The Clockwork Stranger

Part VII

WARNING: Explicit rape, gore, and violence. Homophobia and offensive terminology. Demonology, anti-religion, sacrilege, satanic worship and demon summoning. Flaying and animal abuse/cruelty. Extreme language, drug/tobacco, and alcohol abuse.

Well, this is it guys. The final piece. This is where a lot of these warnings come into play. Please read at your own risk.

I want to thank you all for reading/reviewing this story. It's been a grisly ride, and one of the most challenging pieces of fanfiction I've ever written to date. I appreciate all of the interest it's generated, and hope the finale can live up to par.

Reviews:

PiffBee: I'm guessing you found it. ;)

Tori-Colour-Basta: I do hear it from my adorable fanbase, but it's still music to my ears. :3 Awwww, don't apologize! Feels everywhere is not something I take offensively! :D

Ahr0: Babe, I just wanna say thank you for all your support. You're amazing. :)

BritishTraveller: Thanks!

RawrGodzirra: Eeek, I know! Reading horror is something I generally avoid myself, but I'm really glad you found and read this anyway!

VengefulMothSlayer: There's just not much Artie can do. :(

Through the Loop: Thank you darling!

cftcft9090: Oh gosh, I think it really started to be actual coherent writing around the end of sophomore year in high school. But I was RPing with authors and amazing writers since middle school, so I was definitely watching and learning all that time. Writing I've been doing for about 2 years now. :)

ChibySmiley: It's just not something anyone can fix. :(

Team SasuNaruHina: Sure thing~

ArtieKat1256: Sleep is for the weak! xD awwww, thank you darling! I do try for that 'mixing it up a bit' factor.

United-States-of-wwhatever: And I love you, awesome reviewer. ;)

NekoNinja-Chan: Haha. I'm glad at least someone is cool with sad endings! XDDD Yeah, I couldn't let my cats sleep in my room the night I wrote that scene. o_0

And here it goes, the finale. Enjoy.

The Clockwork Stranger

Part VII

Waking up to Arthur had become a routine. It had started at church, persisted through naps in the shade of the bleachers, and now had migrated to the occasional waking to soft pillows and a downy blanket. A month of an agonizingly slow relationship developing had been awkward, frustrating really, but Alfred found he didn't mind. It was the strangest thing.

Brought to the waking world by the quiet rustle of Arthur's breathing against his cheek left an odd, unidentifiable emotion welled up in his chest. It wasn't necessarily bad, in fact, he rather liked it. However, leaving it without a title made him uneasy, so unable to explain himself to the older. He preferred having the distinct safety net of Arthur's knowledge and comfort. But as his eyes slipped open on that hazy June morning and alighted upon the atheist beside him, he found his insecurities evaporating like the morning dew dolloping his lawn as the sun rose.

Arthur was still asleep, curled up on his side. His legs were pulled up, an arm tucked against his chest, while the other was lightly draped over Alfred's side. His fingers were knotted softly in the fabric of his shirt, being gently pressed into his flank. The sleepy teenager glanced down to the slender hand on him. It wasn't unfamiliar, nor unwelcome. Quite the opposite; Alfred couldn't imagine falling asleep beside Arthur without the comfort of that touch. It was simple and innocent, just a subtle way to remind Alfred that Arthur was still there, safeguarding him from the hellish realm of his dark nightmares. It was the only time he was ever allotted to rest these days, and besides that respite, he cherished a closer moment to Arthur where he didn't have to feel repulsed by himself or by the very notion of liking Arthur's presence so close.

Braving himself, the gray-eyed teenager skittishly inched closer. He worried his lip with nervous apprehension as the sheets crinkled beneath him as he settled mere inches away from the older's face. Looking upon his slender face, tranquil in sleep, had his throat closing up uncomfortably. Mustering up as much courage as he could, Alfred pulled himself even closer. His hand tentatively outstretched to graze the older's bare shoulder. The feel of the smooth curve beneath his fingertips wasn't new. They'd touched before, and yet it still gave him shivers, sweat beading on his forehead. Tracing the lean muscle beneath supple skin, Alfred leaned even closer. As courageous as he'd ever felt, the teenager gingerly pressed his cheek to that warm skin. There he lingered, head resting against the shoulder he was so familiar leaning against. He was just about settled, still queasy, but glad he'd found some form of courage, when Arthur's eyes fluttered open. A lazy yawning mumble escaped him as the haze over his emerald irises slowly cleared to focus on Alfred. He grinned at the amusing look of paralyzed panic written all over the younger's face.

"U-um, g-good morning?" Alfred croaked out, voice breaking. Arthur chuckled, tightening his arm around the younger's middle.

"Morning," another yawn, "did you sleep well?"

Alfred nodded, swallowing nervously. He didn't understand how Arthur found the confidence or the comfort level to stay perfectly calm while so close, but it amazed him. The younger was nearly choked by uncertainty, yet Arthur was smiling peaceably. Alfred almost admired him for it, or maybe envied. He'd have given anything to erase this awful, gut-turning feeling of nausea that overshadowed those quiet moments he spent with the emerald-eyed man.

The older seemed to sense his anxiety - as he always did - and patted his back. The motion wasn't unfamiliar, but it wasn't the true support he wanted in securing these upwelling emotions he found so hard to control. He wished he could have blamed it on his age and left it to rest, but it wasn't that simple. He didn't feel this way around just anyone. There was no man or woman that quite took Alfred's breath away or made him so damn confused like Arthur did. Melting against the soft gaze of simmering emeralds had become so commonplace, Alfred didn't even fight it anymore. Falling into gemstones like those was easy and pleasant, and Arthur not once burned him with that intense gaze since offering him a cigarette so long ago.

