Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1832, Undervale Asylum for the Insane

Abaddon, the Cobra King, Gatekeeper of the Fifth Ring, High Prince of the Black Realm, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, The Destroyer, King of the Locusts and Shrimp, Harbinger of Doom, will not put up with this injustice, this slight upon the Lord of Sheol himself! The overseer of this housing of mad people would face his wrath! 

Just as soon as he escaped the accursed chains trapping him in the attic.

The insane asylum hadn’t been here too long, having been built on the bones of the collapsed church that pre-dated it. No matter. The consecration of the grounds had long since faded and been replaced with Abaddon’s own sigil in the basement, staking his claim on the grounds. He had haunted this pathetic village of idiots for nearly a hundred years now, since before the asylum was even built, and yet he had never had he met a human as loathsome as the vile wretch that ran this palace of misery. 

Doctor Benjamin Bell. Normally the demon took a sort of professional pride in humans when they decided engage in acts of moral depravity and torture, but, he must say, he rather preferred it when the torture didn’t include him.

He tugged uselessly once more at the chains keeping him pinned to the attic, one attached to each of his wrists, forcing him to sit arms spread as far apart as he could reach in this feeble boy’s body. The chains didn't even give him a inch to relax his strained muscles. He snarled lightly at the blasted things, gaining the glare of a nearby ghost that quickly went back to ignoring him after seeming to forget he was there.

Normally such chains would be no match for Abaddon, the Cobra King, etc., but today, well… today.

He pulled against the chain futilely, causing the cold iron to burn a previously untouched section of skin. He hissed softly at the them again.

Today he was trapped by the one metal that was able to contain demons, after being hooked up to some modern torture device that shocked his body like lightning burns trees. It was awful, but not in the pleasant way that fire or acid baths were awful.

His muscles still burned like silver underneath his skin, with intermittent spasms that made his jaw clench and ache, which in turn made him flinch, causing the cold iron to burn once more. It was a vicious cycle of misery. Perhaps if he sat here long enough the iron would burn all the way through and his hand would fall off allowing him to escape.

One day he would kill this Benjamin Bell for daring to lay hands on him.

But probably not today, he thought, as he heard the tell-tale clunk clunk clunk of the human clambering up the stairs. Abaddon snarled as the ghost hid further behind the storage boxes to avoid Bell’s gaze. Coward.

Though, some small part of Abaddon wished he could hide as well. He mentally slapped down that thought. He would never! He was a formidable demon, guardian of hell, and more powerful than this mere human! But, at the same time, escaping into the woods sounded very nice right now.

“Well,” the scratchy voice of Benjamin Bell drawled, rough from years of tobacco and screaming at his inmates, “have you learned your lesson yet?” He was a hideous example of the human race, tall with a receding hairline, yellow-tinted skin, and a face that promised pain.

The part of Abaddon that is a 9-year-old boy raised under the controlling hands of a Quaker priest trembled in fear of the man towering over him. However, the part of Abaddon that was a demon who grew up in the bowels of hell did not quake. 

“Never,” he snarled and spat at the man’s face. It would have been better if he has his full powers. His saliva would have burned the man’s skin, causing it to slough off and reveal the pretty bone underneath. Then again, if he had his full powers this man never would have trapped him to begin with.

The slap that cracked across his cheek and caused his ears to ring, was entirely unexpected. Rage bubbled underneath his skin nonetheless.

One day, one day, he swore, this man would know the true meaning of pain and helplessness.

“This would be so much easier,” Bell continued, “if you’d just submit. Be a little little boy creature and obey your betters.”

“You are no better than the maggot that devours the putrid flesh of a decaying vulture. And one day I will rip you apart with my teeth! This mortal form won’t stop me!”

The second slap was even less unexpected than the first, though Abaddon was certain this one cracked his cheekbone. He swallowed that blood pooled in his mouth, enjoying the brief tang of copper.

Bell sighed in fake disappointment, but Abaddon knew better. This man took pleasure in seeing others suffer, in inflicting that suffering upon them in the name of 'help.' As if Abaddon couldn't hear the constant cries of agony from beneath him. It was a small comfort that at least his agony wasn't unique to him.

“I see another round with the galvanizer is in order.”

Traitorous fear clenched at Abaddon’s chest. It was unbecoming of a demon to feel such things.

“Or maybe…” he trailed off, looking at Abaddon consideringly. Abaddon held his gaze, refusing to allow this man to see him cowed, despite the rabbit-fast pace of his mortal body’s heart.

The man had already burned him with lightning controlled by a modern magic called science, he had been beat, burned with silver and iron placed in his food, dunked in cold water and left to sit in the chilled air, drugged with elixirs that made his head ache and his stomach squirm. What other tortures had this vile human come up with in the name of 'treatment?'

He would make a good demon and Abaddon wasn't sure why he didn't mean that as a compliment.

Abaddon snarled. Or a good victim one day. yes, that felt more right.

