Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nathan was walking through the forest behind the old hotel he had won in a card game. Now he realized the guy had just wanted to get rid of that place — the hotel was a fiscal nightmare. Nathan wouldn’t reopen it until all the irregularities, which were many, were fixed.
To be honest, he didn’t really care. With all its problems, the hotel was the least of them. In fact, it was a good distraction. He wasn’t taking his pills anymore — he had always hated the way they made him feel: groggy and sleepy, with everyone pitying him. He really hated that.

It had all begun when he was a teenager. He was diagnosed with schizophrenia after he started hearing occasional voices. He would talk to the void. His parents grew worried and took him to the hospital. After many tests, the doctors said it was the early stage of schizophrenia. His parents and sister had noticed the symptoms too late.

After that, his life gradually worsened. The voices became people, telling him to do bad things, to hurt himself, to die. His parents tried to make him take his medication, but he hated it — it made him feel worse than when he saw things. At some point, he got used to them.

Nowadays, the illusions — which he called ghosts — had become his companions during lonely days. With them, Nathan was never truly alone, and that was preferable to the alternative: being by himself in the huge, empty hotel.

Nathan was walking through an unfamiliar part of the forest when he heard a sound. It was as if pebbles were being tossed, hitting each other — something unusual. He followed the noise until he found a large hole. Maybe an animal had fallen in and couldn’t climb out.
It wasn’t an animal.
It was a little girl.

She was sitting on the ground, her clothes dirty with soil, grass, and twigs — and other things Nathan didn’t want to name. Her clothes were strange too, like those of a child from the 17th century, complete with buckled shoes. She couldn’t have been more than seven years old.

She was the one making the noise, throwing pebbles together. How long had she been there? It didn’t matter.

Nathan extended his hand, and the little girl smiled at him, taking it. He pulled her out of the hole and gently brushed some dirt off her clothes. Looking closely now, there was definitely dried blood on them. He examined her, looking for injuries.

“Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so.”

Oh — it was a little boy, actually.

“Good. What’s your name? My name is Nathan.”
“Abaddon.”
“Oh… okay, Abaddon. Sure. Nice. Uh, where are your parents, Abaddon?” he asked, holding the boy’s hand as they started walking back toward the hotel.
“I don’t have any.”
“Well, so… where do you live? Who takes care of you?”
“Nobody. I don’t need anyone,” the boy murmured, kicking pebbles along the path.
“Okay… anyone I can call? Would you like me to call someone?”

The boy scowled — apparently, that was his answer. Nathan sighed. He would really have to call the police. That was going to be a huge headache.

When they got back to the hotel, Nathan didn’t know what to do first. He would call the police — but maybe later. For now, he would feed the little boy. He looked like he needed it.

Nathan and the boy walked to the kitchen.
“Okay, buddy, are you hungry?”
“No. I don’t need to eat.”
“Sure… but what do you think about…” Nathan looked inside the pantry, and it was depressing. There was almost nothing there — just an open package of pasta, some tomato sauce, a bag of sliced bread, and a packet of chips.

The boy looked very small and thin. Now that Nathan could see him better, he noticed how pale the child was, with dark purple circles under his eyes. He definitely looked hungry. So Nathan decided on pasta — every kid liked pasta. Well, except him. Nathan had never liked it, but generally, kids loved pasta and peanut butter sandwiches.

“Okay, the pasta’s cooking. Let’s wash our hands before we eat.”
“No! Abaddon doesn’t like water!”
“It’ll be quick. You can’t eat if you don’t wash your hands.”
“I don’t need to eat. I’m a demon. I don’t need these human things.”

That was definitely a strange thing to say, but Nathan could hear the boy’s stomach growling. How long had he been in that hole again?
“But if you wash your hands, there’ll be bubbles.”
“What’s a bubble? Does it burn?”
“No! It’s soap. I’ll show you, come on.”

Nathan pulled a chair close to the sink and helped Abaddon climb onto it so he could reach. He rolled up the boy’s sleeves — and froze. There were marks on the child’s wrists, purple lines like those left by restraints. They stood out against the pale skin. Nathan swallowed hard and continued what he was doing. This wasn’t the time for questions. Not now. Even though he was boiling with anger inside — who would do that to a child?

He turned on the tap, wet Abaddon’s hands, added some soap, and told him to rub until bubbles appeared. At first, the boy seemed skeptical, but when the bubbles started to form, Nathan saw the sparkle in his eyes — which didn’t exactly fit with the whole “I’m a demon” thing.