It was hard to imagine time, Alfred realized. Things were so long and so agonizing, yet it had all slipped through his fingers as fickle and as intangible as smoke. Dashed by pain, and soothed by Arthur's therapeutic hands and tranquil voice, the gray-eyed teenager had known a paradox in perceiving time. Everything was too brief and too long all at once.

He didn't like to think about it too much though, and instead rested passively against Arthur's shoulder. Remembering a time in such hell wasn't anything he wanted to relive, ponder or even remotely educe. Not while with Arthur, at the very least. He didn't want to associate those memories with the few good ones he had been gifted from the older.

"No nightmares, then?"

Alfred shook his head, shifting when Arthur moved from beneath him. The emerald-eyed man sat up at the edge of the bed. He tugged at the thin cotton of his A-shirt before running a hand through his unmanageable hair. The younger looked up at him, eyes tracing the fine arch of his spine as Arthur gazed at the window across from him. The curtains were drawn, but their opaqueness wasn't enough to deter the rising sun and allowed for the light to filter through, casting a glow on the atheist. The golden tips of his hair shimmered, and when Alfred touched his back, Arthur glanced down at him. The light caught the bright hue of his eyes and illuminated his slender face. Alfred's throat tightened up, choking of any response to the curious smile on the older's lips.

When Alfred didn't speak, Arthur lazily rose, then walked to the window. Releasing the locks, he pushed it open a bit and the whistle of a warm wind ghosted through the gray-eyed teenager's room. Perching himself on the sill and finding his cigarettes on the nearby dresser, Arthur beckoned Alfred over with a casual gesture.

Stretching out his long limbs, Alfred barely dragged himself out of bed to take a seat opposite of the older. He leaned his head back against the wall, rubbing tiredly at his eyes and sending his glasses askew. Alfred heard the click of a lighter before listening to Arthur exhale quietly out the open window. Arthur tapped his shoulder with the Marlboro box, offering him one as well. Alfred turned it down by simply shaking his head to mean no.

"You're awfully quiet this morning," Arthur observed, taking a long drag on the burning stick. Alfred shrugged, letting his gaze linger on the smoke curling from the tip of Arthur's cigarette. Arthur didn't push the subject, but eventually Alfred relented, unable to resist spilling his troubles to the man who would always listen.

"I feel nauseous, like something bad is going to happen," Alfred admitted, wringing his hands nervously. A terrible sense of doom lingered over him, far worse than his usual discomfort from pain and fear of judgment. It had his chest feeling constricted, and like his insides were being jostled about roughly.

Emerald eyes traced the grimace on Alfred's visage with pity. This wouldn't last much longer, and Alfred's suffering would be over soon. But even if he knew that, it didn't make it any easier to accept that there was nothing he could do to save the jock. He'd bayed the demon as long as he could, used every enchantment, spell and charm to try warding it, but nothing would stop its hunger. It had decided its prey had been softened plenty, and now hunger won over malicious intent. Naturally, it wouldn't appear with Arthur's conscious will holding it back, though it did fight. And as if the beast could hear his thoughts, a sudden flare of pain burst across his chest.

Gritting his teeth, Arthur coughed against the burn in his lungs and the fiery claws that squeezed his chest. He braced his hand on the windowsill, doubling over as his body shuddered from a wracking coughing-fit. Alfred was instantly beside him, an arm on his back and a hand pressed to his chest. He rubbed circles against the thin cotton of the older's shirt as he coughed miserably. It only ceased when he collapsed entirely against the half-open window, blood smearing the bottom glass from where it had flecked his lips.

He had to swallow down a mouthful of the iron taste as Alfred worried over him. The younger pressed close to him, concern etched in his visage and cracking his voice as he spoke.

"A-Arthur? What h-happened? Are you okay?"

The older smirked, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth once he had his breathing under control. Alfred's disquiet and fretting hands really were welcomed. Arthur had suffered these pains and fits many times alone; being beside someone that he hoped truly cared made the ordeal a bit less painful.

"I'm fine," Arthur managed, straightening up and smoothing his hand across the jagged burn across his chest. Even though the shirt concealed most of it, he knew the skin would still be an angry crimson over the surface. The demon was angry. It didn't like Arthur getting in the way so often these days, and thought to lash out.

Alfred laughed nervously, unsure if Arthur really was okay, or if he was simply covering up an issue. Coughing up blood was something Alfred knew tended to mean traumatizing pain from his own miserable experiences, and he couldn't help but be concerned. But when the older simply shrugged it off as if it were nothing, Alfred tried to quell his churning thoughts with a pathetic joke.

"Should really quit smoking. Wouldn't have to deal with that anymore."

"You're one to talk," Arthur retorted, eyes narrowing a moment before his gaze softened once more. "Really, I'm fine. Thank you." The older carefully sat up straight, mentally cursing the untimely attack. It had stung, but that wasn't his ultimate concern. Alfred's safety was what preoccupied him the most. But he couldn't admit that to Alfred. It had been the hardest part of this ordeal. Alfred didn't understand how or why he was hunted. He didn't know the only man that could fathom his pain was the one causing it. And looking down at the deep mark embedded in Alfred's hand flicker momentarily only reminded him that Alfred could never know. The gray-eyed teenager would shatter before the truth, and Arthur selfishly knew he couldn't bear to watch that.

