Author's Notes: Well, it's been one "Hell" of a ride, haha. But this story has finally come to a close. It was really fun to write, and up there with Scarecrow's Lullaby, Breathless, and Nothing Like the Movies, this is one I'm pretty proud of and will miss looking forward to creating updates for. I may write another demon/angel-heaven/hell motif story someday. The whole dark religious undertones are fun and spooky to me.

Enjoy this chapter and thank you for sticking around to finish this with me!

~ . ~

I have nothing left to give
I have found the perfect end
You were made to make it hurt
Disappear into the dirt
Carry me to heaven's arms
Light the way and let me go
Take the time to take my breath
I will end where I began

- Dear Agony, Breaking Benjamin

~ . ~

"Who is this?" Alfred managed to ask after finding his voice. Something about the tone on the other end was letting his guard down and making him feel simultaneously at ease and uncomfortable.

"We are dead, beyond dead. Cela ne peut se produire. This is not happening," Francis muttered in horror to himself, backing away from the old phone as quickly as he could, covering his mouth with his hands and frowning.

"Hang up the phone," Arthur urgently insisted. Alfred blinked, allowing his gaze to dart between the two anxious men watching him.

"Why . . . ?" he hesitantly asked.

"Because you are in very big trouble, dear," the voice answered through the speaker. It was polite but it also demanded Alfred's utmost attention. "I apologize for being such a terrible host. Apparently your accommodations weren't to your tastes. Was it wrong of me to assume that you wouldn't try to alter our original arrangements?"

"Arrangements . . . ?" Alfred felt a frown pulling at his lips, watching as Arthur's eyes grew in size.

"Hang it up!" he hissed.

"Yes, we had a deal, sport. A reservation was made in your name, but you've tried to check out early and it hurt my feelings. Had I known you would renege I would have been more reserved in helping you out of your miserable little predicament."

Alfred felt his breath catch suddenly in his throat when the words sunk in. He couldn't mean –

The phone was jerked away with such force that it left his fingers hurting, Arthur slamming it against the receiver with gusto. The soul turned awestruck eyes to Arthur, whose body vibrating with energy as his tense shoulders hunched around his neck.

"Was – Was that-" Alfred started, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth all of a sudden. Arthur was scowling, turning his head to look at Alfred as he pressed his palms flat against the wall.

"I said to hang up the phone."

When Alfred could only stare at him, dumbfounded – memories of Matthew in the hospital and practically sobbing against that psychic's lap came flooding back – he felt an alarming amount of distress grip him.

"A-Arthur," he called, watching the Greeter march back across the room to Francis. "Was that who I think it –"

"Yes," Arthur responded with a pinched, humoring smile on his lips. It dropped the moment the word left his mouth. Alfred gulped, his stomach squirming enough to make his knees give out, his back sliding quickly down the wall until he sat on the carpet, dazed.

Holy hell, he just talked to the Devil? Satan, Lucifer, the Fallen One – The Prince of Darkness himself, and all he could say was, "Who is this?"

"I'm so dead," he breathed, running his fingers roughly through his hair.

"Thank you for that recap. Now onto new business," Arthur spoke, grabbing Francis roughly by the collar and snapping him out of his stupor.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, grasping Arthur's hand as he was pulled in towards Alfred. When Arthur stood over the soul, he leaned down to mirror the same gesture to Alfred's jacket.

Alfred winced at the harsh action. "Arthur –"

"You're going on a little trip."

Alfred shifted his attention to the door he was being dragged towards, realizing what Arthur meant and shaking his head. "No way."

"I'm not going out there!" Francis protested frantically, digging his heels into the carpet. Leaving the sanctuary that was Hell was not an option. There was nothing for him out there on the earth. The only thing waiting for them would be exposure and certain capture.

"You'd rather stay here?" Arthur laughed, the sound jarring and fake. "Let me be the first to say you are dumber than I originally took you for, frog. We lost, so take what you are offered, lick your wounds, and live to see another tomorrow and all that rubbish."

"Then why aren't you going?" Francis asked, his blue eyes searching for a valid reason as Arthur sighed dramatically and stared him down.

"I've already made it very clear that there needs to be a distraction."

"Oh, stop playing the martyr," snapped Francis, his teeth grinding together in annoyance.

