Two people. Two boxes. Two deals to make.

Not terribly interesting except that they are on the same crossroads on the same night at the same time. They stand side by side, pale faces young and tear stained. There is a third body, younger, more frail, and without life, clutched to the breast of the girl's breast.

The demon smirks. This might prove to be interesting. Or disastrous. Both sound terribly fun. Hell has been so boring lately; it's just torture, torture, torture, with no aim for creativity.

"Hello, my dears," he chuckles. The boy jumps. The girl doesn't. Fascinating. "Little late for kiddies to be out, isn't it?"

The boy chokes back a sob, his eyes flickering to the girl. She gives him a firm nod. "We - I, please! Bring my son back!" The boy is oddly attached to the little bundle of flesh, especially for a teenager. Probably seventeen. The girl is younger. It's a surprise she survived the birthing process. "My son, please!" He suffers a bout of sobbing, arms wrapped around his middle like a shield.

The demon checks, swiping a thread of power over the dead infant. The amount of power he will need to repair the child's soul is astronomical, much greater than the standard five to ten years he would sell a resurrection. The soul is completely shattered. "Price is high. Ten minutes."

Color leeches from the boy's already sickly face. "You said ten years," he whispers to the girl.

"I said maybe," she hisses in return. Her red rimmed eyes form an impressive glare.

"You get ten minutes with your son, love. Ten long minutes." He blinks at the teenager, eyes fading red and glassy. "Going once-"

"Deal!" And it's sealed with a kiss that leaves the boy stumbling.

The demon reaches into hell, offering what was once the boy's lifespan as payment for the power to drag the child's tattered soul back into existence. Hellfire sears along the ribbons like cauterizing a wound, only, instead of leaving burn flesh and an absence of heat, the fire says. It's necessary. Otherwise the soul will fall apart again and that would break the deal. Pesky things those. Shadows fill in the spaces where the child's soul was incomplete to begin with, soothing and cool.

The child chokes, gasping for breath as life surges back into exhausted limbs. The tiny heart stutters and stops several times, forcing the demon to feed more power into the merger of body and soul. Finally, a bight wail breaks through the night.