ﾉ ცurn ζold—-ภot ৸ot

Her voice is grating. Some, maybe, might find it attractive or even velvety, but not Samhain. It’s like she’s driving nails into his skull with every accursed syllable that leaves her lips. She’s a blight on his existence. The most annoying thing about her, though, is how she acts like this was all his idea. Sure, raising the dead and having them plague the world was his plan, but it was she who suggested the supernatural suppression field. All because she wants to draw Lucifer out into the open, weakened and without any kind of backup, so she can pounce. He doesn’t really understand her obsession with the archangel (Samhain wasn’t a fan even back when the guy ruled Hell), but it’s useful to him. Just like his desire to throw the world into chaos is useful to her. It’s a delicate marriage, one that he might end if she keeps pestering him though. Samhain sighs. He’s not much of a talker, never has been. Talking is for beings that like to hear themselves speak, and he’s more of a doer. But she forces him to talk, and he hates it. When he speaks now, his voice is gruff and laced with annoyance. “The suppression field isn’t stable. It comes in waves, fluxing and flowing. If you don’t get a hold on that, Lucifer’s powers will come back in full and then where will we be?”

A hint of annoyance came in response to Samhain’s comment about the suppression field. She knew that he did not care for her all that much---the feelings were mutual---but they were all they’ve got for this plan to work.

A few steps were taken so she could sit on one of the chairs and crossed her legs, leaning back nonchalantly. “The suppression field takes A LOT of energy and power,” she explained, as-of-matter-of-fact. “You released me just recently, and I already accomplished a lot, have I not? It takes time, my dear. I don’t like it either, but in order for the whole world to be powerless, it takes a lot of concentration on my part. Besides...” She uncrossed her legs to move the other one on top, “Little Luci will not come back in full, I guarantee that.”

Hell. He’s not really sure what happens after death in this new world. The rules are… no longer obvious, and he begrudges Mac for making such a valid point. Roman obviously doesn’t want to go back to Hell. He’s pretty much just assumed that there’d be a nothingness now; an endless blank expanse where he can simply stop existing for the rest of time. If the dead are roaming the Earth then all bets are off, right? It was a good assumption, a solid one, but he can’t be sure that it’s true. And now he has to face that. Sure, being alive and forced to face… emotions… is a definite kind of Hell in itself, but it’s not worse than the physical place. He’d rather feel sadness and clawing depression for the rest of forever than go back into that burning pit of endless pain and torture. Fuck. His mind is made up, it seems. He grinds his teeth together to stop from groaning as he hauls his ass to his feet, using Mac for support, non-verbally relenting his stance. He hates how easy it was for him to be swayed. He hates that Mac got into his hand with one little, desperate comment. He hates that he’s been forced out of his own head and to accept the reality, however inconclusive it may be. He hates that now he has to live.

* * * * * 

“Samhain,” a velvety voice echoed throughout the hall as heels clinked against the marbled floor. A shadow lingered behind her as she walked, her deep red hair glimmering almost unnaturally in the dim light of the White House. The embodiment of Hell waltzed into what was left of an office that she did not care to even try to learn the name of; humanly possessions bored her so.

“So, I’ve done what you asked,” she continued, stopping a few feet away from the other with her arms crossed over her flowing, long, black dress. “What is our next step? If you want me to keep helping, you will have to be specific with what you need, my dear.”

Helena was growing impatient, really only interested in torturing souls---well, mainly one soul in particular. Lucifer’s. She missed their quality time when he was in the Cage, and wasn’t able to find anything else in her existence as fulfilling as that.

       The minor spark of surprise was no reason to give pause, nevertheless he allowed a moment of though to pass on the matter. “As expected, given that rather time-consuming hobby of theirs,” Lucifer initially replied, as hunters rarely took time for themselves. “They only see you as my vessel, I wouldn’t take it personally. Either way, I’m in need of something in the bunker and while I could get it myself, I’d prefer to keep off their radar for now. They’re prone to getting in the WAY.” And in retrospect killing them was optional and easy, yet he still needed Sam alive.

       There it is, Nick thought to himself after Lucifer starting giving him more of his PLAN. He watched the other closely, trying to keep his demeanor nerve-free in the presence of the archangel. Despite their connection being something that kept him calm, it was only truly the time that Lucifer had taken over when Nick felt at complete PEACE. Taking the reigns of his own body was somewhat anxiety-inducing.

Roman stares up the sky. Unlike the ground, the sky is clear and the stars are twinkling brightly above. He vaguely hears Mac approaching, then speaking, but he doesn’t respond right away. He’s only just barely managing to ignore the shooting pain in his arm that seems to be spreading out to the rest of his body… like a wildfire in a dried out forest. He doesn’t want to move, both because it hurts and because he’d honestly rather just die down here. “Go back up,” he whispers. He can only just barely make out Mac’s face through the darkness, the edges of his features lit up by the pale moonlight. It’d be a poetic moment if not so pathetic. “I don’t want to go back with you. Leave me here and go.” He just… doesn’t want to fight this fight anymore, this war inside of him. He’s so tired. He had assumed they were higher up in the building than the second goddamn floor… if only he’d been right, he wouldn’t have to be dealing with this anymore. “Mac, I… I want to die, okay? I can’t make that any clearer. Please.”

“No,” Mac answered firmly. He couldn’t just stand by and not do anything... he would not be able to live with himself if he left Roman to die---especially a death as gruesome as being zombie food. He brought two hands to the former demon and started lifting him from his armpits. “C’mon, we gotta go back up,” the Djinn continued, despite knowing that his companion did not want to go.