"Yeah, sure," Alfred mumbled, trying not to look so disquieted. Silence divided their same worries like a craggy fissure. They both watched the world below from the half-open window with eyes far away, both thinking of death in the most morbid of fashions. Arthur finished his first cigarette, smoked another, and was about to light a third to hopefully drive away his anxiety when Alfred stopped him. It came in the strangest of ways too. The younger gingerly touched Arthur's hand, fingers curling against his palm.

"Alfred?"

"My mom's gonna be mad if my room smells like smoke," said Alfred, unwilling to look him in the eye. The atheist distinctly noted the faint blush creeping high on Alfred's cheeks, and grinned in turn.

"Your mother seems rather lenient. What with letting me to stay the night so often. Does she suspect anything?"

"There's nothing to suspect," Alfred quickly retorted, suddenly withdrawing his hand as if he'd been bitten by a venomous snake. "I'm not gay."

Arthur smiled. He'd been expecting that response. After all, it was the same one Alfred gave him everyday with such force and persistence that Arthur was inclined to believe him. Maybe Alfred really wasn't attracted to men at all. The emerald-eyed man actually would have preferred that. It only made the fact that Alfred seemed to like him that much more meaningful. It had been a long time since Arthur had felt special enough to be someone's only. Even if he wasn't naturally sentimental, it still left him feeling a peculiar warmth squeeze his heart.

"What are you grinning for?" Alfred snapped, despite the fact that there was no real bite to his tone.

"You."

Alfred stammered, mouth open to speak but no words escaping him. The bright scarlet painted across his cheeks and the tips of his ears had the older grinning even broader. Arthur picked up where the younger seemed to have left off before his sudden retreat. Sneaking his hand into Alfred's, he twined their fingers before he could object. The gray-eyed teenager tried to jerk his hand back, but relented rather quickly. He simply let Arthur hold his hand without any more objections other than reaffirmation that he was most certainly not homosexual grumbled on his breath.

"Is there a reason then that you invite me to sleep with you then?"

"Don't fucking say it like that! You make it sound like we're having sex or something!"

"You didn't answer me."

"I-I don't know."

Arthur moved closer, brushing his nose against the younger's. To his surprise, Alfred didn't move away, but shocked him instead. He leaned his forehead against Arthur's eyes hooded as he relaxed himself. He just wanted this feeling of unease to pass. He just wanted to feel comfortable with Arthur like the way he felt safe when dozing in the shade.

"You still look exhausted," Arthur observed, cupping Alfred's cheek to roll his thumb over the dark bags beneath the younger's gray eyes. The younger merely blinked, unwilling to admit that he hadn't known the feeling of being rested for months.

"You want to sleep in a bit longer?" Arthur suggested, his fingers gently feeling over Alfred's jaw. The younger bit his lip, desperately wanting to say yes, but entirely embarrassed of admitting that weakness all over again. Even if it was just Arthur, Alfred had never let go of his hatred for being so weak before the slighter man.

He was infinitely grateful when Arthur knew his answer without words, and tugged him to his feet. Guiding Alfred back to the bed, the older stretched out for Alfred to lie down beside. Gingerly resting himself down, Alfred set his head on Arthur's slender chest, the echo of his steady heartbeat a metronome coaxing him to oblivion.

"Your mother isn't going to walk in on us and be horrified, is she?"

"She hasn't yet, has she?"

"No, but she tends to be sleeping when we crawl into bed."

"She had to go out for errands today. I doubt she'll be back for awhile. We've got time."

"Good," Arthur murmured, grooming his fingers through Alfred's hair. The soft caressing along his scalp was quick to draw the younger ever closer to a peaceful darkness. "Rest easy, Alfred. I promise your pain will end soon."

But Alfred had slipped under the veil of sleep before he could even begin to process the cryptic words. He slept dreamless, content to wish for that prophecy at its simplistic face-value.

TCS

Part VII

Alfred had driven him home after being roused by his mother returning late afternoon. Arthur had nearly had to drag the younger out to the car, shoving the keys into his hands before shoving the jock himself. The ride to Arthur's home had been so tense, Arthur could feel it clinging to them like intense humidity. It had been ridiculously uncomfortable, and at the sight of his home, the emerald-eyed man had breathed a sigh of relief.

Alfred parked the car, reclined back in his seat, and gazed out the windshield for a moment.

It just wouldn't be that simple though. Arthur had seen this coming, knew it was unavoidable, but that didn't lessen the pain as he heard the silent cry for help all over again in the younger's voice.

"Do you really have to go home?"

"Alfred-"

"My mom won't mind if you stay another night!"

"Alfred, please-"

"But it's only Saturday!"

"I know," Arthur sighed, tenderly brushing his knuckles along Alfred's jaw for what he knew to be the last time. It required every ounce of strength in him to not pull Alfred to him. He could have kissed him, held him, given him just one more moment of peace. Seeing the heartbreak in his eyes, unhidden, raw and pleading – it hurt. "But I have to be home. I don't want to intrude on your family."

"You're not intruding! I swear my parents don't mind!"

