Undead Grimoire - HelluvaIolite - Helluva Boss (Web Series) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1: No Other Place

Chapter Text

Stolas Goetia didn't have a lot of joy in life.

He was tied to an abusive wife who neglected their twelve-year old daughter – well, under the notice of his ever watchful gaze, Stella had started looking at their daughter in ways that made Stolas’ stomach churn. That same intolerance that the Swan regarded him with was creeping onto their little girl whenever she was around.

It was only a matter of time.

Stolas felt he had no identity anymore. Stella had made him ugly, for his beautiful florentine plumage was the cause of too many turning heads, apparently. Stolas now sported tatty, slate grey feathers which Stella never let him forget were bland and boring.

As unattractive as the rest of him.

After their arranged marriage, Stolas had lost what few friends he’d had, and he was without any family other than his daughter and poor excuse of a wife. He had not been permitted to dress up as he once had, or own nice things or so much as smile about anything. He had no free will and no way out- that had been his life from day one and so had adjusted better than most to the current oppressive lifestyle they were all living.

To top off his already crap-indulged life, the entire universe seemingly went to pot.

Scratch that. The universe definitely went to pot.

Had anyone told Stolas that the Souls of the Damned would one day rise and begin hunting down the living, cursing all three Realms to a vicious cycle, he’d have questioned as to whether Stella had smashed his skull in one time too many.

Driven out of their home? Out of their world only to watch the entirety of Heaven and Hell erupt into utter chaos?

To end up in a dingy little quarry on Earth of all places with a bunch of demon strangers living in tents?

Goodness. Stolas would have laughed at Stella herself had she told him, no matter the consequences.

So as he stood, gazing over their weird little assemblage of a camp, his mind wondered to how incredulously unbelievable it was that things had wound up this way.

“Get on with your damn laundry, Stolas.”

Ah. Caught red handed.

He had been a Prince, once.

What a joke, ‘Prince of the Ars Goetia’. He’d once wielded magic and power, had abilities and riches that many could only ever dream of - now he was reduced to this.

Stolas swallowed hard and immediately returned to folding the assortment of clothes that he had pulled from the makeshift lines. He glanced up at Stella’s retreating form, simply willing for her to spontaneously combust as she made the journey away from camp, down towards the lake where he would be heading eventually. Stolas breathed out slowly, willing the churning in his stomach to settle. The guilt of wishing Stella dead was getting less and less. In fact, silently Stolas had become more defiant and openly daydreamed of ending her himself.

He’d like to say it was something deep down inside of him that had started bubbling to the surface – some inner strength and confidence but really, it was because he was overly protective of his daughter and knowing his wife’s hateful eyes were on her lit a fire inside that burned the fear away. She could break him all she wanted, but she dare lay a finger on Octavia and there'll be Hell to pay.

Hell had paid enough.

The Realm had been consumed, as had Heaven. There was no telling what would become of them now, especially since Earth was running thin on stability. Royal Demons couldn’t even withstand their original forms, forced to downgrade to lesser magnificent stature and physicality.

Stolas paused in his anxious thoughts when he came across a pair of not-so-familiar pants. They were charcoal in colour, well worn... gaping hole in the right knee...

For a moment Stolas raised an eyebrow. They weren't belonging to any of the girls in camp, he knew that much. They weren't belonging to any of the usual gents either – the waist was a tad too slight and the leg length was too long for them to belong to the likes of Moxxie.

Stolas huffed, a little at a loss as to what to do. He glanced behind him, hoping to catch one of the girls and ask but it seemed they were all down by the lake already and he didn't want to shout up to Odrega who was camped up on top of the RV.

“You got a problem?”

Stolas jumped and whipped round, startled and nearly knocking over the entire board of laundry behind him.

“Woah, f*cking chill out, Chick-Chick.”

Sure hands moved far too quickly near him and steadied the table, a slightly irritated huff reached Stolas’ ears and he breathed in as the demon in question stepped back widely.

Oh.

It was one of the new survivors.

Now there was something interesting to ponder.

Nearly three weeks prior to the day, a set of Imp twins had joined their motley crew.

Barbie Wire was the more brazen of the two, loud, violent, foul-mouthed and addicted to everything under the sun. Including sex – which meant the single women round camp got ears full of unwanted attention. She’d worked up a brightly coloured reputation and she wasn't ashamed to gloat about it.

Stolas wasn’t blind.

He could tell that she’d been through something. Something so horrific that it had warped her mind terribly, and her twin was the only one trying to hold her together.

Blitzø - the ‘o’ is silent - however, was seemingly the opposite. He didn't take drugs, stayed well clear of the women and well... stayed clear of everyone, to be honest.

He was quiet for the most part.

Unlike his sister whose arms sported various self-inflicted white lines that were artistic in nature, Blitzø was heavily scarred. The right side of his face was marred with stark ivory, and it traversed down the side of his neck, taking with it a chunk of his shoulder.

Whilst his fingers remained their natural rouge, his knuckles, palms and forearms were also sporting the visual remnants of traumatic injury. He had white blotches along his tail, too, and Stolas doubted that was all there was.

Both twins had the heart-like insignia of Circus Imps stamped upon their foreheads, though Barbie had seemingly tried to negate hers with a white X.

They were very much alike, all in all, but they were two very different individuals who didn’t seem to share a close sibling bond.

Stolas had observed Blitzø blowing up numerous times, but by far the most was at his twin sister who teased and picked on him relentlessly. Stolas had known within the first week of watching and listening to them bicker that Blitzø overreacted to criticism from others due to the constant torment he was under. He was effectively walking around, suffering at the hands of Barbie’s destructive reputation.

