Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a warm, sunny summer day and Abaddon was having a terrible time. His hunting spree was unfathomably poor today, and despite there being no lack of choice prey in the area, the rodents had seemed to form some kind of alliance together. There was no other explanation, Abaddon thought, peering grimly from the underbrush. The varmints had conspired against him. So here he was, achingly free from fresh blood or bone. He gnashed his teeth. Abaddon considered himself a patient demon, yet when he was set out to do something, he usually saw it through.

He wanted to hunt. He wanted the kill. He wanted to show Nathan he was victorious over the very same wretches the man had been complaining about the other day. And of all the times for pray to be scarce, it was now.

So Abaddon was in a sour mood. He sunk his hated little-boy claws into the earth and yanked out weeds, grinding them into a pulp in his fingers. It didn’t quite soothe his appetite for destruction, but he liked the smell of torn vegetation.

The low, rumbling growl of an engine suddenly pulled him out of his quiet fuming, and he stuck his head out of the brush to see one of those motorized two-wheeled vehicles darting up the driveway. He didn’t know what it was called, but he’d seen a few before. Not so much in town, but in the prison-box Nathan watched in the evenings. Seeing one this distance delighted him. What a glorious sound it made to his ears! It reminded him of the growl of the hellbeasts that he’d once ridden. Worthy mounts, if unpredictable.

This gas-fueled hellbeast roared. Astride it sat a slender woman figure cloaked in dark leather from feet to hands. Skin of some dead animal or enemy, he surmised. Her head was concealed by a misshapen sphere of tinted glass and some other kind of smooth material. Abaddon crept out of the leaves to get a better look. Normally he kept a distance between himself and the hotel guests, but he’d never seen a guest like this before. At least, not a female one on a hellbeast this close up. Was she a demon, come to return him home?! She had a stuffed backpack on her back. So unless she was coming to conduct a ritual to free him, then she was just another boring hotel guest. He’d find out soon enough.

The wheeled beast came to a stop and the noise died. Was the creature merely resting now or had it died, too? Abaddon crawled out of his hiding place and stood up. The rider turned her head and looked at the young boy, expression hidden by the helmet.

“Hey, little man,” came the semi-muffled reply. Voice hoarse yet low and feminine. “This place have vacancy?”

“The hotel is not vacant,” Abaddon said, sticking his nose up. Nathan always got upset when the demon chased away potential guests—or current guests—but Abaddon never lied when asked a question. “I and the innkeeper reside here, as well as the many wayward souls bound to this place.”

The rider hesitated a few seconds before responding with a dry laugh that made the demon think of autumn leaves. Abaddon’s brow twitched at this disrespect. “Sure. Where is the, uh, innkeeper—?”

“Right here!” Nathan Freeling strode out of the Undervale entrance, eagerness brightening his face alongside his usual glee. The typical response, when faced with a possible guest. He trotted down the steps. “Welcome to the Undervale! Are you looking to stay for a night? Or two? There is a smell, and we are working on fixing that. But there’s free coffee and breakfast every morning!”

“Hey, that’s more than enough for me,” the rider said, and reached up to pull her helmet off. Long, dark hair spilled free like a slit throat. She shook her head to free her wild mane, face smooth, pale, and triangular. “I kind of plan to stay a week or so. I’ll pay in cash.”

Nathan opened his mouth to answer, but to Abaddon’s amused bafflement all that came out was a squeak and a blush. Which reminded the demon of his rodent prey, which made him hungry, which made him begin to lose interest in the humans. He ran up to Nathan and yanked on his dress shirt, which seemed to snap the man out of whatever daze he’d been in. “Uh—Yes! O-Of course! Best room in the whole hotel just for you.”

“Thanks,” the woman said as she swung off her hellbeast, setting the helmet on the back of the thing. “I’m Avery.”

“Please, call me Nathan!”

“Your kid?” The Avery woman asked with a jerk of her chin, and Abaddon felt his hackles—or what would’ve been his hackles had he not been confided to this weak mortal shell—rise at the blatantly continued disrespect. He curled his lip back into a growl, ready to show that he was no baby goat, but Nathan’s unwavering smile made the demon go quiet.

“My ward,” Nathan answered, running his fingers through the boy’s hair. Plucking out a twig that had been caught in the strands. Abaddon tolerated it only for a moment before he tried to bite the man’s fingers. “Abaddon, why don’t you head to the kitchen and get yourself some yogurt?”

Given this peace offering, Abaddon quelled his fury as he followed the two inside the hotel. The two chatted as Nathan guided her to the front desk, voices drowned out as the demon left them to retrieve his sweet treat.

Chapter Text

Yogurt tasted of victory.

Sticky fingers jammed through the aluminum foil top, swirling around the plastic cup in a way that Abaddon fantasized was him feeling around the skull of an imp that he’d liquefied the brains of. He licked the strawberry dairy cream off his digits as he peered through the slants of the vent. Below, the new guest had settled into her room. Oblivious of the demon lurking above.

Nathan saying that he would give her the best room of the house was something he’d say to most clientele. Some weeks were busier than others, with half of those people leaving abruptly during the night despite check-out times. The ghosts startled the living, but this was their eternal home until they were released into the next world or damnation itself. And because the living was often… *spooked* by the ghosts, people didn’t seem to want to linger. Most, at least.

The ghosts tolerated Nathan as a semi-adequate caretaker. He kept the lights -mostly- on and there was always at least one animated prison box. Abaddon tolerated Nathan because he got tasty food and kept Abaddon warm during the winters. He would also read to Abaddon, do the amusing voices, and would ruffle and comb his hair when no one was around, and Abaddon wouldn’t bite him then. For this, Nathan had earned the demon prince’s loyalty if nothing else. Thus he along with the ghosts had obeyed, begrudgingly, to leave the new guest alone.

