watches as he leaves the way Hunk came. The door shuts with a heavy thud, the room soon losing just a bit of tension.“She really is good, you know.” Hunk quickly fills the silence, his fingers brushing over the spines of books in search of something. “Takashi actually found her a few years ago when they’d both wound up near the same rift. She talked his ear off while he sealed it, telling him to fix this, do that, don’t touch this, touch that.”Lance breathes a humored sigh, “Sounds like her.”“And Takashi’s not bad, either. He’s just wary. He’s lost people too.” Hunk glances behind his shoulder at him, “He’ll warm up. Just give him time.”Lance doubts it. Still, he nods in thanks for the try at comfort. He wants to ask Hunk what got him into his business, his curiosity spiked since the guy hasn’t tried to kill him. If anything, he seems almost too relaxed, as they’d known each other for years and not mere minutes. More than anything, though, Lance wonders where Takashi ended up at the end of the world. Surely if he had survived, they would have eventually run into him. Right?“I’m gonna get out of here.” Lance says instead, “I’ll leave you to your work.”“Okay. Don’t hesitate to stop by again! I’ll be here.” Hunk places a heavy book down, dust floating above the cover. He coughs and reaches under the table for scraps of metal, apparently revving up to create something. “I don’t do much rift sealing or demon slaying. Shit freaks me out. But it’s always nice to have someone else to talk to.”Lance smirks, “Right. I’ll keep that in mind.”He turns and sends a small wave to Hunk, knowing that the jars of demon pieces most definitely do not belong to him. Maria must have fun filling the shelves with the gory parts, no doubt laughing at Takashi and Hunk’s reactions. The thought brings comfort to Lance, if only because he knows she is just as ridiculously goofy now as she was in his time. It seems the apocalypse never really changed her that much.When he finally emerges, Keith stands from his seat and immediately grabs Lance’s unmarked hand, tugging him close. He doesn’t ask questions, which Lance thought he would. On the contrary, he seems extremely composed, though his frown retains a sense of worry.“Come on.” He pulls and Lance can do nothing but follow, his presence settling his sharp nerves instantly. “Let’s go.”

Keith is nauseous. His stomach turns sickly from the image of Lance bleeding out on the ground, from the sound of the gun, from the voices he’d crept up on and listened to when he should have stayed sitting. Everything, all at once, makes him want to get to his knees and empty his stomach.Instead, he holds on tighter to Lance’s hand, nodding at his suggestion that they go back to the small apartment and rest.The moment they're inside, however, his ears clear. Lance’s voice is no longer muted and the small lamp near the patio grows brighter, all of the world returning to him in full color.“Keith?” Lance is asking, bracing his hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”Keith grunts, not able to find the words to reply. What he’d learned from eavesdropping made him want to curl in on himself, to make sure Lance is curled with him.Four months. They only have four fucking months.He looks at Lance, meets his eye, and surges forward.Their lips collide and he vaguely tastes the coppery flavor of blood but he doesn’t care in the slightest. As the heat of Lance’s mouth reaches his own, he can’t do anything but bring his hand to his nape and tug him ever closer. Lance makes a shocked sound but his hand easily finds the dip of Keith’s hip before sliding to the small of his back.Luckily, Pidge isn’t here, not that either of them even thought to check. She’s no doubt found some new place to do her research, relatively safe within the swarm of people in the city. She’s smart enough to understand the risks and they both know if anything were to happen, she would find her way here.So, Keith allows himself this. He pushes away any lingering reservations, intent on blocking out all of his fear and irritation. If he only has four months, he won't stop himself from feeling what he feels for even a second longer. There's no time and, frankly, he's given up too much of his life living in the past. He's tired of guarding himself like an abused dog, shutting off any chance at what he's found with Lance. He walks backward and drags Lance with him, hiking his shirt so that he can brush his fingers against his warm skin. Lance’s breath shudders at the touch but he doesn’t pull away other than to re-angle the kiss, pushing his tongue deeper within Keith’s mouth.Keith’s knees find the bed and he falls, albeit gently with Lance holding onto him so tightly. His breath leaves him in a huff when Lance’s lips find the hollow of his throat, his teeth and tongue brushing against the rapid pulse of his heartbeat.He places his palms against either side of Lance’s face, drawing his attention back up to him.“You can’t die.” Keith gulps, his voice hushed, almost a whisper.Lance looks like he’s going to crack a joke. But he holds back, his eyes much more serious than the upward tilt of his mouth.“I’m not gonna die.”Keith’s chest clenches, “Promise.”Lance doesn’t look away. Instead, he settles himself better, his forearms boxing Keith in. His eyes brush over Keith’s face as if he were soaking in the sight of him, committing it to memory. He takes his time before lowering his lips to Keith’s forehead, the kiss he places there gentle and soft.He doesn’t pull back; instead, he trails his lips down to his cheek, pressing a kiss there too. Keith, who has always craved this sort of affection but never thought it was actually possible for someone like him, feels the flip of his stomach in the most pleasurable way. He runs his hands along Lance’s ribs, up and against his spine, feeling each and every scar and groove of his skin.When Lance’s lips find his own once more, the kiss is just as soft. Not hesitant, not nervous, but unfalteringly tender.“As much as I want to continue this,” Lance breathes, his breath tickling, “I really need to wash up.”