"Y-yeah," Alfred chimed in. "If you said this was going to h-happen if it went sour then I wouldn't have even tried to leave at all."

"I was not going to let you sit there for the rest of your existence strapped to that chair," Arthur countered obstinately.

"What? So I don't even get a choice in this?"

Arthur turned to him abruptly with a glare soaked with impatience. "No, you do not. Because apparently you cannot make a rational decision to save your life – and I mean that literally! You threw your life away for a handful of years with your brother at best. You wouldn't even be here if you hadn't jumped the gun and acted like an utterly depressed juvenile brat."

Alfred gawked, the sting of what he did for Matthew still too fresh. He'd battled constantly if what he had done was for the best, bouncing between guilt and frustration. But he was always adamant to say he'd do it again at the end of the day.

Alfred shoved Arthur away, twisting in his hold when he wouldn't let go. He felt his eyes start to burn, his vision clouding around the corners when Arthur belittled his act of brotherly compassion. Arthur retracted his arm with a gasp when Alfred smacked his wound underneath his sleeve.

He fell to the ground with a whump! and rubbed the back of his head.

"What are you doing?"

Alfred tried his best to glower at him from his spot on the floor and hated when he heard his voice crack as he spoke. "Wh-what is your d-damage?"

"I am just trying to save y–"

"You clearly do not have a handle on the situation and therefore shouldn't be making these decisions," Francis said from beside him, jerking out of Arthur's hold. Green eyes zipped between his two companions, frustrations mounting as the clock ticked on. After a call from a black phone, there wasn't going to be much of a delay before he showed up through those doors. And once he showed up, there was nothing in Arthur's power that he could do to make up for his mistakes.

"Francis," he warned, the heat of urgency burning underneath his collar as his friend went to Alfred's side.

"He can't leave," Francis tried to reason. He immediately saw Arthur bristle. "Where can he go? He cannot even walk on his own. It's pointless to send him out there without anyone to look out for him until he's healed."

"That is why you – "

"I can't survive out there! I never could before and you know this."

Arthur took a few calming breaths that did nothing and ran his hands over his face. "You're as good as dead here."

Francis looked at Alfred, the boy angrily running his wrist over his suspiciously misty eyes. There wasn't much left to this soul, and despite outward appearances, Francis wasn't a stranger to pain. He sighed, placing a quivering hand in a mock form of comfort on Alfred's back.

"That's all there is left, mon frere," he admitted regretfully.

Arthur stood, his inner turmoil bubbling up like a witch's cauldron inside of him, a stony expression on his face. He would not let Francis extinguish this last ray of hope.

"There are far worse things than death, you fool."

Francis frowned, looking uncertain, before opening his mouth to retort. He didn't get the chance, however, because there were three abrupt knocks on the door. All three heads of blonde hair swiveled in unison. The room with stagnant air of hostility and desperation evaporated in that instant.

The sound hadn't come from the door leading to the hallway and the elevator of the damned. It was coming from the entrance.

A long beat passed before three more knocks resounded.

Alfred felt himself sitting up fully when Arthur strolled to get the door. Even as he glanced back over his shoulder and Francis and Alfred's dumbstruck expressions, he still couldn't find the right words to express his confusion.

Was this . . . Could this be . . . ?

He gripped the handle gently and gave the door a quick tug. It opened slowly to reveal the long hallway that souls entered from. Alfred remembered walking down that polished floor, nervous as to what would lie on the other side. A bright-eyed man with the toothiest smile he'd ever seen had been a blessing in disguise.

He craned his neck to see around Arthur's body. There were two men dressed in crème colored suits; one tall, one short. It was like looking out a window on a rainy day when the water stopped and the clouds parted to reveal a stream of warm sunlight in the gloom.

The murk and gunk that was collecting inside of his chest seemed to be washed away when Arthur stepped aside to let them in. He felt like he could breathe in their presence.

"Angels," he muttered, awestruck.

The hand on his back halted its movements, and Francis stiffened beside him. Apparently their soothing presence did nothing for citizens of Hell, Alfred noted, seeing that Arthur looked just as rigid.

"Evening," curtly greeted the taller one with high cheekbones and hair so fair it was almost white. His eyes narrowed slightly when he took in Arthur's split lip and ruffled appearance. Arthur patted his hair down and smoothed out his collar.