Whatever they had been through, it was rough and Stolas saw it written all over them.

Despite Blitzø’s traumas though, he’d taken up the task of providing for the group without question. Blitzø had assigned himself the immediate responsibility to hunt for them without offer nor question.

Stolas saw through the Imp’s volatile demeanour and it didn't phase him at all. In fact, it made him feel calm. He wouldn't say he felt pity for Blitzø necessarily – but Stolas could certainly say he understood him. The rest of the camp, however, gave the Buckzo Twins a wide birth. Whatever hideous trouble Barbie racked up, Blitzø was automatically lumped with her.

For Stolas, it was as clear as day. Blitzø put up with his wayward Sister in order to protect her and those around him.

Stolas put up with Stella in order to protect his daughter.

They were on common ground.

“You, Blitzø Buckzo, shouldn't sneak up on people," Stolas chided softly, placing a hand over his chest and giving the Imp a look of displeasure he would normally cast at Octavia for playing in the mud. He didn't think he’d ever spoken to Blitzø before, but if that was his first sentence to him then Stolas was proud.

Blitzø seemed a little surprised at Stolas’ response, obviously expecting some meek, mousy reply.

Stolas paused, turning back round, pause and then stared at the shorter demon curiously. A blush crept upon Blitzø’s face as Stolas lowered his gaze, studying the Imp’s body with blatant scrutiny. The silence ticked on for a few seconds before he had an epiphany.

“Oh!”

Stolas held up the cargo pants he was still gripping onto. “These are yours!” He declared triumphantly. “Do you know, I was completely at a loss as to who these belonged to. I do believe this is the first time I've done your laundry!”

Now Blitzø looked just as confused as embarrassed. “What?”

Stolas shaded his upper set of eyes with a slender hand in a bid to block out the harsh sunlight as he looked at him. “Did you want me to stitch up the hole in the knee? I have thread of the same colour, won't take me long at all.”

With his eyes shielded, Stolas got a better look at the male before him.

Blitzø was tall for an Imp.

His eyes were an intense scarlet and his black-and-white horns were angled quite sharply. He had a young-looking face, but Stolas knew from overhearing the twins bickering that Blitzø was far closer to Stolas’ age than most realised.

Blitzø was holding a water bottle against his lips but not drinking from it, his cheeks dark and face tipped down as he looked up at Stolas with some form of timidness that was a little too natural.

All in all, he looked uncomfortable, stood there in what Stolas assumed to be the only other pair of pants owned - another pair of dark grey cargo's and a wine-red shirt that Blitzø had ripped the sleeves off of. His signature crossbow was missing, which was a surprise.

“I’ll probably just tear them again,” Blitzø mumbled, eyes locking onto the ground under Stolas’ obvious study of him.

“I can just stitch them up again, you know.”

Now Stolas couldn't help but smile.

Blitzø was awkwardly standing there, one hand shoved in his pocket.

“How about this, if they get any worse you bring them to me, yes?” Stolas folded them neatly and offered them to the shorter male, deciding to rescue him from his obvious discomfort.

Blitzø gingerly took them, nodding his head slowly. “Thanks...”

Stolas smiled at him and turned back round, expecting him to leave. When he didn't hear the sound of retreating steps, he slowed down his folding, biding Blitzø time to ask whatever it was he so obviously wanted to.

“How'd you know my name?”

Stolas motioned for Blitzø to move round in front so he didn't have to stop his work. He glanced up as Blitzø’s shadow fell over the shirt that was currently being folded. Blitzø’s had done as asked, but he had put more space between himself and the table than necessary.

“A little hard to miss names when we live so close together,” Stolas answered the question simply. He smiled and sought eye contact with the Imp. “You were also the talk of the camp amongst the ladies the first night you arrived. Still are in many regards. The Dashing Mr. Buckzo."

Stolas chided himself silently, knowing that he was being a little more than mean.

Blitzø flushed again and mumbled something under his breath that the owl didn't quite catch. Blitzø looked away self-consciously and Stolas felt the need to rescue him again.

“Do you know my name?” he ventured, smiling when Blitzø shook his head. “I'm Stolas.”

He held out his hand and was surprised when Blitzø hesitantly shook it before stuffing his own back in his pocket so fast it was as if Stolas had bitten him.

He rocked back on his heels a little and gestured at the table with the water bottle that he seemed to permanently hold to his lips. Stolas noticed that Blitzø kept nibbling the plastic lid, clearly anxious.

The once-Prince didn't let his gaze linger, for it was obvious that Blitzø was anxious about something. “You do the laundry.”

Stolas tittered and nodded his head. “Yes Blitzø, I do the laundry.”

He finished up his final shirt and placed the first batch in the basket. Blitzø seemed reluctant to leave and Stolas suddenly realised that the younger twin had ventured into camp whilst it was vacant aside from Stolas, Odrega and Zoath.

Maybe Blitzø just needed some company?

“Where's Barbie at today?”

Stolas knowingly refrained from using the phrase 'your sister' and motioned for Blitzø to follow as the owl began the usual rounds, placing clean garments in designated baskets with name labels on them.

“Went out on the supply run. Dunno when they’re back. Supposed to go hunting when they do.”

Ah.

He was worrying over Barbie being out with the others, unsupervised.

Stolas could relate to that – he felt sick to the back teeth whenever Octavia was around Stella without supervision. Of course, Stolas kept this to himself, knowing that Blitzø was out of his comfort zone as it was.

If he'd wanted to dwell on his sister, he'd have sooner sat in his tent with his own thoughts.

“It's rather brave, going out there like that.”

He blinked at Stolas questioningly and the Prince nodded towards the woods.

“Hunting out there on your own.”