Arthur had to silence him with a kiss. Lips pressed firmly to the younger's chapped ones, he felt Alfred resist upon instinct for a brief moment. It lasted only a second before Alfred melted under the soft brush to his lips. The younger still had his insecurities, and so Arthur naturally took the lead, but Alfred reached his hand over the center console, fingers knotting the thin fabric of the emerald-eyed man's shirt. He pulled him closer, deepening the kiss and tilting his head so that their noses weren't smashed together. Smiling into the kiss, Arthur glided his hand up to cup the younger's jaw, stroking his cheek as he felt Alfred pour his desperate and hidden affection into their moment.

Alfred still wasn't the best at remembering to breathe in these sorts of situations and before long he was pulling away, harsh pants rattling his chest. Where the younger's eyes were wide from adrenaline, Arthur's were hooded from the bittersweet pleasure. That could very well have been their last kiss.

"Arthur-"

But said man cut him off again. He was nearly over the center console in Alfred's lap as he kissed him again. Fingers curling in fallow-gold strands, Arthur tried to return all that the gray-eyed teen had lost in a single kiss. That last one couldn't be what the older left Alfred with. He couldn't leave him with so much unanswered affection and pleading. He wanted to give Alfred this. He wanted him to remember this kiss, to take it with him to his nearing grave. Alfred deserved that. He needed it. He needed to know that he'd never been alone as the final breath slipped from between his lips. That Arthur was truly sorry.

Alfred seemed scared at first, unsure of where to put his hands as he found the art student straddling his lap, deepening the kiss even more. His lips parted in a moan, and he shivered as Arthur's tongue found its way into his mouth. He was just grateful Arthur moved slowly, his tongue encouragingly stroking against Alfred's. The younger tried to respond in turn, moving to the older's motions and drinking in all of the different yet amazing feelings.

Arthur loomed above him from his position, tilting Alfred's head back to guide their gentle pace. His fingers carded through his hair, the pads of his fingers pressing into his scalp as soothing as always. The soft heat of his body warmed the younger as if they were still curled up in bed together, dozing quietly under thin beams of morning light. Running his hands down the front of Arthur's slender chest, he could almost imagine the downy sheets and pillows beneath them all over again.

Drawing in a quiet, gasping breath, Alfred finally broke away. Gray eyes shimmered with such longing as he met hooded emeralds aglow with affection. He'd never felt this way before. He never would again.

There was no one that could do this to him. There was no one who knew every level, plane and tier of him down to the very core. He'd given his life to Arthur, let him hold and cradle a heart he didn't know he'd wanted held. Alfred hadn't meant for this to happen. But as Arthur placed a lingering kiss to his hair, and wrapped his arms around the younger's neck, Alfred couldn't regret it. All the pain and fear evaporated in that single moment, and Alfred clung to the one man he needed most as if he were the last anchor to Earth. Some primordial instinct told him that he very well may have been, and that this was the last time Arthur would hold him like this. Heart shattering at the macabre epiphany, he buried his face into Arthur's shoulder, afraid to face his fate.

"Please, Arthur-"

But Arthur only shook his head, denying Alfred escaping his doom any longer.

"I have to go, Alfred," he whispered against his ear, quietly kissing it.

"Please stay." The words felt so foreign. He'd never begged someone to stay with him before. He'd never depended on someone like this. This need in his heart, burning his chest, was alien and unnatural to the jock. Yet here he couldn't say the words fast enough as Arthur kept denying him in the soothing tone.

"Stay."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"I just can't, Alfred."

"That's not an answer!" The desperation cracked Alfred's voice. Arthur shushed him with a quick kiss, and then tried shifting out of the younger's lap. He found Alfred's fingers gripped tightly at his hips. Wide gray eyes were moistening at the corners, threatening to spill over if the older pried them apart.

Still seated on his legs and back nearly pressed into the steering wheel, Arthur didn't have much place to go while Alfred clung to him. The jock, even in his weakened state, could overpower him, which made forcibly trying to leave a null option. He wasn't inclined to be harsh with Alfred though. There was the dim spark in those gray eyes, once so bright and blue, that told him Alfred could sense it. Letting go now meant letting go forever.

Arthur just wished Alfred could understand that he was only doing what was right. The atheist had started all of this, and it was his duty to finally put it all to rest. Alfred had suffered months and months. It was enough. He needed peace. He needed to rest, and rest eternal.

"Please... just stay. One more night. Please give me one more night."

"You know I can't do that."

"I need you!"

"Alfred, you-"

"Arthur! I fucking lo-"

"No. Alfred, you have to stop." Arthur's tone commanded obedience. He gingerly slid his hands down to Alfred's. Despite the sharp authority to his words, he smiled just as gently as ever at him. He wasn't angry. He really wasn't. But he couldn't let Alfred say it. He couldn't bury this abused teenager knowing something like that. Denying the words denied his heart the shattering impact of such implications.

Alfred didn't fight as the emerald-eyed man pulled his hands away. He watched though, wishing he could just hold Arthur there forever. He had one support, just one thread left keeping him aloft, and he had to watch it fray and snap without being able to stop it.

A choked whimper escaped the blue-eyed teenager as Arthur leaned over to open the car door. Just as the first tear spilled over, Arthur was right there, close again. He kissed the salty tears, caressing his cheek with that comforting touch Alfred needed to survive.

"Sssshhh," he cooed, kissing the corners of his eyes. "It's alright, Alfred. It's alright. I'll always be right here," and he set his hand just above the furious, aching tempo of the younger's heart. "Just think of that. I'm there for you always. Think of me: only me."

Alfred didn't know how to respond. He simply nodded dumbly, and watched with intrepid realization that this was it as Arthur slid off his legs. The older gave a little wave, the saddest of smiles on his lips, and then turned and walked away.

