Audrey wraps her arms tightly around him with squeezed-shut eyes. She pulls back enough to speak against his clothes.

“…Yeah. Yeah, I know. The 6th is in a week. And you don’t want to wind up making the same mistake,” she whispers. “It’s okay. I understand. I’ll see you first thing afterward, though. Maybe we can have dinner again, or you can play something and I’ll sing with you. A-all right?”

Audrey stirs first, still a bit sleepy, and lifts her head. Normally, by this time of morning, she's already out the door. But she doesn't really have anywhere to be today, so staying and making some breakfast seems to be in order.

Voodoo is sleep-warmed and still snoozing beneath her, and with a smile, she frees a hand to poke his smudged, painted nose.

She suppresses a giggle as he rounds the corner into awareness, and blinks sleepily at her.

She greets affectionately.

A/N: Another collective idea between Lily and I. X3 

“I told you, I –” he begins, but he’s interrupted by the jingle of the bones above his shop door that alert him when someone enters.

“Well, don’t mind me, see who it is,” Satan muses with a knowing smirk.

Voodoo grows pale beneath his makeup as he turns and comes around the corner, his eyes greeted with the familiar and usually welcomed sight of Audrey. But she isn’t welcome here tonight. Didn’t he tell her not to come around near the sixth of the month? It’s this week, and yet she’s here.

“Audrey…? What – What are you doing here, love? You need to leave, I told you not to come around near this time, it’s not a good time –” Voodoo panics, glancing between the teen and Satan in the other room, unseen by the girl but well within eyesight for him.

“VD? Hey, it’s okay. I know you wouldn’t hurt me, and anyway, it’s still a bit early, right? I thought it would be okay to stop by and –”

“No, no, you really can’t be here right now, okay? You –”

“My, my, who’s this fetching young thing, Voodoo?” Satan purrs, entering the shop and moving to wrap her arm around Voodoo’s waist. He is visibly uncomfortable, sweating at his hairline, and he prays Audrey runs now, as far and as fast as humanly possible. He tries waving a hand down by his leg to tell her to shoo, but the girl is looking between him and Satan with a mixed expression of confusion and hurt and embarrassment.

“I… Oh, u-um, hello. I-I’m sorry if I’m interrupting anything,” she blushes, peering down at her boots.

“Hmm, yes, you were. So why don’t you skedaddle, child, and leave us to our… adult matters,” the sinister woman replies, starting to twirl a lock of Voodoo’s hair around her finger. He’s trembling, but hiding it by clenching his hands into fists. Audrey doesn’t seem to notice, but he wishes she would. He wishes she could somehow stay and prevent Satan from having her way, but that’s not possible. Satan would hurt Audrey or worse, not leave just because Audrey is here.

“I-I…. Yes, of course. I’m sorry. It was nice meeting you, miss,” Audrey murmurs self-consciously. “You’re… frightfully beautiful.”

“Thank you, dear,” Satan grins deviously. She turns to Voodoo. “Now, why can’t you ever say nice things like that to me~?” she utters in his ear. “I would go easier on you if you did.”

“A-Audrey, you really ought to go now,” Voodoo says hoarsely, and Audrey unroots herself from the floor and nods stiffly, turning and heading back for the door. Something in this place probably feels evil and wrong to her, as very well it should. The embodiment of pure evil is in this very room, after all.

“I-I’ll come back tomorrow,” Audrey says, hesitating when she reaches the door. She glances back at Voodoo and the woman with him, then disappears, her footsteps heard padding through the woods, and then nothing more.

“Ohh, I see,” Satan smirks. “She’s your little friend, isn’t she? How cute. You actually seem to think you can have friends, and that you won’t kill them like you did your precious Norma. And you seem to honestly believe that that girl will stand by you through all of your mistakes! Such a pity, I thought you were less naïve than that, Voodoo.”

“Shut up! I would never hurt her, and she’s very forgiving. You don’t know anything about her, or her and I, so lay off, you stone-hearted bitch,” he growls, finding the courage to break her hold on him and step away from her.

