Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Abaddon was… tired.

So very tired.

If demons needed to sleep, he would have considered it. Had he had the energy to consider anything anymore. It had been years since he had done anything that didn’t seem like he was going through the motions of a play he’s seen time and time again, and when the passage of time felt less like a stream and more like swimming through thick molasses.

Perhaps sleep wasn’t such a bad thought, if it meant passing the time more swiftly. Time is something he had in abundance, after all, and it was a chore to do anything anymore. Anymore…

He wasn’t sure what caused him to start to dig, his limbs feeling like lead after spending so long without a hint of movement, but he found the sacred spot that he considered his salvation, and then started to dig. And dig. And dig…

He ignored the burning in his arms, the blood staining his sleeves from where the thorns and vines had torn his nail beds, the cuts and scrapes on his palms, and the sweating from this feeble (feeble, weak, useless!) vessel that was beaten down to putty by the sun’s rays and the cumbersome work. So much work. Work he hadn’t done in years… upon years and years and years.

It wasn’t a deep hole by any means, or a perfect one, or even one that was impressive like the one he would lay in once the bitter cycle of love and loss would start up again for the 73rd… no, 74th? Or was it 80? 90? 100? He wasn’t quite sure anymore, and he couldn’t really count enough to fully understand, nor did he truly have the energy to care.

Caring was just too much at this point.

Far too much.

But he didn’t need to care. Didn’t need to care at all, not when there was the dirt underneath and the time to wait before he would start his task again and again and again.

He crawled into his hole, and kicked a few times to bring down the pile of dirt back onto him. The pressure was nice, even with the dirt in his lungs, the earth in his mouth, and the light being blocked out from his vision. The vessel was trapped, but in the physical way that felt grounding even if it was suffocating him. And yet, he found himself melting into the blackness that was taking over him.

Sleep, finally…

A sleep of 300 years wasn’t so bad in the long run.

~~~~~~~~~♥♡♥~~~~~~~~~

Sleep by suffocation was pleasant in the sense that he could not dream while under it. This vessel was starved of oxygen, and its tiny brain could not register enough to form those dreaded images that kept him tormented even in moments of rest. So he just floated in the void that reminded him vaguely of the Hell that he honestly, dreadfully, could not picture as anything else than the vile image of Esther plunging into the abyss below or being swallowed alive or crushed and -

A sudden rush of air filled his lungs, the burning causing a jolt of pain so sharp throughout his lungs that he almost retched upon the ground despite his stomach being empty for centuries. He reached out instinctively, grabbing onto the sudden intruder that broke his peace and shattered what little rest he could afford to have. Fur and skin were pierced by sharp nails, and familiar the squeal of a rabbit was grating on his ears after centuries of silence. 

His eyes opened with a sharp snap, and he hissed as the violent rays of unholy light burned at his retinas and blinded him far worse than he already was. He growled, a familiar pool of heat in his stomach threatening to snap. With a sharp snap, he lunged and broke free from the packed dirt above him that had loosened by the creature digging itself a burrow above it.

“How dare you wake Abaddon from his well-earned rest, you furred vermin?!” He hissed, and promptly sunk his teeth into the rabbit’s hide.

The sharp, salty taste flooded his mouth, making a mess of himself far worse than he already was. His overgrown nails dug into the flesh, making quick work of ripping his prey apart even as his vision was too white and hot to fully see what he was eating.

At least it made his stomach stop grumbling.

When he was satisfied and the bones were cleaned and separated, but brought his treasures with him back into the hole. He looked around and saw that the area around him had changed, or maybe it hadn’t and he was simply remembering another timeline. All of them blended together so often that he hardly remembered what was happening around him.

He was still so tired.

~~~~~~~~~♥♡♥~~~~~~~~~

It took another few hours for him to come out of the hole, and even that took an effort that was far too great for him to do anything but take a few shaky steps on legs that were trembling far too much to walk at a steady pace. He limped and wheezed, the rabbit threatening to come back up for vengeance and the dirt in his lungs making it difficult for this vessel to take a full breath.

How many years had passed in that hole? Had he missed it? Done something wrong that wasted this opportunity? His hands shook, mouth watering with sour bile as he thought about returning to that artifact, of activating the runes to thrust him back for another round of torture so great that even Hell would-

“Augggh!!!” He screamed as he suddenly tumbled down, hitting a wall of solid earth until he crashed into the dried earth below.

He didn’t bother to get back up, just cough up the dirt in his lungs and spit out the blood that stained his teeth, and even that was nothing short of pathetic. Wheezing like the child this vessel still believed it was, and nothing like the mighty demon prince he is… was.

He looked around, blinking to get his vision to refocus again after the hit to the head.

The hole…

The hole that had only been dug a week before the Patriarch had come to collect him, to lift him from his prison into his warm arms and had taken him into the manor where the cycle of living and death and death again would spin like the dreaded dryer that tormented him countless times.

No…

Had he missed it? Had he… He could still fix it? Return to the manor himself, meet the patriarch again and return it to normal? A few changes wouldn’t affect anything much, with the numerous little errors that Abaddon had made throughout his attempts, and even the ones he had attempted to change that never ended up working no matter how many grapes he threw out or bottles he tossed into the fire or knives he had buried.