“Okay, time to rinse.” Nathan turned the tap back on and washed the soap off the boy’s hands.
“NO! What did you do? You killed the bubbles! I liked the bubbles!”
“Uh… maybe later you can have more bubbles. But now you have to eat.”
“I don’t want to eat, I want bubbles!”
“More later, okay? I promise.”

Nathan sat Abaddon down at the table and placed a plate of pasta with tomato sauce in front of him. The boy resisted at first, but after the first bite, his eyes widened — and he devoured it quickly. Nathan warned him to slow down or he’d get sick. Abaddon even asked for another plate before saying he was full.

“Thank you, human, for feeding me and showing me the bubbles. I appreciate this. For that, I’ll let you live — for today.”
“Uh… thank you?”
“I’m going now. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Hey, wait, where are you going?”
“That’s none of your business.”

Nathan didn’t know what to do, but he definitely couldn’t let that boy walk away alone.

“Or… you could stay here. I don’t mind.”
“Why? What do you want?”
“Nothing. See? There’s no one else here. It would be nice to have someone around. What do you think?”
“Hmm… I’ll think about it. Will you give me more of those noodles and bubbles?”
“Sure.”
“Okay. I’ll stay.”

Chapter Text

Nathan woke up that morning with his heart racing.
Had he really just picked up a child from the forest and brought him home?

“Why did you do this? You’re a freak.”
“You should hurt him — no one would miss him even if they threw him back into the forest.”
“Yeah, you should hurt yourself too. You can’t deal with it anyway.”
“SHUT UP!”

He got out of bed and went to the bathroom to wash his face. He avoided looking in the mirror, opened the cabinet, and took out the myriad of orange bottles. It had been a while since he’d taken any — the ghosts were getting more aggressive. He didn’t want to hurt the boy by accident.

Nathan took two alprazolam pills, and one of clozapine. He took a deep breath, turned on the tap, cupped his hand, scooped some water, and drank it to help the medicine go down.

He brushed his teeth and finally left the bathroom, heading toward the room he’d prepared for Abaddon to spend the night in. But when he reached the doorway, he froze — the room was empty.

“He’s gone?”
“Don’t be stupid, he was never here.”
“Shut up! He’s real. I made noodles for him yesterday.”
“I took my pills… then he’s not real.”

Nathan stepped inside and started looking for the boy. Nothing. No sign.
“No, he’s real. He has to be.”
“Abaddon? Buddy? Where are you?”

It was a big hotel — he could be anywhere. There were dangerous places that Nathan hadn’t renovated yet. He searched everywhere he could think of, even under the sofa cushions. Finally, he walked to the kitchen and sat at the table, defeated.

Then he heard a noise coming from the cabinet under the sink. He walked over slowly, opened the door — and a little boy fell out.

“Mother of God…”

Abaddon opened his eyes and stared at Nathan as if he had just committed a crime.

“Human, why did you wake me up?”
“Why were you sleeping in a kitchen cabinet? You scared me, bud.”
“Well, the room you gave me wasn’t adequate.”
“Why not? It had plenty of space and a bed.”
“Well… we’ll talk about that later. For now, you need to get out of there.”

Nathan lifted him by the armpits and set him on his feet. Jesus, he was filthy. Yesterday, Nathan hadn’t even wanted to touch that subject — it wasn’t a battle he was ready to fight.

“You need a shower.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t—”
“Bud, you do. There’s no point in arguing.”

Nathan took the boy’s hand and led him to the bathroom. He thought for a moment and decided to shower first — it wouldn’t be hygienic to let the boy bathe in dirty water.

“Okay, take off your clothes.”
“No.”
“Come on, bud. If you do it, I’ll make you bubbles.”
“I don’t know… is that a good trade?”
“Yes. I’ll let you play with them later, I promise.”
“Hmm… okay.”

For some reason, the boy looked like he was bracing for pain. He undressed with a pained resignation. Nathan felt rage boiling inside him — he wanted to kill whoever had done this. On the boy’s chest, there was a cross-shaped scar, burned into his skin long ago. His limbs were thin and bony; purple restraint marks circled his wrists and ankles, and other jagged scars covered his body.

