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The town had burned to the ground. Owen stood over the bloody corpse of the very last man standing against him. Number two thousand seven hundred and ninety nine.
They were dead. All of them, dead. Again. For the two millionth five hundred and ninety thousandth three hundred and thirty second time.
Ragged breaths tore their way from his chest, though he didn't technically need them anymore. Owen turned and made his way back to the main square, back to the charred and splintered pile of wood where they'd burned Louis.
It would all reset soon. He'd return to the point where he'd woken from his turning sleep in agony, knowing nothing but that Louis was gone. Feeling nothing but rage that he hadn't been able to stop it, rage at humanity and the world and life itself for daring to exist when He was gone.
Now, though... Now he was exhausted. The rage had died with the last townsfolk and left Owen with a familiar gaping hole in his soul that could never be filled again.
He placed a hand on the burnt wood, wondering, not for the last time, if this was all just some horrible nightmare.
“Well, this one is a bit of a doozy, isn't it?”
Owen whirled around at the impossible sound of a nonchalant voice, eyes widening as he spotted a strange man walking towards him.
He had white skin, black hair slicked back, and an obnoxious grin on his clean shaven face. He wore a suit, of all things, long black coat on a black button up shirt with a fancy collar, very similar to the one Abolish wore, actually, and he carried a stack of papers and some sort of writing implement. He strode down the street completely unbothered by the bodies and puddles of blood strewn everywhere.
Owen glared at him, falling automatically back into a fighting stance, claws flexed and ready for attack. “Who in the hell are you?” he snapped.
The man laughed. “An appropriate question, considering we are, in fact, in Hell. I am Lucifer Morningstar. Many know me as the Devil. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Owen, was it?”
This didn't make Owen relax in the slightest. “How did you get here? Why does this keep happening over and over again?”
“This is your hell loop,” Lucifer explained calmly, coming to a stop just in front of him. “Sorry it's taken me so long to get to you. Huge backlog, you see; I've had to start from the beginning of time and work my way up. I'm almost caught up, though. Only have about five hundred years left to get through before we get back to the present day.”
Owen was absolutely baffled, and this did not help his mood. He growled, rage building back up within him. “Get away from me!” he snarled, and slashed his claws across the man's chest.
Lucifer didn't so much as flinch, merely raising an eyebrow and looking down at the stack of papers he held. The man was completely unharmed, his clothes even not the slightest bit out of place. “Anyway, as I was saying, this is your hell loop. You must have a lot of guilt tying you to this moment in your life. Something that's not letting you move on. Do you want to tell me about it?”
With a roar of frustration, Owen tried again, lunging at him. Lucifer lazily held up a hand, and Owen froze, completely unable to move. In fact, even the flames around them froze in place. Then Lucifer took a single step to one side and twirled a finger.
The world started moving backwards, Owen finding himself repeating his swipe in reverse before turning back to the pyre and placing his hand on the charred wood once more. He continued backwards down the street, past the fallen bodies, back to the very last townsfolk, who uncrumpled before him. Owen's claws moved through his broken body, leaving behind solid, unmarred flesh, over and over, until finally he stepped back away from a completely unharmed man, and once again found himself frozen.
Lucifer strolled up to him, forwards, and waved his hand. Owen could move again, and he turned to stare at Lucifer incredulously.
The well-dressed man gestured to the last standing townsfolk, who stood with a horrified expression on his face. “Well? There you go. You can't hurt me here, but you can get out your aggression on this guy again if you like. Honestly, with a hell loop like this, I would have assumed you'd be bored of this sort of thing by now, but so it goes.” He waited expectantly.
Owen grit his teeth, looking back and forth between the two men. “This isn't real,” he stated.
Lucifer shrugged. “It's a little bit real. The people here are mostly demon actors reenacting the scenes from your life that you have the most guilt about. Give him a wave, Austin.”
The townsfolk's expression went flat and he lifted a hand in a dull greeting.
“Don't worry,” Lucifer went on cheerfully. “They don't actually feel pain, so playing the part of the murder victims is actually fun for them.”
The townsfolk did not look like he was having fun.
Owen still couldn't quite wrap his head around what was happening here. So it was hell itself that was forcing him to relive this day over and over?
“So tell me, which part of this do you feel guilty about?” Lucifer asked, writing implement hovering expectantly over his papers. “The murders themselves, maybe? Or perhaps you feel guilty that you don't feel guilty about killing them all?”