“You know,” Bell continued. “We wouldn’t have to do all of this if you would just obey me. Behave, listen, submit, like a boy should. Be good.” Bell’s gaze bore into Abaddon, staking him in place as easily as pins through a butterfly’s wings.

He bared his teeth, allowing the blood to drip out of his mouth and onto the floor. “I am no boy. And a demon will never be good.”

The gleam in Bell’s eyes made the pit in Abaddon’s stomach turn to lead. “Perhaps not yet, but we’ll see.” Then, he turned heel and left Abaddon without a backwards glance.

Perhaps further torments had been temporarily avoided? Unlikely, considering Bell’s obvious lust for inflicting pain and suffering on his inmates and, more importantly, on Abaddon. But it was possible. Even demons get bored sometimes. Perhaps demon-esque humans were the same.

Or perhaps not, he thought as the clunk clunk clunk of Bell trudging up the stairs reappeared, what could have been minutes or hours later, this time followed by one of his timid nurses. Abaddon hissed at her, enjoying her flinch of terror as she took in his bloody face and red eyes.

The next few moments were confusing and afterwards Abaddon could only remember the events in painful flashes, like a series of paintings.

A clamp around his right eye.

A thin and discolored metal rod.

Pain searing from his eye deep into his skull.

Blood dripping from somewhere.

A cruel laugh.

Who...? Where...?

Then fogginess, despair, and a physical pain that somehow burned less than the helplessness of it all.

He learned many decades later that this procedure was called a lobotomy after watching Esther’s television box during one of her ‘documentaries.’ He refused to tell her why he threw the accursed device out of the window.

But, of course, Abaddon isn’t a human, so his brain matter grew back, though it took nearly two weeks. And those two weeks were calm somehow, like the pause a victim takes when they take deep breath before screaming. Bell praised him continuously during those miserable weeks (though only miserable in hindsight), toting him around the asylum prison, showing off his newfound meekness and curtailed propensity towards violence.

Then, after his brain recovered enough from its mutation, Abaddon would feel as though he just awoke from a deep sleep, his senses returned and the human would trap him again and begin the cycle anew. 

Abaddon wasn’t sure how long this cycle of mutilation, peace, and pain continued, but one day, all at once, the asylum was shut down and all of the patients removed. Men took Bell away in handcuffs while Abaddon watched from an upstairs window. Later he regretted not killing the man himself, but he took great pleasure years later finding his grave and ripping apart the decayed bones that sat there. His left tibia even had the other of joining Abaddon’s bone collection.

Then, one day, many decades later, the asylum became a hotel and a man reached into Abaddon’s hole and pulled him out.

***

2025, Undervale Hotel

Esther ran through the hotel, her wolfsbane bat tucked securely in her jacket, away from the prying eyes of her mom, who’d definitely freak out and take it if she saw it. 

Speaking of her mom, Esther poked her head into the hallway, where Katherine was attempting to detangle the vacuum cleaner from the wall curtains. Weird. “Hey, Mom!”

“Yes, what is it?” she said, grunting as the vacuum continued to stay trapped in its fabric prison, only half paying attention to Esther.

“Have you seen Abaddon?”

Katherine sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. I put him in the attic until I can clean up his mess. Again.”

“Okay, thanks!” Esther said before bounding up to the attic. What did her mom really expect? Abaddon was a demon. They’re not exactly known for following the rules, which just made him even more fun in her opinion!

She creaked open the attic door with a mischievous smile. She was pretty sure the bat would sus out the werewolf but maybe Abaddon knew something that wasn’t in her tomes. Ooh! Maybe he could even smell the werewolf blood like some kind of bloodhound. That would be so cool.

“Hey Abaddon,” she sing-songed as she stepped into the attic. It was dusty and cluttered as per usual and she didn’t see Abaddon immediately. That was pretty normal. He was a sneaky little guy and excellent at hiding. “Guess what I found!”

“If it’s my coyote bones, put them back.”

She stepped around a half-fallen pile of boxes. “No, it’s— holy crap! Your arm!” Esther pressed a horrified hand to her mouth. Jesus H. Christ! Abaddon was chained to the wall with a heavy shackle around his wrist, smoke coming from his arm along with the putrid smell of burning flesh.

Abaddon looked at his arm blankly. “Yes.”

Esther rushed over, coming to a stop in front of Abaddon. “It’s burning! Oh my— it’s literally burning you. Are you okay?” She grabbed his wrist and the shackle, trying to hold the metal so that it didn’t rest against his skin, but the shackles were so tight that there wasn’t much room to adjust it. It was almost like they were made specifically for him. But that couldn't be right. It wasn’t like there was much need for shackles that form-fit to the arms of a nine-year-old child.

“I am fine,” he says, which is, like, so obviously untrue that Esther doesn't even bother to answer him. She tugged at the chain connecting the shackle to the wall, but it held fast. For something so old and crappy, it sure was strong. And the metal had to be cold iron. It just had to be. Normal metal wouldn’t do this to a demon. Only salt, silver, holy water, and crucifixes could even get close. And she already threw out every cross and Bible in this dirty hotel.