She had paid for a full week upfront with the green bills with the men on it. Abaddon had witnessed this earlier from the doorway leading to the lobby, the passing of money from the woman to Nathan. The moment the innkeeper came back from showing her to her room, he had made a beeline to Abaddon and crouched down in front of him.

”Abaddon, bud. I need you to do me a big favor.”

”Name it and the very earth shall tremble in our names.”

“Heh—I’ll take that as a yes,” Nathan said cheerfully, rubbing the back of his neck. “That nice lady, Miss Beasley, is going to be staying with us until next Monday. She was nice enough to pay in cash up front. Now, that’s a nice bit of money for us, and I can use it for repairs around the hotel. And, with the little extra, I can get more cereal that you like.”

Abaddon perked up, moving his attention quickly back to Nathan and away from the cobweb billow from the ceiling. “More cereal?”

”Yes! But as long as her stay here isn’t cut short—so no growling, biting, or demonic rituals to scare her off—then we’ll be in the clear, and I won’t have to refund her that money. We really need this, Abby.”

That had been half an hour ago. Abaddon had since been given a second yogurt as compensation for his agreed compliance. With his victory treat, he immediately dove to his domain: the vents. Here, lay his bones and other trinkets. Here he could hunt. Here, he could observe the woman his caretaker was so stressed about. He would obey, if only to reap the rewards. But Abaddon was curious.

Nathan had given similar requests to the ghosts to steer clear of the guests, once again. This was easier said than done, Abaddon thought to himself as he stuck his fingers back into the yogurt cup. The ghosts went where they wanted to, or even if they didn’t want to.

Avery Beasley, the woman who rode a mutated hellbeast and wore the skin of an animal, had unpacked her bags and was sitting on her bed, scrolling through the thin rectangle glass box in her hand. A cellphone, Nathan had called it, but Abaddon didn’t see much resemblance compared to the traditional phones that hung on walls or sat on counters. She did not seem as awe-inspiring as she had been coming up the driveway. Such was to be expected of humans. She seemed so small down there, all hunched over and quiet. It made Abaddon nostalgic of the old days.

He watched as she sat her phone down and reached for the backpack by her bedside. She reached in and took out a tall stack of green bills held together by a rubber band. This era’s money, he mused. Worthless to him, but Abaddon knew Nathan needed it. He could easily sneak in and fetch it for Nathan, but he felt that this action would cause more trouble than help. It would classify as theft.

Human tongues came easy to Abaddon. Of course they did; he was a prince of the Black Realm, the Cobra King and monarch of shrimp. Puny mortal languages were simple to grasp. Their written words, however, were debarred from most demons. Numbers are the exception. He recognized the 1 and the two 0’s on the bills.

Avery slipped two out and shoved them into an inside pocket of her jacket. She stood up, zipped up her backpack, and stuck it in the wardrobe. Jingling her key, she trotted out of the room and locked it behind her. Abaddon listened to her footsteps recede down the hallway. He licked his fingers, fruity sweetness lingering on his tongue, then scooted further up the ventilation system until he could discern that he was over the hallway. He heard conversation.

“—ry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t be! Just doing my, ah, usual sweep of the other rooms,” Nathan’s voice came drifting up from below. Abaddon pressed his ear to the cool metal. “Making sure everything is up to code as they say.”

“Yeah, I getcha. I’m just swingin’ out to grab dinner. Hey, uh, I didn’t ask. Room service. Is that a thing here…?”

“Oh! Forgive me, I forgot to mention before. Clumsy me, heh. Any cleaning is on the house. I’ll take care of it. But if you need a wake up call, clean towels, more of the little chocolates I put on the pillows, a massage—“

“A what?”

“Uhh just joking!” Uneasy laughter. “My point is, anything you need, just let me know and I’ll see to it.”

“Oh. Cool. Thanks, man.” Fabric rustling. “Um, actually, there is something. I… really appreciate my own privacy. So, I don’t need cleaning service for the room.”

“Not a problem!”

“At all.”

“Affirmative!”

“Yeah… Thanks. I just really like my privacy. And one more thing.” Shoes shuffled on the carpet. “If anyone comes around asking for me…”

There was a short pause, and Adaddon’s fingers curled deeper in his yogurt cup as he strained to listen. The air conditioning suddenly sputtered to life, cold air and dust blowing across his face. He inhaled slowly, savoring the ripe and lingering death-scent from this old building, cloying in his nose.

“Miss Beasley, don’t you worry about a thing! If I hear anything about you, I will keep my trap zipped and inform you right away. You can count on me! Your privacy here at the Undervale is absolutely paramount to me. VIP treatment all the way.”

“Heh. Thanks again, man. It’s Nathan, right?”

“Ah, yes, that’s me.”

“Thank you, Nathan. Really.”

Footsteps retreated down the hall, both ways, and all was quiet save for the whirling within the vents. Sure he no longer had to worry about being quiet, he finished off his yogurt cup and tossed it aside. He pushed open the nearest grate and tumbled out, landing on his back with a hard grunt.

Snuffling as he licked the sticky remains off his mouth, he prowled over to the nearest window that overlooked the front driveway. He watched as the woman hurried out the hotel and over to the hellbeast, pulling on that black helmet that hid her whole head.

She straddled the thing and touched something on its nape, then gripped the horns. It awoke with a growl! Abaddon leapt, hands slapping at the glass.