“Hey, bud…”

The sudden voice froze him, and his vessel seemed to tense up at the realization that he had made it just in time. He tried to look up to the outstretched hand, but all that came out was a wheeze and another cough that had him spitting blood and dirt onto the ground.

Pathetic again. How was he being beaten down by something as annoying as dirt when he could survive hundreds of things without coming close to his demise. 

“Woah! Hey, are you ok?”

He tried to get up, to greet the man like he had done hundreds of times already, but he was being lifted up before he could get a word out. He hated to admit how his vessel seemed to relax in the warmth of those gentle arms, and now his shivering lessened ever so slightly.

“You’re not a ghost…”

“Indeed.” He mumbled, blinking up at the man that was slowly turning a shade of grey that he had not seen on him before, even towards the end.

Strange.

“You’re a… Oh God, you’re alive.”

“We… have established that when you said I was not a ghost.” Abaddon said, tilting his head closer to Nathan’s chest.

Nathan began to quickly look him over, which made him scowl as he was pulled away from his chest. The man brushed some dirt off him, before realizing that the dirt was so packed on and caked over that it was pushed into the very fibers of the clothes themselves. After a few attempts to at least get his face clean, he adjusted his hold so that Abaddon was nestled into his chest.

Abaddon tried not to think about how much he missed this.

“...How old are you, kiddo?”

Abaddon blinked. That… had never been a question that Nathan had ever asked him before. He usually had some form of knowledge of Abaddon from the ghosts in the manor, even in brief passing to warn him of his incomprehensible age.

Oh.

Oh, that made sense now. Abaddon had been… asleep for the last 300 years. 300 years without him in the town, bringing torment and misery to the weak-willed humans that had attempted to imprison him with a relentless passion.

He wondered… He wondered if that changed anything important.

“I… don’t know.”

Because frankly, he didn’t know. He had lived far too long, longer than anything should ever live, to have an answer to that question. He didn’t even know anymore how old the vessel he had taken had been, if he were 5 or 6 or 7? Not older than 7, at least. He thought.

“Dont know… Ok… Ok, yeah. That’s fine. Totally fine. We can estimate. We can take a guess later. Where are your parents?”

At least that question was familiar, even if Nathan had never asked him that. Other people have, usually to come bearing complaints and gossip to whomever they deemed responsible for Abaddon’s actions, as if he needed a minder to dictate what he did with his time.

He hadn’t had anyone to tell him what to do with time in so, so long.

“I don’t have those. This vessel’s progenitors are long gone and buried.”

Nathan’s faint smile twitched, much like everyone else’s did when he explained that he did not need parents. It looked strange on Nathan, however, who always had his smile wide and his voice high pitched.

“Wow. Ok then… What about your caretakers? Grandparents? Aunts? Uncles? Cousins?” Nathan laughed nervously.

“I have none.”

Short answers, Abaddon learned, got through this first day a lot faster than trying to explain himself. The first day was always the second hardest to get through, right after…

Abaddon adjusted himself to have his bloodied cheek against the worn sweater, not caring that it stained the scratchy fabric. It was warm, which was already better than the shallow grave underneath the soil. The arms tightened around him, though not enough to crush him.

“... Alright. We can work with that too.” Nathan said in a tone that was very much not “alright”. “Then, do you know why you’re covered in dirt and… is that blood? You look like you were buried alive.”

Abaddon nodded at Nathan’s nervous chuckle. 

“I was.” He said, tone plain and voice empty.

“What?”

Nathan almost dropped him. He would have if Abaddon weren’t clinging to him with as much strength as his little body could muster. He was shaking too hard to get a proper grip.

“I was. Buried alive. In that pit over there. I fell into this pit after digging myself out.”

Abaddon pointed one bloodied finger over to the mound of broken grass, dirt and torn apart fur that still littered the ground. He ignored the strange, high pitched noise that came out of Nathan. Humans were such strange creatures who made various sounds without cause.

“...wow, ok. And… And the blood? Is it yours?” Nathan’s tone was thin and higher.

Strange.

Abaddon felt his cheek, which was flaking with dry blood, dirt and sweat. He licked his thumb, ignoring the gagging sound that came from the human carrying him through the woods.

“A rabbit. It dug itself a burrow over my face and woke me up.” He said, voice muffled over the thumb in his mouth.

Dried blood and dirt weren’t the most pleasant of tastes, but it was better than nothing. Better to focus on this than the warmth carrying him.

“Oh… Ok that makes sense how you got out. And… And why are you covered in its blood?”

“...I got hungry.” He said, casually like he was talking about the weather.

Nathan turned even paler and nearly retched himself.

“Ok. Ok ok ok. Yep, ok. Totally normal there. Let’s um… let’s get you somewhere safe and bandage you up. And then we can get you clean.”