She eyed the chainless hoop several feet down. At least the second one was broken so Abaddon still had one hand free.

“What happened? Is this… fun? For you? Like sleeping in the fireplace?” she asked hopefully, not even daring to believe that could be the case.

“I do not sleep.”

Ugh. “That’s so not the point here!”

“Oh. Then what is?”

“Why are you chained up in the attic?” Her voice was tinged with desperation as she tried to push down the panic that was starting to rise. This wasn’t a panic situation yet. Abaddon was hurt, but he was hurt all the time and was fine. He seemed to like pain even! Maybe he put himself here?

“Katherine has decided that she no longer wishes to deal with me and has decreed that I am to stay here until she 'figures this out.'

“She what? What the heck? Figures what out? Actually, no. It doesn't matter. Just, just stay here. I’m going to go get something to break the lock!”

Abaddon winces slightly as she lets go of the shackle and she mirrors the expression before running back down the stairs. Esther knew that her mom wasn’t a fan of Abaddon but this was crazy! She literally chained him up like an animal while he was being constantly burned! This was torture! And yeah, demons liked torture, but that didn’t make it okay.

Moments later she found herself back at the lobby while her mom was talking to some hotel guest about her wedding or something. And there was a man tied up to a chair? That’s weird. But it doesn’t matter right now! What matters is her mom locking up her friend!

“Mom!” she screeches.

The guest looks at her startled and her mom turns to her with murder in her eyes. “Not now, Esther. I’m in the middle of something.” She turns back to the guest and holds up her hands. “I can explain.”

“You better be able to explain!” Esther yells, stomping her foot.

***

Abaddon stares at his arm with an uncomfortable mix of apathy and despair. Esther’s presence was a brief light that was quickly snuffed out. She was… a close acquaintance. He enjoyed her company and their adventures. 

Just how long did Katherine intend to keep him here? She hadn’t given him a timeline and while he made a habit for disappearing for days at a time, whether hiding under the lobby couch cushions, under the lake, or in the vents, and the Freelings didn’t seem to notice, he hoped they wouldn’t forget him up here for weeks.

Or months.

He glanced down at his wrist again, frowning. It burned. Nothing like fire or the trapped lightning that humans now called electricity, but like something primal chipping away at the core of his being. 

He wanted to spend time with Esther and Nathan and the rest of the family, but escaping Katherine’s punishment might mean something worse next time. Abaddon swore he could still feel the phantom pain of that damned metal stick being shoved into his skull. No, he wouldn’t go through that again. Not even for Esther.

But he also wouldn't allow himself to be trapped here any longer.

He steeled himself before biting into his wrist, not allowing himself to feel the burn of it. It hurt, of course it did, but less so than than the cold iron and he would heal. A few minutes away, his hand was off and so was the evil metal.

The stump burned, but not like before. This was a tolerable and mundane pain. Perfect. Maybe he could still salvage this before Katherine put up salt lines and banned him from the hotel forever.

He could leave, obviously, but he didn’t want to. Abaddon wasn’t sure why but he liked these humans and the thought of being forced out of the hotel, out of the family, made his body feel funny. Not a good funny, though. It felt like a squirmy mass of maggots in his stomach.

Abaddon found a baseball glove and put it on the stump of his hand before heading to the hotel elevator. The act that followed was marvelous! Katherine looked less angry than before and the hotel guest and rival hotel owner were removed from the premises. Esther looked on from the side, unusually quiet as she watched his perfect facsimile of a human boy. The only con was the blood that he puked onto the living room immediately afterwards, sick from having to act like a guileless innocent child, but oh well.

“May I have my vest?” Abaddon asked, swallowing another mouthful of blood that threatened to come out.

“I guess you’ve earned it,” Katherine said, handing it over with much less complaining than he expected. Maybe this ‘meeting her halfway’ thing could both ward off her anger and keep him from being trapped in the attic again? If that was the case then he was determined to keep it that way. The Freelings wouldn’t even think of banishing him then.

“Wait, how’d you get free?” Katherine asked.

“Oh, I cut my hand off,” Abaddon said, holding up the bloody stump, charred at the end from the cold iron.

“Abaddon!” Esther screeched while Katherine jumped back. Ben and Nathan chose that moment to appear as well, also looking startled. He wasn’t sure why. They’d all previously seen him in much worse states.

Katherine took a deep breath before sighing, annoyed. “I’ll get the packing tape.”

Esther jumped in front of her, holding her hands out to block her way. “Oh no you don’t!”

“What? He’s bleeding onto the carpet Esther.”

Esther, for some reason, looked incensed at that. “What, so you only care about your carpet? You don't even care that he chewed his own hand off?”

Katherine attempted to go around but Esther blocked her again.

“Wait, you chewed it off?” Nathan cried, sounding more distressed than Abaddon felt the situation warranted. He stared at Abaddon with an expression that Abaddon couldn't identify but made he maggots in his stomach squirm once more. It was an uncomfortable feeling. “Why, buddy?”