He felt himself smiling with this familiar atmosphere. Chaos and disorganization he couldn't handle. It was unpredictable. But professionalism and business conduct – this he could deal with.

"I don't see much good about it."

The taller angel's lips twitched downward at the corners when he spotted Alfred crumpled up on the floor. "I never said that it was good."

Arthur chuckled, but it sounded forced and high. After all, they were still on an ever ticking clock. They needed to make this exchange now. He offered a hand politely. "I suppose you're right. Pleasant seeing you again Ludwig, Feliciano."

The taller of the two – Ludwig, Alfred noticed – shook Arthur's hand once, appearing anything but pleased to do so. The short brunette with a round face that reminded Alfred of a freshly baked bread roll hopped forward and gave a more enthusiastic handshake.

"Please excuse him. It's been a stressful day," Feliciano apologized with a smile. He sounded so happy and carefree. Alfred wondered what that was like. It had been too long for him to properly remember unhindered joy.

As if finally noticing the others in the room, Feliciano turned his attention to Alfred and Francis, his mouth opening humorously into a large O when he saw the weariness and blood. He nearly fell over himself to kneel in front of him, gentle hands grasping Alfred's face on either side. Feliciano squished his cheeks together and Alfred's wordless protests fell on deaf ears.

"Look at you! What happened? Ludwig, look at him!" Feliciano cried, looking to his companion with concern. He received nothing but a grim stare. "I thought you were being taken care of today. Why are you so injured?"

"Because somebody, who shall remain nameless, decided to be fashionably late," Arthur responded. Ludwig shot him a displeased glance.

"You're being unreasonable. We are risking more than you can grasp for coming down here to pick that boy up. I don't appreciate the attitude."

"And you seem to be unaware of what I've gone through to get him here," Arthur reminded.

"I'm sure. You're lot seems to care an unsurmountable quantity for the human souls."

"I got him here, did I not?"

Ludwig blew a puff of air from his nose, trying to size Arthur up with his eyes. "I am still trying to understand the reason why," he muttered gruffly.

Arthur merely kept smiling.

"Are you OK? Your name is Alfred, right? I am Feliciano, Alfred. Everything is going to be much better for you from here on out," Feliciano reassured, petting back Alfred's hair from his face, minding of the cut under a clump of blonde when Alfred winced. Trying to be as polite as possible, Alfred attempted a small smile while getting out of his grasp.

"Thank you, that's – thanks. You can let go now . . . To be honest, I was k-kinda nervous you weren't coming . . . " he admitted, watching as Feliciano began to account for all his wounds and bruises. When he got to his ankles, the warmth in his brown eyes became muddied and dim.

"We would never want to abandon a soul in need, but there are a lot of threats to coming down here," Feliciano explained, locking eyes with Alfred. He smiled gingerly, dimples poking in his round cheeks. "Ludwig and I just wanted to make sure this was a guarantee that you would be here."

"You guys thought Arthur was g-going to trick you?" he asked, looking to Feliciano and then Ludwig for an answer. The brunette's smile turned appeasing while Ludwig remained silent. It wasn't really surprising, but the thought that they found Arthur to be vindictive and evil just because of what he was and where he lived . . . That wasn't quite alright with him.

"Well, he won't," Alfred said, urging them to believe him. Feliciano craned his neck to look at Ludwig, waiting for his response to all of this. The blonde continued to stare before turning his attention back to Arthur.

"Do you have the paperwork?"

Arthur nodded, moving to rummage through the filing cabinet behind his desk before pulling out Alfred's red file. "Under the circumstances, I think there was foul play in his contract. Aside from it being just circumstantial evidence, I do have this," he opened his top drawer and grimaced. Ludwig cocked his head to the side curiously before he stumbled to catch the object that glinted in the light that Arthur threw at him.

Ludwig peered down, twisting the cross necklace against his fingers, examining it.

"John 10:28. 'And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, and no one shall snatch them out of my hand,'" he recited, ignoring the way Francis frowned when he spoke the verse. "I looked into it, and Alfred was baptized when he was younger, as he was also a religious boy until about the sixth grade. Even if he is not now, I come to understand that on a technicality you must let him in."

Feliciano perked up, rising from his kneeling position on the floor to adjust his blue and white polka dotted bowtie. He watched as Ludwig ran his thumb over the metallic shape, in deep contemplation. He leaned forward and placed his hand against the bend of his elbow, seeking out his gaze.