“She commands it with a mere touch!” Amazed and seething with envy at this display of power, the hellbeast and its rider rolled off with a roar. He watched until they were out of sight down the road, headed to town.

He had to figure out the witch’s tricks, if his own didn’t work. Perhaps if the hellbeast obeyed his commands, he could ride it into a most worthy battle that would be written down for the ages. Like he used to. Surely, that if nothing else, he would warrant respect again.

—

The sun had set.

Abaddon had stood at the window for over an hour, face pressed up against the glass, waiting for the woman to return. He grew restless at her continued absence, angry and desperate, plans to seize the hellbeast for himself swirling in his mind like a hundred teeming fish in a pond. Pretty and tempting, but his eagerness made him jumpy, and he struggled to grasp one. He wrung his hands, paced, bit the back of his hand until he tasted copper.

With magic or charm or brute force, he would awaken the creature next time Avery put it to sleep and hop aboard, and ride it deep into the woods so no one else would find it. He would make it stay quiet, unlike the snarling it made before. He’d tamed hellbeasts bigger, nastier, and louder than that. This one didn’t even have claws. It’d be easy.

So convinced of his genius, Abaddon didn’t notice Nathan coming up behind him until he felt a hand on his head. He snarled, leapt up, and spun around.

“Woah, bud! Didn’t mean to scare ya. Hey—you okay, Abaddon? You look like you just ran a marathon,” he laughed, but grew serious as he knelt down in front of the demon child. Eyes flickered to a small extremity Abaddon clutched to his chest. “What happened to your hand?”

“Nothing,” Abaddon snapped, ready to yank his hand away when Nathan took it on his, studying the incisions his teeth had made. But the man smiled at him in a way that crinkled the corners of his eyes, it made Abaddon feel small, and he was suddenly lax as he was scooped up against a tweed vested torso.

“I know what’s wrong,” Nathan said, carrying Abaddon on his hip as he trotted down the stairs. “You’re hungry for something to really sink your teeth into.”

Abaddon didn’t respond, but felt the shuddering his chest, which he hadn’t been quite aware of until then, come to a gradual end as he was held close. He wouldn’t admit it, but Nathan was quite warm and tall, and he likened the experience of being carried to what it used to be like before he was confined to this body. Only Nathan was a creature of creation, not destruction. Put a damper on the fantasy.

“You know you can always come get me if you need something, Abaddon,” Nathan said as they headed into the kitchen. The bright fluorescent lights flicked on and the boy rubbed his eyes, cursing the infernal burn of electricity on his retinas after staring into the dark for so long. He blinked warily as he was jerked further up onto Nathan’s hip as the man bent down to retrieve a pan from under the counter. He heard the man grunt and mutter something about his knees.

“…Anything?” Abaddon questioned as Nathan stood only to set the boy on the kitchen counter.

“Of course. You’re my little buddy, big bad scary demon or not.”

Abaddon thought of this. It was true that Nathan had been an exemplary caretaker. Nathan cleaned up after him, served him, patched him up when his vessel was injured, and defended him against the foolish humans who dared to ridicule him. Nathan was soft, naive, and sickeningly optimistic. Many of Undervale’s past owners who’d tried to take on the hotel, to fix it, normally didn’t stick around this long.

It had been two years since Nathan found Abaddon stuck in that wretched dirt pit. He’d fallen in weeks ago fleeing from the hotel’s previous owner who’d chased him off after he’d broken in and taken food from the kitchen. Abaddon had tried in vain to claw his way out. Bored and hungry, he’d half begun to believe he’d found a new prison until the man came along. Smiling, greeting him like the boy was any other person, and offering him a hand. Freed, Abaddon had sworn to repay the deed. Even after that he’d stayed, and now considered the Undervale a home. It had been a prison to him several times before it was a hotel. But with Nathan here, somehow the place felt warmer. He didn’t try to change or hurt Abaddon.

Nathan was cleaning the bite mark on his hand. It wasn’t necessary in the slightest. While his vessel was weak, he was no mortal! It had barely bled at all. But Nathan still cleaned the area with a bit of soap and water, treating the ovoid shaped cuts like he was patching a chip on an old teacup. It both annoyed Abaddon and endeared him. No one had treated him this way.

“You gotta be careful with yourself, Abs,” Nathan said when he’d deemed the bite wound clean, and moved to the fridge where he pulled out cheese and butter.

Abaddon didn’t respond. It wouldn’t make a difference if he bit himself or gnawed his fingers off. He stared at his hand a moment then turned to Nathan, watching as he began the process to make grilled cheese.

For three hundred years he’d been caged in this feeble body. Small, weak, powerless. His body healed itself and his clothes would gradually mend after any stain or tear and would not deteriorate. He had all his memories as the Cobra King, Gatekeeper of the Sunless City. But for the past century, it disturbed Abaddon that he had days where he couldn’t tell where he ended and his vessel’s essence began. Such as now, he didn’t feel the great need to prove himself a prince of Hell. There was comfort in routine. A prison of his own making.

“I demand the chilli sauce in my sandwich,” Abaddon said. He of course deserved such treats.

“Always, bud.”

—

They’d eaten their sandwiches in the kitchen. Abaddon was mostly quiet during dinner, biting into his grilled cheese and wrenching his mouth off, gleeful of the way the cheese pulled from his mouth to the toast. Like intestines being ripped out of a still-warm body. The tingle of the chilli sauce on his tongue. The cheese salty and rich in fat. Dairy, Abaddon finds, is a most valued product. Worthy of his royal palate.

Nathan chatted throughout their shared meal, expressing his dreams of the money the witch had given him. Bills to pay, pipes to fix, roofing to patch. More importantly, cereal to buy.

