Archive of Our Own ^beta

Abaddon does not understand humanity.

He has lived in the body of a young boy for nearly three hundred years. Humans, he has discovered, are cowardly, selfish, vain, and weak. They deserve the torments of hell he and his cohort dole out. 

That is, except for the Freelings.

~ ~ ~

It is storming outside. Rain pelts against Abaddon’s fragile human skin; the cold sting reminds him ever so wonderfully of hell.

The hotel looms above him, menacing against the backdrop of gloom. Much like an oil painting, the hotel never seems to change. Whether the inside is padded, barred, or woefully decorated, it is a constant of Abaddon’s human-hood. 

For once, Abaddon wonders if he should return.

The rain does not hide the blood stains. It is not from a human - he’d stopped killing humans in the 1900’s, when he’d realized they’ll just keep repopulating. It’s easier to meet them in hell.

No, the blood is from some collared mutt he’d met along the road to the hotel. Whoever had allowed the dog to get so far must be missing the thing, but Abaddon wanted the blood for a ritual.

Regardless, humans tend to scare at the sight of blood, frightful as they are. And the hotel has been taken over by a particularly mild-mannered human by the name of ‘Nathan.’ 

Abaddon…does not want to frighten the man.

Nathan allows him free reign of the hotel. He cooks him bread and cheese and gives him sweets. He has never tried to stifle Abaddon’s power, and for that Abaddon finds himself almost grateful.

But, ultimately, it is inevitable that he frighten the human. Eventually, the man will realize exactly what Abaddon is, and he will stop providing the things that make life as a human tolerable. 

Abaddon steels himself to leave the comforting sheet of ice-cold rain.

He throws open one of the entrance doors with a gravitas befitting a demon of his status. A burst of heated air leaves the hotel, warming Abaddon’s pale cheeks. 

No one is there.

Abaddon raises an eyebrow. Nathan is often right behind the front desk, staring at the strange metal box that shows him pictures and words. But he isn’t there now, and nary a ghost is around to tell Abaddon where he’s gone.

The demon grumbles, and then chastises himself for it.

Disappointment? At the lack of a human in his vicinity?

Impossible!

He is merely upset that the weak-willed man is not around to provide him with skittles!

The door bangs open behind Abaddon.

He turns, greeted by the sight of a soaking human. The man’s brown hair is plastered to his head; a drop of water rolls down the tip of his nose. He’s breathing heavily, and his eyes lock onto Abaddon wildly. “Oh my God! Abaddon!”

Abaddon sighs, rolling his eyes. There it is. The sight of blood has rendered this man afraid. The treats will stop coming, and the free reign of the hotel will be restricted.

“I was so worried about you!”

“What.”

Nathan rushes forward, dropping to his knees in front of Abaddon. His shiny eyes flit across Abaddon’s body, his hands grope down Abaddon’s arms. “I didn’t know where you went, it’s three a.m.! This isn’t your blood, is it?”

Abaddon narrows his eyes. “No…”

Nathan’s eyes flutter closed, just for a second. It isn’t fear. It’s relief. “Thank. God.” His eyes focus in on a spot on Abaddon’s chin, hidden in the shadow of his jawline. “Wait, what’s that?”

Abaddon pulls back slightly as Nathan grips his chin, tilting his head to the side a bit. He wrinkles his nose at the touch. 

“You are hurt,” Nathan exclaims. “Where’d you get this scratch.”

Abaddon blinks. He hadn’t even felt it. He still doesn’t, truthfully. But, thinking back…

“I killed a dog. It fought back. Until it could not.” He watches Nathan carefully for his reaction.

Nathan reels back a little, surprised. But his grip on Abaddon’s chin does not loosen, and he returns to his original position with only the hint of discomfort in his expression. “Well. That’s not nice, dude.”

Abaddon scoffs. He pushes Nathan’s hand away (he is gentle about it, though he would never admit it). “I do not know the meaning of the word nice!”

Nathan’s eyes widen a little. “Oh! Well in that case, it just means doing things that -”

“I know what it means!”

Nathan stands up, holding his hands out in front of himself placatingly. “I don’t know!” He lifts a hand to his face, eyes going to the ceiling as he thinks. “What is the demon education system like? Do you guys go to school down there, or?”