Katherine sputtered, “I mean, of course I care, but he’s fine! Look at him—”

“Because she chained him up in the attic!” Esther yelled.

“Wait,” Nathan said, breaking the uncomfortable eye contact he'd been holding with Abaddon. “You chained up Abaddon?” He looked at Katherine, mouth agape, before moving to half-stand in front of Abaddon, as if to protect him. It was futile of course. Abaddon was a demon. He could protect himself from all manner of monsters and Nathan, as a ghost, was incapable of defending him anyways.

But the concern still felt nice, like he was something worth attempting to protect, even if it was useless to try.

“Maybe we should put his hand back on?” Ben said, looking around nervously.

“No!” Katherine said to Nathan. “Well, yes, but I was going to let him go. I just needed to deal with this whole,” she waved her hands as if to explain the whole kidnapping fiasco, “mess.”

Esther snarled in a way that reminded Abaddon of his own growls and hisses. “And you chained him up with cold iron!”

“Kathy!” Nathan scolded, stepping further in front of Abaddon to cut him off from Katherine's sight.

“Look, Esther, I don’t even know what that is" Katherine snapped. "And I was going to let him out in a few hours.”

“You were?” Abaddon asked. Hmm. Good to know. Maybe this is all still salvageable.

Katherine looked at Abaddon, still half-hidden behind Nathan, vaguely horrified. “What— of course I was! How long did you think I was going to leave you there?”

Abaddon shrugged. “A few weeks? That’s how long it was before.”

Nathan abruptly turned to Abaddon. “Before? Before what, bud?” Nathan asked in a casual tone that didn't match the pinched lines around his eyes.

“Weeks! Of course I wasn’t going to leave you there that long. That’s—” Katherine pinched her nose like she was warding off a headache. 

“Hey,” Ben interrupted, raising a hesitant hand. “Maybe we should get Abaddon’s hand back attached to him? He’s still bleeding.”

“It’s fine,” Abaddon said. It was hurting less already now that the cold iron wasn’t pressing into the raw flesh. The hand would grow back regardless of whether it was taped back on or not. It would just take a little bit longer.

Esther made a very pleasant screeching noise just then, causing the other Freelings to wince. “No, it’s not fine! You,” she said, pointing an accusatory finger at Katherine, “were torturing him!”

“Esther, no I wasn’t. He was just going to stay there for a few hours until I could sort out this whole mess, a mess that he caused, by the way.”

“You chained him up with cold iron!” Abaddon nodded. She did, though the continued emphasis on this was somewhat confusing. 

“And, like I said before, I don’t know what that is. I’m sorry if you didn’t like it, Abaddon, but sometimes I just need you to be calm and quiet."

Calm and quiet? Abaddon hummed. Just like the old asylum master. Obedient, submissive, and good. All of these humans were the same. They didn’t want Abaddon, King of the Cobras and gatekeeper in Hell. They wanted the pathetic human that came before him.

He sneered before letting his face fall back blank. But, at the same time, he liked these humans. They were better than all of the other ones who's haunted this place. He didn’t want to change, but maybe he could put up with it for Esther? Be just good and quiet enough to avoid Katherine’s shockingly component torture and still wild enough to have fun with Esther, still him enough to spend time with Nathan watching television.

Maybe, he thought. Maybe….

“Kathy,” Nathan cut in, gentle but firm. “He's a demon. He can’t help it.”

And that was true also, to an extent. He could try and behave as much as he was able but demonic instincts were strong. He could only do so much. Eventually, destruction and chaos would make his blood sing once more and he would enrage Katherine once more. Maybe it wasn't even worth it to try. Maybe he should live in the lake and only see Esther when she escaped the prison she called school to join him for adventures. He ignored the cold feeling of dread that washed over him at the thought.

“Exactly, Mom. You can’t just lock him up and chain him with cold iron whenever you want!” Esther yelled. Her protectiveness made Abaddon feel something. Something not like the worms from before, something that beat back the sense of dread threatening to overwhelm him. Something… warm? Like laying on a rock in the sun or when Nathan would buy Froot Loops just for him or when Ben covered his head from the falling debris at the water mill.

“It was one time," Katherine protested. "And I still don’t know what cold iron—”

“It hurts them. Hurts demons. Like when holy water hurts them type of hurt. It’s not like when he gets cut or, or chews off his hand or something. Cold iron really hurts demons. It burns them. It can even kill them! You can’t do that to Abaddon!”

Ben and Nathan both looked started and Katherine, for some reason, looked a unique mixture of nauseous and horrified.

“Kathy?” Nathan asked, hesitant.

“I… I’m… Abaddon, is that true?”

Abaddon scoffed. “It would take more than that to kill me!”

Nathan knelt down next to Abaddon so they were at eye level. “Of course, buddy, but the rest of it? That it actually hurts you? That it burns?” He reached out a hand to Abaddon, resting it over his shoulder and Abaddon pretended he could feel the phantom warmth from the gesture.