"It is true. We must let him come with us."

Arthur appeared in front of them, offering Alfred's red file. Ludwig pocketed the cross and accepted he folder, browsing through its contents quickly. The more he skimmed, the more his expression darkened in distaste. Alfred didn't know what to say. Was that a bad thing? Did they have some suspicions about him, too?

Arthur, on the other hand, appeared rather smug as he bounced on his heels. "Clean as a whistle, don't you think?"

Ludwig's eyes glanced up at him. Arthur merely shrugged his shoulders. "I can't find a reason to keep him here. He's not exactly our usual clientele."

Feliciano removed the file from Ludwig's hands and began to browse, his eyebrows hiking up higher into his hairline. "You did so much charity work!"

"W-well, people need help and I want to give it to them . . ." Alfred murmured, feeling somewhat embarrassed. Wasn't that just a normal thing? He remembered that his friends used to halfheartedly tease him about his hero complex every time he bailed on plans to go help out somewhere.

"I don't mean to be an annoyance, but can this hurry along?" Francis blurted, flinching when the angel's eyes landed on him. He wanted nothing more than to get out of this room before a certain somebody made an appearance. "We sort of have a situation here and I'd like to leave."

Ludwig's eyes narrowed as Feliciano blinked stupidly over the top of the folder.

"What kind of a situation?"

Arthur shot Francis a quick glare before stepping forward, ready to smooth this state of affairs over. "Nothing you gentlemen need to concern yourselves with. Now if everything is to your approval, I urge you to take this soul so I can wash my hands of this whole dilemma."

"I'm not going anywhere, I already told you that," Alfred denied when he saw Feliciano hover above him to offer his hand. The brunette regarded him with confusion. "I'm only going if Arthur comes with me."

"Arthur?" Feliciano gasped in shock, turning to look at the Greeter of Hell who was starting to look more and more aggravated with every word coming from Alfred's mouth.

He nodded. "And Francis," Alfred added as an afterthought.

Francis visibly choked on his spit beside him. "Pardon?"

"No," Ludwig said, leaving no room for argument.

"They're good, I swear!" he insisted, a sensation rising in his chest that was stifling and desperate. This wasn't a hard concept. Everything wasn't black and white. Demons could be good, couldn't they? "Just take them with me. I-I'd bet my life on it."

"Alfred," Arthur reprimanded, shaking his head and folding his arms across his chest. It was pointless to even try to persuade them, so why waste the breath?

"No," Ludwig denied, his voice deep and brusque.

"We're not allowed to do that, Alfred. It's nothing personal," Feliciano explained, trying to seem understanding. Alfred looked between the two angels, suddenly feeling like this was a game of good cop, bad cop.

"Oh, please," Francis snorted, murmuring under his breath. He avoided Feliciano's eyes when they regarded him unappreciatively.

Alfred, feeling trapped and uneasy, swallowed the lump in his throat. His fingers dug into the carpet as he chewed at his lower lip. Arthur was watching him carefully, that look of resignation on his face. It made something inside his heart sink.

"Then I'm not going," Alfred announced.

Francis threw his hands up and began to curse in inarticulate French while Arthur's scowl lines were restored.

"What do you mean you're not going?" Feliciano asked, wringing his hands against his jacket. "You have to go. We came all this way here and made these arrangements. We're obligated to remove a misplaced soul when it comes to our attention."

"I'm not going if it means throwing them under t-the bus," Alfred said adamantly.

"Ludwig," Feliciano whined, turning on his heels in distress. The taller man frowned and stepped forward, his body imposing and unwelcoming when standing over the kneeling soul.

"I apologize, but there isn't a way to grant your wish."

Alfred grimaced, recoiling. "I'm not leaving."

"This is not a request."

Alfred sucked the air right between his teeth when two large hands started to descend upon him, his arms and legs scurrying backwards, trying to stay out of reach. No way in hell was he going to get carried out of here like that. Ivan was bad enough.

"Arthur –" he started, seeking out his eyes in alarm. Arthur seemed tense, coiled so tightly, ready to go off. He looked like he was resisting every urge in his body to go forward and stop this. Well, what the fuck? Was he just going to sit back and let this happen like this?

