Chapter Text
Spike followed behind Jimmy Ink as she made her way through the dark halls of the abandoned water park. The white walls were stained black with mold and blood, and the pungent stench of mildew and rot filled the air.
Jimmy Ink came to a set of double doors at the end of a long corridor on the far side of the building. There was a heavy chain looped through the handles, with an intimidating padlock hanging on the ends. She pulled a key from her track suit, quickly freeing the chain from its lock. She pulled it free, and it fell to the floor with a loud crash that echoed through the empty halls. She pushed the doors open, and gestured for Spike to follow.
Inside was a small room, covered wall to wall with randomly placed decor and trinkets. Posters, silk scarves, and quilts hung from the walls and ceiling. Toys and books laid scattered about, with old, dirty rugs covering the cold floor. There was a large bed to one side, stuffed toys spread around it. On the makeshift bedside table sat a chipped vase filled with dead flowers. On the other side of the room there were two chairs and a small, round table set between them.
"I've brought him just like you asked, apostle." Jimmy Ink says. Spike stopped examining the room and looked to the woman Ink had spoken to.
You sat in one of the chairs, smiling at them. You wore a white dress that had begun to yellow with age, and had plastic flowers clipped in your hair.
"Thank you, Kellie," you say, nodding to her in acknowledgement. With her job done, Ink left, closing the doors behind her.
You smile warmly at the boy, gesturing for him to take a seat. He does so, looking at you in confusion.
"Oh, you're so young," you said sadly, frowning down at him, "You must have had a rough time of things, to end up here."
He didn't say anything, not sure of what your capacity in the group might be. He didn't want to make Jimmy angry--he had seen firsthand how little he seemed to care for his people.
"So, what's your name?" you ask.
"It's Spi--oh, um, I mean...it's Jimmy."
"No no, your real name," you corrected, your patient smile never wavering.
The boy frowned, but answered your question "It's Spike."
"Spike?" you repeat, rolling the name around in your mind, "That's an excellent name--make sure you don't forget it."
Spike thought that was an odd thing to say, but given the others living there you still seemed the most normal. At least, so far.
"The fingers call me the apostle" you say, sadness woven into your voice.
"Apostle?" he repeats.
"Yes," you confirm, eyes closing as you spoke in a rehearsed voice, "I am the first apostle of hell, sent forth by Old Nick to help spread the message of his most favored son, Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal."
He looked surprised, and you gave him another warm smile, "Or, so Jimmy says. Truthfully, I'm just the person who's been with him the longest. We grew up together, so I knew him long before, all this." You gesture vague at the air.
Spike looked to the floor, clearly trying to process everything. You stood, moving to place a soft hand on his small shoulder; your smile gone.
"Listen to me Spike, you seem like a good boy. Good people are rare in these times--don't let them take that away from you," you squeeze his shoulder, your voice lowering to a whisper, "And if you get a chance--run."
The door opened, and you quickly retake your seat just as Jimmy walks in.
"Jimmy!" you call, beaming as he walks up to you. He looked from Spike to you, suspicion clear on his face.
He smiles as he approaches, moving to stand behind you.
He puts his hands on your shoulders possessively, "And what's goin' on here? Are yea havin' a party?"
"I was only having a quick chat with our newest member; it is important that I know all the fingers, isn't it?" you reply, moving to place your hand over his as you look up at him.
"Of course, of course," he says, the smile not reaching his eyes, "Why don't you run along now Jimmy, the apostle and I have a few things to discuss."
Spike looked at you, and you gave him a small smile, nodding your head. He stood, looking between the two of you, before leaving through the double doors.
Once he was gone, Jimmy came around to look at you, "I'm sure I've made it clear to yea before, but you're not to speak with anyone when I'm not here."
You smiled innocently, "I just thought you'd be busy, and it was only an introduction."
He scowled, "Just make sure it doesnae happen again." He leaned down, lifting your chin as he kissed you roughly.
It had always been like this. Even when you were children, Jimmy was always in control.
You couldn't remember the time before the virus. Jimmy would tell you about things he remembered, and sometimes a few images would line up, but you had been so young and there was so little left of that life in your mind.
Your father had joined a group of survivors soon after the outbreak. People were kinder then, the civility of the old world still fresh in their minds.
Jimmy had joined the group at about the same time, and the two of you grew close quickly. You were the only children in the collective, and so were often left together while the adults did what they could to survive.
Jimmy looked out for you, being older and much more confident than you; and you were happy to follow along with whatever plans and schemes he came up with. Wherever he led you followed, just happy being in his company.
He told you stories about all the things he used to love before the world fell apart. You listened eagerly, taking in every word like a sponge so you would be able to relate to him more.
Looking back, that's probably where it all started.
The voice hadn't manifested until he was older, but his delusions had always been there. He couldn't understand what had happened to his father and the rest of his family, so he created different stories in his head to cope. He had mentioned his father was the devil before, but it wasn't until he started hearing him inside his mind that he really committed to the idea.
You were teenagers then. Your father had been killed years before, and Jimmy was all that you had. The group grew more and more untrusting over the years, so by that point it was a much harsher existence. Everyone was willing to work together to get what they needed, but they were loyal only to their chosen family. For you and Jimmy, that meant it was just you two, making you the smallest and youngest group in the collective.
You were both mistreated, but you hadn't known any other life and weren't sure what you would do alone. It wasn't until one of the older men hit you that you were finally forced out.
Not because he struck you--that had happened plenty of times before--but because it had finally caused Jimmy to snap. The sight of the way he had killed that man still lived in your mind: His first act of charity.
Then, when he ran, there was never a question that you would go with him. That first killing changed him, and bit by bit you lost the boy you knew to the man standing behind you now.
But you didn't care what he was, because he loved you. In this broken world, that was more than anyone could ask for. You knew what he did was wrong, but you couldn't let him go--you wouldn't. Which worked out, since he would never let you leave.
He broke the kiss you had been sharing, leaning down to scoop you up in his arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly as you nuzzled your face into his shoulder. He walked you over to the bed, placing you down gently as he kissed you again.
It was soft at first, as it often was. That little sliver of his old self clinging to you as he tried to treat you with care. But it wouldn't last. Soon enough he would get rough, grabbing and biting as the devil in his mind overtook him.
You enjoyed the tenderness while you had it, pushing up into his mouth as your hands pulled his head down towards you. He whispered your name between kisses; a sound you only heard when the two of you were alone.
He was the only one allowed to say it now; he was the only one who knew it.
"I love you, Jimmy," you mumble out. You could feel the gentleness beginning to fade as he moved from the side of the bed to hover above you, his hands planted on either side of your head and his knees straddled your hips.
He whispered the words back to you, his warm breath tickling against your ear.
And you knew he meant it.
You would look past everything he did just to be with him, and he would never, ever let you go.