Abaddon stared at him a moment before giving him a curt nod. Surely this wasn't a surprise? Why else would there be warded shackles in the attic? They clearly weren’t for ghosts and the asylum inmates were locked in their rooms, only sometimes with chains.

The look of vague horror on Katherine’s face only seemed to get worse. “I’m… sorry. I didn't know that Abaddon. I didn’t think it would burn you. And I definitely wasn’t planning on leaving you there for more than a few hours, just until I could sort the mess out. I won’t do that again.”

Abaddon froze. When was the last time any living being apologized to him? He couldn’t think of one. People didn’t just apologize to demons. It simply wasn’t done. Would you apologize to a tornado for getting in its way? To a lion for not being a sufficient snack? No, that wouldn’t make sense. And neither did this. 

Abaddon behaved in a way the matriarch didn’t approve of and so she contained him, as was her right as master of the house. And then Abaddon broke out, as was his right as an untamable harbinger of chaos and destruction. She didn’t even shock him or stick metal into his eyes, so this was still preferable than the arrangement with the human monster Bell.

“Sorry?” Esther screeched. “You’re sorry the chains burned him, but not for locking him up in the first place? What’s wrong with you?”

“Yeah, not to dogpile Kathy, but that’s not okay. I know he’s a handful but that doesn’t mean you can just chain him up when he’s inconvenient.”

“I— He’s a demon! It doesn’t—! I—” Katherine started before pausing and rubbing at her face with her hands. She leaned against the front counter and sank to the floor in a position of utter defeat. It would have been very satisfying it were anyone else. “I’m sorry, Abaddon.”

Abaddon didn’t even dare breathe. A second apology? Was there an apocalypse? Was Hell frozen over with swarms locust outside and the sky raining blood? What was going on here? He felt a sudden and intense longing to disappear into the vents for several weeks until all of this went away.

Before Abaddon could come with a response to the obvious insanity coming from Katherine’s mouth, she continued. “I didn’t know that the metal would burn you—” “Mom!” “— but! That’s not an excuse. I’m tired and overwhelmed, but that’s still not fair to take it out on you when you’re just being… what, who, you are.”

Abaddon paused, ignoring the waiting looks of the Freelings who were all staring at him with mixed emotions, concern, fear, anger, more he couldn’t dare to name. Slowly, hesitantly, he stepped next to Katherine and sat down next to her.

“I’m… sorry, too.” Saying those words felt like bile and acid on his tongue, but he ignored it. He didn't care for being locked up, or being burned, but he could tell that his actions frustrated Katherine at times, even if he didn't fully understand why. “I can try and do a better job of meeting you halfway.”

Katherine smiled at him, a soft thing that was more sadness than joy. Humans were full of such conflicting, confusing emotions sometimes. “Thank you Abaddon. I’d appreciate it. But, also,” she said, nodding to the pool of blood on the floor that he’d thrown up, “please don’t hurt yourself just to do that. I… care about you.”

Staring at her with wide eyes, Abaddon couldn’t think of a single thing to say, his usual fountain of words and speeches and threats gone. She cared about him? But he had caused her nothing but trouble! She'd even chained him up and burned him!

But. But, she also said sorry. She said she didn’t know. She said she wouldn’t do it again. Abaddon pressed his remaining hand to his stomach. Confusing humans and their confusing emotions. Why was his body feeling this way? Why did his eyes burn?

Suddenly, Abaddon felt a warm weight on his side and looked over to see Esther pressed against him, holding him as tightly as her small human muscles could allow. It was nice.

“I have similar... feelings for each of you,” he said, each word coming out slowly, as if he had to taste and test each one before releasing it to the world.

Esther sniffed into his shoulder, anger seemingly drained from her body. “We love you, you idiot. We don't want you to get hurt.”

“She’s right, buddy,” Nathan said.

“Yeah! Like I said at the water mill, you’re like a brother to me,” Ben said, having snuck up on Abaddon and pressed himself on the other side of Esther.

Abaddon didn’t know the words for the things he was feeling, but it was sweet and didn’t burn like fire or lightning or iron.

He closed his eyes and let himself fall onto Katherine’s shoulder, allowing Esther to fall with him.

This was nice. Maybe these humans were better than the rest of them.

And so he sat, basking in new feelings and comforts that he didn’t know yet but would one day know the taste and shape and feeling of and call it family.

Chapter Text

The next few weeks passed by with an unusual level of calmness for the Undervale Hotel. The ghostly residents mostly kept to themselves, the spider-pen creatures had ceased their endless clicking, and the Freelings themselves had settled into a comfortable rhythm. Of course, that couldn’t last forever in a place as haunted as the Undervale, but Abaddon didn’t expect the peace to be broken by Nathan of all people.