“I honestly don’t care.” Keith holds tight to him.Lance laughs, “I’m gonna get dried blood on the sheets.”“We’ll wash them.”“I’m sweaty.”“So am I.” Lance leans his forehead against Keith’s, shutting his eyes, relenting. Still, Keith has pity and pushes him off, making quick work of getting them to the tiny bathroom and turning on the shower. They strip and Keith speeds through the process, helping Lance wash his hair and turning to allow the same done to him, not really caring that this is the first time Lance has seen him naked. He can't focus on any fragment of embarrassment he could feel because he catches Lance looking at him hungrily, not an ounce of disappointment on his face. He rarely feels desired, the beat of his heart turning into a heavy rhythm. He shuts his eyes fleetingly before stepping out, more than prepared to continue where they’d left off.By the time they’ve returned to the bed, he’s accepting Lance between his legs again, wondering if perhaps he should have forgone putting on fresh clothes.Keith smirks and runs his hand up Lance’s nape, tangling his fingers in his hair. He touches the new faint mark between his brows, brushing his thumb against it.“Does it hurt?” He asks.“No.” Lance admits, “Not anymore.”“Do you think that your-” Keith clears his throat, nervous. “The symbol on your hand, do you think it did something to save you?”“Maybe.” Lance shrugs a shoulder. "I'll take whatever luck I get. If it did, I won't think about it too much."Keith nods, “Okay. Good.”The look on Lance’s face darkens but it fades away just as quickly, as if he were doing his best to keep Keith from asking any more questions. And Keith, who would usually press for answers, lets it go. He doesn’t want to think about anything else right now. He refuses to.Before Lance has the chance to try to talk him out of this again, he leans up on his forearms and presses his lips against the edge of his jaw. He spreads his legs wider, allowing Lance to settle against him much deeper. The pressure he feels makes him gasp, a tiny sound escaping.“Have you ever done this?” Lance asks.Keith hums, “Yes. But it wasn’t great, honestly. Just a mix of alcohol and teenage hormones. The boy was impatient. Kind of a dick, too.” He nips at Lance’s skin, glad when he feels the shiver it elicits. “You?”“Yeah. But it was after the apocalypse. And the guy was dead two weeks later.”Keith falls back against the pillow, brows raised. “Sounds romantic.”Lance laughs but doesn’t go into detail, which Keith is more than happy about. The thought of Lance with someone else makes him ridiculously jealous. Which is almost laughable, considering they have yet to define themselves or even talk about the possibilities of what they could be.“You’re thinking pretty hard, huh?” Lance sighs and trails his hand lower and lower, pausing right beneath his belly button. “Are you nervous?”“No,” Keith lies, recognizing the subtle buzz beneath his skin. His body is a live wire, sparking.Lance undoes Keith’s pants and Keith helps him shimmy them down, making quick work of returning the favor until they’re both breathless and entirely bare once more. The light in the room is dim but Keith can still see every inch of him, reveling in the way he seems to glow. Lance reminds him of embers, of a warm fire in the desert, of sunrise across the dunes. He never thought someone would get him to wax poetic but here he is, practically consumed by the comparisons of all things beautiful when it comes to him.He is hyper-focused on Lance: how his breath stutters, how his fingers feel in his mouth when he’s asked to wet them, how they feel as they ease into him, making sure he’s ready for the next step. The press inside of him makes him gasp and it draws Lance’s attention up, concern etched across his face.“I’m good,” Keith says.“Let me know if you want to stop. Anytime, okay? We can always go find a shop that sells lubricants.” He smirks, “I bet they have one, even in a holy city.”Keith can only nod, his cheeks burning. He leans his head back as Lance slides down, his breath brushing against him. What is only seconds feels like years before he feels the heat of Lance’s mouth, how his tongue wraps around him as he pushes down and down, until finding resistance. When he swallows around him, Keith brings a hand to his mouth, gritting his teeth to keep from sounding absolutely wrecked.It’s been years since he experienced intimacy and although he hadn’t really missed it during the lapse of time, he knows that this intensity isn’t just because he’s been deprived of another person’s touch. It’s because it’s Lance, a guy Keith hadn’t even known existed, a man that shouldn’t even be here but he is. Keith’s hips jerk when Lance begins to suck in earnest, one of his hands raised to grab hold of Keith’s wrist, urging him to remove his palm from his mouth. When he does, the noise he makes is soft and embarrassing, though Lance doesn’t really give him time to overthink it. His tongue swirls around the tip and when Keith glances down, his stomach clenches with the threat of release at Lance’s eyes watching him.Quickly, Keith tugs at his hair and urges him to take his mouth away, knowing that it would take only one more push down Lance’s throat for him to make a mess.Lance’s laugh is quiet but Keith knows it’s not at his expense. He brushes a few strands from Keith’s face, his expression almost too soft to bear. Keith slides his eyes away, wincing with pleasure when Lance’s abdomen brushes against him.“If it hurts-”“Shut up, Lance.” Keith pushes his hips up, hoping the action gets his point across.It seems to.Lance lines himself up easily and Keith makes sure not to hold his breath when he begins to slide in, knowing that it would be a bit uncomfortable at first anyway. He even expected stinging pain. But Lance’s fingers had seemed to do the job because soon enough he’s pressed to the base, his eyes shut as he breathes deeply at the feeling.