A/N: Again, a very special thanks to morethanjustausername and someone called Guest who also leaves beautiful reviews. Thank you both, I can honestly say it's because of you that this story is still being written.

Chapter 10: Problem With The Googles

2D gave himself five seconds. Then he forced himself to open his eyes.

He removed his trembling hand from the glass on Murdoc's chest. There was no more liquid fire. The jar was empty. He let out a massive sigh, relieved that his risky move had paid off. He still didn't know how he managed to think of just shoving the soul right back in. It had come to him at the last second, a vision he knew he had to make come true.

He glanced up at Murdoc's face, eager to see the light back in his eyes.

Murdoc was glaring at him with the force of a thousand Hells. Well, at least there was some kind of light in his eyes...

"'E-ello..." 2D said nervously, waving and offering a slight smile. Murdoc narrowed his eyes and sat up. The jar rolled off of his chest and onto the bed, forgotten.

2D lost his smile as Murdoc stood from his bed, his hands clenched into angry fists. The singer tried to back away, but he tripped backwards over his own feet and landed on his arse. Murdoc loomed over him, his leg swinging back, winding up for a kick that would knock 2D's head into the next century.

2D shut his eyes and curled into a defensive position, bracing himself for impact.

But it never came.

2D peeked through his fingers just in time to see Murdoc fall to his knees in front of the him. He looked as defeated as he did yesterday, when his soul had just been ripped out of him.

"M-Mur-?" 2D was cut off by his own startled whimper. Murdoc had flung his arms around 2D, and was holding on tight.

There were no words. Not one. Instead, there was a silence that spoke louder than any words could, because it was filled with a gesture 2D was certain Murdoc had never sincerely performed before.

An embrace.

In it, 2D understood that Murdoc was saying everything he couldn't. Those unspoken 'sorry's and 'thank-you's and maybe even a few 'I'm-glad-you-saved-me's.

2D smiled and hugged his friend back, closing his eyes and enjoying the rare moment while it lasted.

After about five more seconds (Murdoc was counting, he didn't want to have to touch the dullard for too long, did he?), they broke apart. The first thing Murdoc did was seize the little blue-haired idiot by the collar to get his attention.

"You tell anyone about that and I'll-"

"I won't!" 2D reassured him, nodding.

Murdoc narrowed his eyes, scanning him. When he was satisfied, he gave a swift nod and quickly stood up. He extended a hand down to 2D before he could convince himself otherwise, pointedly staring at one of his walls to avoid eye contact. He waited, but 2D didn't take his offer.

Murdoc glanced down at the singer. 2D was staring at his hand like it was an octopus tentacle. Like it was one, out of place entirely and two, would probably try to attack him if he touched it. It almost made Murdoc smile, but he was able to swallow it back down.

"Idiot," Murdoc said with a sigh, leaning over to grab 2D's hand manually, then yanking him upright.

Noodle watched them from the hallway, concealed beneath the shadows. Maybe Russel was right about 2D. If he could pull a hug from the deepest confines of Murdoc's heart, he could probably do just about anything. Which was good, considering their ultimate goal was to defy Satan himself.

But there was still time for quiet moments like these. She smiled, and silently slipped away.

"Let me get this straight," said Noodle. "You were in a jar?"

The band were once again gathered in Noodle's room. Russel had managed to fit himself through her window frame, but he was still too big to squeeze through her bedroom door and into the rest of the house. For now, they'd decided to share the room. It was probably better that way anyways, if recent events had taught them anything about the dangers of their mission.

Murdoc let out an exasperated sigh. "For the tenth time, yes. The Boogieman stole my soul, 2D scared him off, and put me right back in. It's not that complicated!"

"A demon sent from Hell itself separated your soul from your body," said Noodle, narrowing her eyes, "Then, 2D, who wouldn't hurt a fly even if he was capable, was somehow able to get it back. And then he just shoved your soul right back into your body? How does any of that make sense?"

"It doesn't have to!" cried Murdoc, "When has anything that's happened to anybody here ever made sense?"