Abaddon said nothing. He leaned against his patriarch's chest, and closed his eyes. Not in sleep, but in exhaustion.

~~~~~~~~~♥♡♥~~~~~~~~~

Nathan knew what escaping a cult was like. 

He knew damn well the horror stories that came from within those places, from the tamer hippies to the truly disturbed. He knew them well, having escaped 12 in the last decade and a half. He knew them better than most, even if he kept joining him during the moments of darkness that suffocated him until he could somewhere, anywhere that would force life back into him even if it was to drain it again,

And this child - this too small, too thin, bloodied and battered baby - reeked of his night terrors after every one of them. Even down to the outfit he had seen the truly bizarre sectors of religious communities dress their children in.

And the live burial. Nothing screamed cult like live burial.

“What’s your name, little guy?” He asked, if only to keep himself distracted as he took in the blood that just looked wrong on a face that young.

“I am Abaddon.” The kid introduced himself, still licking his hand clean of blood and filth.

Poor kiddo must have been starving if he was eating dirt. Nathan had known hunger like that in Cult #4 and #11. And a name like Abaddon? Nathan heard that name before, from way back in Cult #2, in a few loose interpretations of the bible and random texts. He didn’t remember what that figure was, but he vaguely heard it relating to a demon in a pit.

It had to be a cult. No normal person would name their child after a demon unless some freaky occult shit was involved. And none would bury their child alive right afterwards and starve them to the point of slaughtering wildlife to eat raw.

“Abaddon, huh? Weird name for a child, but who am I to judge?” He laughed, trying to play it off even as his stomach was twisting.

“I am not a child. I am a demon.” Abaddon said, chewing on his nails now that he was out of blood and dirt to eat.

He said it so casually. So matter-of-fact like that it seemed more like a common truth to him rather than conditioning.

Nathan’s blood ran cold with terror.

Oh yeah.

Cult.

~~~~~~~~~♥♡♥~~~~~~~~~

Abaddon would always fight a bath, no matter how much he appreciated the company of Nathan, and no matter how gentle his hands were or how soft his voice was or how the water was just warm enough to make him feel sleepy and heavy. He was a demon of hellfire and ruin, and water was not something pleasant for him unless he had the pressure of a later engulfing him.

“No! No no no!” Abaddon hissed, clawing and kicking like a feral feline as he was stripped of his bloodied clothing. “Unhand me at once! Release me from your grasp! You dare undress Abaddon? Prince of - Give those back!”

He hissed and reached for the pants that were stolen off his vessel like a common vagabond being robbed.

Unfortunately, his struggles did little to spare him from the soapy water. His limbs were still loose like jelly, and his lungs were heavy with dirt that had yet to be expelled. He was lowered into the bathtub, which had an embarrassingly low amount of water as if Nathan was afraid to drown him, and screeched as loud as he could, as if the water melted his very flesh.

Alas, it was difficult to scream with dirt packed into your airway, and he ended up coughing up more clumps of dirt into a bowl that Nathan had placed in front of him. Abaddon looked in horror as he recognized what had been his cereal bowl as the sacrificial object.

Time is cruel to him yet again.

“There we go, bud. Feeling better?”

“I do not! I demand you release me from this wet prison! I am not a child for you to bathe, nor a babe to be scrubbed with… with bubblegum scents! I am a nightmare taken form! I command legions of- AAUGHH!!”

A cup of warm water was splashed over his hair.

Abaddon hissed and attempted to escape again. It did nothing but make a few feeble splashes in the water that was already turning brown and thick. Nathan simply pushed him back down again, and with hands that were gentle enough to make him freeze, began to scrub the first layers of dirt and blood out of his skin.

“We’re going to need more than one rinse, kiddo. Is the water alright?”

Abaddon pouted and looked away, trying to keep the last shreds of his dignity intact. Even worse, Nathan has told him no when he attempted to drink the shampoo in protest.