And just like that, Alfred was alone again.

TCS

Part VII

Alfred pitched the empty beer bottle to God-knows-where. He heard it strike something solid and shatter. The exploding glass crackled as it rained upon the ground, adding to the numerous pools of broken shards that littered Alfred's floor.

Slumped against the wall wasn't the most gracious position, but Alfred didn't care. Just as he didn't care as the tight beer cap cut into his hand as he forcibly twisted it open. A bloody palm print smeared the top as he pitched that as well and took a gulp of the foreign beer. It only took him a few angry swigs to swallow all of it down before tossing it just like the others. He'd lost count of just how many, but guessing by the faint twinkling of glass coating his carpet, he guessed quite a few.

He figured it probably would have been easier to grab a larger bottle of stronger liquor, but he'd tried downing a bottle of vodka. He'd had to put it back as it had a pomegranate flavor that made him queasy for some odd reason.

Now though, as he reached for another beer, he found the case empty. He swore under his breath, tipping his head back until his skull smacked the wall, resounding with a painful thump. His throat burned from gulping down the alcohol that fast and he felt his eyes watering again as immense frustration, anger and fear melded into one awful tempest. The dread looming over him and churning his stomach just wouldn't leave. He'd thought the booze would poison him enough to let it go, but it just wasn't enough.

As the black of night crept closer and closer, dimming his room through the closed curtains, it grew worse. He twisted to lean on his side, clutching his weak stomach as bile rose in his throat, scorching him with the burn of acid and the awful taste.

Swallowing it down, the gray-eyed teenager bit his lip, trying to distract himself.

It failed miserably though. The only other thought that dared traipse across his memory was of Arthur. That last kiss still left a lingering bittersweet aftertaste on his tongue, just as bad as the bile and alcohol. It had been the worst goodbye of his life, laced with everything unsaid and Alfred being too choked up to even express what he had needed to. The jock grimaced regretfully at his own weakness. He hadn't meant to cry or beg like that. It had all just come pouring out as he buckled beneath the feeling of death haunting him. It had been as if the demon's cold claws had snaked beneath his skin as Arthur kissed him, like he was bidding him a final farewell. It had broken him. The evidence lay all around, as shattered as the man curled pathetically on the floor.

Needing to forget all over again, Alfred reached for another bottle. His sluggish mind took a moment to remember that there was no more beer for him to choke down. Annoyed, he tipped over the empty case, as if another bottle would be hiding beneath. To his surprise, one had apparently rolled away, and the neck peeked out as he pushed another empty case up.

Just as he grabbed it, a noise caught his attention. Glancing up, Alfred saw that his window was entirely dark. Pitch black blanketed out any light of the moon or stars, and a terrifyingly familiar screech filled his ears. The sound of death-black talons scrapping along the think windowpane, sent shivers down his spine. His body convulsed, and instantly Alfred clapped his hands over his ears, the beer bottle long forgotten.

He cried out in pain as the screeching grew louder and louder, making his heart pound wildly and the mark burn his hand with an intensity he'd never felt before. Writhing weakly, fresh tears streamed down his cheeks as he doubled over. The world tilted with vertigo, and spasms crushed his lungs into a coughing fit. The taste of bile and blood twisted his stomach in revolt, leaving him to heave the foul tasting alcohol he'd drowned his misery in on the floor. A mouthful of blood splattered across his lips but a second later, soaking his lips in the iron-laced scarlet.

And for as quickly as it had appeared, the voice vanished. Dizzy and weak, Alfred dared not look up. He kept his body bowed, shaking like a leaf and begging for an end on his gasping breaths.

Unable to move, he could only flinch as the chilling feel of a sharp talon touched his spine between his shoulder blades. The razor sharp edge skimmed up and down his spine at malignant leisure, just enough to sting, but not enough to slice open his jacket. When the claw halted at the nape of his neck, Alfred was panting from fear. Trembling, he dared to look up.

A shadowy hand struck his face, claws digging into temples and slamming him back, into the wall. The concussive blow left a sharp ringing in his ears, but some primal instinct possessed his arm, picking up the unopened beer, and he lashed out with the bottle clutched in his hand.

He expected nothing less than a fruitless swing at the weaving darkness, but when the bottle connected with something firm and shattered in a burst of watery glass, Alfred was shocked. The darkness shrieked in surprise, startling Alfred from his momentary daze just long enough to regain his flight instinct.

Stumbling to his feet – though faster than expected – Alfred pelted from his room and down the stairs like a madman. His feet snagged and tripped, sending Alfred slamming into more than a few walls. He didn't feel it though. The shocks of pain coursing through his shoulders rolled right off him as if they were nothing. Fear stripped him of every unnecessary sense as he thrust open the door and slammed into the side of his Mustang.

Frantic hands scrambled for keys he knew had to be in a pocket. They kept eluding his shaking fingers, grabbing only at the lining of his pockets. A quivering swear echoed from his choked throat, until at last the warm metal of car keys grazed his fingers. He mashed the unlock button again and again, yanking at the door handle before throwing himself into the seat. Jamming the key into the ignition, Alfred threw the car into reverse and pressed the accelerator to the floor.

The Mustang gave a thunderous roar as it veered sharply at the turn of the wheel. It lunged forward when Alfred put it in drive, still putting the pedal parallel to the floor.