“S'nothin',” Blitzø shrugged shyly, scuffing the hard, dry earth with his boot.

Stolas turned completely then, looking at him with a piercing gaze that visibly made Blitzø hold his breath. "It's not nothing. You risk your life to feed us and I'm sorry that you’re not appreciated you as much as you should be.”

Stolas didn't expect a response and wasn't in the least surprised when Blitzø seemed to freeze up.

He followed Stolas in complete silence after that and the owl let him, though Stolas was careful to not act like Blitzø wasn't there and so ended up handing the Imp the empty basket as he collected the next batch of clothes that needed washing.

It was the longest ten minutes of Stolas’ life, but not by any means uncomfortable.

He almost scoffed at that.

Blitzø’s clear discomfort gave Stolas comfort because Blitzø didn't know how to handle the situation and Stolas did. It wasn't that the Prince had one up on the Imp, it was that Stolas could ease things for Blitzø when no one else would have.

Stolas realised it was because he could do something right here.

By the time they'd made it back to the laundry table, Vortex and Zoath were watching them intently.

“Goodness... well, that's me done for the folding and collecting. Looks like Barbie is on her way back,” Stolas announced, hearing the sound of a motor rolling across the valley. “You can set that down there, Blitzø. I have to take these down to the lake.”

He did as instructed and Stolas smiled at him kindly.

“Thank you for your help, and your company.”

Predictably, Blitzø was completely unsure of how to reply so he just nodded.

“Be careful out there okay?” Stolas told him, giving him a pointed look whilst lifting the basket. The Prince gave him one last smile before heading towards the direction of the lake, knowing the clock was ticking.

“Hey!”

His voice surprised Stolas and he turned as he walked, tilting his head to the side.

“Sorry they don’t appreciate you, either.”

Stolas bit his lip and smiled, nodding his head. “Don't forget about those pants.”

He tried to keep the smile off his face as they parted ways entirely.

Blitzø Buckzo was exactly who Stolas had thought him to be.

An absolute darling.

Chapter 2: Coming Back Down

Chapter Text

“Woah, watch yourself, kid.”

Stolas glanced up, catching sight of his daughter stepping back hastily from Blitzø with wide eyes. The Imp caught her fearful expression and visibly recoiled.

Stolas sighed. It wasn't down to Blitzø specifically that Octavia shrank away, but the Prince wasn't all that sure that Blitzø knew where Octavia’s misplaced fear stemmed from.

Don't mind her. She'll learn it's not all Imps.

Stolas wanted to tell him, but unfortunately Stella was sitting out by the RV as Stolas did the day’s laundry. There was no way in hell Stolas could approach Blitzø to put his mind at ease.

“How you doing, honey?”

With an ever-warm smile and gentle eyes, Beelzebub- affectionately known as Bee -was the closest thing to a best friend that Stolas had. The once-vibrant Embodiment of Gluttony was so much duller in colour without the indulgence of demons to sustain her. She would always be beautiful, but she, like her fellow Sins, were husks of their former selves in this world.

A hesitant glance up at the Swan in her deckchair and Stolas nodded his head lightly.

“Doing okay. I'm on vacation, apparently.” He smiled weakly at Bee’s knowing frown.

“You uh, want me to take Octavia with me for a reading session? I was planning on taking Cyril in about twenty.”

The offer made Stolas breathe a sigh of relief. “If you wouldn't mind,” he replied gratefully.

“Octavia!”

Stolas flinched as his wife’s angry voice reached him. He sucked in a breath, feeling Bee grip his arm gently as he nearly tripped in his hurried motions to get out from behind the laundry table.

He jogged past a watching Blitzø and beckoned Octavia to come closer. “I'm terribly sorry, Stella, I wasn't paying attention.”

“Are you ever, Stolas? You're the reason she's such a disobedient little wretch in the first place!” Stella spat, her face growing red as her temper flared.

Stolas covered his daughter’s ears and pushed her towards Bee, who opened her arms to the owlette.

“My apologies, Stella.”

Stolas watched his wife reach down for a compact mirror and lingered, pretending to check the lines as he waited for the signs that Stella was not going to make a move towards their daughter. Reassured that that was the end of it, Stolas made his way back towards the table.

Octavia looked panicked and Stolas couldn't blame her. The owlette kept glancing back over her shoulder as though expecting her Mother to come roaring towards her at any minute. She was so preoccupied that she didn't look where she was going and tripped over her own shoes, a yelp escaping her.

Stolas skidded to a halt when Blitzø reached out, catching Octavia easily and setting her back on her feet with more care than she'd seen him handle anything else. Octavia's breathing elevated and Blitzø dropped to his knees, saying something quietly to her. Stolas hurried over, concern wrenching within his gut.

Octavia nodded to whatever Blitzø was saying, hands clutched to her chest. His hands rest on her small shoulders and he was shaking his head, looking at her intently.

“You're okay, ain't got anything to be scared of.” His scarlet gaze met Stolas’ cerise-rose hues as the owl approached them and Stolas sighed in relief at the lack of fear on Octavia's face.

Before Stolas could thank him, Bee reached out, snatching Octavia away with a guarded look. Blitzø looked hurt for a fraction of a second before he hid it behind a scowl. Stolas swallowed hard and glanced behind the Imp at Stella who was watching with a look of scorn.

“You bring me those pants to stitch up?” Stolas asked nervously, walking passed Blitzø as calmly as possible.

“No?”

Stolas threw him a glare and Blitzø visibly faltered.

“Yes?... Yes...”

“Then you best bring them to me, hadn’t you.”

Blitzø turned on his heels and nearly marched towards the back of camp as Stolas heaved in a breath of air and waited for the world to stop spinning. Bee's hands were at his back, rubbing soothingly before deciding to help Stolas out for a few, precious minutes.