Satan never appears very affected by any resistance or violence he shows her. Instead, she always seems amused and intrigued by his attempts, quirking a brow and smirking. “Would you like to make that a bet?”

Voodoo goes pale. “Wh-what…?”

“If this girl is truly how you say she is, then I won’t drag you to Hell straight away. I will let you grow old and die as Fate intended, and not earlier. You’re doomed to come to Hell anyway, because of the life you’ve led, but at least I can guarantee a longer one. You will have time for marriage or family again, with someone new – heh, maybe that girl? – and you can watch your children grow and you can have that pathetic pleasure of love for a while. Sound good?”

“I’ll take it,” he responds instantly. “What are the conditions?”

“You still have to make sacrifices to me, but I will settle for annually. One body a year is easier to cover up while raising a family, don’t you think? And as for how you’re going to prove this Audrey girl is as forgiving as you say… I’m going to break your psyche. Human beings can rarely accept and forgive insanity. I won’t trigger it straight away; but it will come. And when it does, you might hurt her. When it does, you might say cruel things to her. When it does, she might give up and leave you. And if she leaves you, I win. You die, and join me in Hell, where I will return your sanity. But if she is still kind to you, still forgives you, and keeps coming back… then you win. You get to live, only have annual killings, and I will return your sanity to you after she’s proved herself.”

“…How long until she proves herself?” he wants to know, swallowing hard.

“Oh, it seems like such a trivial time, but let’s say a year. It feels so short to me, but I know a year of insanity can be very long and painful for whoever is dealing with the insane person, so if she lasts that long, you win. A full twelve months. Do you think she can handle it?” Satan cackles.

Voodoo tightens his fists and nods. As firmly as possible, he answers, “I know she can. Audrey doesn’t give up easily, and she’s a good friend. She’s strong, too. She can handle it.”

Satan nods. “As you wish, Voodoo. Shake on it,” she replies, holding out her hand.

This is it, no going back. If he does this, he can live longer, make less sacrifices, and maybe have a chance to have a life again. He only prays Audrey forgives him after his bout of insanity, because he aims to tell her about this deal once it’s all over, and he’s won. They have one, because all of this is banking on the young redhead.

Voodoo shakes Satan’s hand, sealing the deal.

“Exxxcellent,” she hisses, then barks a laugh. “Now, then! Back to tonight. Boy, do I have plans for you…”

He swallows dryly and flinches. He isn’t looking forward to it.

xXxXx

 The following day, the shop has a ‘closed’ sign over the door. Audrey frowns at it; she told Voodoo she would be back; does he not want her to? Is that woman still here?

After some confliction, she starts to worry too much about Voodoo to respect the ‘closed’ sign, and enters around back of the house instead. It’s unlocked, like it usually is, since most people know not to break into a witch doctor’s home. But she isn’t most people.

“Voodoo?” she calls out timidly. The house is quiet and dark, all of the candles unlit and cold. She walks past them unsurely, and calls out again, “VD?”

“…In here, love,” comes a weak reply from his bedroom down the hall.

Audrey makes her way down the hall, and then she sees his room, door open, a soft, dim glow from the few candles at his bedside lit, illuminating his silhouette in his hammock.

“…Are you okay?” she asks quietly, coming over to him and looking him over. His blanket covers from the waist down, but she can see his arms, shoulder, back… He’s covered in nail and teeth marks. That woman’s, clearly; all sharp and claiming, red and raw and some of them with crusted blood. It doesn’t look like he has moved very much, probably too sore to get up or take care of himself. “Oh, Voodoo… She did this to you?”

“I had no choice,” he whispers. He doesn’t roll onto his back to peer at her. And maybe he’s too ashamed to look at her. No matter; Audrey moves around the hammock to the other side, partly blocking the candlelight, but able to face him, at least. He doesn’t make eye contact. He looks… dead inside.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispers, troubled, and leaves the room.