The family all sat at the dinner table, enjoying a wonderfully messy meal of spaghetti, with Nathan over-expounding on how nice the smell of food was and how the living didn’t appreciate it enough. Abaddon was doing his best to ignore him, instead pretending that the red noodles were the entrails of his enemies and taking great pleasure in ripping apart the noodles with his teeth, letting the pasta sauce/blood drip down his face. The others also seemed to be doing their best to ignore the endless stream of words coming out of Nathan's mouth.

He was in the middle of listing his top ten foods he wished he'd eaten more while he was alive and how glad he was that he wasn’t one of those ghosts stuck in abandoned houses with no living people around when he suddenly cut himself off and turned to Abaddon.

“Oh! Abaddon, that reminds me, what did you mean earlier? When you said you’d been left for weeks?” He laughed a little, an uncomfortable thing, almost all traces of his previous levity abandoned.

Abaddon paused in his spaghetti massacre, letting a piece of tomato drip onto the table. It looked pleasantly like a piece of flesh. What in the world was Nathan on about?

“Nathan,” Katherine began, swiping at Abaddon with a napkin that he deftly avoided. “What are you talking about?” she said, echoing Abaddon's own thoughts.

Abaddon hummed in agreement. He knew he hadn't been listening very well but the comment seemed to make less sense than usual. Esther took the opportunity to steal an extra piece of garlic bread from the center of the table while Katherine was distracted, ignoring Ben’s glare.

“Well, I was talking about ghosts that get left behind in abandoned places! And it reminded me of the attic and how creepy it is up there - no offense to the attic ghosts -”

“I mean, some offense is okay, one of them likes to watch me when I do homework. It’s creepy,” Ben interrupted.

“Which one?” Esther demanded. “I found this really cool artifact in the swamp the other day that—”

Katherine sighed and dropped the napkin in defeat. Abaddon wins again! “I thought I told you to stay out of the swamp?”

“Psh,” Esther scoffed, taking a bite of her stolen garlic bread. “It’s fine. Abaddon was with me.”

Nodding, Abaddon said, “It’s true.” They had gone hunting for yellow-capped mushrooms, but Abaddon evidently kept bringing Esther the wrong ones despite them looking identical to the ones Esther had in her basket. But he had also dug up an old necklace with sigils on it that Esther had gladly claimed. She seemed to think it would cause a swarm of crickets to appear. It wasn't as good as locusts, but the possibilities for schemes were endless.

“That’s not the point guys!" Katherine scolded. "What if something had happened out there—”

“Nothing happened!”

“— and no one knew where you were?”

“Ben knew!” Esther protested. Ben, startled, dropped his fork onto his plate.

“What? No I didn’t! Mom, I didn’t know.” 

Katherine sighed, “Calm down Ben. I believe you.”

“Anyways,” Nathan broke in. “I was thinking about the attic and during the whole, uh, incident, a few weeks ago Abaddon mentioned that he expected to be left there for weeks.”

“Nathan,” Katherine hissed. “It’s fine. We already talked about it, remember? I apologized and Abaddon forgave me and we all went and sang kumbaya. Let's not brood on it.”

Yes, and things have been considerably better since then. Katherine threatened him much less and Abaddon had made an active effort to not destroy the hotel. (Even if it meant putting up with that damned clone in the lobby. Katherine insisted it wasn't but Abaddon knew better). He even helped to slay the dust in room 206! 

“Yeah, yeah, I know that. I just… Abaddon, bud,” he said, looking far too intense for a Wednesday night dinner. “What did you mean when you said ‘that’s what happened before.’ I forgot about it with everything else going on that day, but I remember a few days ago and I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind! You were exaggerating right? No one’s actually locked you up for weeks?” Nathan said. His words were said lightly, almost like a joke, but his face and muscles were tense and betrayed his unease. 

It was like he had just invoked a curse of silence for how quickly everyone froze, Esther with her cheeks shoved full of bread, Ben with his hand and fork still raised, Katherine with a wide-eyed look of discomfort.

It was confusing to say the least.

“No,” Abaddon said. Why would he lie? Demons are the fountain of lies and everything, but he himself had never made a habit of it. The truth could be much more vile and fun. “The second asylum owner installed the chains. He kept me up there for weeks at a time.”

Abaddon’s fist clenched around his fork, which he used to stab at the spaghetti-intestines. The pain from all of Bell’s tortures had long since faded but, for some reason, the childish terror hadn’t faded. The boy, the vessel he had inhabited for the past three centuries, refused to let go of his pathetic fears. Demons had no reason to be scared of a human two hundred years deceased so it must belong to the remnants of this vessel.

If only the boy could understand that. He was not, however, fully conscious, their souls having merged into some new… thing that was both Abaddon, the demon, and Nathaniel, the human.

He’d gotten used, and even accepted, to the human impulses and needs and feelings that Nathaniel’s soul had forced on him, his love of playing, his longing for affection, his futile desire to rest, but Abaddon refused to accept this pathetic fear as his own. 

That belonged to Nathaniel. It could not be his.