They heard the front door open. Nathan’s eyes brightened, and Abaddon watched as he stood, excused himself, and hurried out of the kitchen. He heard him talk to Avery, heard his name and the word ‘cookie’, and soon both of them were appearing in the doorway. Abaddon glowered.

“—the kitchen. You’re more than welcome to help yourself to breakfast in the morning. I’ll be up and running the Freeling Cafe at 6:30!”

“Cool,” Avery said. Her dark hair was wind-blown, more a tangled mane than anything. She had ditched her leather jacket, wearing a thin t-shirt and dark bootcut jeans. Sharp, vibrant eyes of clashing shades flicked to the boy, and he pulled back his teeth in a snarl to show off his incisors. He had to show off his ferocity, especially to this one. “You’re Abaddon, right? Heck of na—“

“That is I, hellbeast woman.”

He watched as her eyes widened, simultaneously with Nathan’s.

“Abaddon! That was not nice. Apologize to Miss Beasley.”

He grimaced. He’d been made to apologize before to guests, spitting it out like it was venom on his fangs. Only now, he really saw no reason why he had to. He had said it as it was! She was the hellbeast rider; what was ‘not nice’ about that!?

He slammed his hands on the table and sat up, fuming. Suddenly all the anger that had been boiling inside him this morning over his bad hunt came surging forward, pot overflowing. “Why!?”

“Abaddon!” Nathan said again, coming around the table to sit beside him, hand on the back of the boy’s chair. Abaddon growled, furious that his benefactor would suddenly turn on him with no valid reason. The savory scents of their dinner turned sour in his nose. “You don’t call someone that word—“

“A ‘woman’?!”

“To be frank hellbeast is a badass term—sorry—a cool term,” Avery said, who was suddenly smirking.

“See! She admits it. She who commands the beast!”

“The beast?” Nathan suddenly sat back, blinking owlishly.

The woman straightened herself, brows rising to her hair line. She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, other hand on her cocked hip. “My beast? Oooh,” Avery chuckled and turned to Nathan. “I think he means Roxanne.”

“Roxanne?”

“My bike.”

“Roxanne the hellbeast,” Abaddon mused quietly, tapping his fingertips together. So it was a she? Would Beasley breed her?

“We don’t swear in this house, Abs. But I’m sorry for misunderstanding you,” Nathan said as he ruffled the boy’s hair. “Sorry, Miss Beasley, I don’t know where he gets it.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” She made a dismissive hand gesture as she approached the table. “If it’s okay with your dad, maybe I’ll show you that Roxanne isn’t a scary monster one of these days.”

Abaddon hoped Roxanne was scary. That was the point. He turned to Nathan expectantly, feeling heat surge in his eyes with hellish insistence he agree. To his confusion Nathan was blushing. “I—O-Of course he can. No riding, though.”

“Yeah, ‘course. Ain’t gonna let a little kid on. But I’d just show’m. Here,” Avery turned to Abaddon and reached into her pocket. She had one of those ‘cookies of fortune’ Nathan gets from the Chinese restaurant. He snatched it up when she offered it to him and stuck it into his mouth, plastic wrapping and all. Ignoring their startled reaction, he takes off in a run to enjoy his treat alone.

Soon. He’d convince Roxanne to let him sit astride her—then he would be the hellbeast master!

Chapter Text

The mortals were asleep for the night.

Abaddon had checked twice; Nathan had gone to bed at a reasonable time that evening instead of passing out on his armchair. The Beasley woman finally stopped scrolling her cellphone at two am, atop the covers and fully clothed, mumbling incoherently long after her eyes had closed. Finally! Shaking with anticipation, Abaddon bolted out the front and nearly tripped over himself in his haste to get to the hellbeast.

The night had always been the prince’s domain. Homes to explore, loot ripe for the taking, and families to terrorize. The look on their faces when they’d been bamboozled by him fed his appetite for chaos for days. How much more could he do, with a tamed hellbeast at his disposal? She would hardly be worthy compared to the legions of them kept at his castle, but on Earth, after so long in a weak and fleshy vessel, Roxanne would make an extraordinary mount. The people would tremble before him once again.

Maybe Hell will hear of the destruction wrought from his fingers and come for him at last.

Roxanne slept beneath the bare tree to the right of the Undervale’s entrance beneath a dusty tarp. He didn’t know nor care how Beasley got this thing to doze so quietly beneath a blanket, and grasped it in both hands and—

He paused before he could yank the tarp off. It had been over three hundred years since he’s had to deal with these creatures, yet how could he almost forget how testy they are? If he woke it suddenly, it could come awake too abruptly and attack. Then Nathan would wake and be upset with him, or the witch would curse him for tormenting her mount. That’s if the hellbeast didn’t run him over first.

Grumbling, Abaddon switched tactics and gently pulled the tarp off. The crinkle as it slid off Roxanne and onto the dirt sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. Yes, that’s it, he thought gleefully.

Roxanne’s smooth coat was made of shiny metal, and she leaned against one tiny little leg. “Good evening, Roxanne,” he whispered, coming around to the face.

A single large eyeball stared back at him. Pupilless, with two smaller eyes on either side of the main eye. It reminded him of the eye of a bug. Roxanne did not blink, did not move.

“A beast such as you should not be acquiescing with a mere mortal,” Abaddon said, switching to his native tongue. He hadn’t had reason to speak it in so long that it felt unfathomably foreign. It made his tongue tingle and not in a good way. Moving on, Abaddon reached out gingerly to place his hand on the hard covering that hatted the front wheel, wondering if such a mutated hellbeast had a nose at all. Or even a mouth. There was no movement beneath his hand. No warmth. Just cool, hard metal. He’d never seen a hellbeast so calm before. He was impressed by the beast tamer’s skill, yet simultaneously disappointed that it wouldn’t buck and roar in outrage like a rabid animal.