Voodoo sighs heavily, and his body shudders. Everything hurts. Satan used him without remorse, barely giving him time to recover before she was going at him again, and after a while, whenever he came, it was nearly dry and only made his nerves scream in agony, not pleasure. But she kept using him anyhow, and in the end, he’s never been so close to vomiting from exhaustion in his life. He never wants to have sex again, if he can help it. But he knows he will; Satan enjoyed herself, and for all he knows, he’s been more than marked to be her sex slave for eternity, when he gets to Hell.

Audrey returns with a warm, damp cloth, and she uses it to gently caress his skin, wiping away the blood and cleaning the wounds she can see. She peers down at his face, the way his skeletal makeup has smudges and run beyond recognition, and she frowns deeply, because there are evident tear trails from the corners of his eyes to his temples, and then down his cheeks and nose.

She flips the cloth over and lightly pushes on his chest to shift him onto his back. The hammock rocks, and he is too weak and in throbbing pain to disobey. He peers up at her, sad and desperate, and it breaks Audrey’s heart. She leans over him and wipes all of the makeup from his face until he’s perfectly clean and freshened up, and she feels like she just removed a mask.

He has freckles all over his cheeks and forehead and nose, and she can better see his cheekbones and jawline and general face shape without the illusion of the skull-like makeup throwing it off. He finally looks his age, and he’s massively handsome.

“Hey,” she greets lamely, smiling at him a little. She reaches with her free hand to stroke the side of his face. “I feel like this is the first time I’ve seen you, the real you. When you’re sassy and mean to everyone else, when you’re just doing business, you’re the skull-faced witch doctor. But like this, with me… this is you. You’re just another person with weaknesses and problems and a genuine, expressive face; compete with quirky freckles,” Audrey tells him, smiling kindly.

He has nothing to say that that; merely gapes at her. He doesn’t let just anyone see his face, and he wasn’t expecting such a reaction, not in the least.

She bends down and kisses his forehead, and when he closes his eyes and keeps them closed, she kisses his eyelids and the tip of his nose.

When Audrey pulls back and Voodoo’s eyes flutter open once again, he asks her, “Come here?”

She’s puzzled by that, playing with the washcloth in her hands. “But I’m right here.”

“I mean… here,” Voodoo mumbles, speech lazy with exhaustion, and he gestures to the hammock.

“O-oh! Um, uh, I…” Audrey fidgets, then looks down at the washcloth. “…Be right back. Again. Uh,” she mutters, and then darts off to the bathroom.

Rinsing out the cloth and wringing it out again, setting it aside on the sink, Audrey shuts off the faucet and gives pause. She glances up at the mirror and asks herself what she’s thinking, what she’s doing, wondering why. Nibbling on her bottom lip, Audrey turns and slowly paces back into Voodoo’s bedroom.

When she returns, Voodoo lifts the blanket, an invitation, and pleads lowly, “Please, love?”

He’s begging her, and still she hesitates, because it’s apparent that he isn’t wearing anything underneath there. He’s nude and she can tell, but… as embarrassed as she is by it, she understands. He doesn’t mean anything overtly sexual. He just wants someone close to him who won’t hurt him.

So, after taking a deep breath, Audrey sits in the center of the hammock, slowly shifts her weight to lie down, and then curls up to face Voodoo, and he drapes an arm around her and kisses her forehead.

“Thank you. I need it to mean something,” he says, tired voice belying everything. He closes his weary eyes and hugs her close. She’s still in her clothes, but it feels far too intimate, being pressed against his naked body. Her heart beats rapidly in her chest, and her face is hot with a blush.

Still, she wraps an arm around his back and soothingly plays with his hair. Voodoo hums and presses his lips to her forehead again, but this time, he keeps them there, lax and warm. She can feel him breathing out his nose, into her hair. It’s becoming slower, more even. He’s dozing off, and she lets him. She lets him sleep because he needs it, and all the while, she examines the bites and scratches on him and wonders why he would have sex with a woman who is so rough, and he clearly doesn’t like that much.

But she can’t ask – it’s rude – and she isn’t sure she wants to know. Because Audrey’s a little envious, and she doesn’t want to linger on why.