“You can move,” Keith says after the drag of long minutes, their wavering breath filling the silence. “It doesn’t really hurt.”Lance gulps as he presses his fingers into the dip of Keith’s side, right above his hip. He uses his other hand to grab Keith’s thigh, hoisting his leg higher until it rests against the small of his back. He goes slowly at first, working himself in and out, keeping a very steady pace. Keith is grateful because gradually the uncomfortable stretch begins to fade, becoming replaced instead by an all-consuming feeling of fullness.He reaches up and wraps his arms around Lance’s shoulders, burying his face against the slope of his shoulder.“Faster.” He says, enjoying the way Lance’s grip on his hip tightens.He listens and moves his hips in tandem, jolting Keith against the mattress as he picks up the pace. Keith bites down on his shoulder, earning a low groan from Lance that sets him on fucking fire. He shuts his eyes as they threaten to roll, holding on as best as he can with each snap of Lance’s hips.Soon, however, he can’t hold on anymore. Lance leans up and takes hold of each side of his hips, using the grip to gain momentum.“Open your eyes,” Lance says, though it isn’t a rough order, and it isn’t something Keith technically has to obey.But he obeys anyway, his eyes fluttering open as his fingers find Lance’s wrists, holding tight. When he meets Lance’s gaze, his gasp is much louder, though that can easily be blamed on the way Lance presses against something inside of him. It sends a burst of pleasure so intense that Keith almost cries out.All of the tension that had settled between them since the day they met has finally snapped like a chord cut down the middle. Every part of Keith that had been held back overflows in the form of a tempest: lust, affection, possession, adoration. He holds Lance’s gaze with his own, his stomach beginning to clench as the waves of pleasure continue, unrelenting. Lance must have realized that he’d found the perfect spot because he hits it repeatedly, seemingly more focused on making sure Keith continues to feel it rather than chasing his own release.His words only confirm it.“I want you to let go.” He breathes, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. “C’mon, Keith. I can feel you getting so close.”His name on Lance’s tongue is the final striking match. The moment he hears it, he’s set ablaze, his back arching with the onslaught of pleasure that courses through him. He moans and whimpers and he vaguely hears Lance groan his name, his fingers tight enough to bruise as they grip his hip and his thigh.Lance pushes deep as Keith cums, his hand wrapping around himself lightly, and there is a warmth that spreads, released into him throughout his euphoria. Lance's moan is low and deep in his ear as he pushes deeper and deeper, chasing his own pleasure.The comedown for both of them is very slow. Keith shakes with the lingering waves, the press of Lance’s forehead on his chest a very distant sensation. He’d squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that he’d seen bursts of color and when he opens them, he has to blink rapidly to get rid of the static around the edges.Shakily, he raises his hand to Lance’s hair, brushing loose strands near his undercut. Lance shudders as he pulls out but he doesn’t roll away immediately, instead taking his time to press a kiss to Keith’s chest and throat.When he does relax beside him, he remains a mess, trying to catch his breath. Keith turns his head, noticing the beginning of a smile on Lance’s lips. He reaches up and pokes the dimple on his cheek, urging him to meet his gaze.“What’s your favorite color?”Lance blinks, as if dumbfounded. Then, he is laughing, pressing his palm against his eyes."Really?" He breathes, his abdomen flexing. Once the laughter begins to die down, he looks at Keith and says, “It used to be blue like the ocean. Now it’s green.”“Why?”He lifts his arms to rest behind his head before sliding his eyes away from Keith. He stares at the ceiling and for a moment, Keith wonders if he’d ruined the relaxed mood. But when Lance replies, his voice isn't upset even if it is slightly melancholic.“It’s gone.” He says, glancing down only once when Keith shifts to rest his temple against his chest, “Everything in the future is like a wasteland. All of the greenery became eaten up and whatever pockets were left hardly helped. It’s hard to breathe. But when I would stumble on plants, usually saved and kept deep in the bunkers with the surviving population, I’d sit with them for hours. I’d just stare and try to imagine how the earth used to look. I tried to see it in my head. Everything just so- green.”Keith hums and brushes his fingers over Lance’s abdomen, watching as his muscles jump and twitch. He doesn't know what to say to that, how to effectively comfort him. So, voice a bit timid, he says. “I like ‘em all.” Lance chuckles, “Yeah? Well, what’s your favorite animal?”“We’re playing twenty questions?”“You started it.” Lance plays with Keith’s hair, brushing the strands between his fingers.Keith’s eyes grow heavy but he tries to answer each question Lance throws at him. Their voices fill up the space of the room as the moon begins to rise, neither of them moving an inch unless it’s to switch positions; Keith resting his head on Lance’s chest, Lance slipping down to press his cheek against Keith’s stomach, his arms wrapped around him tightly. Keith doesn’t want to sleep, even as it presses heavily. If he could, he would freeze time and he’d stay right here, swept up in Lance’s voice as he tells stories about his life before the apocalypse. He even debates opening up about his past but figures that now just isn't the time. He doesn't want to ruin this. He doesn't want to feel any more horror than he already has today.They don’t notice right away when Pidge comes back but she doesn’t disturb them, though he does catch sight of the shadow outside of the door. She doesn’t knock and he knows she’s listening just for a second, making sure they’re okay, before going back to her business. It's a comfort to know that she's back and that she's safe. That they are all, at least for now, still together.Keith never had much of a family. He never met his mom and he only remembers slivers of his dad, like the color of his eyes and his calloused hands as he’d lift Keith toward the sky.Now, he thinks that maybe family feels a bit like this.He hopes it doesn't slip away.