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There is a little boy in the back of Abaddon's mind.
This boy is not happy he is there. He shouts meaningless things others cannot hear, only Abaddon can. Abaddon finds it highly irritating. Truthfully the demon can not understand the appeal of possessing small children. So weak, so frail, so….. annoying.
This child in particular, with his priest father. Abaddon had flown under his gaze for a day, or truthfully only a few hours before the cross bearing man had noticed the wrongness now cursing his son. The son that is in the back of Abaddon's mind, screaming for his father as Abaddon is dragged along kicking and screaming. The others in the town looking on in disgust and empathy for the Priest.
Abaddon is unsure why he thought possessing a child was a good idea. No good things came out of popular ideas, he should have known better than to follow the crowd. For he Gatekeeper of the 5th ring and its following titles were too weak to pull off the human man pulling him along. The priest is almost hysterical, he thinks. Mumbling and cursing Abaddon. The man had almost teared up earlier when he realized his son was gone. Abaddon had relished in the man's terror as he looked into his not son's eyes. Had relished when the boy's mother had first realized, how she stayed silent. Too scared to tell anyone, too horrified to tell her husband, so scared for her son. For that, Abaddon appreciated her the most. At least the damned women didn't have the audacity to pull Abandon Gatekeeper of the 5th ring and its following titles to exorcise him in the middle of town.
The Priests' hands were like vices on the wrists of Abaddon and the small boys' wrists. The boy in the back of Abaddon's mind cried out that it hurts, Papa please let go- Abaddon is beyond such pains, this is nothing to what a demon could inflict. He was above human pain.
Bound to this small body with ropes, Abaddon could so easily leave. Cause havoc among these worthless humans in true demon fashion. Though he would face punishment for it. Demons and the divine alike could not be seen by the human eye, such things humans were not supposed to take in. All creatures beyond humanity could face punishment if the illusion was broken.
If they possessed a human or animal it could be played off by humanity's many crazy minds. Something made up, played off as hallucinations or made up dreams. So Abaddon was forced to stay out in these binds and the vice-like grip of the wrist of this small boy. This small weak vessel. He despised it.
The Priest tugged and tugged till they stood near the outskirts of town. A cliff nearby with an out pit of fire they had lit, where the Priest planned to rid Abaddon from this boy. He could not allow this. He would not allow it.
Abaddon in the small boy's skin screamed and growled. His flat teeth bared and hissing. The eyes of the boy most likely no longer his normal color. He thrashed as he was thrown to the ground. The Priest above him looming, a shadow casted over his face from the hat the man wore. The man spoke in a low tone, his voice filled with the malice he felt towards the demon, towards Abaddon.
“I will rid ye’ damned beast, send ye’ back to the pits of hell.” The Priest’s voice dragged on hell, like saying the word filled the man with utter disgust and hatred. Abaddon, ever the smart demon hissed and flipped onto the knees of his small vessel. Hissing out a growl at the man. The Priest simply stared. A commotion from behind, people moving to grab something, handing it to the Priest. Abaddon’s eyes narrowed in hidden shock. This Priest was more clever than he assumed.
A branding stick, with a cursed cross metal shape at the end, glinted red with searing warmth. The Priest himself gripped the handle and it shook when he pointed it at the demon in his son.
“I will have my son back. After you are gone.” Abaddon simply looked on at him, a grin spread upon his face. The man surely must have been a poor exorcist if his plan was to bind him to this vessel. Though the boy in the back of his mind was hysterical, screaming and begging papa papa please- its Philip papa dont- Abaddon ignored him.
“You will never have him back.” Abaddon said, a smugness filling his decrepit soul. Abaddon could hear the townsfolk surrounding them let out gasps. Perhaps hearing the demonic tone of the little boy's voice finally made them realize that the Priest wasn't crazy. That a demon was possessing his son.
They closed in as the Priest let the flames lick up the metal of the brand one last time. The boy in the back of his mind got louder and louder as the brand approached the little boy's chest and binds. Perhaps in a moment of his own worry, (never fear Abaddon could not feel fear) his grip on the boy had relaxed and in a quick moment before the brand hit skin, the boy let out a few words, words that would be his last.