“Bee, you didn't have to pull Octavia away from Blitzø. He wouldn't have hurt her,” Stolas chided quietly, running his fingertips along the collar of a rather nice blouse.

“I don't know what he'd do. I wouldn't want to find out. Those Buckzo’s are two peas in a pod.” Bee's movements became a little snatchy as she folded the towels, a testament to her mood.

“I doubt he'd of tried anything there and then though, really.” Stolas offered her a kind smile but it went ignored.

“You let them in and the kids will trust them too easily. Not taking that chance.”

Stolas sighed and told himself that Bee wasn't entirely wrong. He pulled out his sewing box and searched around for the thread he'd mentioned a few days prior.

“Here.”

Bee and Stolas both looked up to find Blitzø, a few spaces further away than need be, arm fully outstretched as he offered out the cargo pants.

“Thank you.” Stolas studied the hole and frowned at him. “You ripped them even worse!”

A blush crept over Blitzø’s features. "I didn’t mean for that! Just f*cking sew it up, you asked for them!” He was embarrassed, something Blitzø hid with volume.

Stolas knew that, was completely understanding of it.

Bee's breath hitched and she suddenly pulled Octavia behind her protectively as Stella came storming up to them. She nearly shoved Blitzø out the way as she lunged for Stolas, grabbing the Prince’s upper arm and yanking him over the table. “Must you make a complete embarrassment of yourself even now?!”

Blitzø's eyes blew open as he stumbled back, clearly having been unaware of Stolas’ situation in regards to his relationship with Stella. He opened his mouth to intervene but Bee shook her head violently, willing him to keep out of it.

“Sorry, Stella. I'm sorry.”

Hell, the words were like acid on his tongue.

He hated saying them, but they worked more often than not. Stella cursed under her breath and threw him backwards, storming off whilst spewing abuse as she vanished into her tent.

With a sharp gasp, Bee caught Stolas before he fell. Her alarmed gaze caught Blitzø's just as he moved to go after the ranting Swan.

“No!” Bee nearly stumbled herself as she rushed forward to stop him. “Don't! You mustn't!” She told him desperately, holding out her hands.

“You f*cking blind, woman?!” Blitzø hissed at her, stepping right up into her space. "Nearly took his whole damn arm off!"

“Can we keep round two from happening, please?” Bee whispered back urgently. Blitzø threw his arm out as Bee made a grab for him, only for him to shrug her off violently. “We all feel that way, we do,” Bee stressed, urgently trying to calm him. “Striker has literally forbidden anyone to get involved. Anyone who does will get thrown out of the camp and we can't risk making it worse for Stolas. I know it's hard, and truly it's wonderful that you would step in but you can't.”

Blitzø grit his teeth as he backed up and paced agitatedly, glaring at her before storming off.

Stolas straightened up and let the breath he'd been holding rush past his beak. Bee watched the Imp as he threw a punch at the tree his tent was pitched up against, only to then snatch his crossbow up and vanish into the shaded wood.

“What the f*ck was that?” Bee asked, clearly confounded with Blitzø's reaction.

“Blitzø doesn't take kindly to abusive situations going ignored. He's been here before,” Stolas explained, stretching his arm with a wince.

“How'd you- is there something you're not telling me?” Bee asked with an accusatory frown.

Stolas stared at her, confused by the question before his eyes widened in surprise. “What? No. No! I just observe that's all. Sticks out like a sore thumb to me. I guess it takes one to know one, you know?”

Bee raised her eyebrows and pointed in the direction Blitzø had marched off in. “That reaction, was way more than just 'I observed him'.”

Stolas rolled his shoulder a few times experimentally. “I spoke to him for the first time a few days ago. Over laundry. He was anxious about Barbie going out there without him.”

Bee placed her hands on her hips. “He told you that?”

“No, it was obvious...” Stolas trailed off and leant against the table. “It's the first thing I noticed when they joined us. I trust him more than Stella or Andrealphus, that's for sure.”

“You'd nearly trust anyone more than Stella or Andrealphus, Stolas.” Bee's expression was accompanied with clear disapproval. “If you say it's obvious to you, then it's obvious to you. I warn you though, I don't think you'll find anyone else agreeing with you here.” She paused, concerned as Stolas' breath continued to hitch. “You going to be okay?”

“Yeah. Oh yeah I'll be fine don't you worry. Vacations always have hiccups, right?” He laughed humourlessly. “co*ckroaches in the hotel. Burnt toast with room service.”

Bee shook her head and sighed. “Run out of sun block, sand in the coochie,” she chimed in despite her clear distress.

“Exactly. See? Just as planned,” Stolas stretched slowly before motioning towards Octavia who had been sat next to Cyril, looking harrowed. Cyril was holding her hand quietly, a silent support. Stolas smiled at the two and Bee nodded, rubbing her palms against the jeans donning her thighs.

“Better get going.” She patted Stolas on the back before beckoning the children to follow her.

Stolas watched them go before he busied himself with the stitches needed to mend Blitzø's pants. It never just rained for him, it had to pour.

“Uh... Your Highness?”

“Just Stolas, Moxxie.”

“Right... Stolas. Uh, you need any help with uhm...anything?”

“I got it, Moxxie. Why don't you see if Striker has a job for you? He was marching around camp assigning chores a moment ago.”

Moxxie nervously adjusted his collar. “Well I could go... do that..." Despite his words, he didn't move.

Patience thin, Stolas forced him a smile. “I'm fine, Moxxie. Nothing you should be getting yourself in trouble for.”

“Okay... but are you... okay?"