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Lance sits up in bed, his attention kept on Keith. He’s sleeping but his hand is stretched toward Lance, the ring he’d given him sitting snug on his finger. He watches him for much longer than he intended to, his eyes soaking in the sight of him. He’s bemused by his situation but he won’t deny the selfishness he feels in the need to soak it up- every quiet minute, every laugh and soft touch.Reaching out, he slides a strand of black hair away from his cheek, brushing his thumb on the slope. Trailing his fingers down, he touches freckles and the sharp edge of his jaw, the dip of his neck, and the hollow of his throat.Then, finally, he leans over and kisses his forehead. It’s fleeting and nondescript, not enough pressure to wake him.Content, he finally rises and slides on his clothes, making quick work of lacing his boots and grabbing his gun. He creeps out of the room quietly, giving Keith a final lingering look, before turning once the door shuts.“Fuck!” He whisper-shouts.Pidge raises a brow, “Going somewhere?”“What are you, my parent?” Lance shoulders past them, “Why are you even awake?”He can hear Pidge following him as he enters the small living room. “I took a nap. Wide awake now.”Lance grabs a water bottle from the counter and chugs it, turning to look at them. Their arms are folded, suspicion written on their face.“What?” He asks, wiping his mouth.“You’re all geared up.” They say, flapping a hand at him. “Why?”“No reason.”“Liar.” Pidge’s eyes narrow, “You’re sneaking off.”“I’ll be back.”They look disbelieving. He doesn’t blame them, considering he’d think the same exact thing if their roles were reversed. But he means it; he will be back and, if it’s up to him, before Keith even stirs from sleep.“Does Keith know?” Pidge asks, glancing back at the shut door. Luckily, they’ve lowered their voice. “He’s gonna be pissed.”“Not if he never knows I left.” They glare at his grin, mouth pursed in thought. Before they can even suggest it, Lance is continuing, “You’re not coming. Not this time, okay? I gotta do this alone.”“Do what?” Their voice is a hiss now, “It’s obviously gonna be dangerous. Probably stupid, too.”Lance sighs and turns, reaching down to pick up one of their empty bags. He slings it over his shoulder, ignoring the increasing temptation to go back and tuck into bed.“Just stay with him,” Lance says, opening the front door. He turns and meets Pidge’s eye, “The rune I placed on the door will keep you safe. Just…stay inside until I get back.”Pidge isn’t pouting so much as they are seething. Still, they huff and unfold their arms, once again flapping their hands at him to get him moving. “Just go. You’re lucky I stocked up on food or I’d make you get me something before this little adventure of yours.”Lance smiles, “See ya.”The door shuts in his face and he lets out a long sigh, staring at the rune. It’ll hold for another few days before he needs to refresh it. He hesitates, watching the shadow of Pidge move away from beneath the door, before finally moving himself.He bounds down the steps and pulls his hood high over his head, warding off the icy sleet. His breath leaves his lips in puffs of steam as he traverses the dark, surprisingly relatively empty streets. There is noise coming from still open businesses further ahead, voices traveling to him. He opts to go in the opposite direction, trekking to the old church. It’s no surprise that when he arrives Takashi is already there.“What do you want?” Takashi asks, stepping away to tilt his head at the new sigil he’s placed on the floor in front of the faux altar. It's much more intricate than any Lance could ever make. “Send your boyfriend back home?”“No.” Lance takes the strap of the bag and tosses it to the floor between them. “I’m here because we both know I can help you now instead of wasting time. I’m keeping my end of the deal. Keith is safe.”“For now.” Takashi sighs and turns, motioning for Lance to follow. “Pick up your bag.”Lance is quick to follow, his eyes readjusting to the low light of the room. Hunk is already there, elbow-deep in scrolls and leathery books. He smiles at Lance but doesn’t greet him vocally, his eyes immediately dipping back to the written words.“I talked to Maria,” Takashi says, kicking out a chair for Lance to sit. When he does, he sits across from him. “Told her everything I was asking were hypothetical questions but she was still suspicious.”“Of course.” Lance doesn’t break Takashi’s gaze. The distrust is still there, just momentarily sated.Takashi leans back a bit, muscles pushing against his black shirt. “I’m initiating a ritual in an hour.”“So soon?”“I figured you’d be back.” Takashi leans over to grab something, tossing it at him. “Maria told me where to find that within all of her belongings. She tried to explain it to me but I’m assuming you know more than I do.”Lance looks down at it, recognizing it immediately.“You’ll cut at the demon yourself.” Takashi explains, “Ask it whatever questions you want but don’t kill it.”“Why?”“Because if we can’t get the answers we want, we’ll regroup and return to it.”Lance runs his fingers over the hilt of the blade, pulling it slowly out of the sheath. He remembers it well, how it would throw out some kind of warding to keep them safe in the thick of the messes they found themselves in. More than that, however, is how it would draw the truth from anything it cut. Humans included.Something sickly swirls in Lance’s gut.“Were you going to use this on me?” He asks.Takashi crosses his ankles, “Thought about it.”“Why didn’t you just do it?”“Because we made a deal. Regardless of my distaste for you, I think you stick by your word.”Lance smirks and pushes the blade back inside the brown leather. “Or I’m just a really good liar.” At the look on Takashi’s face, or lack thereof, he clears his throat. “Right. Bad joke.”Takashi stands and kicks at the bag, “Come on. We need to get started.”  