Alfred growled lowly in his chest, managing to get to his feet and put Arthur's large wooden desk between them. Ludwig sighed in exasperation, not liking this anymore than the rest of the onlookers in the room. This was the first he'd ever heard of a soul wanting to stay in Hell.

It was then, when Alfred noticed the barren clock on the wall, that an idea struck him. He placed his palms flat against the wood for support, wetting his lips with his tongue.

"If you don't take them with me then you're going to be sorry," Alfred said, making sure his words were deliberately ominous. Or as ominous as a panting, trembling teenager on the brink of unconsciousness could be. Ludwig's blonde eyebrow rose up his forehead.

"Is that a threat?"

Alfred nodded fervently. "Uh-huh. I'm serious. So you better be willing to throw all three of us over y-your shoulder unless you want your ass to be grass."

"What are you talking about?" Arthur questioned, his eyebrows slowly furrowing suspiciously.

"You s-said so yourself!" Alfred proclaimed, pointing his finger at Arthur. "We're at the final boss level."

"Boss level . . . ?" Feliciano parroted in bewilderment.

A crinkle appeared between Ludwig's eyebrows in concentration as he attempted to digest Alfred's words. He traced the anxious but grave expression on the young soul's face. His jaw nearly dropped when the realization hit, Ludwig's eyes widening.

"It's a trap," he exclaimed, his voice booming as it bounced off of the walls. Feliciano jumped, holding the red folder tightly to his chest in disbelief.

"What's a trap?"

"We m-may or may not have done a shitty job in alerting someone when coming down here," Alfred explained for him, since Ludwig was so obviously dealing with his feathers being ruffled – no pun intended. The brunette's round eyes managed to become rounder as his knees knocked together.

"No," he breathed in horror.

Alfred nodded, a mangled impression of a smirk on his face. He couldn't pinpoint what emotions he was feeling with them all fighting and roided out, but there was something in his throat that was making him winded in an accomplished way.

"You did this on purpose, didn't you? I knew it was a mistake to trust you," Ludwig growled, rounding on Arthur and shoving him against the wall. Arthur recovered quickly after blinking rapidly and grinned spitefully.

"Yes, I was willing to destroy myself for two insignificant pons of your hypocritical kingdom of grace. It just flew right over your head, didn't it?" He chuckled, gripping where Ludwig had a death grip on his collar. "Please, use your logic."

"We're leaving," Ludwig announced, relinquishing his hold on Arthur and marching towards Alfred. The panic was back at how quickly he was approaching him. Alfred stuck his hands out when Ludwig made his way around the desk.

"Wait, wait! If you leave them here they'll just rat you out!"

The blonde halted, waiting for Alfred to continue. "I do not care what their opinions are."

"But you'll b-be in trouble for helping bust a soul out, won't you?" Alfred rambled, hoping anything that he said would stick. When he saw the hesitation flicker across Ludwig's face, he gathered the rest of his confidence. "Y-yeah, you will have a big target on your back. It'll be like America's Most Wanted, only this time I don't think whoever catches you will be as nice as the feds. W-won't that make it harder to move around for your safety?"

Ludwig was scowling, and that just made Alfred feel a little better. He was getting through to him. His eyes flickered to Feliciano's horrorstruck expression. Time to bring it home.

"What do you think, shorty?" Alfred asked, jutting his chin at Feliciano. "Do you think you can outrun the Devil?"

OK, so he might've felt a little bad when all the color drained away from Feliciano's face.

A loud bang made Alfred jump and wince, nearly falling over when Ludwig abruptly slammed his hand down against the desk. There was fury in his gaze that made Alfred give a pause. With his shoulders hunched and his breathing forced and even, Alfred thought for a moment that Ludwig was going to get punch him.

He thanked his lucky stars when he didn't. Ludwig slowly straightened up to his full height, letting his eyes flick momentarily to his companion. Damn his weakness when it came to that optimistic, cheerful man.

"You're blackmailing us," he announced after a beat.

Alfred let his jaw flap in the wind for a moment before he nodded dumbly. "B-basically . . ."

"And here I thought you were giving us a saint," Ludwig grumbled ironically, twisting around to look at Arthur. He was grinning from ear to ear, practically trembling in amusement. He shrugged.