“Jesus… who did this to you?”
“What?”
“These bruises.”
“Oh… Papa.”
“Your father…”
“It’s nothing big.”
“It is! Nobody should do that to another person.”
“It’s okay. I’m not a person anyway.”
“What?”
“I’m a demon, remember? Demons need to be contained.”
“My God…”

Nathan wasn’t prepared for this conversation. He turned on the shower and waited until the temperature was right before gently placing the boy under the stream. Abaddon flinched at first, but soon relaxed a little.

“Oh, it doesn’t hurt.”
“What?”
“The water. It’s not burning.”
“What…”

Nathan sighed deeply and continued washing him. His hair was a disaster — long, knotted, full of dirt. He couldn’t leave it like that.

“Hey bud, we’ll have to cut your hair a little. Otherwise, I won’t be able to comb it.”
“Whatever.”

Nathan grabbed a pair of scissors from the cabinet drawer. They weren’t professional, but they would do. He cut away the biggest knots and evened out the length. Even after cutting, it still fell just below the boy’s shoulders.

Nathan combed his hair and washed it with shampoo. He made lots of bubbles but told Abaddon to keep his eyes closed — the shampoo wasn’t for kids and would sting. The boy said he didn’t care and wanted to see the bubbles. Nathan had to promise he could play with them later.

The bath lasted almost an hour. Then Nathan filled the bathtub and added soap to make even more bubbles.

“Okay, now you can play with the bubbles for a bit while I find something for you to wear.”

Nathan went to his bedroom and searched his closet. Luckily, he found a set of pajamas Esther had left behind long ago, when his sister and nephews came to visit. They never came back for them, so the pajamas had stayed forgotten in a dark corner.

“Hey Abaddon, all I found was an old pair of my niece’s pajamas. They might be a little big on you, but they’re better than my clothes.”

Getting him out of the tub was another battle, but Nathan won it with grace — promising he could play with bubbles every day. It was just an excuse to make him bathe regularly, but the boy didn’t notice, so Nathan counted it as a victory.

Clean and dressed, Nathan took the boy to the kitchen and fed him some leftover bread from the pantry. He made a peanut butter sandwich — hoped the boy wasn’t allergic — and made one for himself.

“Okay, we need to buy some things for you, and more food. So, we’re going to the supermarket, okay?”
“Hmm… I don’t know what that means, but okay.”

Jesus. Nathan had a lot of work ahead of him.

Chapter Text

Nathan bitterly regretted the moment he left home with that little monster. For some reason, the boy had completely lost it as soon as they got into the car. When Nathan buckled his seatbelt, the boy bit it—then bit Nathan—screaming and thrashing, trying to pull himself free from the straps. At least, that’s what Nathan thought he was yelling about.
He didn’t even have a car seat, so Nathan had to calm him down fast before they drew attention and the police pulled him over.

“Hahaha, you’re so useless you can’t even handle a five-year-old.”

“If you just covered his mouth—or better yet, ripped out his tongue—he’d stop making noise.”

“Stab him already and end this torment.”

Nathan didn’t answer. They weren’t real. The Ghosts were never real.
And he would never do that. He would never hurt the boy.

“Hey, Bud, how about I put on some music for the trip? It won’t take long—just ten minutes until we get downtown, okay?”

Nathan turned on the radio, and a beach song started playing. Surprisingly, it calmed the boy down.

They arrived at a Walmart—the perfect place. He could get everything they needed in one stop.

They got out of the car, and Nathan grabbed a shopping cart.

“Do you want to walk or ride in the cart? I know you didn’t like the car, but this one’s different—kids usually like it.”

“I’ll walk.”

“Alright, but don’t wander off, okay? Hold onto the cart or my sweater.”

The boy didn’t answer. He just grabbed the hem of Nathan’s worn-out sweater.
Inside the store, it was quiet—it was a Monday morning, after all. Nathan started with the basics: groceries, cleaning supplies, hygiene products. He grabbed more pasta, bread, jam, cheese, cookies, eggs, and yogurt. Then he passed through the produce section.
If he was going to do this, he’d do it right—kids needed green and colorful things. At least, that’s what his sister Catherine always said when she complained about her kids refusing to eat vegetables. By “kids,” she really meant little Esther, since Ben was a sweetheart who actually liked veggies.

“Want to help me pick out some fruit?”

“Hmm.” The boy shrugged.

Nathan showed him how to choose fruit and said he could pick four small ones—like oranges or apples—and one box or bag of anything he wanted. The boy looked confused but did as he was told.
Meanwhile, Nathan grabbed some potatoes and other vegetables, trying his best to ignore the stares from the few people walking by. He wasn’t sure what they were judging—maybe the fact that Abaddon was wearing pajamas in public, or maybe they could just see that Nathan had no idea what he was doing. Whatever the reason, he could feel their judgment.