Lance never cared for this shit even in his own time. Maria would find some kind of strange joy in talking to higher-ranking demons, her eyes alight with wonder that he would never understand. All Lance could do was stand at her side, ready to blow the damned things head off at any moment.Now, unfortunately, he is the one squatting in front of the writing beast, pretending he could have some sort of civilized conversation.Takashi’s eyes still glow from the frightening display of power he’d opted to allow Lance to see. His veins are lit with the blue-white glow, his long coat ruffling as if he were stuck in an eternal-wind. Lance, unsettled, doesn’t look at him for too long.The cage is well-built and out of the way of society, kept within a seemingly falling apart building. Lance guesses Takashi’s thought of everything so, even if the demon screams, nothing can be heard outside of these walls.And scream it does.Lance takes the blade from its skin, putrid blood oozing onto the floor.“Where will the first rift open?” Lance asks again, wishing Maria had already perfected the knife. It works, though not with perfection. It takes several long, deep cuts before the creature utters even a semblance of a truth now.It seethes, teeth bared in an ugly grimace. Its face scrunches, the black pits of its eyes slowly losing the reflection of hellflame.Lance sighs and glances up at Takashi, “It’s gonna die soon.”Takashi turns his head slowly, almost transfixed. When he speaks, his voice is monotone.“Keep going.”“You said we weren’t going to kill it yet.”Takashi repeats, “Keep going.”When Lance looks back down at the writhing beast, it is not pity he feels. Though he does know that this isn’t working. It had given simple answers at first, answering the small, partially useless questions they had: What is your name? Duroth. What is your rank? Fifth general of Imperianok. Who do you serve? Alguth. The name had made Lance pause, his entire body going rigid. It's precisely what he needed to hear to know that this demon could be of some actual use. Now, of fucking course, it is stubborn.Lance ponders, wracking his mind for anything that could speed this process up. He debates gouging its eyes, slitting its stomach.The damned thing doesn’t even flinch when he raises the blade anymore.Looking down at it, Lance notices that the runes have faded in their own red glow. He curses and flips it once, twice, in his palm before going to tug the bandage on his right hand back in place.He glances at the demon and suddenly, as if the revelation were breaking through storm clouds, he notices something new. The demon is staring at his scorched palm, chest heaving. So, without another thought, Lance lets the bandage fall entirely. Almost instantly, the demon hisses and bows its head, looking for all the world as if it were confused about its own reaction.Lance raises his hand slowly, palm facing forward. Takashi takes a step closer but he doesn’t speak.All is quiet until, very suddenly, it is not.The demon screeches and screams, its body falling flat before bending at an impossible angle. Its back arches with the loud crunch of its spine, blood and intestines beginning to spill as it splits open, a lone figure reaching with lithe clawed fingers to pull itself up and out.Takashi moves fast, going to grab at Lance’s jacket to pull him out of the cage. But he’s too late.The demon prince, Alguth, has revealed itself with a strong burst of scorching wind. It sends Takashi flying back, his body colliding with the wall hard enough to crack the wood. Yet, somehow, it has rooted Lance in place.He can’t move a muscle.It’s a familiar feeling, a gut-wrenching realization of helplessness.Alguth rises from a crouch, scarlet hair falling over its shoulders, mouthless face turned to stare down at Lance. Its eyes are exactly as Lance remembers them, serpentine and haunting and utterly void of mercy.When he speaks, it is within Lance’s mind alone. You reveal yourself. The prince’s voice is calm but all-consuming. Around Lance, the world has begun to tremble and fade into a strange fog. Have you accepted the gift that I have given you? Lance’s voice strains, “Does it look like I have, you fucking piece of-”Pain, sharp and fast, erupts in his arm. It travels to his chest, clutching around his heart. He shouts but can do nothing to aid himself, his eyes glued to the Prince. You do not truly need to accept it. I was simply showing you a rare kindness. The Prince lifts his head, eyes staring down with clarity. I will show you the way. I will help you. Lance, horrified, feels his body move without his permission. His muscles strain and ache as he fights but it’s no use- he shifts until his knees find the floor, his head tilted up, his eyes wide.A clawed hand reaches for him, touching his jaw and his chin. It is a caress, twisted to feign comfort. Your blood has begun to warp. I can smell it like nectar. That which saved you before, that failed at thrusting you away from me, is not here, and thus, you are mine to slowly shape like clay. The Prince bends at the waist, hair enshrouding Lance until all he can see is red. Disgust rises like acid when he feels clawed fingers brush against the hollow of his throat. It is entertaining to watch you fight so tirelessly. To struggle against your fate. Lance tries to open his mouth, to move his fucking hands. It’s useless.The Prince slices his neck once, a rivulet of blood spilling.When he pulls away, Lance is nowhere he recognizes. All he can do is shift his eyes to see the void, the ghost of the city far, far away. The rest is fog.“Why are you waiting?” Lance snaps, surprised that he’s now able to talk at all. He doesn’t stop, “Why not just end it all now? Open the fucking rifts, turn me into a beast, get what it is that you want!”The Prince kneels in front of him, black wings no longer oozing. They are feathers, dark as night, soft and simmering at the tips. They curl around Lance until he is shrouded once more. I have deemed you worthy. My brothers have not. You could say I have been…outvoted. Alguth’s face has changed, turning to one of brilliant beauty. He grins and only the sharp teeth within his mouth are any indication that he is not human. They wish to test you. To see how far you will fall before you give in. Then, if you survive the fall, they will witness your ascension. Lance flinches when the Prince raises a hand, the press of his palm on his cheek a sick mockery of the ghost of Keith’s own touch.