Archive of Our Own ^beta

It is believed that most demons have little to no imagination. It is no use in their daily life, for they tend to stick to the standard scripts in their evil deeds. It doesn’t mean they can’t develop it, though – they just need to concentrate on their thoughts a little longer than usual. As a rule, it happens when the situation the demons are facing is highly unusual.

The disaster with the Apocalypse was no usual situation. Death of a partner with whom you have spent nearly your entire existence wasn’t a usual situation either, oh, at all. Even an old-fashioned demon like Hastur has to adjust to the aftermath of these events, one way or another. Either way, nothing is going to be like it was before. Except for the leaking pipes, of course.

At first it seems strange without Ligur in the office. No one to talk to, no one to discuss other demons with. But few can work without uttering a single word, and time after time Hastur might sometimes exclaim one thing or another – as if Ligur was there listening to him. He even makes pauses, waiting for an answer that was never to come. Other demons pretend not to notice that, for they know what could happen to them when Hastur is not in the mood. It becomes a habit, and Hastur starts to do it all the time – in his cabinet, walking through the corridor, even when he has to go to Earth to perform a temptation or other evil deed.

Sometimes it seems as if Ligur was right there, next to him. As if Hastur could turn and meet his color-changing gaze. As if he could pass him a cigarette or grab his hand. As if he could turn and kiss him. Sometimes Hastur really wants to try and do all that, but something stops him.

One day, when Hastur is sent to Earth to tempt a few people, he finds himself in a botanical garden, with all sorts of exotic plants and flowers. He picks a corner in a greenhouse to lurk at, and there he discovers a terrarium where a bright green chameleon is sitting. The chameleon is staring at him, and so the Duke of Hell stares back. The creature looks rather strange and familiar, and a visceral thought crosses Hastur’s mind. Could all the chameleons be connected in some way?

He steps closer to the terrarium and starts saying whatever comes to his mind. He’s telling the reptile how things are in Hell nowadays, how nobody has fixed the bloody pipes yet, how Crowley is up to something again. The chameleon is silent all the time, but it seems like it’s listening attentively to what the demon’s saying. Maybe it’s not all in vain, Hastur thinks, and continues to talk, now more what he wanted to tell to Ligur –how it would be nice to lurk somewhere dark and dusty, how Ligur’s table is now cluttered with papers nobody wants, how Ligur is missed everywhere. Finally, when Hastur’s out of his breath and can’t speak anymore, he awkwardly waves and walks away to get on with his deeds, now feeling better, content, even.

That night, when Hastur sleeps for the first time in years, he has a nightmare. He dreams that the war to end all words has happened after all, but its end wasn’t the end that Hell was hoping for. In the end, Heaven has won the war, and the Hell is now noiseless and devoid of any creatures. In his dream, Hastur is wandering the empty narrow corridors of Hell, shouting and trying to find anyone he knows. He is calling for Ligur and all the other demons he knows, but no one is answering him. Neither Ligur, nor Dagon, nor Beelzebub, nor anyone else can be found. Nothing but impenetrable silence and a sense of abandonment and defeat.

Hastur wakes up shaking and screaming his partner’s name, his voice echoing all around the room. He turns to another side of his bed trying to reach for Ligur – and sees that the other side of his double bed has been untouched the whole time. His clothes are scattered on the floor just the way he left them, and everything is completely silent except for the rain outside. That’s when he is hit with the realization that he is alone in this dark unheated room, with nobody sleeping beside him. No matter what Hastur had imagined before, Ligur isn’t here – and never will be.

Lonesome and cold, Hastur doesn’t know whether he is going to fall asleep again this night. Sometimes there are moments when even a good imagination can’t help.