The first day was always difficult.

~~~~~~~~~♥♡♥~~~~~~~~~

It had taken three rinses and more shampoo than was necessary to get Abaddon clean enough to see his skin. And frankly, Nathan felt sick as he finished rinsing off the suds with the detachable hose and saw the boy’s chest.

“A-Abaddon, buddy. What is this here?” He tried to keep his voice calm. He really did. But the sight on his chest, faded and scarred and incredibly painful to look at, made it impossible to keep himself calm from the rage and grief bubbling in his stomach. He almost reached for the bowl to lose his breakfast.

Instead, he blinked until his eyes cleared back up. Abaddon looked completely unbothered, and looked so very small as he stared down at the mark burned into his chest. Nathan prayed, somehow, that it wasn’t what he thought it was.

“A brand. Given to me by a priest. It is healed. Do not worry about it.” Abaddon shrugged, and made another attempt to escape the tub.

Nathan grabbed him on instinct, and started moving again. He ignored the way Abaddon squirmed as he was lathered up with enough conditioner to hopefully tackle the tangled mess of hair that had taken over his little head.

“O-Ok… Ok, yeah.” He whispered to himself.

He wasn’t sure how he got the bath done without Abaddon scratching him to hell and back, or how he managed to keep him still while he cut his nails. Even worse, he didn’t remember how he managed to pull him out to dry him, and then wrap him up in a large hotel towel in such a way that it resembled a swaddle more than a wrap.

Which he couldn’t blame himself for. The last time that he was around children, it was when Esther was born and he had gone to a Mommy and Me class with his sister while her deadbeat husband attempted another MLM scheme.

“Patriarch.” Abaddon said, after giving up on freeing himself from the swaddle.

“Yeah, kiddo?” Nathan asked in reflex as he carried his new ward - yes, that sounded right. Cult children were rarely on the grid, and there was no way he would allow Abaddon to fall into a system that would only traumatize him more - up the stairs to one of the only safe bedrooms.

“I require PB&J after this insulting display of care.” 

Nathan felt tears spring to his eyes, but he kept it together enough to smile.

“Sure bud. Whatever you want.”

Chapter Text

Abaddon wasn’t very hungry, but he liked the food that Nathan made. It wasn’t fancy, like the foods the matriarch would make for supper or the ones that she would buy him while out in town to keep him from screaming, but they were nice because Nathan had made them. There were… only so many meals Nathan would make him in the time they had when he could still hold items.

He watched from his spot on the couch as Nathan began to make a sandwich for him, having strangely brought all the ingredients to Abaddon despite him laying in the living room, wrapped in a towel prison.

PB&J sandwiches were nice, even if Nathan had so little food stocked up that he had no milk, just water. And he didn’t feel like crawling under the sink to grab the tangy and bitter juice that they kept stock to pour down the sink later (a waste, if anyone asked him, which they rarely did as they would try to take it away before he could take a few gulps).

Nathan took a look at Abaddon, and then winced.

“Hey bud, want a banana in here too? You… uh… You look a bit thin, so I think you should eat something more.”

Abaddon tilted his head. This was very different. Nathan had never mentioned his size before, nor had anyone unless it was to insult him for being so puny and powerless. The only person who had ever mentioned anything remotely close was the matriarch, and that was simply to scold him for eating so many things that “no normal human would eat,” and even that was only to complain about the cost of replacing the cleaning supplies.

But if he was offering, it wouldn’t hurt to have more food. He burned so much energy that he was never really full, and it had been a while since he last ate something that was not a small rabbit. Food from Nathan was… a luxury now.

“That would be acceptable.” He said, and managed to wiggle a hand out of his towel prison.

He accepted the first sandwich with a free hand, chewing ravenously as soon as it hit his tongue. Hunger was not pleasant, not really, but he didn’t realize how much it hurt until he had been given something to stop it. Pain was always there nowadays, and he had grown too tired to notice it.

“Woah. Slow down, bud. You’re going to choke if you just swallow chunks like that.”

It was strange. It was very strange in this timeline.

Nathan had never sounded… like that in any other time. It was enough to get Abaddon to stop chewing, even if his body was trying to fill his stomach. Nathan’s voice had never not been bouncy and sweet, with enough energy in it that even Abaddon couldn’t help but notice the joy that he infected others with when hearing it. Now it was all… soft and low and dead.

He didn’t have that voice until... 

His eyes widened into pinpricks, hands squeezing the sandwich so hard that he could hear the squelching of jelly as it seeped through his fingers and felt the tearing of the white bread under his nails. His breath stopped in his throat, and even the bite he had taken was stuck in his esophagus. Right next to the lump that was forming.

Had… Had Abaddon come too late? Has Nathan already started his downward turn? Did he have less time with him than he had thought? Had his sleep ruined this timeline before it even began?

Was he…

He couldn’t! Not yet!

“Hey! Hey, Abaddon! Hey buddy…” 

Abaddon was ashamed to have flinched when he was lifted up into his strong arms, and he couldn’t help but completely freeze in place. His arms hung limply to the side, hands dropping the half eaten sandwich onto the couch. He wanted to hug back, as that’s what Nathan had always enjoyed in the previous times, but his body was… stuck. Yes, stuck.

“I wasn’t trying to scold you. You did nothing wrong. You’re not in trouble. I just didn’t want you to choke. It’s not your fault. Not your fault at all. You eat, ok? Eat until you’re full.” Nathan said as he rubbed his back. “No need to be scared here. Uncle Nathan won’t take your food away.”

What?

Abaddon was very confused. Take his food away? That was new as well. Nathan had never once taken meals away before. On the contrary, he had always given Abaddon more than was necessary, even after discovering him to be a demon and not needed the sustenance as much as the man. Even during the last months, when Nathan was drained and spent more time on the couch than moving, he had given Abaddon everything he had.

Which he later learned was also an omen for what was to come.

“Here. Finish this up. I’m going to grab a few fruits for you. See if we can eat a little more than just bread and peanut butter.”

Abaddon was released back onto the couch, and the sandwich was placed back into his small hand. He was so confused that he had no response to give as Nathan got up and made his way into the kitchen.

Did he enter the wrong timeline?

~~~~~~~~~♥♡♥~~~~~~~~~

Nathan almost collapsed onto the island counter, eyes burning and lungs squeezing across his back. His hands shook as he steadied himself, willing himself through sheer force alone to not let out a high-pitch whine of pure empathy for the little boy sitting on the battered couch in the living room. It was not easy, and he pushed his face into a washcloth to keep the harsh breaths at bay.

A kid that tiny should never have that look of fear. Not ever, and especially not from an adult telling them to slow down when eating. And he had been eating fast…

Who had starved this poor baby so long that he tore a rabbit apart with his teeth, and then swallowed chunks of food whole because seconds of chewing would mean seconds more of hunger pains and bile burning your throat and stomach acid making-

He pushed the memories of Cult #4 down and grabbed the stem of bananas, slightly overripe but still edible, from the pantry. He stood for a moment, just staring at the browning fruits, and then grabbed the emergency powdered milk that he kept from his last drive to the food pantry from his last visit to town. He knew better than to over-feed someone that had been that hungry, but a little milk would be enough to ease the pain so that Abaddon wouldn’t make himself sick.