So, instead, she closes her eyes as well, and snuggles into his chest, the hammock’s light swaying lulling her to sleep as well.

xXxXx

Finally, he snaps.

He’s lost it, like Satan said he would. He’s delusional and too far gone; he’s being haunted by Norma and taunted by Lore-ax, and he keeps hearing whispers that tell him to cut himself, to murder for fun, to tear at flesh and feel blood in some way.

And he’s too mad to even realize how wrong these thoughts are, or that this is his madness.

The long year begins.

xXxXx

When Audrey first finds him, he’s a wreck. She comes for a visit, and he’s rocking back and forth and muttering to himself, and his shop is barred and closed, items broken everywhere, and he’s bleeding.

“Voodoo!” she exclaims, rushing to his side. He doesn’t acknowledge her presence whatsoever. She bandages him up and strokes his hair, kissing his temple, and asks repeatedly, “What happened? What’s wrong? Why won’t you speak to me?” and he never once reactions or responds to her actions or words.

Audrey stays with him as long as she’s permitted, and then promises to return soon.

xXxXx

Once, she comes to him and he screams at her, slashing at the air, a manic grin spreading on his face before he cuts across her thigh, then up her ribs. She stumbles back, bleeding profusely, tears of terror and shock streaming down her freckled cheeks.

Audrey peers up at him, and he’s laughing hysterically, crying as well. She grips her wounds, wincing and wishing the pain would stop, but she still tells him, “I know this isn’t you. But you’re still in there, VD. I’ll reach you, I know I will. I’ll see you once these heal. I know you didn’t mean it.”

She leaves, and when her parents have a panic attack over her wounds, she lies about how she got them. And they believe her. After all, she isn’t one to lie.

xXxXx

Once, he’s coherent enough to speak to her. Months have passed, and she visits him thrice a week, sometimes more. Everyone is concerned why she keeps seeing him; she tells no one that he’s lost his mind.

“Voodoo? You need to eat. I brought you some –”

“Why the fuck are you here, you sack of shit? Go! Go!”

“…You don’t mean that,” Audrey replies stiffly. She comes over to him and shows him what she baked. “Look, 7Up cake. I thought you would like it. Here, try a bite.”

He smacks the proffered slice from her hand and shoves her aside. “You’re so fucking stupid. Why the fuck are you here? Huh? Why? I hate you! I don’t need anyone! Everyone can go fuck off and die for all I care! Especially wastes-of-space little clones like you and that Ted kid!”

Audrey goes entirely rigid. She glares at him, tears brimming her eyes. “You stop that! I know this isn’t really you talking! You far from hate me, and you do need someone, and I’m all you have. And you… you told me once never to refer to myself as ‘just some clone,’ so I know you don’t think that, either. Seuss above, what’s your problem? What brought all of this on?”

He has no answer. He merely repeats, “Leave! Leave! I hate you! Just go!” and after a while, Audrey stops arguing and relents.

“…Fine, I’m going. But I’m leaving that cake for you in case you get hungry, and I’ll be back in a day or so to check on you again, see if you’ve calmed down.” She sighs gruffly and makes for the door. Forlornly, she remarks, “…Take care, okay? I’ll be back. I won’t give up on you.”

I love you, she implies, but doesn’t say.

Once she’s gone, Voodoo bursts into tears unwittingly, and folds in on himself. He cries out loudly and claws at himself, leaving bruises and scratches.

It’s only been five months.

xXxXx

She visits and visits and visits, and each time she comes, it’s worse. He says harsh things to her that make her cry. He twists her arm to make her do things that follow his delusions. He hits her, sometimes, and she always has to lie about how she got the bruise, if there is one. Voodoo is insane and Audrey knows it, and some days he cries and some days he’s violent; some days he’s quiet, and some days he can’t stop screaming until his voice goes out. And some days he doesn’t even know she is there, nor who she is. He’s blank as a cleaned slate.

A year passes. She never stops taking care of him.

Satan arrives one night.

With a snap of her fingers, he’s coherent again.