"My sincerest apologies." Arthur hid his titters behind his hand, looking at Alfred in amazement. Really now, blackmailing an angel? He hadn't quite expected Alfred to pull that out of his sleeve. We all go down or none of us do, is that it?

"You can take us all, or you can stay here with me. You're obligated to, aren't y-you?" Alfred spoke, gaining Ludwig's attention. The taller male huffed in irritation.

"And what would you have me do? Nothing you can say will allow me to bend the rules and let them have residence in Heaven. I don't have that kind of authority," he explained gruffly. Alfred was quick to think. There had to be a way to keep them out of the spotlight.

"What about on Earth, then? Didn't you say that you and L-Ludwig would get coffee?" Alfred asked, turning to Arthur for confirmation. His amusement had died down a good deal and he allowed himself to become a little more serious.

"Yes. We are able to venture around the globe," he admitted, though the idea of living there still terrified him. He didn't like the unpredictability of the earth. It was hard enough making these arrangements to get Alfred out when he had to.

"Well can't you guys do like a witness protection thing? Live on Earth, hide, stay out of suspicion?" Alfred offered, imploring both the weary looking angels and the uneasy glances from Francis and Arthur. "You can watch out for them."

Ludwig frowned. "I am not their bodyguard."

"Would you rather be relocated to my old room?" Alfred asked, raising an eyebrow. Arthur snorted and Ludwig cast him a disapproving scowl. "You c-can make it happen . . . Please."

"Tick tock, mate," Arthur muttered, tapping his wrist.

"Just say yes," Feliciano urged, shaking and glancing at the door nervously. "We'll figure out the details but let's go. Please."

Ludwig looked down at his pleading partner before he shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was unbelievable.

"We're leaving," he announced loudly, swiftly walking forward and snatching Alfred around the arm. He looped his arm underneath his back and behind his knees, ignoring the pained hiss of air Alfred let out. He looked down at the bruised boy in his arms, a gravity in his eyes when he caught sight of the blue ones peering curiously up at him.

"Do not make me regret this, Alfred Jones."

Alfred nodded. "I w-won't."

"You can walk on your own. Keep up," he ordered as he passed Francis and Arthur. Feliciano glanced between the two before trotting after Ludwig anxiously.

"I cannot believe this. Are you seriously going along with this?" Francis complained, rubbing his temples in distress. He was leaving Hell to live with humans? No more prestigious job or respected colleagues or familiarity of any kind? "I think I may pass out."

Arthur ran his fingers down his tie, taking in a final look at his office. He'd been here for years. Imagining leaving now was difficult. Not paying attention to Francis' distressed whining, he approached his desk for the last time, running his fingers along the outline.

Arthur hummed lowly in his throat before removing his all access key from his breast pocket. End of an era, he supposed.

Placing it down, he smoothed out the wrinkles in his jacket and ran his thumbs over his large eyebrows. With a heavy exhale, Arthur pivoted his feet and made for the exit. He could hear the chatter and voices of the souls waiting to enter Hell as Ludwig and Feliciano opened the door at the end of the hallway.

Arthur looped his arm in Francis' elbow, catching the bemoaning man off-guard.

"You're really going through with this?" he argued in distress, letting himself be dragged closer and closer to the exit.

"Why not?" He gave his friend a side glance with a snicker. "Besides, somebody has to save your sorry arse, and I know you're not quite capable of doing it yourself."

"Says the man who put me in this position in the first place."

Arthur grinned, moving to the side and taking the plunge. "It's nothing to give me hell about."

Francis groaned as he was pulled through the darkness until he could see a light emerging on the other side.

"You're so funny I almost forgot to laugh."

A loud, blaring noise rang throughout the small room, insistent and shrill. Arthur calmly got up from his laying position on the bed and placed his fingers over the alarm clock. The instrument immediately silenced itself. Green eyes watched as the large red numbers shifted.

7:31 A.M.

Though he had never felt the need to sleep in his entire existence, Arthur was one for rigid routine. There was no problem laying down at night and counting his thoughts, most of which consisted of a bespectacled boy smiling at him from a wooden chair.

Every morning he completed the same tasks. Shower first, cooking breakfast, watching the news. There was a loveliness to predictability; however, there was nothing predictable about the United States. Watching the news helped give him a semblance of what was going on in the world. More importantly, what was going on in his world.

But today was different.