“I won’t fall.” He all but whispers. Not yet. But you will. The Prince pries his mouth open, a claw extending to keep Lance from biting down. He leans closer and closer, until the fear Lance feels is as consuming as drowning. He repeats, I will help you. The Prince’s mouth touches his own without intimacy. It is cold and harsh and all Lance can taste is copper, blood pooling in his throat as the Prince bites down. He pushes his sharp teeth against Lance’s tongue, piercing him.When the Prince pulls away, Lance is thrust back into the cage with a loud whomp of air. He immediately bends and retches, blood spilling against the already gored floor.In an instant, Takashi is at his side, his hand reaching to tug Lance’s face toward his own. His glowing eyes scan him, flitting across every inch before stopping.“Open your eyes, Lance.” He orders.Lance tries but it is difficult, his mind flashing with images of the Prince.“Open them.” Takashi tries again, moving to place his hands on Lance’s shoulders. He steadies him, holding him tight to keep him from toppling over. “Now.”When he finally obeys, Takashi’s face is grim. His jaw is clenched, his brows creased and although he doesn’t reach for a weapon it is easy to see his newfound rage.“Fuck.” He grunts and rises, tugging Lance up with him. He holds his waist, practically dragging him out of the cage and back onto the streets. He’s strong, which Lance is distantly grateful for. “Come on. Keep walking.”Lance feels another wave of nausea rise and Takashi can do nothing but keep his grip on him as he bends and vomits in the snow. Luckily, this time there isn’t so much blood.“You’re okay,” Takashi says, his voice taking on a new, patient tone. He hoists him back up, speeding their pace until he can push open the church’s door, calling out for Hunk.It’s all a blur. Lance feels a new presence at his other side and the way he is aided before his body falls into a chair, his head tilted up as a light shines in his eyes.Conversations ebb and flow.“-call her now.”“If it...a possession…no more time-”“...no this…different…”Lance groans, his lips forming words that he can’t hear.All he can hear is static.   Keith bursts into the room in a flurry, his eyes both wide and unbelievably pissed off. He glares at Takashi and another man, pushing past them with enough force to make them catch themselves.The moment he sees Lance, he feels his heart all but stop.He’s not sleeping but anyone could tell that he isn’t truly awake. He sits stoically, perspiration soaking his shirt.“What the fuck did you do?” Keith gets to his knees, grabbing hold of Lance’s hands. He isn’t burning like last time but he isn't at a normal temperature, either. He’s almost too cold. “Lance. Can you hear me?”At the sound of his name, Lance tilts his head.Keith whips his head around, wishing he could put a bullet into the fake priest. “Fucking answer me. What the fuck did you do?”Takashi doesn’t move as he says, speaking plainly, “We summoned a demon and it saw Lance’s mark. I was thrown back and I only regained consciousness when I saw him vomiting in the cage.”“Cage.” Keith hisses and turns back to Lance, “What the fuck, Lance? Come back now, okay? Open your eyes.”“About that-”Keith ignores the other man, hardly noticing Takashi’s order for the stranger to remain quiet.Pidge stands in the corner of the room shaking. She had woken Keith in a rush, speaking of a man at the door, of Lance being in danger.“This other demon.” Keith reaches up and brushes damp hair away from Lance’s forehead, “What did it look like? What did it say?”“It was powerful.” Takashi takes a step toward him, stopping when Keith reaches for the gun on his hip. “But I heard nothing after being thrown back.”Keith shuffles closer until his chest is pressed against Lance’s legs. He reaches up, holding his head between his palms as he brushes his thumbs against his lashes.“Lance?” He asks, softer, quieter.Behind him, the others begin to leave. He doesn’t care where they go.Alone, Keith stands, intent on helping Lance into a more comfortable position. But his hands are stopped by Lance’s own, his fingers curling and gripping tight.Looking down, Keith’s voice is caught in his throat.Lance has opened his eyes but they are not his. They are without color, without light. A void is within them, dark as the cosmos.He opens his mouth, dried blood on his lips, but says nothing.“Lance?” Keith whispers, his breaths deep and aching. His heart is breaking, if only because he knows that Lance is surely in pain. That whatever has done this is torturing some part of him.Tilting his head, Lance cradles himself in Keith’s palm. He shuts his eyes again, a soft noise leaving him, before tugging harshly. Keith practically falls into his lap, forced to straddle him as Lance pushes his head against his chest, his arms circling him until he can’t move.Keith clears his throat, bringing his hands back to hold Lance’s head against him. Cradling him; protective. “I’m here. Right here.”Something akin to a sob leaves Lance’s lips, his arms tightening until it’s almost hard for Keith to breathe. He digs his fingers in, anchoring himself.“I-” Lance’s voice is wrecked as if he’d been screaming. “I haven’t-”Keith listens, resting his cheek on the top of Lance’s head. He brushes his fingers through his damp hair, pushing closer until absolutely no space is left between them. They couldn’t be pried apart even if anyone tried.“I haven’t told you the entire truth.” Lance’s voice breaks, new wetness soaking through Keith’s shirt.“You don’t have to. Not right now.”“I don’t know if I have much time left.”Keith’s blood freezes in his veins. He sucks in a sharp breath and tugs back until he can lift Lance’s face, scanning his dark eyes. Somehow, he thinks Lance is looking back.