Abaddon shakes his head incredulously. 

“Are you guys like homeschooled?” Nathan pauses. “Wait do you have parents?”

“I want chocolate.”

“Message received! How ‘bout hot chocolate instead? And I need to get some new clothes, I’m soaked. Wanna borrow a shirt?”

Abaddon hums, neither an affirmative or a negative on the shirt topic.

The human Nathan, apparently, is not a coward.

~ ~ ~

Abaddon knows human women. From time immemorial, they deem themselves better, despite their lower status in most human societies. Abaddon does not care what human politics look like. What he knows, however, is that human women never admit when they’re wrong.

They are vain.

Vanity is a human flaw.

And Katherine seems to be quite vain indeed.

She sees herself as above the ghostly inhabitants of the hotel. To Abaddon, they are the same. Every one of those ghosts was once a human, with all the flaws and weaknesses that accompany such a species. She is just the same as them, and yet, she does not see it that way.

Worse than that, she thinks she is better than Abaddon.

Her face always pinches when he enters the room. He’s seen that face on enough people. He caught onto the meaning of it after the first century of it.  

Katherine’s current struggle: wrangling a brownie out of the oven.

Not that kind of brownie. The kind from folklore - little goblin people.

Clearly, Katherine knows nothing about them.

Abaddon laughs as the woman is kicked in the face by the little creature. It escapes her grasp as she reaches up to caress her now-sore cheekbone, and skitters away. Abaddon knows where their nest is, but he would never betray them like that. They’ve been here longer than some of the ghosts. 

But not longer than Abaddon.

Katherine huffs, glaring at Abaddon as he continues laughing. “What,” she snaps.

Abaddon smirks. “The creatures are harmless. They are just mad because you insulted them. Trying to catch them does you no good. They’re here to help. I thought that is what you wanted?”

Katherine shakes her head. She snatches a broom from where it’d fallen during her altercation with the brownie. She shoves it back against its rest on the wall. “What do you know,” she snaps. Abaddon narrows his eyes. It isn’t often that the woman lashes out at him like this. She turns to glare at him, head on. 

This has never happened before.

“These creatures have done nothing but take food from the fridge and move things around! And you have done nothing but make my job harder, so what would you know about help?”

Abaddon stands on the table, crossing his arms. He looks down on the woman. “Leave out a bowl of milk. They will help.”

Katherine shakes her head. “Unbelievable. It’s always me who has to give.”

The conversation ends there. Abaddon retreats to his cupboard. He would leave the milk out himself except he does quite enjoy the chaos. The more Katherine engages, the more malevolent the creatures will get. Esther will surely figure something out before they get too brash -

Two days later, the hotel is practically in ruins.

Abaddon bites back a smile at the sight of the destruction, if only because Nathan is distraught at the sight of his old, boxed-up clothes retrieved from the attic, ripped into strips, and strewn about the halls like christmas garlands. 

He decides to stop it there.

The brownies are in the middle of carrying Ben away to their lair, one grasping each limb. Nathan is swiping uselessly at the creatures, trying to free his nephew from their grasp.The other two living relatives have been tied up in rope somehow.

They really let four little goblins overpower them?

“HALT,” Abaddon demands, holding a hand in the air. The brownies pause, staring at him with beady eyes. 

Abaddon thrusts a carton of milk in front of him. 

The brownies blink, looking at each other.

Wordlessly, they release Ben. He lands with an “oomph” and the brownies scurry toward Abaddon. They each only come up to his knees, which makes it even more disappointing that they’d managed to overpower the four humans.

Regardless, Abaddon relinquishes the milk to them.

They babble at him in a language he doesn’t know and scurry away, off to their lair. He retrieves a dagger from his pant leg and cuts Esther out of her bonds first. 

“Yay Abaddon! How’d you know that’d work?”

“They like milk. Cream and porridge work too.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

As Abaddon frees Katherine from her ropes, he doesn’t expect a thank you. Vanity is a human sin, after all.

But, as Katherine dusts herself off, she sighs. One hand goes up to her other arm, sheepishly rubbing her elbow. “I’m - sorry Abaddon.”