Racing down the nearest open road, Alfred let the growl of the V-8 engine comfort him as the blazing headlights burned away the inching darkness upon approach. It wasn't much, seeing as Alfred watched every mirror and checked every ditch as they raced by for signs of the dark figure.

Nothing. The beast was gone, and Alfred leaned back in his seat, finally breathing a sigh of relief. He let his eyes slip shut for a single peaceful instant before it all collapsed.

Alfred's eyes flicked open just in time to catch the slender figure in the middle of the road before the Mustang swerved. The wheels spun out as the brake was slammed, sending the car onto its side, rolling with the force of its momentum.

The grinding crunch of metal crumbling in on itself and the shattering of glass filled Alfred's ears until a deafening bang robbed him of hearing altogether. A foul burning odor scorched the air, something striking his arms and chest.

The world went black and soundless. And it was slow to fade back in. Things blurred, sounds were distorted. His body hurt, his chest felt crushed, and the cracked sheets of metal and plastic all around was tilted.

It was only as Alfred managed to slump against the door, only to find the hinges destroyed and himself sprawled in the mossy bottom of the ditch, that he realized he was in pain. A terrible scream bubbled up from his throat, the tang of blood bursting across his tongue again. Cheek pressed to the dirt, Alfred was paralyzed, no nerve responding to anything but the acute agony rippling up every muscle.

How long he laid there, he didn't know. Time was measured only in ebbs of the shuddering pain. And after so many, he found the strength to move again. The jock dragged himself up, clawing up his ruined Mustang's crushed frame to find his feet. Once they were beneath him gray eyes searched the darkness. The headlights flickered illuminating the mossy tendrils and grass growing along the side of the road. The light faintly danced on the bark of tall trees of a nearby grove that reached their branches to the cold heavens aloft.

It wasn't any deception upon his dimmed sight that had him fleeing that next moment. But rather, it was the feel of long talons touching the bristling hairs at the nape of his neck that had the teenager fleeing in terror. His feet took him anywhere, so long as it was away from the shadow after his life.

Alfred found himself smacking his shoulder into trees, his feet barely clearing the twisting gnarled roots of ancient oaks as he pelted through the tiny grove. The haze of opaque fog clung to the forest floor, cold and shifting even without a wind to guide it.

The ominous feeling of the thick fog wrapping its tendrils around his shaking figure should have been Alfred's first clue that something wasn't right. It was as if he'd done this before. The way it seemed to appear from nowhere, heavy and blinding, had been unexplainable, so much like a memory he couldn't accurately recall. Gooseflesh slithered across his skin, tainting it like a plague as his heart began to quicken its tempo. Watching the fog loom ever nearer only made it worse.

The second should have obviously been the intense pressure crushing his lungs. The air forcibly left him in a series of wracked coughs that made his throat spasm and jaw lock up. Alfred's entire body heaved, and his insides felt like they were being grinded up, then forced out of his body with every trembling cough. Alfred shuddered, retching more bile and thick, poisoned blood that rose up from his tumultuous stomach. His throat, raw from coughing, burned as a pathetic whimper managed to spill from his wrecked lungs. Flecks of startlingly scarlet blood painted his lips and the uneven, grassy floor as he finally collapsed.

On his knees, Alfred's once sky-blue eyes were a wild tempest of graying cobalt, flung wide in primal fear. Terror gripped his heart, stripping him of all rational thought as his eyes darted about. The blinding fog rolled closer, trapping him, taunting him, reaching for him.

Alfred screamed.

There was nothing remotely human about the shrieking cry. All sense of humanity had been scratched away, peeled back and torn off by rending black claws. Beneath the skin, the raw, pulsing flesh of animalistic terror bled into his nature.

Alfred was suddenly aware of how heavy he felt, and how lost he was. Darkness was all around, moving, crawling, slithering.

A sudden flaring pain drew his whirling attention to focus for a split second. The symbol on the back of his hand glowed a sickly crimson in the darkness, illuminating Alfred's terrified expression. It dusted the fog with a sheen of blood-tinted haze, casting only a minute flicker of light.

And in the eerie blackness, an even darker shadow appeared. Looming in the fog was a slender figure, tall, nondescript. But Alfred's heart ceased to beat a moment. He knew the shadowy thing in the fog all too well. Cut, gritty hands dug for purchase on the blood-splattered roots as Alfred scrambled back.

Thoughts no longer came in words or images. There were no thoughts. Only the spark of firing synapses and hard-wired commands remained. And Alfred's only instinct was:

run.

Fleeing like a hunted rabbit, Alfred didn't know where he stumbled to, why he went any direction, just what he was seeking. The fog would follow, the shadows would follow. They laughed and howled, galloping beside him on jagged limbs of wet smoke and dark talons.

And Alfred couldn't stop running, no matter how much his legs burned or the muscles screamed for respite. Stopping meant death, but Alfred could only go so far.

An eternity of running left him stumbling around the back end of his church. There was always a door unlocked behind the building. It always had been, too. Alfred took the slightest comfort in that little thing as he barely had the strength to push open the door. Stumbling across the threshold, the fog refused to follow him inside. The stray tendrils dispersed with the rush of clean air as the door slammed shut behind him.

Alfred fell to his knees as he passed the altar. Quivering legs had finally demanded their rest, and had buckled beneath him helplessly. Beyond words, feelings or understanding, Alfred simply tipped his head back, gazing up at the dark beams that crossed the ceiling. On the center beam, a cross was nailed in. It usually glittered from rays of sunlight illuminating the colorful stained glass, but in this pale light it was but a dim silhouette, so dim he didn't even notice that it hung upside down limply from a crooked nail.