“You won our bargain, Voodoo. The girl proved herself to be truly a forgiving spirit, and much as it pains me to do so, I’m here to hold up my end of the deal. But as a consolation prize for me, you will be forced to recall each and every miserable day you spent while insane, and you will have the burden of knowing all of the things you’ve done to her, and how she stuck by you so stubbornly. Have fun with the guilt, hahahaha.”

And just like that, every horrible memory returns to him, and Satan has vanished, and Voodoo’s knees give out. He covers his face in his hands and weeps, “I’m so sorry, Audrey…”

XXxXx

“…Audrey,” Voodoo says when she answers the door. She looks shaken, and he winces. “Look, I… There’s something I need to tell you, love.”

The old term of endearment seems to snap her from her reverie. “…Love? You… you haven’t called me that in ages. VD, what –”

Before she can say much more, he closes the gap between them and embraces her. She tenses up but is soon relaxing into the touch, her arms encircling his torso and her face nuzzling into his shoulder. She’s crying.

“You’re back, you’re back, you’re back to normal,” she blubbers and he shushes her and strokes her hair. “You’ve recovered, you…”

“I’m so, so sorry, Audrey,” he whispers to her. “This is my fault. I… I made a new deal with Satan. She’s the woman you saw over a year ago, the one with the long red hair. She… she saw you I said a few things, and the next thing I know, she’s offering to let me grow old, live longer than she was going to let me, and keep my sacrifices to her down to one a year. And—and I had to take that bet, okay? I did, because that means less killings for you to be disappointed in, and longer time for us to… to be. But the deal was, that if you could withstand me and forgive me and deal with me for a year of insanity, then I’d get those things. If not, I was going to be dragged to Hell right away. But you… you did it. You saved me. But I am so sorry you couldn’t know, and that I… I know what I said and did to you. You have more scars on your body now, and some of the things I said… I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”

At first, she’s livid. Her hair starts to frizz and her brows come clashing together, and her lips curl into a frown. She raises a first, “You –!” and then points her finger, stabbing the air, “Y-you…!” and then her fist loosens and she starts to cry. She bangs her loose fist against his chest and then flattens her hand, forehead touching to his lapel as she slides her hand down his front and sobs into his jacket. “You scared me, s-so much… but I’m glad, I am… Because you get to live longer, and won’t have to kill as much, and… you did it for me. You used me, but you had faith in me to do thus. And I… thank you. I’m so mad, but not at you. I’m mad at her, Satan. But she didn’t win! She didn’t, and … and everything’s okay now. Thank Heaven.”

Voodoo lets the tears come and doesn’t even care. He stands on her front porch and holds her, eyes closed, feeling her warmth and taking solace in that fact that she forgives him, that she’s distraught but was a strong as he knew her to be, and he will never stop apologizing, but at least he didn’t lose her.

“N-no, no… thank you, love,” he utters tenderly, beyond grateful that he knows her, and that this could happen, despite how difficult it was to reach this point. “Thank you so much.”

Audrey sniffles and rubs her face into his clothes. “You’re so stupid. You’re the stupidest man there ever was,” she half-laughs, half-cries to him, and Voodoo chuckles weakly.

“Yeah, I know. I’m the worst, too. But you… you stood by me. You’re something else, Audrey, and I mean it. You… are incredible for dealing with someone violent and insane, and not freaking out, lashing out, or leaving me for good. Anyone else I know of would have done it.”

“…I thought about it many times, but I had hope it would pass, and with me reaching out to you, you would eventually come back. And I wasn’t wrong. It didn’t work the way I thought it would, but it’s actually for an even better reason. So I’m glad. And a little proud of myself for knowing not to abandon you; but I didn’t want to, anyway. I… I love you, Voodoo, and I couldn’t bring myself to give up on you, insane or not.”

He’s in shock, and he gapes down at her a moment, eyes searching her face, and then he grips the back of her head and kisses her deeply, and After a second of hesitation, she returns the kiss tenfold, and he sways on his feet a moment, dizzy with how Audrey takes control and kisses him back fervently.

When they part, they are nothing but smiles, and then Audrey says, “Let’s get out of here before Ghost sees you kissing me.”