Abaddon blinks.

She continues. “I should’ve listened to you. You have - been here a lot longer than me, after all. I guess I just,” she sighs, world-weary. “I get tired of all these surprises. Running this hotel is hard enough with just ghosts, but with…other creatures, it gets…”

She looks at Abaddon’s aghast expression and sighs again. A small smile graces her face. “You were right, Abaddon. Feel free to gloat.”

Abaddon grins. “Gloat I shall.” His stomach rumbles. “But first I would like dinner.”

Katherine nods, placing a hand on Abaddon’s shoulder. “Yeah…dinner’s gonna be late tonight. I have to clean this up…we’ll just order pizza.”

The Freelings and Abaddon cheer at that.

Abaddon looks at Katherine. 

She is - humble. Not vain.

Acceptable.

~ ~ ~

Most of the Freelings, Abaddon somewhat gets. Esther and Nathan are the best of them, and Katherine is begrudgingly okay. But Ben…

Abaddon has never been so flummoxed. 

He would not go so far as to say he hates the boy; he isn’t even worth hating. He rolls over at the first sign of trouble. He’s the weakest link of the Freeling family, weaker even than Abaddon had thought Esther to be, and a shining example of human flaw. 

Katherine has brought them into town. Abaddon has been left alone with Ben Freeling, as Esther has been dragged away to find materials for a school project. Apparently, she is not allowed to make her human friend Heather do it all herself this time. 

Thus, Ben and Abaddon are wandering around the store. Abaddon has, much to his everlasting ire, been trapped in a ‘child leash,’ which Katherine has stated Ben is not allowed to release under any circumstances.

Humiliating.

Fortunately, Ben is easily distracted by some girls from his class willingly approaching him.

“Um. Ben, right?”

Ben’s eyes widen in surprise. He stutters out his answer: “Y-yes! You’re Julie Santiago! And, um-” he points at the other two in turn. “Jillian Smith, and Cerine Jones.”

The one named Jillian laughs. “It’s - interesting that you know that.”

Ben apparently decides to take that as a compliment. “I am pretty observant.”

Amy laughs. “Uh, yeah. I actually just came over to ask if we have homework in social studies ‘cause I forgot, but - who’s that?” The girl points at Abaddon with a raised eyebrow.

Ben’s grip tightens on the child leash. Abaddon crosses his arms. “I am Abaddon! Known by many as the Cobra King, Prince of the Dark Realms!”

There’s a pause before Ben speaks. “My cousin.”

“Ah.” 

Abaddon rolls his head back as the conversation continues, resigning himself to the inane chatter of teenage humans. He is greeted by the upside-down image of a pair of packaged scissors.

He grins.

Ben is too distracted to notice him as he stealthily retrieves the scissors from the shelf. He attempts to cut the line of the child leash, but the simple craft scissors are too dull to cut through the fabric. He stifles a growl of disappointment, lest he alert Ben to his escape attempt. 

If he cannot release himself, he may as well have some fun.

There is enough slack in the child leash to allow him to maneuver behind the girl named Jillian. Hair is good for magic, and her blonde hair is enticingly long. Abaddon smiles as he begins to snip away at it.

It’s less than ten seconds before the girl notices a pressure on the back of her neck. But Abaddon can do quite a bit of damage in ten seconds. She reaches her hand out to feel, and upon feeling the difference in her hair, spins around. She shrieks at the sight of blonde hair on the ground. 

“Oh, Abaddon,” he hears Ben whisper defeatedly.

“How dare you,” the girl shrieks. Her eyes are quickly filling with tears. Her friends stand, shocked, looking between each other and Abaddon. Abaddon grins at the sight. He pockets the scissors, kneeling to scoop fistfuls of the hair into his pockets. Esther will be pleased, he thinks. 

And then there are hands on him, pushing him to the ground. “Answer me you little freak!”

“Hey,” Ben yelps. He pushes between the other two frozen girls, standing in front of Abaddon. “Don’t push him!”

Ben reaches down to help Abaddon to his feet. Abaddon narrows his eyes, but accepts the hand offered to him. 

Jillian sobs. “But look what he did to me!”