Stolas huffed and glared at him softly.

“O-okay yeah- just... call me if you need... anything.” He scuttled off towards Thyone.

Really.

Stolas was used to the knowing looks, but the recent habit of constantly checking up on him after every altercation he had with Stella was beginning to grate on him. As selfish as he felt to say it, in his mind if they weren't going to actually step in then they had no business worrying over it at all. It wasn't any better knowing they knew.

He preferred it when they all pretended they didn't.

Stolas yanked the next item of clothing from the line, causing it to ping up as the peg popped off. He rolled his eyes as he scanned the grass for where it went. Trust his luck, he was already low on the fiddly wooden irritants and now he’d have an odd number.

A tap on the shoulder and he came face to face with said peg. Stolas plucked it from the hand that held it and mumbled a thank you as he walked on.

“Sorry about earlier.”

Honestly.

Stolas didn't need all these apologies over things no-one else had control over. He rummaged through the basket and pulled out Blitzø's mended cargo's. The owl offered them to the Imp without meeting his gaze.

“Not your fault, no need to be sorry.”

Blitzø exhaled and took them far too slowly. “Not about that.”

Stolas looked at him with a raised eyebrow and he huffed impatiently, fumbling over his words. “I'm saying sorry for that too n'all but I shouldn’t have f*cking yelled in the first place.” He lowered his head as though he expected to be scolded.

Stolas couldn't help but laugh quietly at Blitzø’s childlike demeanour. He flushed and backed off, looking more embarrassed than Stolas thought possible for such an abrasive person.

The Prince stopped him before he could make his escape, knowing that the Imp was already getting the wrong idea.

“Blitzø, it's fine,” he reassured him with a titter. “I know full well what you meant.”

He glared witheringly and Stolas bit his lip as he smiled apologetically.

“I know, it's unfair to tease you.”

Blitzø looked away shyly. “It’s fine.”

“Careful, you're giving me permission.”

Stolas caught the slight up-turn of Blitzø’s lips as he kicked the dusty grass, and the owl felt a sense of accomplishment flutter through his veins. His eyes grazed over to where Stella had previously been sitting, checking to see if there was any chance of a small conversation without being caught.

“It’s alright.” Blitzø shifted from the other side of the washing line. “Checked before I came over.”

Stolas eyed him thoughtfully. “That's very... kind, actually. Thank you.”

It wasn't something the others did for him. They tended to avoid her altogether – unless they were in need of specific laundry needs. Apart from Bee and maybe Moxxie.

“You going hunting again tonight?” Stolas asked, deliberately changing the topic as he sought for something to keep at least looking busy. Once again, Blitzø was one step ahead. He threw Stolas a shirt that had been hanging over his crossbow.

“Barb’s,” he said simply, turning to lean against the tree they'd hooked the washing line up to.

Stolas studied the slate grey cami top suspiciously, eyeing the clean looking tear through the back. “This... did you tear this deliberately just to come over here?” he asked incredulously.

He could see the discomfort wash over Blitzø as he nodded, seemingly studying every blade of grass at his feet rather than look at Stolas.

“Won’t get into trouble if it's work... right?” He looked up then, concern flickering across his face at the notion that he was still putting the owl at risk.

It wasn't how it always worked, but there was no way Stolas was about to shoot down the Imp’s efforts.

“It's the perfect reason.” He practically beamed at the shirt and moved to pull out his sewing box for the second time that day. “I have no grey thread though. Won't Barbie be upset about this?” He gestured to the tear and Blitzø shook his head.

“Barb don't give a sh*t about wear n' tear. Dumb sh*t'd think she'd done it herself anyway.”

Stolas took his word for it. “I never thanked you for earlier. Catching Octavia like that.”

“Felt bad for scaring her.” He sounded a little distant, and Stolas didn’t know what to say.

A loud bang made him jump and his head snapped instantly to the direction of Stella’s tent. Seeing that no-one was charging towards him, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Don’t be so jumpy. I'm watching out for the f*cking bitch.”

“Wonder what that was?” Stolas scanned the camp for signs of trouble but found none. In fact, he seemed to be the only one who had been startled by the noise. Stolas finally processed Blitzø's words and blinked up at him. “You really don't have to do that.”

He shrugged and propped his crossbow against the roots of the tree. “Like talking to you. Don't wanna get you in trouble for doing it though.”

Well.

If that didn't make Stolas feel special, then nothing in life ever would. It was his turn to not know what to say, so the owl just smiled down at his work feeling something akin to joy bubble up within.

“That’s okay, right? If I talk to you?”

Except, that silence wasn't the best response to what he'd just confessed.

Chiding himself for not thinking about the Imp’s lack of confidence when it came to social interaction, Stolas nodded enthusiastically in a bid to reassure him. “Absolutely, Blitzø. You can talk to me any time you like. Long as you bring me torn garments. That's the fee.”

Blitzø smirked, shoulders relaxing back against the bark and tail disturbing the leaf litter. “Damn f*cking expensive fee.”

Stolas tittered before biting his lip, his smile ebbing away. “About earlier though? It wasn't you Via was scared of. Octavia hasn't quite learned that not all Imps are dangerous.” Stolas glanced up only to find Blitzø looking at him knowingly.

“Still, could have been less of an asshole about it.”

Stolas chose to ignore his comment. “I also have to apologise for Bee's reaction. I know you'd never harm Octavia.” Stolas turned over the shirt in his hands, re-threading his needle at a skilful speed. “I know you'd never harm anyone that didn't deserve it.”

“Pfft. You'd be the first one here to f*cking think that.”