Nathan’s gentle voice broke into Abaddon’s thoughts. “The asylum owner locked you in the attic?”

“This place used to be a mental hospital? Cool,” Esther whispered to herself.

Abaddon nodded and pushed down the nausea that threatened to rise. He had conquered the spaghetti-entrails and he refused to lose the battle! “Yes.”

“Want to tell us a little bit more about that, buddy?” Nathan asked, still sickenly gentle. It rankled on his nerves, but at the same time soothed, like a father telling his child to jump and assuring them that he would catch them. Fear, assurance, followed by relief. A broken bone promising to be set.

Katherine leaned forward in her seat. “Only if you want to, Abaddon.” She narrowed her eyes at Esther, who had stolen Katherine’s garlic bread off her plate. “Really?” she scolded, still distracted.

His food sat heavy in his stomach. He didn’t want to share but, at the same time, he did? The instinct was confusing and he blamed Nathaniel for it. Demons wouldn’t dare tell others their weaknesses. That was only asking to be betrayed. And he'd deserve it for being so foolish.

But, almost without his permission, Abaddon felt himself speaking. “Yes, he said I disrupted his inmates, which was true," he smirked. "I enjoyed howling at them at night and scratching at their walls.” They always made the most enjoyable screams. However, it became much less fun after learning what Bell did to them behind closed doors, far too close to what he did to Abaddon himself.

Abaddon scratched at the table absently. Katherine had forgotten to trim his nails the past few weeks and his claws had grown in nicely, leaving fine scratch marks on the table. Perhaps it should have been telling that Katherine didn’t scold him for it in the moment, but he didn’t notice until later that night, curled up in Esther’s bed, thinking of everything from this evening.

But that was later, and currently he didn’t notice.

“He found a way to form the cold iron into chains and enchant them to make them nearly unbreakable. There used to be a second one and he would tie me betwixt them, so I was spread out like Chr—” he sputtered at the attempt to say the holy name, coughing slightly.

Ben looked alarmed. “Are you alright?”

“Damned child,” Abaddon muttered. Nathaniel seemed more present now than he had in the past five decades combined. Sometimes it even felt like they were becoming one and the same, neither demon nor human, but something else entirely. “I was chained with my arms spread so I could not bite off my hands and escape," he continued.

Katherine shuffled uncomfortably but Abaddon ignored it. The words had started flowing and they wouldn’t stop. Like an overflowing river bursting a dam, the words came in a torrent.

“He would torment me constantly in an attempt to make me docile. It didn’t work,” he sneered. “He would inject me with strange potions that made me sleep and drench me in cold water and put iron in my food. So I stopped eating.”

It had made his stomach clench and burn in agony at the time. The hunger pangs hurt, too, but it wasn’t worth the risk of the food being contaminated with the poison. He had taken to stealing food from the gardens of the neighboring townspeople, which only further invoked Bell’s anger.

“He also stuck a metal rod into my eyes and poked at my brain to make me calm.” The words tumbled out in a vague monotone. “My brain would grow back but it forced me to be quiet and good like he wanted. Unable to think, behaving like a feeble-minded infant.” Good, what a wretched thing for a demon to be.

Abaddon snarled. “If I had my full powers I would have killed him! Strung him up by his genitals and flayed his flesh from his bones!”

“I…” Nathan started.

Esther stood up on her chair and slammed her hands down on the table. “He what?” she yelled. “How could he do that? That’s so messed up!”

Ben scooted his chair away from Esther but seemed equally discomfited. “Wait… so he lobotomized you? Isn’t that what they did to people in the olden days to make them… uh. Nevermind. That's, that's terrible." His voice cracked on the last work.

“Yes,” Abaddon said.

“You… that’s awful!” Nathan said and reached out a hand to grab Abaddon, face falling when his hand just went through. Abaddon wished, not for the first time, that Nathan was still alive and could scoop him up and hold him like he used to do.

Was it that awful? It felt awful to go through and Abaddon would strongly prefer not to go through that again. Lair, he thought in the same breath, we’d flay alive anyone who tried to hurt us like that again, even the Freelings.

But, no, they wouldn’t hurt him like that. Katherine had apologized to him, twice, something still so novel that he kept turning the memory around in his mind like a figurine on display. And the rest of the family looked appalled, all pallid faces frozen in horror. For once, the impact of scaring humans didn’t feel him with joy.

“It’s over now,” Abaddon said at last, when the silence stretched on for too long. “I will not allow such things to occur again.”

“Good,” Esther said, the words final like a nail in a coffin, landing solid. “I’ll help you rip apart anyone that tries.” Perhaps it also meant something significant that Katherine didn't scold her for the threat like she usually did.

“Me too!” Nathan agreed. “Well, I’m not sure how much help I’d be considering," he made a vague gesture to himself, "but I’d stand by in support!”

Katherine let out a long breath and seemed to steel something in herself. “Abaddon, I know that you don’t always see things the same way as us.”