He sighed. This isn’t real. This isn’t real, he repeated to himself.

When he turned back to call Bud, he froze.
The boy was gone.

He wasn’t by the fruit anymore. Nathan’s heart stopped. How could he be so stupid? He’d only looked away for a second—what if someone had taken him?

Nathan started hyperventilating, shouting the boy’s name.

“ABADDON! ABADDON! WHERE ARE YOU?! COME OUT, BUD!”

Nothing. The boy was nowhere. Nathan was about to run to customer service to report a missing child when an older woman tapped his shoulder.

“Excuse me, young man, are you alright? You look very distressed.”

“Have you seen a little boy around here? He’s about this tall”—Nathan gestured a bit below his waist—“dark hair down to his shoulders, blue eyes, wearing pajamas.”

“Hmm, no, I haven’t, but I can help you look. You should make an announcement.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks for your help.”

Nathan started toward the front to report the disappearance when he tripped over something near one of the shelves. He didn’t fall, but when he looked down to see what it was, his heart almost stopped.

He crouched and pulled out a small, messy, dirt-covered shape by the legs—the boy—who looked at him as if Nathan were the one acting strange.

“ABADDON! What the hell were you thinking?! You disappeared—you can’t do that! Why were you under the shelf?”

Nathan poured the words out in one breath, still processing that the boy was okay.

“Huh? Something fell, so I went to pick it up, but it kept rolling and rolling… and ended up here,” Abaddon said, showing him a squished blueberry in his hand.

Nathan sighed again, stood up, and helped the boy to his feet, brushing the dust off his clothes.

“Okay. It’s fine. Just—don’t ever do that again, alright?”

“Hmm. Okay.”

They went back to the fruit section, Nathan gripping Bud’s hand firmly this time. He grabbed the abandoned cart, and they continued shopping.

Once they finished with groceries, they moved on to the clothing section. Nathan browsed through the children’s aisle, picking up a few shirts and shorts.
He asked for Bud’s opinion, but the boy only shrugged or muttered “whatever,” so Nathan chose a mix: an Iron Man T-shirt, green shorts, a pair of jeans, some sweatpants, a few jackets and sweaters—nothing fancy.

As they were leaving, something finally caught Bud’s attention for the first time that day. Nathan followed his gaze and tried not to react. It was a shirt with a stylized skull and crossbones—looked like a pirate flag.

“You want it?”

“What are you talking about? I don’t want anything. I don’t need anything, you annoying human.”

“Alright, alright—but I like it, so I’m getting it anyway,” Nathan said, trying to avoid an argument.

On the way to the checkout, they passed the toy section. Nathan told Bud he could pick one. The boy looked confused but complied, grabbing the first thing he saw—a small sand bucket. It felt more like obedience than choice. Nathan didn’t like that but stayed quiet. He grabbed a box of large Lego blocks himself, thinking it might help.

Bud looked oddly frustrated, pouting in a way that made him unintentionally cute. His cheeks weren’t chubby, just soft with that lingering baby fat—but he still looked far too underfed. Nathan pushed those thoughts away.

At the checkout, he paid with the emergency credit card his parents had given him. Everything was expensive, and to be honest, he didn’t have much money left—especially considering the cost of his medications. Running a failing hotel with no guests—except the ones living inside his head—didn’t exactly pay the bills.

They returned to the car, and Nathan loaded the groceries into the trunk. He braced himself for another fight over the seatbelt, but this time, there was none. Within two minutes, Bud was asleep in the back seat.

Nathan had a lot of work ahead of him—but it was fine. He wasn’t alone anymore.

Was this technically kidnapping? Probably. But whoever had “taken care” of Bud before hadn’t done a very good job—his body was covered in scars and bruises.

No, Nathan wasn’t giving him back to anyone. He had found the boy, and he would take care of him now.

He ignored the Ghosts whispering that he was just a stranger who’d be arrested, that he’d taken the child for something unspeakable.

Nathan gripped the steering wheel tightly. He hated this—hated the thoughts, hated the Ghosts. He would never hurt Bud. Never.
He’d resisted before—when the Ghosts told him to hurt his little sister, Cat—and he could resist again.
But to keep them quiet, maybe he’d give them something else… even if it meant hurting himself again.

He could do this. He would do this.