“I'm the first here to know that,” Stolas corrected firmly, throwing the Imp a warning glance that he knew Blitzø wouldn't dare argue with. The Prince felt triumphant when said male ducked his head in submission. “That's right, Blitzø Buckzo. You can argue with everyone else out here but not me.”

He smirked and nodded his head. “I know better than to argue with the Crazy Laundry Loon."

Stolas tilted his chin up and pointed at him in a disciplinary manner. “Careful, this Crazy Laundry Loon might start charging you socks and boxers instead of shirts. You won't like where I put stitches in those if you misbehave.”

The grin that etched it's way across Blitzø’s face was worth the prick of the needle and despite the jab of pain, Stolas managed to stifle the yelp.

“Don't think I gotta worry about that unless you sew yourself to the f*cking clothes.”

“Maybe leave out the underwear fee?” Stolas offered as he placed his forefinger in his mouth in a bid to soothe the minuscule wound.

Blitzø's gaze flickered up at that, grinning shyly. “Nah, I'll only bring you Barb’s old panties.”

“Do that and I'll stitch your underwear to Barbie’s.” Stolas laughed at Blitzø’s disgusted expression, finding him genuinely funny.

Blitzø’s smirk softened as he returned his gaze towards the camp and he cleared his throat, gesturing towards the shirt. Stolas sighed in understanding and tied the thread off reluctantly before handing it to him.

“See ya later, Crazy Laundry Loon." He nodded at Stolas and casually moved off towards the back of the camp.

Stolas exhaled quietly as he walked away, Stella’s white feathers appearing in his peripheral as he tidied up his sewing kit. Stolas smiled inwardly even as his wife strode towards him with an annoyed scowl.

Truly, it was the small things in life that made Stolas’ day.

Chapter 3: Rain

Chapter Text

“Daddy?”

Octavia's voice woke Stolas as he lay in his sleeping bag. Stolas rubbed his eyes and inhaled deeply, rolling onto his side so he could squint in the darkness at where his daughter was situated. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“I need to pee.”

Stolas closed his eyes, readying himself for the cold that awaited him when he left his sleeping bag behind. “Of course, Starfire.”

Stolas was thankful for not sharing Stella’s tent for a multitude of reasons, but this had to be one of the few he felt particularly lucky for. Little children had small bladders no matter what time it happened to be.

It was the one thing Striker had done that Stolas greatly appreciated. Somehow, by some absurd kind of blessing, Striker - who had taken up a leader position and founded the campsite - had managed to put the idea that Stella should have her own tent - away from her troublesome husband and daughter, in her head.

Normally, Stolas had a low opinion of any form of manipulation, but this one was a blessing.

“Put your coat on, Via, it's cold out there.”

That was putting it lightly.

The morning sky was still a hazy blue and streaks of pink warned of a possible downpour later in the day.

“Come on.”

Taking his daughter’s hand, Stolas walked quietly around the tents. No-one was awake at this hour and no one should be. Except maybe Odrega, who tended to keep watch on top of the RV. Stolas glanced up and saw him waving at them.

“Morning Stolas,” he whisper-shouted. “Everything alright?”

“Morning, Odrega. Octavia needs the little girl’s room.” Stolas ignored his daughter’s glare and smiled brightly up at the older demon who nodded in understanding.

“She can use the bathroom in the RV, door's unlocked.”

Stolas thanked him with a dip of his head and ushered Octavia inside.

Stolas didn't follow, instead turning to the washing lines and deciding that the weather was surely not in favour of letting anything dry. He could feel the dampness in the air and frowned. He hurriedly started pulling the items from under the pegs, not wanting to have to re-wash anything caught in the rain.

“Really? Even at this f*cking hour?”

Stolas started, arms flailing as he nearly slipped on the slick grass. He gasped sharply as his back hit whoever was behind him, forcing them to grunt softly and step away.

“f*ck, you really are the Crazy Laundry Loon.”

“I am an Owl, not a Loon,” Stolas tutted loudly, steadying himself and glaring at the Imp whilst whipping a tea towel off the line and smacking him with it.

“Ow- hey!”

“Shh! I told you the first time we met, Blitzø Buckzo, do not sneak up on people! Do you have a death wish?!” The Prince shook his head as Blitzø eyed him carefully. “You’re one to talk, what are you doing up at this hour anyway?”

“I should ask you the same damn thing, it’s not even six. Also, you look like a f*cking Loon.”

Blitzø didn't look like he'd been up very long either. He looked tired and his attire was as dishevelled as Stolas’.

Stolas frowned. “Must be bloody freezing if the likes of you is wearing long sleeves,” he muttered, throwing the tea towel into a nearby basket. “Octavia needed to pee.”

“Where?” Blitzø asked suddenly, looking around with alarm. “You didn’t f*cking let her go in the trees did you?!”

Stolas smacked him again with whatever item he'd tore from the line. “No! What kind of Father do you think I am?! She went in the RV!”

Blitzø dodged the bra that Stolas tossed at him and stepped away from it as though it were diseased. “Quit throwing that sh*t at me, Crazy Loon!”

“Don't leave it there, Blitzø,” Stolas nearly whined. “Pick it up and give it to me so I can put it in the basket.”

“Ain't no way I’m touching that, I dunno whose it is.” He moved to stand next to the owl, tugging the towels off and dumping them unceremoniously into whatever basket he deemed close enough. “Sides it were you who threw 'em.”

Stolas groaned in defeat and ducked under the line, snatching up the lacy garment and tossing it into the basket. He heard the RV door open and waved Octavia over.

“Daddy, why are you taking them down? Don't you want them to dry?” Octavia asked tiredly, dragging her feet and glancing at Blitzø wearily.