“I see them in gray,” Abaddon cut in. Finding out that colors existed was a very painful process, knowing that he couldn’t truly appreciate the many shades of red that blood apparently came in. Ben had gone on and on about sunsets and leaves and other nonsense, but Esther regaled him that day with vivid descriptions of blood red and sickly green skin that made him miss something he didn't know was possible to miss.

Katherine blinked at him, confused. “What? No. I mean… you see things from a very, uh, demonic? Perspective.” 

Obviously, Abaddon thought. How else could he see them? Ignoring the childish impulses he sometimes had to eat sugar until he puked, to play until he collapsed, and to seek out hugs and comfort and other useless things. But those weren’t him. At least, they weren’t the original him.

“But,” Katherine continued, pressing on, “we’re a family now. And that means we care about you and about things that happened to you, especially if they still hurt.”

Abaddon mercilessly ignored the word ‘family.’ That was one step of confusion too far beyond what he could handle today. “I am not hurt though,” he said, holding up his hands to show them the lack of cuts or burns or bites.

“Not that kind of hurt,” Nathan said gently. “She’s talking about hurting inside.” He poked at Abaddon’s chest.

Tilting his head, confused, Abaddon said, “But I do not hurt inside either. All of my organs are in place.”

“Your feelings, dummy,” Esther cut in, having abandoned her stolen prize. “They mean we care about your feelings and stuff. Like when you’re sad.”

“I do not feel such things,” Abaddon said, lifting his head up. “I am a demon. We feel only anger and joy at other people’s misery.”

Nathan and Katherine eyed each other, communicating in some human code that he had yet to decipher.

“Aw, that’s not true,” Ben said. “You felt pretty happy the other day when you got your allowance. That wasn’t from someone else suffering.”

“Yeah!” Esther chimed in. “And the other day you were all worried about me when I fell down the stairs.”

“No,” Abaddon denied. “I was merely… angry that the stairs dared to attack you.”

Katherine swung her head to look at Esther. “You fell down the— No, nevermind. We’ll deal with that later.” She stood up and knelt next to Abaddon’s chair, so that they were at eye level with each other.

“I don’t believe that you only feel anger and joy at other people’s misery, Abaddon. I mean, I’ve seen what you do to Froot Loops enough times now,” she chuckled, though Abaddon did not allow himself to return the gentle smile. “I think you feel just as much happiness and anger and sadness and fear and pain and every other emotion as anybody else.”

“And,” she continued, capturing Abaddon’s hands in her own, cradling them gently. “We care about every single one of those. Even if you aren’t hurting right now, we care that something bad happened to you that did hurt. And we’re here to listen if and when you want to talk about it. It sounds like you've lived through a lot of really terrible things that it might help to get out. I know you’ve lived a lot longer than the rest of us and you might have experienced things that we’re not able to understand immediately, but we’re still here to listen. You’re family now and we love you and want you to be safe and healthy.”

Abaddon didn't dare breathe, staring at where Katherine was gently holding his hands between hers, as if she would protect him from the entire would if only he would let her.

“Absolutely, buddy,” Nathan said. At some point he had also stood and was kneeling on Abaddon’s other side, his hand hovering over Abaddon’s shoulder. “We love you. Please talk to us before it gets bad. Trust me," he joked humorlessly, "I know what it’s like to let things fester.”

Katherine stared intently at Nathan for a brief moment before turning back to Abaddon. “He's right Abaddon. Do understand what we’re trying to tell you?”

He wanted too, truly he did, more than he wanted to learn how to use the stupid computer box or learn how to read, but he wasn’t sure he fully understood. Feelings swirled in his chest that he didn’t understand, that the human in him wanted to call love and affection, but the boy was also stupid and frequently wrong.

But, at the same time, that’s exactly what they had said. That he was family, that they loved him, that they wanted to hear about his life. He was a demon, though. Humans don’t just love demons. It wasn’t in their nature. The two absolute truths stood together in his mind, so opposed, so equally true, but it was impossible for them to coexist. One of them had to be wrong. Either he was an unlovable demon, proved by the past ten thousand years, or he was a cherished member of the Freeling family, something that couldn't possibly be true but every single part of him wanted to believe.

Abaddon looked between Nathan and Katherine before flicking his eyes back to Esther and Ben, who were staring at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

“I… think so,” he said hesitantly. He thought he might understand the shape of it, if not the texture, despite how hard it was to believe. He wasn’t certain at all that he trusted the flavor of this new sense of belonging, but he thought that maybe, just maybe, he would in time.

He felt strong arms wrap around him, holding him close, familiar and yet entirely new at the same time. Two smaller pairs of arms joined in pressing him in a hug and Abaddon opened his eyes to see Nathan encircling them all with an expression that Abaddon might hesitantly call love.

Abaddon didn’t understand these new emotions quite yet, but he thought that perhaps he would. The Freelings would make sure of it.

He closed his eyes and let his body relax for the first time in ten thousand years, pulling his family close.

Yes, he could get used to this.