Ben sighs. His voice wavers nervously as he answers. “And I’m really, really sorry! But - he’s just a kid,” he says, knowing that isn’t necessarily true. “You can’t push my little cousin! I - I’ll give you,” Ben rifles through his pockets desperately, producing the seventeen dollars left of his allowance. “Seventeen dollars for a fix-up haircut.”

Jillian continues crying, but she snatches the money from Ben. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Ben says, shielding Abaddon as the girls shuffle away. 

When they’re gone, Ben throws his reddened face into his hands and groans. “That was so embarrassing.” 

Abaddon huffs. “Why did you not just allow her to harm me?”

Ben frowns. “Because I’m supposed to be watching you. I can’t let anyone hurt you. And she shouldn’t have pushed you anyways.”

Abaddon grips his end of the leash, wrapping it around his hands. “That is…” he furrows his brows. “selfless of you.”

Ben shrugs. “Not really.” He sees Abaddon’s intense look and waves his hands in front of him. “Trust me, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is,” Abaddon insists. “You are my brother slash cousin. I have never had a brother or a cousin. I assumed it would be much like Cain and Abel.”

Ben looks at Abaddon sadly. “Oh, Abaddon.”

~ ~ ~

Abaddon is wandering the halls on his tricycle at night, but he is not searching for mice as he often does. The wheels squeak each time they make a full rotation, drawing the ire of many a late-night specter.

Abaddon does not care.

He has a destination in mind this time: Esther's room.

The girl has invited him to venture into the glade with her tonight. He often does so himself, but Esther tends to make the trips more fun. 

Upon cycling to her room, he finds the door shut. He frowns at this barrier and tries to open the door.

It is locked.

“Hmm,” he grumbles. He wiggles the doorknob repeatedly, but there is no answer from inside. “Let me in,” He says quietly. At the lack of an answer, he pounds on her door with closed fists raised above his head. “RELEASE THE LOCK ESTHER!”

The lock clicks, the door opens, and Abaddon falls into the open space left behind, stumbling to prevent himself from tripping over his feet. “At last,” he sighs, put out. “What kept you?”

He turns to see Esther.

There's a frown on her face, and tear tracks on her cheeks.

Abaddon's eyes widen, and then narrow. “What…is wrong with you?”

Esther releases a sob, throwing herself back into her bed. “Nothing, Abaddon,” she says.

“The tone of your voice suggests otherwise.”

“Uuugh,” Esther groans, shoving her head into the pillow. “Just leave me alone!”

Abaddon waits in silence for what feels like a long time. As Esther continues to cry, Abaddon decides to climb up onto the bed with her. His hand hovers over her back. He has never comforted someone before. He has never cared to.

He allows his hand to rest on her back.

Eventually, her breathing evens out. She flips over in the bed to face the demon. “Sorry,” she sniffles. “I don't want to go to the glade tonight.”

“Why were you crying.”

Esther sighs. She buries her chin into her knees. “I don't want you to think…”

“Think…?”

“That I’m weak.”

Abaddon pauses. “You are…not. You are one of the only humans who is not.”

Esther laughs and then sniffles. “No. All humans are weak.” 

Abaddon startles. He has never met a human who so willingly admitted it.

Esther shifts a bit and then says, “I tried calling my dad again. He didn't answer. He never answers, and it always bothers me but not this much! I don't know why! I just -” tears fill Esther's eyes once more. “miss him.”

Abaddon grits his teeth. “I have also missed someone. Nathan. When he killed himself. But I did not have to miss him for long. I - hm.” Abaddon furrows his brows. “I - I - do not know what to say.”

Esther laughs. “It's okay. You've never had a dad before, you wouldn't get it.” She looks into his eyes like she's trying to find something there. Abaddon stares back intensely. Finally, she says, “You really don't think I'm weak?”

“Well yes. But that is not a bad thing.”

It's only as Abaddon says it that he realizes it’s true.

~ ~ ~

Abaddon does not understand humanity.

He has lived in the body of a young boy for nearly three hundred years. Humans, he has discovered, are cowardly, selfish, vain, and weak.

They are also brave, kind, humble, and strong. 

Abaddon does not understand humanity.

But, for the first time since his conception, he wants to.