And hopefully take the edge off of making Abaddon believe he would lose his food over a small mistake.

He was ashamed at how long he spent in the kitchen, staring at the water in the glass before finally mustering up the nerve to move his hand and start scooping powder into the glass. It took even more times, minutes that should have taken him seconds, to grab the items and return to the spot where the hungry little boy sat waiting.

Waiting and scared. Hungry. Sad, maybe? Definitely in shock. Perhaps a little bit numb?

Nathan could guess, even though he didn’t want to.

No child deserved that.

The sight he arrived at was nothing short of heartbreaking. Abaddon had escaped his towel swaddle, leaving him mostly bare to the warm summer air, and was now scooping jam straight out of the jar and into his mouth. His face was a mess again, and so were his hands and his hair and even the couch, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel any anger or annoyance.

It just hurt.

“You’re out of this.” Abaddon said as he handed the jar back to Nathan, sticky and covered in teeth marks as if he tried to force out more food from the plastic casing.

Nathan swallowed hard and set the jar down.

“That’s alright. I can grab more. I’m due to go to the store again soon anyways, so this just means it goes on the list.”

Abaddon wasn’t listening. He had reached for the peanut butter jar and had stuck his hand inside to finish off that jar as well. There wasn’t much left, but Abaddon was fishing for it with the determination of someone who was certain that they would die if they went another moment without it. Looking around, he saw that the half loaf of bread was also gone, with the packaging torn apart by tiny teeth as well.

Damn. Dammit…

Nathan decided to let him be. He sat the milk down, along with the bananas, and left the room to find some wipes for the mess. And some clothes to put him in while he attempted to wash the ones Abaddon came with. He didn’t want to just throw out the only possession Abaddon owned, even if it probably came from a cult. That was all he could really do.

~~~~~~~~~♥♡♥~~~~~~~~~

Abaddon had no interest in the ghosts of the hotel. He never really did, even when they knew of him and had tried to continue their imprisonment of him long after they had left the mortal world. He didn’t see the point of getting to know them, no matter how many lifetimes of theirs he had replayed again and again. 

He did not like him. They did not care for him much.

That was how it had always been, and how it will always be.

Except, that was not the case here. It was not the case at all, and that was far more unsettling than anything had ever been in the last dozen loops.

“Hello, darling.” A ghost woman had said to him after Nathan had left the room, kneeling by his feet where he sat on the couch. “You’re the little one that came in with Nathan? Are you lost?”

He blinked at her, surprised that she had spoken to him. He did not remember her name, nor did he truly care to learn it, but he vaguely remembered that when she was in life, she had been one of the ones who threw him to the bottom of the lake after eating her garden, soil and all, one spring. He almost didn't recognize her now that she was not screaming at him and trying to bludgeon him with her shovel.

He tried to respond, to command her to leave, but alas! He had been trapped, mouth sealed shut by the delicious glue of peanuts and oil that he had been devouring so carelessly!

“Mmmm.” Was all he managed to get out, along with a glare so fierce that it should have caused her to flee in terror.

Instead, she used her ghostly hand to… attempt to pet his cheek? 

Did the timeline change enough that this was considered a form of shooing him away? Maybe attempt to push him down so he would stop soiling the couch with his feasting? He didn't think she had any authority in this hotel to command him, even if he was making a mess of himself, and she was hardly going to tell him what to do in his own domain! Regardless, even if he could not feel it, he moved away from her. 

Only one person was allowed to touch his face, anyway.

“I should have asked first before I tried to touch you. I’m sorry.” She said, pulling her hand back.

Abaddon blinked, and looked at her hand phasing through the couch. That was...

Perhaps he did phase into a different timeline after all.

“You cannot touch me. You are a ghost.” He said, though it came out muffled and sounded closer to a series of hums rather than words.

He started to chew again.

“Oh, don’t worry! I’m a ghost, yes, but you don’t have to be afraid. We couldn’t hurt you if he wanted to.” She cooed, her voice honey sweet.

It made his skin crawl, and little bumps appear along his arms.

“That is false. You could.” He corrected once he could speak again, even if it was still muffled and garbled from the peanut butter. “Ghosts hold power over demons, and I am a demon. So naturally, you could hurt me if you wished to.”

Strange that she did not know that. 

It was a common knowledge among ghosts, an inherent fact that was printed upon their souls once they awoke again into their eternal afterlife. Perhaps she was defective, like the toys that came in a box Esther once got for him from a store that were sadly exchanged for less… fun ones a day later (he did prefer the mangled-looking ones to the soft, smiling ones).

Perhaps she was, with the puzzled look that she gave him.

“Demon? Darling, I don’t-”

He didn’t care what else she was going to ask. He shoved another scoop of the thick, peanut goodness into his mouth and started to chew, hand and all. She made a few concerning noises, but nothing that he concerned himself about.

What did he care about the opinions of these mortals? They were not the family he had grown attached to, and they would not affect his mission. Caring about it was too much right now, and he had a jar of peanut butter to finish.