Owen stared blankly at him. “What are you going on about?”
Lucifer let out another sigh. “Perhaps a change of scenery then. Shall we go somewhere more comfortable?”
The surrounding area shifted and blurred as things moved around faster than Owen could make out, and suddenly they stood in a familiar room: the parlor of Louis's home.
The man who called himself the Devil seated himself primly in a large armchair near the fire, crossing his legs and placing his papers in his lap before giving Owen another expectant look.
He dared to sit in Louis's favorite chair while spouting this nonsense? The rage built back up in Owen's chest and he lunged forward again, wanting to tear that stupid smile off the man's face. His hands connected, but to his horror, it wouldn't have left a mark even if Lucifer weren't somehow invincible.
His hands... His claws were gone, and his arms and fingers were wrapped in familiar, dirty bandages. He could feel his arms aching with pain he hadn't felt in two hundred years.
He was human again.
Owen staggered backwards and sat heavily on the long couch, staring down at his hands. “What have you done? Why have you brought me here?”
“To be clear, I haven't brought you anywhere. I suggested going somewhere comfortable and this was the location your mind conjured up for that. Lovely place. I approve.” Lucifer smiled at him again.
“Why... How am I human again?”
“These are your memories,” Lucifer reminded him. “You were human when you were here, so you're human now. That's one theory, anyway.”
Owen's gaze snapped to the doorway. His memories? Then, in that case, would he be here? Could he see...?
Lucifer leaned forward. “The house is empty at the moment,” he said gently. “You will be able to see him soon, but not yet.”
Owen's heart sank in disappointment, anger bubbling up instead. “Why not?” he snapped. “If he's here, why can't I see him?”
“Well, for one thing, we haven't finished our initial consultation yet. You deserve an explanation for what's going on and what will happen from here on out before we get to teary reunions and whatnot. And for another thing, the Louis you would see here would be merely a part played by one of the demons. Getting Louis himself here will take an extra trip.”
Lucifer smiled again as though he hadn't just said something so maddeningly confusing. “So first off, do you have any questions for me?”
There were a million questions Owen could ask, honestly. He sifted through them in his mind before finally coming up with, “Who are you, again? And why aren't you surprised that I'm not human?”
Lucifer chuckled. “Vampires are rare, but I have met them before, of course. Along with the occasional handfuls of other supernatural beings. When you're not human yourself, finding other variants isn't that surprising. To your first question, I am Lucifer Morningstar, the Fallen Angel, the Devil, Lord of Hell. And, your therapist.”
Owen narrowed his eyes. He hadn't been particularly religious in life, but he understood the concept of heaven and hell, of course. The last one, though... “My what?”
“Therapist. Someone trained in helping you work through your emotions and get yourself in a better place. I had therapy myself, and it was great, so I decided everyone should try it!”
That didn't really help Owen's confusion at all, but slowly he shrugged. He gathered that the man was, for some bizarre reason, trying to help him somehow.
Which brought to mind another man who had tried so hard to help. Owen winced at the thought of what he'd put Legundo through in thanks for that.
“Mmm yes, we might have to process that one a bit early as well,” Lucifer mused to himself, jotting something down in his notes. “I've been going in mostly chronological order, but the two hundred year gap makes things complicated and I get the feeling the two of you have a few things you'll have to work through together. That's later, however. For now? Let's start with the massacre. Why do you feel guilty about it?”
It took Owen a long time to decide whether or not he should bother talking to this man at all. Once he realized there probably wasn't any getting away from this conversation, it took him another long time to actually process the question and think seriously about it.
Lucifer was content to let him sit and think for now, not pressing him too hard, which Owen appreciated.
Finally, Owen admitted, “I didn't get there soon enough to save him. If I'd woken up sooner, if I'd been just a little faster getting to him, I might have been able to get him down, to get him blood and heal him.”
“Good, good,” Lucifer encouraged, writing that down. “And the murders themselves? How do you feel about that?”
Owen's face twisted in rage again. “They deserved everything they got,” he spat. “They took the one good thing in this world and took him away from me, burned him at the stake. They deserved to die.”
“Mmm hmm, and the ones who weren't directly involved in his murder?”
Owen glared. “The ones who stood by and watched it happen, you mean? They were just as complicit in this.”
“I see. And the children?”
Lucifer was clearly trying to make him feel bad about this, but Owen had already had plenty of time to think about his actions. “They would have grown up to be exactly the same sort of monsters as their parents.”