“I propose an alliance. Together we will dominate this land and tear down its foundations,” Abaddon said. Conviction carried in his raised voice. He slowly backed away, gesturing adamantly. “Now arise and come to me!”

Roxanne sat idle. Staring.

“Have your mutations left you deaf? I said arise!”

Roxanne didn’t move.

Abaddon huffed and walked around the side of the hellbeast, eyeing its underbelly. Exposed innards of pale steel shimmered in the faint moonlight. This looked like a sensitive place, so he shifted his attention to its back. The saddle, which looked like it could seat two, was firmly attached. He realized it was fused to the creature. He normally delighted in torture especially if it was for the benefit, but he wondered if it inhibited Roxanne in some way. Ignoring his earlier concern in possibly pissing the beast off, he tried to yank off the saddle, blunt nails scraping at the smooth leather, but it didn’t budge. The studs surrounding the seat’s edge wouldn’t turn for all the strength he used.

“Damn you!” Abaddon snapped, storming away. He quickly spun back around and jabbed a finger at Roxanne. “I told you to arise!”

Nothing.

Growling, he said, “What do you want? Squirrels? Froot Loops? I can give it all to you, and more once we reclaim this land for myself.”

But Roxanne showed no interest. Not even an understanding of what he was saying. It just stared off into the night, facing forward like a sentinel standing guard at the hotel. A gatekeeper. Just like he’d been, once.

Abaddon’s facial expression fell, feeling a slight sense of unease creep up on him. On one hand, he can admire the unshaking perseverance that he’d once honed. On the other, his annoyance grew.

“Fine, if you won’t listen to words, then I will just have to take you myself,” he huffed as he marched up to the side of the hellbeast. He grasped the saddle to hoist himself up. It had been so long since he’s gotten on the back of any mount. Hundreds of years ago when people thought he was just a mortal boy, he would get assistance in being hoisted onto the back of a horse. And never alone. Roxanne wasn’t any bigger than a pony! Still, he was so adept at crawling around the vents and up walls and trees that this was no big challenge. The creature shifted under his weight. “Keep still if you know what’s good for you.”

When he was settled, a bit tilted to the side as the hellbeast was still leaning, they became stationary. The beast was so wobbly under his weight that he wondered if it was weak, or maybe even a youngling, but he’d heard how loud it was. Nothing weak was that loud. Surely!

There were all sorts of funny symbols on the nape, numbers and dials and things Abaddon didn’t understand. He’d seen symbols similar to the dials in Nathan’s car. Hm. He reached for the horns, grunting in frustration as his arms were not long enough. He scooted forward, Roxanne shaking under him. “I said stay st—“

Roxanne started tipping over before he realized what was happening.

The world turned and the ground was rushing up to meet Abaddon from the left, and the boy landed with a hard grunt into the dirt. His leg was instantly pinned under the hellbeast's side. He didn’t feel pain the way humans did, but it was very uncomfortable as Roxanne had slammed all her weight on him and he dreaded there being any sign of his actions tonight.

“Cursed thing,” Abaddon grit, squirming violently to free himself. Once he’d gotten himself out, he stood up victorious and pumped his fist. “I am free! You failed to defeat me, hellbeast. Nothing can vanquish the almighty Abaddon, the Cobra King!”

A light turned on in one of the hotel windows. Abaddon swore in a tongue long dead and took off running to the woods, doing his best not to limp.

—

Breakfast at the Undervale was rarely a grand event.

When Nathan first pulled Abaddon out of that pit, he kept trying to feed the skinny little boy as he’d believed that was all Abaddon was in the beginning. It wasn’t until the ghosts’ confirmation that they’d seen the demon through the years, and witnessed Abaddon’s demonic powers, that Nathan began to stop worrying about his nutritional health. They still enjoyed breakfast together, but it usually consisted of Fruit Loops and coffee. Nathan drank the coffee, Abaddon would eat the leftover coffee grinds if it wasn’t the instant stuff. On special occasions, Nathan would buy the microwave pancakes and dress them up with butter, chocolate syrupy, and cinnamon sugar.

Guests were welcome to coffee, but offering them complimentary breakfast was a new approach.

When Abaddon heard Nathan going about his morning routine in the kitchen, he descended from the vents and rolled out of the grate. The metal creaked almost as loud as his landing on the ground. He’d since healed from Roxanne’s attack, as though it had never happened. He’d try again later.

“Mornin’, bud,” the patriarch greeted, flashing the boy a wide smile. Abaddon nodded in response and stood. The clock told him it was early, but all sorts of scents tickled his nose. Sweet, savory dough being fried in a pan. No matter how many centuries had passed, such a simple recipe lasted through the ages. Didn’t matter how it was done, cooked dough was a staple for man. It fascinated Abaddon how many ways there were to cook with wheat flour.

Abaddon gripped Nathan’s rumpled apron and stood up on his toes to peer into the frying pan, seeing a large, bubbled patty of doughy batter sizzling away. The hot butter popped and hissed on the iron. It smelled appetizing, and Abaddon reached his hand into the pan to swipe a dollop of it. The pan was pleasantly hot.

He licked the batter off his finger and grimaced. It did not taste as good as it smelled, and he vigorously wiped his mouth off on Nathan’s apron. Abaddon felt more than heard the man’s chuckle. “Pancakes taste better when they’re cooked, Abby,” he said, flipping the pancake out of the pan. The boy watched as it spun in the air before landing back on the skillet, undercooked side down. The other side was golden brown, with darker edges.