~~~~~~~~~♥♡♥~~~~~~~~~

Eventually, she ended up leaving. And Nathan did return, just as Abaddon finished off the jar and was starting to chew on the plastic. Plastic was not as nice as the glass jars that the matriarch preferred to keep, but it would do to satisfy his craving for chewing one something sharp.

Nathan, however, took it away before he was able to break through it enough to get a good chew started. Abaddon barely had time to pout about it before he was pulled into Nathan’s lap and given a scrub down with wet wipes on his face, chest, arms and anywhere that he managed to get peanut butter and jelly on. 

“Unhand me! How dare you? Cease with this- AH!! You dare manhandle the vessel of a Prince of Hell? You dare- bleh!”

Abaddon gagged as the wipe managed to brush against his tongue, the bitter mixing with the sweetness of his feast to create an unpleasant concoction. No amount of screams and thrashing to be released got him mercy, and he was promptly cleaned until his skin was as soft and smooth as when he first came out of the bath.

He hissed and spat, yet went limp as he was dried off once more and then, to his humiliation and horror, dressed in a robe his size that almost engulfed him.

“I know this isn’t the best, but it was the only one I could find in the stuff in the attic. I dusted it off as much as I could, but I’m sorry if it still smells a little like dust. Didn’t have time to clean it, and I’m not sure how to clean… whatever material this is.” Nathan said as he finished placing - Abaddon’s face burned red at this - little socks on his feet.

Abaddon knew this robe. It was the robe from the second asylum, the one that children who were brought there wore when they were placed into the care of the staff. There were not many that survived, and this robe had the faint smell of death to it.

It was comforting to be around something familiar, even if this robe was clearly meant for a female child. But he would put up with it.

He steamed in his anger as he was lifted up and carried away from the couch.

“Now um… Now let’s go find a doctor, ok? I know we have at least one here, even if he’s… Oh, I should probably mention-”

“I am aware of ghosts.” Abaddon said, looking around to the ones poking their heads out of walls and doors to see what was going on.

Nathan pulled his sweater around Abaddon, as if shielding his little form from the prying eyes.

“You are? Oh… Oh, that would make sense with your… um… condition…”

Con- Oh? Did… Did Nathan figure out Abaddon was a demon? That was also new. Abaddon had told him earlier, but it had taken Nathan at least a few days to figure out that Abaddon was telling the truth and was not just some boy that liked to mess with the adults.

That will make this easier, then.

And maybe now that Nathan was aware earlier, that would make it easier for them to believe him when the time came to defeat his followers and save Esther.

But then, if Nathan was aware, why did he need a doctor? Perhaps it was less for Abaddon? Doctors healed people, and maybe he was looking for Abaddon to heal him before he broke again?

Oh well. He would figure it out.

He had always figured it out, before he broke everything again.

“Very well. Proceed, then.”

He clung to Nathan’s shirt.

Chapter Text

Nathan knew a few of the ghosts here, but not enough that he knew all their professions by heart. Or that he ever asked, since the ghosts were more inclined to discuss their hauntings and their afterlives with him rather than the lives they led while living. Something about how being a living himself made things awkward, which he understood. He thought he understood, at least?

“Hey! I need a doctor over here! For a living boy! Preferably one for human kids, but I understand if we don’t have one of those!” He paused, then cleared his throat. “Not that being another doctor isn’t important! It totally is! I wouldn’t mind one of those too, but this is a little boy.”

Abaddon hissed something under his breath, but Nathan held him tighter to his chest. He was probably terrified, but he at least wasn’t trying to run or squirm away like he was in the bath. And he must be so tired after all that stress of almost dying, being rescued by a random man in the woods, and then given a bath he clearly hated.

It seems Abaddon wasn’t great with touch, which made sense for what he had gone through, but was letting Nathan hold him and carry him places he had never been to. And despite his screaming and thrashing in the bath, he had taken great care to not bite or scratch at Nathan while he was attempting to flee.

Nathan wasn’t sure if that meant he had trusted him, or if Abaddon was just conditioned to follow along with any form of authority. He hoped it was the former. He was too small to be that scared of the world.

It took a while to be able to find someone that remotely resembled a doctor, and it was one that Nathan would have rather avoided for this type of situation. Not that he had anything personal against Dr. Addison. He was sure that he was a nice man if he got to know him… for a while. It’s just that when you were a doctor at a prison and then, rather than retiring when the prison became an asylum, you became a doctor there too… It just puts a bit of a damper on things when someone is looking for help for a very traumatized and terrified little boy.

The bloodstains covering his scrubs weren’t much help there either. The bloodstained room in the basement was even less helpful.

“Hey Doc!” Nathan greeted, trying to keep his voice light so as to not freak out the kid in his arms. “Mind if I take a bit of your time? We’re in a bit of a bind, and I need some of that doctor goodness you have going on there.”

Abaddon blinked at the bloodied man, and curled up even closer to Nathan. The doctor was a massive man, even for Nathan’s beanpole stature, with muscles that came from the years of lifted inmates to toss around or holding down the mentally ill for procedures that resembled torture more than treatment. Not that Abaddon ever had to know that, and Nathan would never let the kid go through any of the methods the doctor swore worked at the time for the weak-minded.