But as his gaze shifted back down, he did see a flicker from the shadows cast by the farthest pews. His weary heart instantly thundered to life as the shadows came alive in the shape of a tall man.

There wasn't even time to scream as it rushed him, claws outstretched to finally claim its wounded prey.

It was a morbid thing to watch. Alfred didn't fight it. His arms came up weakly for but a moment before thick tendrils pinned them uselessly above his head. He tried to give a feeble kick, but there was nothing behind it, and it deflected without damage. Arthur had to face it; Alfred was broken.

His distorted vision couldn't be pried away no matter how much he wished it. The emerald-eyed man would have given anything to see this done in a single swipe of talons across Alfred's vulnerable neck. No more pain. No more suffering.

But for a demon that fed on agony, that just wasn't enough. Death was but a single morsel, no matter how delectable; torture was a feast. The physiological hell Alfred had been subjected to had merely been the preening, plucking and preparation. And Arthur could do nothing to keep the beast from gorging himself now.

Alfred was thrown to the ground, his back striking the hard floor with a sickening thud that left Arthur internally flinching. He weakly rolled onto his side, trying to get to his knees, but the demon barreled a claw into his side, slamming him to the ground again. This time, Alfred stayed there.

There was nothing quite like this. This awful view had Arthur's heart twisting in agony and trepidation – not for himself, but for Alfred. The boy shivered, his whole body trembling feebly as an death-black tendril engulfed his ankle, dragging him into the beast's looming shadow. Claws like razorblades dragged up his thigh, piercing deep at the hip. Arthur shuddered at the eerie feeling of the claws dragged across smooth bone and the bloodcurdling scream that tore from Alfred's throat. It was even worse knowing the demon enjoyed every second of it.

The claws tore free, blood dripping a slow crimson ooze that stained his pale thigh as it traced a message into Alfred's flesh. Terrifying sigils, runes carved of flesh, they spelled out exactly the things the beast would do to Alfred, writhing with pleasure knowing Arthur would be forced to watch.

The demon wasted no time. Like a butcher, skilled in the most precise carving, black claws began to cleave away flesh. The powerful muscles of Alfred's thighs unzipped with the slice of talons drawn agonizingly slow down the entire length of his leg. Tendons were snagged and plucked like strings until the frayed ends severed with a snap, a companion scream reverberating through the pews.

Thick tendrils coiled around Alfred's shoulders, forcing them back and back and back until both gave audible, wet pops. Agony flared across Alfred's body, his raw throat howling out bloody screams. The crimson liquid splashed his tongue, choking him as he sobbed. Shoulders wrenched out of place, it hurt even to lay back and submit.

He squeezed his eyes shut, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as if he could will this all away like a bad nightmare. Crying miserably, he gave a protesting whimper as the claws that plucked away the flesh on his thighs shredded his shirt and jeans open. Exposed, humiliation welled up with the agony of the demon's sick pleasure.

Alfred suddenly found himself thrashing as the pointed tip of a bloodstained talon suddenly grazed his entrance.

"No!" Alfred screamed, seething and sobbing as the demon took no notice. He felt the spray of hot blood as the creature tore his insides open, claws scratching at sensitive muscle as a cat might sharpen its nails on a post.

Watching the demon continue to rape Alfred as he pleaded for his death broke Arthur's heart. It was a message to the summoner, one that resounded so deeply, that the atheist knew would never cease to haunt his terrible memories. He'd wanted to give Alfred a real relationship. He'd wanted to know this man, hold him, care for him, kiss him in the dark of night and tuck under his chin. He'd wanted to be Alfred's first time, he'd wanted to show him kindness and the gentle side of himself that he'd kept locked away for so long. But the demon stole it all from him.

"A-Arthur!" Alfred screamed, voice breaking on the pain. It was the one name he thought to call, to beg and plead for salvation. And had Arthur had his own body, he would have fallen to his knees in tears. There should have been cries for God, for Jesus, for an angel on the teenager's lips. Instead, he'd called for Arthur. He sobbed the name like a mantra, trying to recess into his memories. Besides, who else was there to call. As far as Alfred was concerned, God was dead.

He turned his head away as the demon's claws retreated, leaving Alfred's lower half in favor of settling on his chest. More tendrils knotted in Alfred's blood-matted hair, yanking his head back and still. The creep of those dragging talons slithering up his neck and cheek had the gray-eyed teenager's chest heaving from hyperventilation, heart hammering painfully against his ribs. He tried squeezing his eyes shut tightly, whimpering as the sharp point of a talon peeled back an eyelid with such careful precision. When nothing happened, the beast unmoving, Alfred dared to let the other eye slip open.

The beast skewered his eye with the swift jab of a talon. The teenager's lungs were wracked with spasms as he screamed. Blood and spittle seeped from his mouth while he thrashed and screamed and cried. The impaling claw retreated with a sickening sound nearly lost beneath the scrabbling and scream of its meal.

Alfred could do nothing. Nor could Arthur. Both seemed to resign to silence as the monster continued to carve and play with strings of ligaments and chunks of bloody flesh. Alfred could scream no more: blood clogged his throat, burning the raw, damaged vocal cords. His lungs quivered weakly in his chest even as his heart continued to race. Blood stained every inch of his body, trickling in sluggish streams across the contours of his body. And Arthur could only watch in silent suffering, nauseated at the terrible sight laid out before him.