Once Abaddon was satisfied watching Nathan make the cakes of the pan, he wandered off to his designated seat and hoisted himself up to the table. A plate with one big one was placed in front of him. Right at that moment, the witch Beasley walked in.

The area around her hooded eyes was slightly darkened like the war paint he’d witnessed smeared on some women. Typical barbarian. Had she performed some dark ritual that was turning her into a raccoon? Pitiful. Clearly she needed a better mentor if she was backfiring like that. Maybe if she was weak, he could overpower and convince her to show him how she commands her hellbeast.

“Mornin’,” came the young woman’s raspy reply as she shuffled to the coffee machine that never got as hot as Abaddon liked.

“Good morning, Miss Beasley!” Nathan chirped, plating another round, breakfasty confection. “You look like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Coffee cups are to your left, creamer’s on the table. Did you sleep okay? Sorry, this old place makes all kinds of noises at ni—“

“I slept fine,” Avery said with a frown. “Just bike trouble.”

“Ah-?”

“Must’ve been the wind. Got knocked over.”

Abaddon’s gaze flickered between the two mortals with open confusion. Their silence felt uneasy, like someone was about to pounce. He didn’t think it was Nathan, as the man was frowning himself and looking at the woman the same way he looked at Abaddon when he came home with scrapped knees.

“I’m sorry, is there anything I can do?” Nathan asked softly, switching off the stove and walking closer to her. Avery looked up from stirring sugar into her cup, staring. The two did that for some seconds before she answered.

“No, it’s fine. I’m just paranoid. Just a little wind,” she laughed dryly, her voice higher than it was before. Abaddon could taste the lie in her voice. Bitter like coffee grounds. “What kind of security does this place have?”

Nathan’s eyes widened. “I— Sorry, just you’re standard fair. Is something wrong?”

“No,” Avery sighed. Her failure to expound on the topic became heavy in the following silence.

“Well, if you need anything, just let me know.” Nathan flashed another soft smile and picked up the plate of food. “Pancakes? They’re hot off the pan. A warm breakfast can do wonders.”

The young woman stared as if she’d been spoken to in another language, taking the offered plate after some hesitation. Did she think it had been poisoned? Couldn’t she see that the caretaker was harmless? “Uh, yeah. Yes, I mean. Thanks.”

“My pleasure!” Nathan went back to the stove, whistling.

Abaddon squinted as Avery sat beside him, chair scraping back and ceramic plate tapping noisily against the table as it was set down. He huffed, tearing off a piece of the cake of pan that Nathan had given him. It was pleasing to him to tear it apart, more so than eating.

“So… what grade are you in, kid?” Avery asked. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, gaze flickering over Abaddon’s attire with a curious look he was familiar with. He just didn’t care what she thought.

“Oh, he’s homeschooled,” Nathan replied. He was so concerned with what people thought, Abaddon mused, that he had a ready-made lie for most questions thrown the demon’s way. Apparently it was important for mortals to think certain things when it came to him.

“That’s cool, I guess. Public school can be pretty vicious.” She slathered some butter and a bit of syrup on her breakfast, and Abaddon pushed his plate to hers with an expectant, demanding look. He wanted her to put it on his too. With half a smirk, she did so.

“I am more vicious than any school.”

“Heh. I’m sure.”

“Abaddon is very… expressive in his ways,” Nathan smiled sheepishly, sitting at the table across from them. Forks clanked together in the rhythmless tune of breakfast. He’d never had to share mealtime with Nathan with another. It was strange, this third person. Guests never ate with them before. “He does things a little differently than most but I love him like he’s my own.”

Abaddon glowered. Nathan spoke often of love, and gave it so freely to the wandering souls here and the animals. Abaddon didn’t understand, but he accepted it when it was aimed at him. And of course he was unique! There was no question about it. He was a prince, a cut from Hell’s most esteemed and immortal royal echelon. Nothing like those lowborn, feeble demons.

Abaddon zoned off as he nibbled on his food, growing bored as the mortals started a lengthy conversation. He didn’t pay attention as it was of no importance to him and they kept referring to things he had no knowledge of. They were smiling now, and Avery was laughing, her eyes brighter now than they’d been when she’d first entered the kitchen.

Abaddon looked at Nathan and was suddenly hit with annoyance. Nathan was his caretaker. He cared for the guests, yes, but he’d never seen him hand over so much attention before. These mortals weren’t even eating anymore. In all their time together, Nathan had only ever given this much focus to Abaddon or the ghosts. The ghosts didn’t count, they were dead. So why was he talking and smiling at Avery so much? There were better things to do than watch the mortals form kinship. Kinship Abaddon had thought his by right. Thinking of Nathan caring for someone else made him… uneasy.

Competitive.

Without warning Abaddon shoved his plate away. Nathan’s hand shot out and caught it before it could fly off the table and crash into lovely little pieces. “Woah, bud! You alright?”

“I would like to see Roxanne, if she is not dead,” he announced, sliding off the chair. He had to tear these two apart now, and what better way than to get the hellbeast involved? It was a win-win for Abaddon!

“Oh—“ Avery choked back a startled laugh which made Abaddon glare up at her. “Roxanne is okay. But only if it’s okay with your dad.”

His ‘dad’. Abaddon turned to Nathan, the child’s soul in him feeling a hopeful rush. “Please, Dad? I want to see Roxanne.”