The Devil tilted his head. “An interesting perspective. You don't believe people can be different from their parents? That they can grow and change, especially if removed from that circumstance?”
“I don't believe anybody can be good. All humans are like this. Filthy, disgusting, greedy creatures who step all over those they don't like to get what they want.” Owen looked away. “Even I would have been no different if I wasn't already the dregs of society, the one everyone else trampled.”
“Ahhh, one of those types, then.” Lucifer tapped his writing implement against his lips thoughtfully. “Tell me, then: who gets to go to heaven? Do you think it's just deserted up there?”
Owen didn't answer.
“Clearly some people are good enough to make it there,” Lucifer went on. “So what makes them different?”
“I don't know,” Owen admitted.
Lucifer leaned forward. “Let me share a secret with you, one that most people down here have a really hard time accepting: No one is perfect, and everyone has things they regret in life, but those things do not have to weigh us down forever. If I can convince you, truly one hundred percent convince you, that you are worthy despite your flaws, you can let yourself go to heaven.”
Owen swallowed thickly. “Is... Did he...?”
Slowly, Lucifer leaned forward and put his hand on Owen's. “Yes. It took him a really long time, too. He felt so much guilt about what happened to you, among other things. But yes, Louis is up there now. And he's waiting for you.”
Tears were falling down Owen's face. He barely noticed. “He'll be waiting forever, then. The things I've done... It's impossible.”
“It will take a really long time,” Lucifer repeated. Then he smiled. “Thankfully, we have no shortage of that around here. You can take as long as you need.”
--
Legundo had no idea where he was being led, but it turned out to be a much longer journey than he'd originally expected. It didn't help that the whole place was a dark, depressing blue with black ashes falling from the sky and every twist and turn they took looked completely identical to the one they'd just left.
They passed hundreds--no, thousands--of doors embedded in the rocky corridors, with no way that Legundo could see to identify one from another.
Lucifer seemed to know exactly where he was going, though, never pausing at any of the turns as they went. Legundo could only follow silently behind him.
He'd become well acquainted with the strange man who claimed to be the Devil in the time he'd been here. Not that he had any idea how long that was, exactly. Time didn't seem to have much meaning here. Even so, he still didn't quite know what to make of him.
Legundo understood the general sentiment of what Lucifer claimed he was trying to do: giving everyone the chance to forgive themselves and come to terms with life and move on to a better place. But just the fact that the very idea had him recoiling, his knee jerk reaction to deny that he would ever deserve anything better than this, was apparently the very thing keeping him here. The philosophy was fascinating, to be honest.
Lucifer apparently thought so too, and they'd had many long discussions on self actualization and what kind of effect a person's thoughts and desires could have on them, especially when such things were being somehow magically enforced.
But while Legundo was glad that Lucifer showing up had at least stopped the relentless repeat of watching himself drop poison in a well over and over, and he appreciated the effort that was being put towards helping him, he still couldn't quite bring himself to believe he really deserved that chance. Nothing would ever change.
“We're here,” the Devil said cheerfully, opening one of the doors and gesturing for Legundo to walk in ahead of him.
Legundo could see a small room within, furnished with a desk full of papers and several chairs surrounding a large couch. “Where is here?” he asked, slowly walking in.
“Group therapy.”
He barely registered the words as he spotted two other people sitting on the couch. One of which was unfortunately very familiar.
Legundo turned on his heel, intending to stride right back out of the room. Lucifer blocked his way, taking him by the shoulders and gently turning him back around, steering him unwillingly to a plush armchair and pushing him down into it. Legundo folded his arms in a huff and settled for glaring at the vampire before him.
Owen glowered back at him, clearly not any happier to see him than he was. “What is he doing here?”
Lucifer shut the door and seated himself across from them, his clip board at the ready for further note taking. “I think you both already knew you'd need to confront each other again eventually.”
The vampire started to retort, but immediately quieted when the man sitting next to him, with long white hair pulled back in a ponytail and strikingly red eyes, put his hand on Owen's knee. “Love, it will be good for you.” He smiled at Legundo. “Hello. As you may have guessed, I'm Louis. It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor.”
Hesitantly, Legundo leaned forward and shook his hand. “Likewise. Owen spoke quite fondly of you.”
Louis had a twinkle in his eye. “Same with you, actually. In fact, I believe he has something he'd like to say to you.”
Grudgingly, Legundo returned his attention to Owen and waited expectantly.