“It's going to rain sweetheart, that's why. You go back to bed now. I'll be there as soon as Blitzø and I finish putting these away.” Stolas followed Octavia partially, watching her intently until she was safe inside their tent before addressing the Imp who was hovering. “You never answered my question.”

Blitzø raised an eyebrow, confused before grunting. “Oh. I dunno. I didn’t sleep well.”

“I don't suppose anyone's going to be about today if it keeps up like this.” Stolas started looking for the peg bag. “What I wouldn't give for a hot cup of coffee and a hot water bottle.”

Blitzø shook his head at that. “It's gonna f*cking piss it down. That’s messed up my hunting plans. Gonna have to put up with Barbie being an ass today.”

Stolas frowned, rubbing his arms in a bid to keep himself warm. “You've been going out more frequently.”

Blitzø ducked his head and pushed his hands into his pockets. “Striker's been asking me to go out more. Says squirrels 'n rabbits aren’t exactly substantial enough for the whole camp.”

Stolas rolled his eyes. “Isn't that some bullsh*t,” he muttered under his breath.

Blitzø's head snapped up at hearing the owl curse and his lips parted in shock.

“No, don't you look at me like that, that's bullsh*t and you know it. We were getting by on whatever tinned crap they brought back from supply runs. Tell him to go out there for nights at a time if he wants more – we're damn well lucky as it is.” Stolas ranted, pulling up the square pieces of tarpaulin that they used to keep the baskets dry. Blitzø hesitantly moved closer to help but was overly avoiding any close contact. “Barbie's been sent out more often too.”

“I think he's just trying to keep Barbie busy,” he voiced quietly.

“No, he's trying to keep Barbie out of the way, and that's not fair.”

Blitzø's movements stilled and he stepped back. He was looking at Stolas with that unsure expression again, like he suspected he'd heard wrong and was waiting for Stolas to repeat himself. Stolas knew the chances of Blitzø hearing anything but complaints regarding his sister were slim, but the Prince didn't think the comment warranted the reaction it got and so frowned in concern.

“Barbie doesn't want to hurt anyone, I know that, Blitzø. She has obstacles that she needs to overcome and I get that it's intimidating but she's not actually hurting anyone here, is she? She’s not terrorising anyone. Even if she was, you're not her. You hunt for this group, you are part of this group and there's no reason for you to not be treated like it.” He wound the thin string around the lip of the basket expertly as Blitzø stared at the ground.

“Striker wouldn't expect anyone else to go out there as much as he's expecting you to. The rest of us aren't even allowed near the trees.”

Blitzø shifted uncomfortably, struggled with his words and became increasingly impatient. “I'm not saying you’re wrong about Barb but... I ain't sure... look, what I'm trying to ask is- what's it to you?”

It sounded rude, clearly even to him and he visibly cringed. Blitzø looked mortified at himself and the more he mulled his words over the more awkward he became. “I- sh*t.”

“That's what friends do, Blitzø. They care,” Stolas breezed over the entire thing without giving any indication that there was a problem. For him, the only problem was that he had to reign in the urge to tease the Imp for being so bad at stringing words together.

Blitzø paused, thinking about the reply before he nodded. “Did bring you a fee yesterday, after all.”

“Speaking of which, this is your last freebie conversation. I don't see a shirt anywhere and you snuck up on me. There'll be consequences next time, Buckzo.”

He smiled shyly as Stolas dusted off his hands.

“Doubt there's much point in going back to bed now.” The Prince tugged his sleeves further down his arms and motioned towards the camp fire. “Light this for me? Might as well get some coffee on the way for everyone before the weather turns.”

Despite the silence between them, Stolas found Blitzø’s company enjoyable. He was rough around the edges and had a temper that the owl wouldn't like to ignite, but Blitzø just didn't carry the same desire for violence his twin did.

There was no bravado, no overpowering need to be acknowledged. He was excruciatingly guarded and it almost felt suffocating, watching him edge around. Blitzø ensured there was space between them at all times. Even when Stolas asked him for a jar of instant coffee he opted for pushing the entire box with his boot rather than hand one over directly.

Stolas idly wondered if Blitzø had a phobia in regards to being touched, or if it was something more along the line of a severe trust issue. Maybe both? The Prince wanted to ask, the curiosity over how right he was eating at him to the point he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from jumping ahead.

“Morning, Stolas... Blitzø.”

Stolas smiled as normally as he possibly could when Bee appeared from her tent. The Sin was eyeing Blitzø wearily and he back gave as good as he got.

“Morning.”

Blitzø was so quiet, they both nearly missed his greeting.

“Good morning, Bee. I had to take down the clothes before the rain set in. Coffee?”

“Yeah... black.” Bee seemed to accept that Blitzø was indeed there, and thus shivered in the dreary coldness, settling down next to Stolas as the owl poured her a mug of weak coffee.

“Don't think there's any other type,” Blitzø mumbled as he sat two whole deck-chairs away from them.

“Nonsense, this is as good as a Starf*cks,” Stolas announced defensively.

“Pfft.” Blitzø nearly shoved himself back against his seat as he scoffed arrogantly. “We’re past drinking sh*tty Starf*cks. That's for skinny ass blonde bitc-”

“Morning, Ladies.”

Blitzø was cut off by Verosika who shot him a condescending look as she walked towards the RV. He glowered in response, sinking into his seat and looking away. Verosika had become the focus of Barbie's sexual interest and she didn't take it too kindly. Unfortunately, that ended up with her being non-too kindly to Blitzø in the process, as though he were somehow to blame for his sister’s behaviour.

Bee surprised them both by snorting. “You were saying?”

Blitzø's cheeks tinted pink and he huffed in annoyance. “Nothing.”