“What do you mean?” Keith asks, his voice much harsher than he intends.“I’m changing. Takashi can't know the full extent of the truth or he'll kill me, he'll find a way.” Lance’s voice is lowered as if he were trying to keep this solely between them. Secret. “But I thought I could keep it from you until I figured out how to get rid of it myself.”“The mark?”Lance brushes his hand along Keith’s spine, “It’s going to eat me from the inside out until I’m-”Keith gulps, holding Lance in place so that he can’t look away. He urges him to continue, nodding, his thumbs returning to brush against his cheeks.“Until I’m one of them.” Lance’s face warps to one of anguish. “The demon that put this mark on me isn’t lesser or weak, he's a Prince. And he’s visited me. He said they’re watching me, waiting for me to fall.”It’s all too much. Keith can feel the world give out but he holds on, urging himself to remain strong, to keep whatever breakdown surely coming far away.“Why would they be doing this?”“I’m meant to be a replacement.” Lance gulps. “And if the Prince is coming to me now, it must mean he’s growing impatient.”Keith nods, “Okay.” He looks over Lance’s head, eyes mindlessly traveling around the room as he thinks. “That just means we need to work faster. Together. ”Shame is a swift current on Lance’s face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think this would happen.”“Just relax now, okay?” Keith brings his head back to his chest, feeling him press close enough to hear his heartbeat.Behind him, Takashi returns.His voice is quiet, “I can’t allow him to leave again.”Keith grimaces, looking down at Lance. “He isn’t going anywhere without me.”“Then both of you will stay with me.” Takashi sighs, “I need to keep an eye on him. And…he needs you. You ground him, it seems. You bring him back. He was calling for you and he wouldn’t respond to us at all, so I sent Hunk to get you.”Keith nods, “Fine. Whatever. We’ll stay with you.” He kisses the top of Lance’s head, “Just give us a few more minutes.”Luckily, he does. Takashi doesn’t return until Keith’s legs go numb and his head begins to hurt, his neck strained as he keeps his cheek pressed to Lance’s hair. They listen to only their own breaths, touching only each other.When it’s time to leave, Lance’s eyes have begun to clear.  “Not gonna lie,” Pidge drops her bag on the granite floor. “I expected something like a bunker.”Takashi throws his keys on a small table in the foyer, his mouth quirking. “I thought about it.”Pidge mumbles, “Of course you did.”The house is large, much bigger than any in the city. Which makes sense, considering they drove a good hour away.Keith hasn’t left Lance’s side, not that he could even if he wanted to. Lance has a grip on him, holding to his hand like a vise. Keith glances at him, noting the fatigue, how he had avoided returning his eyes the entire drive.“Hunk stays here too,” Takashi explains. “He’ll be here in a few hours. I sent him to get some things from a different location. The only thing I ask is that you alert me before leaving for your own safety.”“Okay. Sure.” Pidge shrugs and flops down on a white leather couch in a large living room, letting out a sigh. They lift their legs and cross their ankles. “Whatever you say.”Their attention drifts to and from Lance, worry still evident with the downturn of their mouth. But if they have anything to say, they keep it to themselves. Keith smiles at them, grateful.Takashi turns and points to the left, “Kitchen is that way.” He points at a staircase to the right, “Bedrooms and a bathroom are up there. Pick whichever you like.”“How hospitable.” Pidge leans their head back on a cushion, “Y’know, you coulda’ offered this to us ages ago. I mean, I didn’t know you until two hours ago but you get what I’m saying?”“Thanks.” Is all Keith says, short. He tugs at Lance’s hand, heading toward the stairs.Takashi’s voice follows them, “I’ll cook something.”Keith doesn’t look at him as they head up, repeating. "Thanks.”Pidge starts talking again but Keith doesn’t catch what they say. He can’t bring himself to wonder, either. He is too focused, too consumed by the instinct to take care of Lance.It’s a new thing, something that simply isn’t as prevalent with anyone else, this desire to push himself to exhaustion if it means making sure another person is entirely alright. He finds a bathroom easy enough and he makes quick work of turning on the water, gauging the warmth with his hand.Once he’s content with the temperature, he goes back to Lance and gently slips his jacket from his shoulders. Lance has gone in and out of the strange daze and now is no different. His eyes, while once again such a beautiful blue, are not focused in the slightest. He blinks slowly, eyes wandering the planes of Keith’s face as he leans close to tug at his shirt hem. When he fidgets with it himself, Keith swats his hands away.“I got you.” He says for the umpteenth time.He slides the shirt up until he can tug it off of his head, ruffling his hair. His smile is small as he brushes his fingers through the strands, musing it further before quickly unbuttoning his pants. He slides them down with his boxers and only then does Lance momentarily come out of his stupor.“Trying to get some action?” He tries to joke.Keith scoffs, chest panging with the desire for Lance to return to him entirely. “No.”“Not yet.” Lance presses a kiss to his temple as he passes, stepping into the shower himself.“Are you-”Lance shuts the curtain, sighing. “I’m good. I can handle this.” At Keith’s following silence, he pokes his head out. He is earnest. “But thank you.”Keith nods, “Of course. I’ll wait.”Once Lance returns to bathe, Keith leans against the counter with a frown. He listens out in the case he needs to help but he also finds himself lost in thought, the truth revealed by Lance sitting heavily. It makes him pick at his lip until he tastes blood, his tongue prodding it until the shower eventually, finally, shuts off.Jolting back to himself, Keith reaches for a towel on the counter and passes it over, skirting his gaze to give Lance at least a bit of privacy. Only, Lance has frozen. He stares down at the towel, mouth twisted, eyes starting to once again glaze over.