“Papa no-” was choked out of the vessel's throat before all he knew was searing pain. Filling up his soul, his skin, his bones. And for a quick moment Abaddon knew no more. Just blankness for all of a single moment.
Then it all came rushing back quickly as a flash of light. The vessel was screaming or no it was Abaddon screaming. A hellish demonic sound mixed with the undertones of a small boy's voice. And it hurts, Abaddon had never felt such pain before. He could hear the labored breaths of the Priest as the searing metal was taken off of the vessel's skin. Or Abaddon's skin? They were now bound, one in the same. Or one in none? Abaddon didn't know.
He felt himself fall back into the grass. Heavy breathing as he heard the voices of all the townsfolk around him. They were celebrating, and Abaddon despised it (he was saddened by it?) He was hurt, he was bound and he couldn't take this. This vessel couldn't take it. Abaddon would not leave, he would not be exorcized.
The voice of the Priest rose above all the commotion, and that quickly caught Abaddon's attention. The words he muttered were in quick precise Latin and no, no Abaddon couldn't let this happen.
The vessel's eyes shot open and he flicked them around quickly. What to do? How to stop this man? And then Abaddon caught a glimpse of the cliff they were on and well that could work.
With the weight of burned skin and rope still heavy on his small vessel, Abaddon managed to get himself up. He grunted in pain and in some sort of cursed humiliation he felt tears spring in his eyes at the pain still searing in his chest. Though Abaddon was a demon he would not, could not cry. So he pushed on. The people around had not noticed his motive yet as he groveled at the Priest's feet. The Priest’s eyes caught his and Abaddon saw them widen. Abaddon all of a sudden had a very evil thought, a very horrible motive and he almost smiled had he not still been in pain.
“Father- Please!” he managed to beg out. His voice taught and scratched from the screaming. And that made the Priest cut off his words quickly. His eyes widening and Abaddon almost smirked. The fool, doesn't he know if he stops the words it won't work? Though it gave him the perfect split second movement in the Priest's frozen stupor. Abaddon leaped.
The small vessel's hands grabbed around the Priest's waist, pushing. And then the man gasped, coming back to himself. Pushing back upon Abaddon's now small body. If the vessel was still there, without the demon now inhabiting his body the Priest would have won this push and shove. Though unfortunately for the Priest he bound his son and the demon into one. So Abaddon won this one out.
And then both him and the Priest toppled over the cliff. The last thing Abaddon heard before going over into fast paced air was the gasps and outcries of the townsfolk. A woman's voice over them all, it sounded much like the boy's mother. Abaddon didn't feel much mercy for her. And then the cold air of the world as they both fell down the cliff.
In their quick and swift fall Abaddon had looked the Priest in the eye. The man had tears falling from his face as he looked at the demon now stuck within his son's body. Abaddon saw the Priest reach an arm out to him, an arm to grab him he assumed. Abaddon did not reach out to him. The Priest looked pained by this, though all of this was over in another split second and then slurch.
Abaddon was on the ground.
Everything hurt.
And it was dark for another moment.
Abaddon awoke with a choked gasp. And he surely felt an emotion that wasn't his, remorse and guilt coursing through his veins and well that couldn't be correct.
The vessel he was in ached all over and Abaddon did not like the pain. He didn't like how it affected him more now that he and the vessel were now one. Stupid human pain. Stupid human child.
He managed to roll himself over into a sitting position. Pulling at the dirt below himself to keep him all grounded, and then Abaddon looked up.
Ah, the Priest.
He saw the man impaled on a rocky spike within the terrain, though Abaddon assumed the man would be dead either way.
Abaddon stared, and stared at the man. And he stared some more.
….
Surely this regretful feeling, this grief, this palpable sadness he is feeling is not his? These tears, these choked sobs. What has gotten into him?
Though Abaddon supposed he forgot that there was a little boy in the back of his mind, that he is now one with that little boy no longer in the back of his mind but now all them. Abaddon couldn't put a name to the emotion he was feeling. Abaddon didn't like it, it made him want to rake open his vessels chest and pull on his heart. Just to make it stop racing.
Abaddon didn't know how long he sat there. He heard the commotions of the townsfolk far above him though they never came down to fetch the Priest's body. Probably because Abaddon still sat there, frozen, shocked….. hurt. Though he had to leave eventually.