"The point is," Russel interjected before Noodle could respond, "We're all safe, for now. We just have to focus on keepin' it that way."

At this, Noodle and 2D both perked up. Murdoc noticed and glanced between them, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"What?" he asked bluntly.

"So you're in?" 2D asked quietly.

"In where?"

"In with us," Noodle answered. "You'll help us undo your contract and regain the rights to your soul?"

Murdoc looked uncomfortable. He shifted in his spot on the couch and looked at anything but the band members that were eyeing him carefully.

"It appears I don't have much of a choice, now do I?" he said, trying desperately to sound annoyed and ungrateful.

"You have every choice," said Noodle. "If you want to live, you'll have to help us."

"My choices are varied, I see," Murdoc growled sarcastically. "Live or die."

"You seemed willing enough to choose the latter not too long ago," Noodle carefully reminded him.

"What do you need my help for, anyways?" Murdoc snapped.

"We need to know how you did it," said Noodle, "How you managed to sell your soul."

"Why do you need to know that?"

"It'll help us get it back," said Noodle. "Permanently."

"And how would it do that?" Murdoc pressed, seemingly amused.

"Well," said Noodle, folding her arms and starting to pace, "If it was through a contract, we could hire a lawyer-"

"You're kidding, right?" said Murdoc. When Noodle stared at him, he threw back his head and exploding with laughter. "Did the dullard not just tell you what happened to us while you were out? The Boogieman does not answer to lawyers and court hearings, I'm afraid. And neither does Satan."

"You sure?"

"Who's the Satanist here, love?" Murdoc said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

Noodle looked flustered, her carefully stored facts being shot down one by one.

"But if it's not through rituals and magick-"

"What makes you think it wasn't?" Murdoc asked.

"The internet-"

"The Internet," cried Murdoc, "Holy bastion of truth and compassion!"

"I was searching for three days!" cried Noodle desperately as Murdoc laughed, "I hardly slept or ate or even left my room. I found nothing! In fact, I found a few websites that explained those rituals were not inherent aspects of Satanism and are complete fabrication! Lies made up for Hollywood!"

"You were looking up 'Satanic rituals' for three days?" asked Murdoc, in a state of wonder. "You poor soul..."

"What d'you mean, Muds?" asked Russel.

"All the girl likely found was the dirtiest kind of porn out there," Murdoc stated, "And all that other stuff about how Satanists don't actually perform Magick. You think we really want some rotten teenagers to simply use the Googles and happen upon our precious spells? I can assure you, girl, our secrets aren't online."

"So where are they?" asked Noodle. She sounded very tired, probably due to the fact that she'd just been told her three-day search had all been for nothing.

Murdoc sat back on the couch, resting one leg over the other and looking very relaxed. He smiled, and pointed to his head.

"In here, of course."

"Tell us, then," said Noodle, pulling up a chair and sitting before Murdoc. "How did you do it? How did you sell your soul?"

Within the deepest, hottest caverns of Hell, the Boogieman shivered.

"You have failed me," said The Voice. There was speculation amongst Hell's demons on who or what The Voice was. Did it come from the flames, acting as Satan's sole representative? Or was it Satan Himself?

"It had Light," the Boogieman explained, "I could not touch it."

"Everything has a price," The Voice went on, ignoring the creature's pleas. "You will know the price of failure."

"Will I... perish?" asked the Boogieman.

"No," answered The Voice. The creature sagged with relief, but The Voice went on. "To perish here would be a reward."

The Boogieman shuddered again, flames licking up its sides. This deep in Hell, the flames attack everything. After a while, a demon can become used to the sense of being burned alive.

"Was I not created to gather souls?" asked the Boogieman. "How will they come to your possession if I do not bring them to you?"

"You will not perish," The Voice repeated, "You will not End."

The flames grew brighter for a moment, stinging the Boogieman's eyes.

"But by the end of your payment, you will wish you had."

A/N: I love reviews, drop a bit of reviews down here, mate.