“Here.” Keith reaches for the towel and immediately brings it to Lance’s body, running it over his scarred skin.He doesn’t bother helping him dress. All he can do is wrap the towel around his waist in order to make it to a random bedroom, quickly shutting the door behind them before helping Lance to the bed.Almost immediately, he turns away. Keith gulps against the sharp pain that returns in his chest, doing his best to ignore the tug and pull and slice. He simply drops the towel to the floor and lowers himself until his chest is pressed to Lance’s back beneath the soft comforter.“I’ll be fine tomorrow.” Lance says, his voice barely above a whisper.“I know.” Keith presses a kiss to his nape, breathing him in. “You’re fine. You’re good.”He feels Lance reach for him blindly and he gives himself willingly, shifting closer until his arm is tucked against Lance’s chest, held tightly. He feels the slowing beat of his heart beneath his palm.Of course, Keith doesn’t sleep at all. He lays wide awake as the scent of food drifts into the room, ignoring the soft rap of knuckles on the door when it must be ready. He squeezes his eyes shut and dips his head, burying his face within Lance’s hair, listening to his soft breathing, memorizing the rise and fall of his shoulders.It’s all he can do.It’s all he can handle. The house is quiet when Lance wakes and although he barely remembers arriving here, he at least recognizes the room he fell asleep in. He blinks against the dark, his eyes adjusting slowly before he turns a bit in the arms holding him in place.Keith is sleeping but he stirs the moment Lance brushes a strand of hair from his face. When he opens his eyes, Lance can’t help but smile.“Hey.” He says.“Hi,” Keith whispers, the fan on the ceiling luckily breaking up the otherwise silence. “How are you feeling?”Lance shuffles closer until he can dip his head into Keith’s neck, breathing him in softly. He brushes his nose along the slope, nuzzling like a damn cat. However, Keith seems to like it by the way he tilts his head further toward the pillow, his sigh short but deep when Lance presses a small kiss beneath his ear.“I’m good.” He eventually responds.“Yeah?” Keith trails his fingers on Lance’s back. He creates small, mindless shapes. “Are you thirsty? Hungry?”Lance hums, “Thirsty, mostly.”They shift until they’re both leaning back against the headboard, Keith reaching to the small table beside him to grab a glass of water. Passing it over, he watches closely as Lance gulps it all down.“We can go get more. I think everyone is asleep.”Lance nods, “Sure.”They wait a few more minutes, both seeming to enjoy the company of the other even if they don’t know what to say. Lance turns his head, eyes roaming over the shadowed features of Keith’s face, wondering if he should at least apologize. Has he done that already? Has Keith forgiven him?“I-”“You scared me.”Lance’s mouth snaps shut, his jaw clenching with the grind of his teeth. Shame washes over him, digging in deeply. He feels it coil in his stomach.“I’m sorry.” He clears his throat, “I didn’t intend to-”“Doesn’t matter your intention.” Keith picks at his nails, his hair framing his face, hiding it from Lance. “All that matters is that this is the second time you’ve left me behind. And it’s like, the third time I thought you were dead or going to die.”Lance doesn’t know what to say. He opens and closes his mouth, presses his nails into his arm, wants to touch him again but doesn’t know if he should. He isn’t sure of anything at all.Keith continues, “This curse, you changing, whatever it is- you need me, don’t you?”Lance’s chest aches. He moves in a flash, tugging at Keith until he’s straddling him, unable to avoid looking at him anymore. And Lance won’t speak until all of that hair is out of the way and he can see the way Keith is looking at him, like he’s unsure of himself, as if he thinks Lance would prefer him gone.“I need you.” Lance’s voice breaks but he continues, “I wish I didn’t because then I know you would be safe somewhere very far away from me. Because then, once I figured out how to get this mark off of me, I could find you before the rifts open and protect you that way, too.”Keith’s face twists, “We protect each other.”“I know.” Lance brings a hand to Keith’s nape, catching the way his eyes flutter. “Maybe this time it’ll go into my thick skull and stick.”At this, Keith’s mouth lifts. He grabs hold of Lance’s chin with his forefinger and thumb, holding him in place, right where he wants him.“It better.”And then he is leaning so close, brushing his lips against Lance’s own. It isn’t done with embarrassment or any form of self-consciousness. It’s a tease, a taste of gentleness that makes Lance desperate for the deepening.When Keith finally relents and pushes against his lips entirely, Lance’s breath is a shudder, his blood singing with all things light and hopeful and absolutely true. He washes away the touch of the Prince, of his sharp teeth and tongue, replacing it with only Keith. Always Keith.He lays back with the prod of Keith’s hand on his chest, watching with a flutter in his stomach as Keith lifts his shirt above his head. He trails his eyes over him, his attention rapt as Keith shimmies out of the rest of his clothes, his own eyes stuck on Lance.Neither of them needs to ask if they should or want to; it’s prevalent, a stronghold between them.So, after a short time, when Keith finally presses down upon him, Lance can do nothing but shut his eyes with a soft moan. He moves slowly, bringing Lance’s hands to his own hips, making him press his fingers hard. Deeply.No matter the small instance that Lance tries to flip him to the bed, Keith doesn’t allow it. He holds Lance in place, looking down at him with all of the emotion and lust that Lance feels running through his own body.Regardless of the truth of demonkind, Lance doesn’t believe in any god.But as he stares up at Keith, trapped beneath his gaze, he thinks that worship wouldn’t be so bad if it was for someone like him.