(Nathan didn’t hate people, but he did feel that familiar pinch of disgust and anger when it came to dealing with this ghost. He was… one of the few Nathan wasn’t trying to interact with on a personal level)

Nathan blinked back tears and adjusted the kid so that he was hiding just a bit away from Dr. Addison’s dark gaze. Poor Abaddon.

He must be so frightened.

~~~~~~~~~♥♡♥~~~~~~~~~

Abaddon was annoyed. 

Or perhaps angry, and more than a little disgusted that Nathan would seek help from someone like this. This interrogator of broken minds who then broke bodies while guarding the prisons that came before the hotel, who would always attempt to catch Abaddon to add to his collection of broken dolls he carved from the flesh of those still living, where he broke past the squishy barrier of the mind until he was left with little more than a husk to parade around, and then remove to make room for another husk-to-be.

Abaddon respected the ruthlessness, but it was not a fate that he cared to have Nathan undergo, even if Nathan’s mind was something that could also have been described as broken. Abaddon did not care to have it broken even further.

He attempted to push Nathan away, to steer him in another direction so that they might find him more suitable assistance to fit his status as a demon’s chosen favorite, but his limbs were still like heavy lead and Nathan, probably seeing through his plans for escape, held him tighter in his prison of warmth.

Damn him! Had those 300 years of sleep weakened him to where he could not even push a mortal (not that he could ever, but he was not one to accept failure)!

“Patriach, I do not like him. Get us away from him at once!” He tried to demand, but it was muffled by Nathan pushing Abaddon’s head into his shoulder. “Release me! We are leaving and finding another healer!”

Even his kicking did nothing but make tiny tapping sounds against Nathan’s sides.

“Hey, it’s alright. Ghosts can’t hurt ya. He’s a doctor. He’s going to take a look at you, make sure you’re healthy. See how old you are…”

Him? Why would they take a look at him if they were here to get help for Nathan?

“I am not going to let that man touch me! Put me down! I demand my immediate release!”

Abaddon was put down, strangely, but onto one of the beds in the room. He wanted to run, but couldn’t. He would outrun Nathan, and he was not going to do that here. This was one of the rooms that Abaddon would help him clear in every timeline, a small detail that never changed, along with his attempts to vanish the ghost that resided here too.

Plus, it was difficult to run when Nathan was holding him still by the shoulders, even if the grip was laughably weak. More steadying than restrictive.

“Hey there, little buddy.” 

Abaddon hissed and glared at the ghost. He didn’t care for any of the ghosts in this place, as they all blended together in a cycle of tormenting them and their deaths, only to return to torment them in that little town that grew around the settlement.

But this one was one he disliked more than others. The second asylum was his least favorite time to come through, only because he had been a target that they were unable to catch except a few times. And while he frankly did not care too much about those imprisoned behind these walls, Nathan was Abaddon’s. No one tormented him without his approval.

Nathan was not getting anything from his man.

“Hey, Doc. This is Abaddon. We were just wondering if you can do a once over on him. Make sure he’s alright. Possibly tell us how old he is. Or anything…”

Wait, him? Was this not for Nathan? Or perhaps…?

“I will not be ‘looked over’! You dare assume that you can gaze upon the great Abaddon?! The Cobra King? You dare assume that I would just roll over like a beast and allow you to examine my mighty vessel?”

Abaddon was ignored by the doctor, who just turned to Nathan with a smile.

“Would you get him on the scale in the corner? I can tell you how to get his weight and height if you want to just hold him still.”

“NO! AUGHHHH!” Abaddon screamed as he was lifted up again, and then plopped down on the strange device in the room’s corner with many dials and turns. “I will not be moved like this? Me? A Prince of darkness, the likes that makes mortals tremble? I will not be-”

Nathan gently pushed his back to the device in front of the giant stick with horizontal lines drawn across it.

“There we go, bud. See? Nothing to be scared of. Now, I just need you to stay still right here and just stand up straight. Press your back against here.”

Abaddon growled but did as he was told. Only because Nathan had requested it, and Abaddon owed him more favors than he could count.

“I don’t have much experience with children. At least, not ones that didn’t come in already damaged that required treatment.” Dr. Addison said, giving Abaddon a once over.

Abaddon hissed and attempted to scratch him with his newly trimmed nails, but all it did was cause the doctor to laugh as it phased right through him. He tried again, and again, and finally gave up when Nathan held his wrists up to keep him still.

It was insulting. But it was Nathan, so he let it slide just this once.

~~~~~~~~~♥♡♥~~~~~~~~~

The exam was decent. Despite Abaddon screaming at every touch, and his attempt to climb up the walls to get away from them, they had managed to at least get some information down that Nathan wrote on a scrap of questionable looking papers with a stick of charcoal. Of course, half of those papers were now all over the floor from when Abaddon had knocked over the shelf holding them in his attempt to dive face first into the vents.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was written on those, so he kept them turned over.

After finishing and letting Abaddon flee to the other end of the long room, right into the piles of junk Nathan had been meaning to get rid of for a year now, Dr. Addison’s smile dropped completely, He turned to Nathan with a look that made him want to shiver and take a very long shower. He looked no worse than normal, but that was not saying much since his ghostly form didn’t feel any of the bites, kicks and scratches aimed at him.

Not that Abaddon could kick very hard right now.

“45.2 pounds. 42 inches tall.” The doctor shook his head. “Normal parameters if he was 4 or 5, which he clearly isn’t. He’s very small, David. And thin.”