Abaddon left his father the Priest some time later. When the body had been bloated and maggots ate out the parts where his skeleton now stuck out. And Abaddon soon forgot the feeling he felt. The feeling of such strong grief that it left him stuck frozen for days.
And he never did find a name for the feeling he felt or why he felt it. So he moved on. Time did as well.
He terrorized the locals, killed birds, ate rats, and dug up old bodies in the cemetery. Sure he no longer had strong demon powers, though he had to admit seeing the look on people's faces when a small child had a rat in his mouth was simply hilarious. He still yearned for a way to retrieve his powers again. Though for now he would use his abilities as a terror boy child to get what he wanted.
And then he dug himself in a hole. With guilt and shame- and then he met Nathan.
Simply glowing wonderful Nathan. Abaddon took his hand and then something new happened.
Nathan was unlike any human he had ever met before. He treated Abaddon…. Differently. Kindly, and Abaddon couldn't lie he didn't mind it much. At first he had assumed it was because Nathan was unaware of his status as a demon though that wasn't it. Even after Abaddon had thoroughly terrorized the man with blood and dead rats and all the like, the man still cared. The man was still nice.
Abaddon liked that. He liked Nathan.
And life went on with this new development. This nice new development. Nathan took Abaddon back to the ghostly, now hotel. And kept him there. Let him run around outside the vents to do as he pleased within a certain reason. Nathan fed Abaddon, talked to him, treated him like another person. (And even though Abaddon wasn't a person and was a demon he liked that fact. That Nathan cared enough to call him a person.)
Abaddon was around him so much that the ghosts started jokingly calling him Nathan's ward. And excuse they would use to fool of the guests to why there was a little boy with a rat in his mouth in the hallway. And Abaddon did not like that, he did not like what the ghosts were implying one bit. He didn't stop in his tracks when they said it and he definitely did not get a warm feeling it his heart when Nathan jokingly agreed.
“He is like my son isn't he?”
Abaddon didn't like it.
(And Abaddon did not cuddle with Nathan on the single couch to watch Conair no he didn't.)
Maybe since Abaddon was so focused on how Nathan cared, maybe that's why he didn't notice how Nathan was. How he felt, how he was feeling, how his day was. And maybe if Abaddon had noticed this wouldn't be happening. This would have been prevented.
Nathan is on the single couch, the TV is on and he is sleeping. He is just sleeping, the pill bottle next to him has no meaning, it was left behind by a guest. Nathan is fine and he will be up in a minute.
And maybe Abaddon is lying to himself, refusing to face the inevetable. Maybe he is denying the grief threatening to crawl up his throat as he stares at the limp pale hand sitting on the arm of the chair. Abaddon is not in denial, he is not upset. Nathan is fine he is fine he has to be.
Abaddon crawls up into Nathan's lap like he did many times before and Nathan is cold.
Abaddon grabs a blanket and comes back. So he wouldn't be cold also of course. And Nathan is fine obviously, he is just sleeping.
And the feeling is back when Abaddon puts his head underneath Nathan’s chin. That unexplainable feeling he had felt that day staring at the impaled body of the Priest. That grief crawling up his throat, making tears run down his face in silence. That frozen denial feeling making his bones shake and his veins turn to ice.
And Abaddon didn't have a name for that feeling then. That feeling back then that wasn't his, that was the vessel's feelings not his, no. Though now sitting here with the feeling that is now his and maybe the vessel's to he names it.
Losing someone you love.
And Abaddon never called Nathan father. Never even thought it, though truly he felt it. Though back then when it was the Priest, it was the little boy in the back of his mind that made him feel remorse and guilt for the Priest. Though right now it is guilt for not noticing, the guilt of not knowing.
Abaddon is sad and wants Nathan back.
Just like the little boy vessel wanted that damned Priest back.
And the Vessel no longer exists, he and Abaddon are now one in the same. Though Abaddon relates now to the little boy that used to be in the back of his mind, when those feelings he felt weren't Abaddon's but the little boy.
Nathan, like the Priest, is dead. Abaddon's host, his caretaker, his Father. Is gone, and for now he won't be coming back. (Though soon a small voice says. Like all the dead people on this property.)
Abaddon no longer has a little boy in the back of his mind. Him and the boy are now one in the same. Feeling the same thing, time and time again.