He hummed a tune to himself as he locked his front door, enjoying the sunlight against his skin. Despite the fact that he couldn't feel or taste anything in this shell of a body he used, there was nothing wrong with admiring the illusion of these trivial things in his daily life.

"You are having way too much fun, mon frere."

Arthur perked up when hearing a bored voice beside him. He glanced over to see Francis sitting in a patio chair, watching him with lowered eyelids and taking a languid drag from a cigarette. Arthur smiled, tucking his keys away in his pocket.

"I am always having fun."

The blonde sighed, the smoke from his breath blowing a few stray strands from his loose ponytail. He placed his cheek in his palm.

"Well, good for you."

"Sucking on those sour grapes this morning I see?" Arthur teased, crossing his lawn to lean against the fence of the adjourning house. Francis crossed his leg over the other and smiled a halfhearted gesture. "Try being a little more positive, mate." He pointed towards the ash ready to crumble from the end of the cancer stick. "Those things will kill you, you know."

"It's a good thing I already know where I'm going then, isn't it?"

Arthur nodded. It had only been a few months since this whole arrangement began, and so far there were no real signs that they had been discovered after their defection of Hell. At least, Ludwig never informed them of anything. But who could trust an angel, anyway?

Eventually they'd be caught, sure, but today didn't seem like the day.

He could eventually get used to his new environment as long as he kept a certain soul in mind, but Francis was still a little bitter about it. Where he was practically a king in Hell, he was nothing more than a simple hotel concierge now. It would take some time to get used to it.

But he isn't detained, and that is all I can ask for, Arthur thought, reluctant to admit his gratitude for his pompous friend's safety.

"No briefcase today?" Francis commented, noting Arthur's body lacking the ever present black rectangle.

Arthur grinned. "I'm going on a little vacation."

Francis craned his head to the side before groaning, rubbing his temple. "Again?" he inquired when he realized what Arthur meant. "That is the third time already. You are going to attract enough attention and give us both away."

"I do not mind moving. I hear Rhode Island is lovely this time of year," he said, waving over his shoulder and descending down his driveway.

Francis shook his head and called after him. "You are still exactly the same! Think of others for a change!" When he heard Arthur's laughter fade off as he drove away down the street, Francis sighed. He flicked the ball of ash into the tray beside him.

"I know exactly who he thinks of," he muttered, shaking his head with an acquiescent smile.

He walked down a long, white hallway, the sound of his shoes echoing in the confined space. There was nothing to focus on but the golden door at the end. It had a familiarity to it despite the fact that he'd rarely stood in front of it.

A chain hung around his neck, his visitor's badge getting tucked away under the lining of his coat. In a way it was better than an all-access key. This granted him access to only one place, but it felt like he had the whole world at his fingertips when he touched it.

When he reached the end of the hallway, he stood in front of the door, his stomach doing a leap into his throat like every other time he'd stood here. Giving a few curt knocks, Arthur gripped the handle and opened it.

The room was small but welcoming, the eggshell colored walls and blue carpeting inviting to each new guest. There was a water jug in the corner, surrounded by nature themed paintings on the walls. A low hum was emitting from the air conditioner as the ribbons tied to it lightly danced in the air from where they hung.

It was a pleasant room.

It was soothing

But what really caught his eye was the blonde male sitting in a wooden chair at the edge of the room. Around his neck was an identical badge that Arthur wore, hanging beside a cross necklace resting against his tanned collarbone.

Alfred was fidgeting in his seat, conversing excitedly to the Greeter behind the Welcome desk. He politely cleared his throat, garnering their attention. Alfred's eyes instantly lit up, something that made Arthur's breath catch every time he visited the soul.

"Evening, lad. Fancy running into you here."

Alfred beamed at him, a smile so bright it was hard to look directly at. There were no bruises or scrapes or sadness or fear in him when he stood up, practically falling over himself as he barreled into Arthur's arms. He shut his eyes and tucked his chin against the dip of Alfred's neck, winding his arms tight enough to cut off any circulation. It didn't matter. Alfred wasn't complaining.

"Don't you have something to say to me?" Arthur asked, marveling at the way he could feel Alfred grinning against his neck.

The arms around him tightened, but he was sure that that wasn't the reason for his breathlessness.

"Welcome to Heaven, you jerk. Name, please."