There have been too many times that he’s been useless, and this wasn’t going to be the time now. He might not have his powers, but he still had his determination, which was what got him away from his old life anyway. You can do this, Mac! he thought to himself.

      He allowed his gaze to linger on the other just a little bit longer, aware of exactly how much TRUST Nick placed in the archangel. After a few moments of silence, Lucifer finally addressed him. “You’d be surprised how much you could help me out,” he mentioned. His immediate compliance was expected – and seeing as Lucifer knew him rather well, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t be willing to do.

      “A bit of information for now. For starters, how affiliated are you with the Winchesters?”

There’s a loud ringing in both of Roman’s ears. This isn’t what he expected death to sound like. He didn’t expect death to sound like anything at all. He’s not exactly sure what he expected death to be like the second time around. Would he end up back in Hell? Purgatory this time maybe? Or would it be nothingness. He would like nothingness. This is all stuff he probably should’ve given more thought before jumping off a building. Still, there’s no sound in nothingness, so clearly that option is out of the running. Sadly. He manages to roll over onto his back and open his eyes. Shit. His back, his eyes. His physical body. All of which he can still feel and move, which means… “Oh you’ve got to be shitting me,” he groans, probably louder than he should be. But right now he’s not focused on the fact that the undead could be anywhere around him, his thoughts are too busy being split between the intense burning sensation now forming in his arm and the fact that he’s still fucking alive.

I can’t see anything, Mac thought to himself as he squinted through the fog. He held his breath as he first ran back inside to grab his weapon from the backpack. He made his way to the edge of the escape to get to the moveable ladder, and he unlatched it and it slid down, to which he quickly grabbed onto and climbed down. There was probably only a foot or so between the end of the ladder and the ground, but the fog was so thick that it was hard to tell. Mac let go and landed gently on his feet. He wasn’t able to see very well, so he whispered the other’s name. “Roman?”

That was when the Djinn heard a groan and a voice that he’d grown to recognize the few hours he was with the had-been demon. The voice sounded close, but he wasn’t certain if there weren’t any roamers that were being attracted to all the noise the other was doing.

He poured the cereal into the bowls and then turned to face Roman, except there was no one there. A frown formed on his face as he looked around the room with no answer to his unspoken question.

"...Roman???" he called out, placing the bowls where they were seated earlier. It was in that moment that he noticed a breeze that cooled the room a bit. "What...?" He turned to see the window open, to which he brought a hand to his mouth as he muttered shit! under his breath. Rushing over to the window, he caught glimpse of a blur moving from the railing and towards the ground.

Roman grinds his hips up against Mac’s with the sole purpose of driving the other man mad. This is something he knows about; this is something he can do and not have to think over first. This makes sense. He deepens the kiss, his hands traveling under Mac’s shirt, feeling every inch of his skin. It helps that Mac is, for lack of a less romantic description, kinda beautiful. With his perfect skin and bright eyes, and even his ridiculous cartoonish hair color! It all works. And the way he flirts without even realizing he’s flirting, it’s all just… a package. A very nice, warm, inviting package. One Roman’s looking forward to unwrapping. He’s about to just that, when… when. He feels it. It’s like something that’s been sitting on his shoulders finally lets up and flies away. It’s like being hit by a freight train but also like having every fiber of his set on fire in all the best ways. He pulls away from the kiss, unable to focus on anything else as his powers return. It’s only for the briefest of moments, but he can feel the strength flowing through his muscles, the skip in his step he’s been missing for oh-so-very long coming back. He even feels it when his eyes flash black. For this one moment, in all but mind, he’s a demon again. And then… it’s gone. Just like that. The blackness of his eyes breaks apart and dissipates along with all the sudden strength and invincibility he just felt. It’s like coming down off as a massive high. The highest of highs. Is this what it was like for Mac earlier, when he regained his powers just long enough to save Roman’s life? He hates it. It’s worse than before. His original transition into a human was gradual, not sudden and all-at-once. He wishes the powers never came back. It’s like tasting ecstasy and then having it ripped away. He falls away from Mac and just… sits there on the floor, staring into space. His thoughts are… a mess… but through it all he knows one thing for certain: He never, ever, wants to experience this feeling again.

One moment the two of them are embracing one another in an electrifying passion, and then just as quickly as it started, it had stopped. Mac opened his eyes in confusion at Roman pulling away, brows furrowed as he looked over at him. “Are you oka---” he started to ask, but that was when he saw it.

Oh...my...god...

Did Roman’s eyes just flash black? He knew the guy was a supernatural being, but Mac never expected... this! 

Well, just because the guy’s a demon doesn’t mean that... it doesn’t mean that he was planning on doing anything to Mac...right? The redhead sat up straight and watched as Roman pulled away completely and sat mindlessly there on the floor... no words, no nothing.

Okay, well, he was really going to let himself die out there. It’s not like he knew you were there, right? So you came in and saved him, and if he wanted you gone he could have just gotten rid of you once he saw your hideout. All he wanted was alcohol, and he seemed sad. Mac was trying to reason with himself as he thought about what he was supposed to do next.

Demons were humans that made bad choices that ultimately led them to Hell, so they were human but just twisted versions of themselves. If Roman was a demon who’s been turned human, maybe that humanity can be tapped into again. Yes, he wasn’t going to let the other down.