“Nathan. It’s Nathan.” Nathan corrected… again. “And I know. He was starving when I found him. I’m more interested in how to fix this. How old do you think he is?”

Nathan saw Abaddon get on all fours and begin to crawl across the dirty floor, sniffing around like an animal for something interesting. It broke his heart a little more with each crawl. Dr. Addison, however, just looked in disapproval.

“Based on weight and height, for a healthy child, that puts him between 4 and 7. Kids grow at different rates, and it depends on his genetics as well if he’s on the larger or smaller side. However, based on the paleness and dryness of his skin, and the speech being a bit more advanced than most, he might be older and just… stunted.” Dr. Addison crossed his arms, watching from the sidelines as Adaddon crawled himself over to the toy chest in the far room to rummage through the stuffed toys and baby supplies. “If he were in my care, he would have been on a strict feeding diet in the sick bay and would have round-the-clock monitoring.”

The doctor grimaced as he saw Abaddon sink his teeth into a stuffed animal head and tear it right from the seams. Even more disturbing, Abaddon laughed victoriously and tore the stuffing out of the belly as well.

Nathan was more worried about Abaddon’s teeth than anything, and that possibly eating the stuffing from a toy from an insane asylum was not the best idea. And the certainly couldn’t have tasted that good, but he wasn’t sure that Abaddon even knew what things were supposed to taste like if he was starving like that.

Poor kid.

“And a muzzle.”

Nathan laughed nervously and stood a bit more firmly in front of the line of sight to Abaddon.

“Well, we aren’t going to muzzle him here. Sounds a bit extreme for just a bit of rougher play. Kids bite all the time.” He waved off, joking but firm. “Around how old is he, then? Just as a guess.”

Dr. Addison frowned and glared at the man.

“It’s impossible to say without running more tests. Unfortunately, I have no equipment and cannot touch him to feel for abnormalities. And you aren’t competent enough to do it for me.”

“Wow. A little harsh there…”

“I am serious, David-

“Again. Nathan. We have gone over this a few times…”

“- that boy is not healthy. He’s malnourished, feral, and deeply disturbed. If this was one of my patients, he would have been considered high risk and would have gone right into intensive care or solitary to do a complete reset. You don’t want to let him run wild before these habits-”

Abaddon crawled right into the chest of toys, screaming something awful about defeating these creatures that lived in the spot that he claimed as his own.

“-become permanent. Children are like wet clay. Easier to mold, but you have to do the shaping while they’re still soft or you get an imbecile or a lunatic as an adult. You need a firm hand and discipline to correct these cases, no matter how much sympathy you have for them. Sickness of the mind is just as bad as sickness in the body, and that boy is sick in both.”

Nathan took a moment to let that sink in, but the doctor interrupted him before he could get a word out.

“You need a treatment plan. One built on discipline and retraining him in acceptable behaviors so that he will not have that anymore. A feral child grows into a feral adult if a sickness like that is left untreated, and that madness needs to be purged before he becomes too strong for you to handle. Sickness of the mind can ruin a person and you owe it to your new ward to treat it.”

Nathan ignored the pit that was forming in his stomach at that and took a few steps from the doctor. He knew all too well what sickness would do to an adult, and how harsh measures did jack shit to help a person.

“Well then… you know what else cures sickness? A nice bowl of soup, some warm blankets, and a lot of love! Maybe instead of locking him up in a dark room or tying him to beds, a nice big hug and some playtime will do the trick. Children learn best through play, right?”

“David-”

Nathan brushed the charcoal off his hands and set everything down.

“4 to 7, you said? We’ll just go with 6! And get him food? Can do! Thank you! That’s all we came here for! We will be on our way now. I’ll do a bit of research on how to feed him right and we’ll go from there!” Nathan wasted no time in lifting Abaddon up. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s go pick out a room and then we can grab some stuff for dinner in town. Sound good?”

“My prey!” Abaddon flailed, mouth full of cotton as he attempted to keep hold of his shredded pile.

Nathan laughed. He really was so small, and he would be damned before he let anything lock this kid away after all he had been through. Absolutely not. From now on, the only rooms Abaddon would be locked in were the bedrooms and bathrooms, where he could open them as he pleased as well.

“Bring the prey with you. We can even grab you a few new ones. Just don’t tear too many apart, ok?”

Abaddon grabbed as many as he could carry.

~~~~~~~~~♥♡♥~~~~~~~~~

It took a while for Abaddon to have the chance to sneak away and find a small opening into the walls of the manor. Nathan had been distracted by calling on his rectangle of communication, and was ordering the servant on the other end to bring him a “pizza” for supper with the toppings Abaddon had circled on a strange map he was handed.

Nathan had made a little wheeze when Abaddon mentioned that he couldn’t read it, but he didn’t think too much about it. Reading wasn’t something he needed for this task. There were far more important things to worry about.

Like finding that shiny rock necklace in the walls.

In all his timelines, he had sat around while Nathan scrambled together small sheets of the green paper, the pile getting smaller as the days went on until there was nothing left but bigger, red sheets everywhere. And then when they piled up, Nathan was gone.

He was not letting that happen again.

Now, if only he could remember which wall that girl’s bones were stuck in.