With a cough, Owen looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “So. You died, then?”
Legundo let out a mild hum of acknowledgment.
“How many did you kill before they took you down?”
Eyes narrowed, Legundo bit out, “One. Though Ren was basically my fault, too.”
To all of their surprise, Lucifer tutted. “You had no way of knowing that would happen,” he reminded Legundo. To Owen, he added, “He was not trying to kill anyone.”
“I refused to become the weapon you tried to turn me into,” Legundo stated. Emotion choked up in his throat and he had to turn away. “Though admittedly it was a very near thing. If Cleo hadn't come up with her plan...”
Owen let out an annoyed grunt. Louis nudged him, and he sighed. “Good. I'm glad. I... I shouldn't have done that. It was wrong, and I'm... I'm sorry.”
A bit shocked to hear an actual apology come from the vampire, Legundo turned to stare at him.
Finally, he found himself actually taking in Owen's appearance. His clothes were completely different from anything he'd worn in Oakhurst, a very simple shirt and trousers made of sturdy material. Very modern. His dark brown hair had actually been properly taken care of, half tied back in braids, the rest flowing gently around his ears. His eyes were the deep brown they'd been when they'd first met. Was he at tier one?
More importantly, he looked more... Composed? Calm? Calmer than Legundo had ever seen him. He still had that ever-present sad, soulful look to his eyes, but the hatred burning behind them had dimmed.
Legundo frowned, something occurring to him. “It's... It's been a long time down here, for both of us.”
Owen shrugged.
“How long have you been here, Louis? I would have expected...”
Louis let out a soft chuckle. “I was here for a long time as well, but I somehow managed to pull myself out of it, with Lucifer's help, of course. I'm only here visiting. I just got here about six hours ago. Though I wish Owen had let me come sooner.” He squeezed Owen's hand, and the other vampire looked away guiltily.
“I wasn't ready to see you yet,” Owen mumbled. “I didn't... I wanted to, but I couldn't, I didn't deserve...”
Louis folded Owen into a hug. “I know, Love. I got to see you briefly at one point, but your own guilt dragged you down before I could say anything. Your greatest desire was to see me, but you wouldn't let yourself have it.”
“I'm sorry...”
Legundo shook his head slowly, feeling a bit like he was intruding on a private moment. “But you're feeling... Better now? Less... murdery?”
Owen gave a broken chuckle. “You could say that. I... I am truly sorry for the pain I caused you.”
Legundo closed his eyes. “I don't forgive you,” he said shakily. “Yet. But I accept the apology.”
Lucifer got to his feet, taking a moment to stretch languidly before reaching out a hand to Louis. “Come with me. It's about time for you to go home for now. Let's let these two talk a bit.”
Louis looked disappointed, but stood and accepted Lucifer's hand.
Owen leapt to his feet, snatching Louis's free hand. “No, wait. Please, don't leave me.”
Louis smiled sadly, letting go of Lucifer to cup Owen's cheek gently. “I'll be back,” he promised. “You need more time to process things. But I'll be here for you whenever I can.”
Then, to Legundo's mild surprise, Louis turned and set a hand on the doctor's shoulder as well. “The same goes for you. I've been told a lot about you, and Owen cares a great deal for you. I am willing to give my help if you need it.”
Legundo raised an eyebrow at Owen, who looked away with a red-dusted face. Then he returned his attention to Louis. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Lucifer led the elder vampire out of the room, leaving Legundo and Owen alone together for now.
For a long moment there was silence, before enough anger built up in Legundo's chest for him to break it, clenching his fists. “I wonder what happens if someone dies while in hell. Part of me really wants to find out.”
Owen laughed, sitting back down on the couch. “That desperate to beat the crap out of me, are you? I don't blame you. I'd want to kill me too, in your position.”
“I trusted you,” Legundo seethed. “I kept trying to help you over and over, and over and over you threw it back in my face.”
Owen straightened with a scowl. “You wouldn't take no for an answer!” he accused back. “I kept telling you I didn't want your help, I didn't want to be cured! And you refused to leave me alone about it! And just when I was starting to think that maybe, maybe, you were doing it because you actually cared about me and not just because you were obsessed with using me as some test subject, you decided to use Louis's name as a weapon. You put words in his mouth and stabbed me with them, then twisted for good measure.”
Legundo shot to his feet, gesturing at the door Louis had just exited. “Was I wrong??”
And then Owen was back on his feet as well. “That's not the--Ugh! You're doing it again!”