Suddenly Nathan was hacking and coughing like he had a hairball and covered his mouth with his hand. He looked at Abaddon as though he’d done something wondrous. “Uh—s-sure, buddy. Just be careful. No riding.”

Abaddon groaned and rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course. Now come along,” he said, then grabbed the woman’s hand. Avery squeaked something that went unnoticed by Abaddon, who proceeded to drag her from the kitchen.

Chapter Text

A lot of what Avery told him that morning went in one ear and out the other. All Abaddon cared about was Roxanne and how the witch could command her.

“You wanna sit on ‘er?” She asked as they walked outside.

“Yes.” Abaddon stared at the hellbeast intently. Where had he gone wrong last night?

Avery saddled the quietly tenacious beast and hoisted him up under the arms, seating him in her lap. She was able to keep Roxanne upright, and Abaddon was confident she wouldn’t let them drop. She wouldn’t dare mishandle the Prince of Darkness. He leaned forward to grab the base of the horns.

“Heh, I reckon you’d be the type to go full throttle, hm?”

“Throttle?” Abaddon glanced over his shoulder at her, delighted by this. He chuckled. “But of course. A rudimentary way of execution, but no less effective. What else can Roxanne do? Does she mawl your enemies?”

Avery’s mouth quirked upward before she burst out in that dry laughter, making Abaddon scowl and turn forward. “Ah! No, Roxanne doesn’t do anything except obey the laws of physics, kid.”

Abaddon knew what that was, at least. Physics. The mortal plane’s way of things, outside of the preternatural spheres. He rolled his eyes, feeling a pinch of worry that Roxanne really was just a human’s rusty bucket on wheels, but vehemently denied it. He’d felt the power of that roar!

It was then that Avery started chattering away about this and that and whatever, pointing to things on the nape of the hellbeast. Abaddon tried to absorb the information, but it was all gibberish to him. Only when Avery stuck a key into a strange hole and flipped something on the horn did—

’Brrrrrrr

“It purrs!” Abaddon yelled with excitement, gripped with awe and the urge to command Roxanne to ride as fast and far. Avery snorted behind him and twisted one of the horns. It growled! “Aahahah!”

Avery’s laugh drifted on the wind. “See? She’s not so scary.”

“Make her run,” Abaddon commanded.

“Ah, can’t do, sport. I don’t wanna upset your old man,” Avery said as the beast’s engine rumbled most pleasantly, but she did not make it growl again to his dissatisfaction. He frowned and turned to look at her. His ‘old man’? What old man? Regardless, her throwing confusing things at him wouldn’t distract him.

“Mortal, I command you to ride her.”

The young woman suddenly straightened up with a jolt, eyes widening. Abaddon didn’t know what she’d seen that frightened her so, but he was pleased to have wrought such a reaction.

“I—“ the woman coughed, causing her to turn away and wipe her eyes as though to clear debris from them. He watched, unimpressed. She didn’t seem so interesting now that she was ill.

“Are you going to perish?” He eyed her jacket, wondering how it would look on his own vessel. If she died, then he could claim it alongside the hellbeast. He felt a flicker of disappointment when she cleared her throat successfully and turned back to him. Perhaps it was best if she didn’t die. She would make a worthy ally.

“No, kid,” she said, gaze flitting between his narrowed eyes. “What… Nevermind. I should probably get going.”

“Where?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He wasn’t, and frowned when she gingerly scooped him up and placed him on the ground. “You should get back to your dad.”

He said nothing to that despite wanting to correct her that Nathan was not his sire. It wasn’t really anyone else’s business anyway. “I would like to see Roxanne again.”

The woman hesitated, but before he could assume she’d brush him off and inspire his wrath, she smiled in a soft way. “Sure. Tomorrow, okay?”

Abaddon nodded and stepped back to observe as she pulled her helmet on, latched a strap under her jaw, and made Roxanne roar and speed away. He stood there until she was gone over the horizon.

It wasn’t the first time someone assumed Nathan was Abaddon’s father. Something about human social norms. A pretty neat lie to explain away his presence here, and who to complain to when the demon committed his darkest deeds. Nathan called Abaddon his ward, and Abaddon supposed that was a fine enough word. Nathan served him well.

Speaking of Nathan, Abaddon turned when he realized he felt eyes on him and saw the man standing in the doorway, smiling, mushtashe twitching. He cocked a brow at the man. “Innkeeper.”

“Have fun?”

“She wouldn’t take me for a ride.”

“Ah, I asked her not to, buddy,” Nathan said, taking a seat on the first step. Abaddon stood in front of him. “If you fell off, we’d have to get real creative to hide your healing abilities.”

“Why would I hide them? My vessel’s flesh is but a small fragment of what I could do.”

“Exactly,” the man sighed. “You’re amazing, bud, but we don’t wanna scare her off if she sees your ouchies magically stitch themselves back together.”

‘Ouchies’. A childish word, but Abaddon debated the reasonings behind Nathan’s words. After a moment, he nodded and stepped up the porch. “Alright.”

“But hey, if you’re really interested in biking we can talk about it. Maybe something more your size.”

This surprised Abaddon. Nathan would consider acquiring a personal ride for him? It would make getting around much faster. Having the wind in his hair would be pleasant, he surmised. Wouldn’t be the same as a hellbeast, but…

Abaddon regarded Nathan critically for a moment. The innkeeper had been the only human in all of Abaddon’s unwilling exile to be kind toward him. The keepers of these grounds from years past had all been the same; paranoid, afraid, angry, hateful. But Nathan had a spirit that had too much love to give and too little energy to spend on himself. The demon reached out and placed a hand on the man’s head. Patted once.