Alfred thought he might want to pray at this point. For what, he didn't know. But anything to end this - even if he was fully aware that God didn't care if perhaps He was still watching - was something. He thought of a simple incantation past the pain. He begged for the dawn and for Arthur.

Alfred thought his call unanswered, resigning to his torture as the demon finally seemed to have had its fill of the blond's agony. It just wasn't as fun when prey stopped squirming and pleading for mercy.

A deep line was sliced open down his torso with surgical precision. The cut split Alfred open like a slaughtered pig, blood and visceral fluid leaking to mingle with the tainted blackness and spilled scarlet life. The beast raised a massive claw before slamming it down on the center of Alfred's chest. Blood splattered from his mouth and the wet crunch of his sternum splitting filled his ears. There was no air or strength left in his lungs to cry out. Only a dying whimper escaped him even as every nerve jolted with the immense pain.

Slotting its talons into the fissure dividing the thick bone, Alfred's ribs were pried apart like the thick pages of a tome being opened up after ages of shelf-life. The crack and pop as each set came apart one by one resounded through the church, echoing like the crackling of glass.

Arthur wanted to cry. Watching fear manifest in the sight of Alfred's exposed heart squirming and pounding left the emptiest ache in his own hurting heart. Even the trembling quiver of his weakened lungs as they strained to draw breath sickened him with a guilty anxiety. The boy already looked dead, and this was the only evidence of life still clinging to him. Arthur wished that terrified heart would quiet, wished Alfred would pass and leave behind this mortal pain.

The demon retreated, surprising Arthur, but as the creature turned its head, he saw the distorted, blinding rays of a rising sun deterring the monster. It gave one last look at its handiwork, high from the pleasure, before vanishing back into the abyss of its resting place.

Alfred gazed numbly at the first shimmers of morning cascading across the stained-glass windows. The dapple of colors were muted by the splatters of blood and gore strewn about the isle and pews. The weak light could not lay color over so much startling scarlet.

Mind and body distant to anything but sheer anguish, he couldn't even consider that he was free of the torture. It still resounded through him. The memories were relived in every twitching muscle and spurt of blood as his heart pumped, straining to keep its host alive. There was nothing but this shape of pain under the sunlight that pressed all of its weight down upon him, crippling hope.

It was only when a figure appeared beside him that Alfred even registered that the outside world existed. Broken vision and the angle of the sun silhouetted the shape of a man. Not the demon's grotesque height, but one that might have been familiar.

"G-god?" he croaked aloud, curious if perhaps the deity he had loved and feared nearly all his life had finally decided to show His face.

"No," came a soft reply, "but I may as well be right now."

The figure sat down, cradling Alfred's head in his lap with a tender touch Alfred could never have forgotten.

"A-Arthur," Alfred choked out, breath hitching. Arthur simply nodded, gently grooming back Alfred's bloody bangs. "Y-you c-cam-me..." A prayer answered.

"Sssshhh," the emerald-eyed man quieted him, unwilling to look anywhere besides the one gray eye that gazed up at him, moistened by fresh tears.

"You... came," Alfred repeated again, a ghost of a sad smile on his bloodied lips.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner."

"Y-you c-came."

"Ssshhhh, please, Alfred. Rest now. It's almost over," he cooed, caressing his bloody cheek. He watched as Alfred gave him a genuine smile, almost lost for how slight it was. But when he tried to glance down to see the extent of his fatal injuries, Arthur held his head still. The traumatized boy didn't need to see it. He felt it all already.

At the silent command, Alfred finally let his good eye slip shut. A familiar, comfortable silence lingered. Alfred swore he could feel the breath of a memory of the warm breeze that would ghost beneath the bleachers and stir the trim grass wash over him. Arthur's warmth and hands soothing him brought him back to a quiet world that let him sleep easy in the lap of a man he'd come to call more than just a friend.

This was their swan song, a still reticence unheard save for between the aching hearts that the other knew too well. Alfred could hear the very beat that had lulled him to dreamless sleep those nights he'd wished insecurity would leave him. It didn't matter now though. The horror he'd felt for slowly falling for Arthur evaporated with each gentle graze of the older's fingertips.

He sighed quietly: his final breath. The end was but a whimper, a moment time would not remember save for the sole survivor of this ordeal.

"Than-nk you..." Alfred managed before Arthur watched the younger's brave heart finally still.

The quiet that descended left Arthur's tears unseen. Alfred was at peace at long last. Without a word, not so much as a whimper, Arthur bid goodbye to Alfred with a gentle kiss to his lips.

His gaze flickered up as he tried to quell the tears that fell down his cheeks in sorrowful streams.

The light of the sun trickled in, casting them in a wash of colors that finally permeated the darkness looming over this place. Something lifted from Arthur's shoulders. Head tipped back, he gazed up at the rafters, seeing past the sturdy roof, beyond the tip of the steeple, high above in a place he found himself hoping existed for Alfred's sake.

"Good night, Alfred. The nightmare is finally over... rest in peace."

Thank you all again for read. I'm sorry for the sad ending, but it was inevitable. They each have their own sense of peace at last. :)

Anyways, thank you guys. You all are fantastic, and I really encourage you guys to keep a look out for a lot of my other works. This likely won't be the last time I try to wrench out your hearts. ;)

You can follow me on tumblr for updates on coming and ongoing works. Especially watch for updates on Ahro and I's collaborative works. :3

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