“And how about you insisting on comparing me to him, huh? I told you again and again that I was not like him, that I was not a good person, that I was a monster who had done horrible things, and you refused to believe me.” Legundo's eyes narrowed as he tried to hold himself back from just bodily throwing himself at Owen. “And then, when you went behind my back to figure out exactly what I did, you acted like I'd personally betrayed you. Lied to you. I never lied to you, Owen.”
Owen paused, still glaring at him for a long moment, before suddenly deflating and sitting gingerly back on the edge of the couch. “And then I attacked you, tried to force you to undo all the progress you'd made on becoming a better person.”
Legundo grit his teeth and looked away. “Yes. You did.”
“I guess I underestimated how much you'd really managed to change since then.” Owen shook his head, gaze dropping to the floor. “I was wrong. You're not that soldier anymore. Doctor.”
Legundo wasn't sure what horrible emotions wrestled for control in his heart, but it was finally enough to break his composure. He stormed over to Owen and punched him in the face as hard as he possibly could.
Owen fell to the floor with a grunt, still not looking up. Legundo kicked him, then kicked him again, but still the vampire didn't retaliate.
“Shut up,” Legundo bit out. “Shut up! Who are you to tell me who I am or am not? I told you, I'm not a good person, and I never will be! Isn't this proof enough for you? Isn't Hell itself proof enough for you? No matter how hard I try, I can't change what I did. I can't change who I am. So just shut up, okay?!”
Owen silently held up one hand, not to block more incoming blows, but just to signal that he wanted to say something. Legundo could see blood dripping down his chin from his nose.
With an outraged growl, Legundo threw himself back into the armchair and glared at a wall off to one side. “What. Owen.”
The vampire had to take long, ragged breaths before he composed himself enough to speak again, wiping the blood from his face with one sleeve. “Did Lucifer tell you about self-actualization?”
Legundo paused and raised an eyebrow, watching Owen pull himself slowly off the floor to his knees. “Yes. He said your body changes to match how you view yourself, as long as you're not actively in a memory. It's why I'm not a vampire, despite what you did.”
Owen nodded and finally lifted his eyes to meet Legundo's. Deep brown eyes. With one hand, Owen pulled on his upper lip, revealing perfectly normal teeth. Normal, human teeth.
Legundo's breath caught in his throat. “You...”
“I guess your words did get through to me, Doctor.” Owen laughed bitterly. “Apparently, I view myself as human. I've no idea when that happened. But I know it's because of you.”
Completely at a loss for words, Legundo could only stare, a haunted expression on his face.
Owen shook his head angrily. “I would have thought you'd be glad,” he huffed. “Or, or gloat. Or something.”
“Why?” When Owen tilted his head in confusion, Legundo clarified, “Why are you human?”
“I told you, I'm not sure.” Owen looked frustrated. “But I think... I think it's at least a little because you were really close to convincing me to take that cure. There's a reason I asked Abolish to do the ritual. To give me the option.”
Legundo frowned. “But you chose to die.”
Owen sighed. “Because I was too much of a coward to face life after what I'd done to you. At least you chose to keep living, to keep helping people. I couldn't do that, Legs.”
There was a long pause. “I... I didn't choose to keep living, Owen,” Legundo ground out. “I died less than twenty four hours after you did. I tried to turn the rest of the humans in town, then sacrificed myself so they could be cured.”
Owen chewed his lip thoughtfully and looked away. “... And you still don't think you're not the Soldier anymore?”
“I didn't do it to be noble and selfless,” Legundo shot back. “It was just suicide, just like you did. Because I couldn't keep being that forever. It turned out to be a pretty lousy sacrifice, too. It ended up killing Martyn for some reason, and Ren attacked us after that. Only Abolish made it out alive and human.”
“But that's still one more human than there could have been.”
“Shut up. You, of all people, know exactly what I did, and why I did it, and you judged me for it. You don't get to just change that judgment now, pretend it didn't happen and that I'm some sort of hero now. You, of all people, know that I'm not. So just. Shut up.”
Legundo was suddenly exhausted. He slumped back in the chair and stared at his shoes. Owen didn't say a word.
The door opened again and Lucifer walked back in. “So, how did it go? Feel better now that you've had a chance to work things out a bit?”
Both of them glared at Lucifer and he laughed. “Ah, excellent. I was hoping so. Well, then, same time next week?”
They only let out exasperated groans, and Lucifer smiled brightly.