“It would be much appreciated,” Abaddon said, looking away when he noticed how Nathan smiled as though Abaddon had handed over something of great value.

“Thanks for being such a gentleman, Abaddon. You’re doing great.”

The sudden compliment startled Abaddon. A gentleman? He was not gentle, and he was not a man in the way human men were men. But he’s sure he’s heard it used in different contexts when referring to a person of good standing. He thinks. He wasn’t good, he was a demon-

But it did make him feel warm. Just a tiny bit.

—

Abaddon kept to the vents later that evening. Nathan was all smiles and chirpy laughter, which eventually made Abaddon feel out of place in his own skin. He always did, but Nathan had a way that made him feel strange. He should be feared, not praised.

Made him feel wanted, not tolerated.

Feelings… he wasn’t use to those. So he went off to spend time alone.

Earlier he had spied a rat, and where there was one rat, there was a nest, and one he was determined to find. He was less interested in teaching the varmints to stay away than he was hunting them in general, but the goal of clearing the infestation out at the source was nonetheless heavy on Abaddon’s mind.

Rodent blood tasted similar to squirrel blood, but he did prefer squirrel. Rat was a little gamy, in his professional opinion.

The front doors opening alerted Abaddon to someone entering the hotel. Currently, he was wedged in the space between the first and second floor. He scooted up the vent until he could peer below through the vent grate.

A man stood at the threshold looking around. He wore a black uniform that Abaddon recognized as a police officer’s garb. Shiny star at his chest that he kept fiddling with. Gun and other tools at his belt. A gun was a loud, if not handy weapon at a distance. Required precision to be fatal. He hadn’t used one before but had seen it fired on Nathan’s shows. Abaddon preferred blades anyway. Up close and personal and messy. Curious, he watched as the man stepped inside the lobby.

Nathan’s footsteps announced himself as he came down the stairs. “Welcome to the Undervale Hotel! Ah, officer! What can I do for you?”

The police man regarded the innkeeper for a pensive moment before he reached into his breast pocket, withdrawing a folded piece of paper. “Citizen. I’m on the lookout for a dangerous criminal.”

Nathan’s face fell before his brows furrowed together, lips pursed with worry. “Oh? That’s spooky. And I know spooky. Goodness.”

“She’s considered very dangerous. I’m the detective on the case to bring her to justice.”

“Oh gosh. What did she do?”

“Armed robbery and drug trafficking. Her true identity is currently unknown.”

Nathan whistled, rocking back on his heels. “That’s… well. That’s something.”

The officer unfolded the paper and handed it to Nathan. Abaddon couldn’t see whatever was on it from his position, but he did see how Nathan’s expression dropped again. Not unlike how the man first appeared when Abaddon brought him a dead raccoon that one time. “She’s considered armed and dangerous, so if you see her it’s very important not to confront her. Call MY number immediately and inform me of her whereabouts. Has she been to this hotel? Have you seen her near this property?”

Nathan’s mouth opened and closed for a moment before he managed to clear his throat and speak. “I have not, officer. I’m sorry, I’ve never seen this girl before in my life.”

A heavy silence settled in the room before the officer spoke again. “It’s very important she’s brought to justice. Do not call the police, do you understand? The state will send troops out that’ll scare her off before we can catch her. She’s slippery. Rides a red Indian motorcycle with a single busted taillight. Can’t miss her either, has hair the color of dark blood. Light hazel eyes.”

Interesting. A dangerous criminal on the loose? Bloody hair? Abaddon smiled gleefully. Who was this exciting creature? The hotel was full of sinners, but they were just bodiless spirits. A breathing one…

“Those are good details I would be sure to remember if I happen to see her,” laughed Nathan. “But I have not.”

The officer did that silent staring thing again, which made Nathan shift his weight. Finally, the stranger took a step back and the innkeeper breathed again. “Remember it’s a crime to lie to a police officer. Keep the poster. and remember to call ME, not the state.”

Nothing seemed to move for several seconds after the officer left. Too curious to keep quiet, Abaddon popped out of the vent and fell to the floor. Dusting himself off, he tugged on Nathan’s shirt.

“Oh- hey, buddy.”

“Who is this criminal.”

“Who?”

“The criminal the police man speaks of.”

“Oh!” A blush tinted the man’s face, and he tucked the paper behind his back. “Nothing, Abie, just—“

Abaddon ran around him and snatched it out of his hands, ignoring his protest. There on the paper was the still image of Avery’s likeness. Younger, wide-eyed, staring back at him. The rest of the human squiggles and numbers on the paper meant nothing to him. “This is the witch who rides the hellbeast.”

She was a ‘dangerous criminal’? Abaddon was surprised. A rare feat. Avery had hoisted him upon her steed of metal and ruin and let him grab the horns without reprimand—not that she would have dared to reprimand him, the Cobra King—and that warranted her some of his protection. And more importantly, if she was gone, the police might take Roxanne.

“Honesty this all seems a little sketchy,” Nathan said, taking the paper back. “And everyone deserves a second chance in my opinion! It could be someone else that looks like her. And rides a red motorcycle under the same brand. With the same unique hair. And honestly, even if it wasn’t some weird misunderstanding she doesn’t seem too bad to me. Maybe she’s just in need of a friend, yeah?”

“The witch makes for a good ally,” Abaddon said gravely. “It would be detrimental to lose her.”

“Ah yeah, that,” Nathan’s eyes brightened. “I knew you’d be understanding! This is all a big misunderstanding. Avery is a real peach.”

“A peach,” he echoed. Strange he would compare her to a food. “When she returns we shall propose a truce with her. The three of us will make a formidable alliance.”