They both giggled at him and Bee sighed, leaning back into her chair and eyeing Blitzø with interest. “Your pants look better.”

Stolas raised his eyebrows, mid-mouthful of coffee as he nodded his head approvingly. “I didn't do too bad there did I?”

Blitzø scowled at being the centre of their attention but didn't verbally protest. Stolas waved him closer and he tensed up, clutching his coffee mug like it was the only thing holding him in place.

“Let me see.”

“Why?” He demanded, throwing the owl a look of pure indignation.

“I'm allowed to inspect my handy work aren't I? It falls differently when it's actually on someone,” Stolas explained pitifully as the Imp’s scowl seemed to deepen. Worry began to creep onto Bee's face, as though she were expecting him to blow up again but Stolas simply dismissed it. He knew there was no danger of that.

Blitzø’s scowl was not out of anger, but of self-consciousness.

He inhaled and reluctantly shuffled over, standing near them. Bee looked puzzled at his distance but Stolas had expected it and reached out, tugging his leg closer. He shrugged him off immediately and took one step towards them with an agitated stomp.

“Oh stop it,” Stolas scolded good-naturedly. “Let us borrow you, Blitzø. You're our momentary male model.” He smoothed the stitched fabric and hummed thoughtfully.

Bee leaned forward in tow, squinting slightly. “Yeah, you did a great job. I always have trouble with areas like that. Knees and elbows especially.”

“I think it's a little rough but it'll do,” Stolas sighed, patting Blitzø on the leg, silently thanking him for his patience. He flushed and hesitantly sat next to the owl, keeping to the far side of his chair.

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, tipping the rim of his cup towards Bee. “She's right. You did a great job.”

“Oh you two. You both would say that, I'm the one who stitches up your clothes because you can't.” Stolas glanced at Blitzø suspiciously. “Unless you're hiding some quilting skills under all that sexy masculinity.”

Blitzø looked at her disapprovingly but there was a smile in his eyes. “Stop.” His drawn out exasperation made the word sound more like 'stahp' and the two Royals giggled in response.

“Well, well. Lookie here, Baby Brother is out with the early birds, huh?”

As if Stolas needed any other proof that Blitzø had a personal storm cloud on speed-dial.

At the sound of his sister's voice, Blitzø's entire body froze up and he seemed to shrink in on himself. The transition was so instant it almost made Stolas feel like he was watching himself when Stella ever appeared.

“Good morning, Barbie,” Stolas greeted pleasantly as he would anyone else, offering the older twin a smile. “Coffee? We're enjoying the sunshine before the rain,” he quipped light-heartedly, intent on making this as easy as he possibly could.

Bee remained silent but picked up a mug and offered it to Barbie, which she surprisingly took. “Don't mind if I do,” Barbie drawled out musically, sitting herself one chair away from Blitzø.

Said male tipped his face down and the Prince knew that's how he was going to stay, silent and completely subdued.

It was then that Verosika waltzed past with her own mug of something and Barbie flashed her a wide grin, eyes raking up and down her body. “Now isn’t that one fi-ine piece of ass.”

Stolas knew how to handle Blitzø.

His submissive nature in social situations gave the owl the ability to guide the conversation in safe directions. With Barbie... not so much.

Her jovial characteristics and constant on-the-go humour was something that offended and tired everyone, but it also meant that she had a generous amount of spontaneity. So, when Barbie sighed depressingly, shoulders sagging as she stared morosely into her coffee only to add, “Shame about that face though.”

Well.

Stolas had no time to prepare himself.

He laughed.

Hysterically.

Loudly.

Blitzø groaned quietly, nearly dropping his mug as his hand went slack and Bee shielded her face with her hair, trying to discreetly return her mouthful of coffee back to her mug as she tried to contain her own giggling. Barbie looked triumphantly at them, a smug grin over her face as her eyes shone playfully.

“Stop... oh f*ck, Stolas, you have to be quiet,” Bee managed to get out, wiping her reddened face with her sleeve.

“I know, I know,” Stolas breathed, tipping his head back. “Oh, that was so funny.” He set his empty mug down and fanned his face with his hands.

“See, Baby Brother?” Barbie leaned towards Blitzø with a smirk. “That's how you break the ice with the Royals.”

Stolas shook his head. “Blitzø does just fine, Barbie. I'm not sure any of us would be able to take him breaking the ice like that.” He smiled as Bee nodded in agreement.

Blitzø's shoulders relaxed just a fraction and Stolas sent him a mental pat on the back. He would not let Barbie embarrass Blitzø.

Not in front of them.

Stolas could see it wasn't out of desire to cause her younger twin any real harm, just that Barbie had a severe lack of awareness when it came to what was funny and what crossed the line.

The owl understood to some degree, for Blitzø was easy to rile up, easy to make uncomfortable and it was genuinely funny to see him go from the shouting, aggressive whirlwind he set out to be, to the shy and awkward man he actually was.

Undeniably, it was endearing but the difference was that Stolas wouldn't' dare say anything that would belittle or put a dent in his already wilted self-confidence.

Stolas had heard some of the things Barbie teased her brother about and it had made the owl sincerely feel sorry for him. Nothing was off limits to Barbie Wire. Stolas had heard her mock Blitzø over everything, from his quiet disposition and obedience towards Striker all the way to how Blitzø tied his laces. The fact that Blitzø didn't partake in his Sister’s ogling of the ladies was one that always caused blow ups and was the most frequently brought up subject. It completely baffled Stolas as to why Barbie was so infatuated with her sibling’s sex-life - or lack thereof - but Stolas had a sinking feeling it was simply that Blitzø reacted to it most explosively.

'Blitz-o Buckzo has no game' had to be the single most common sentence heard out of Barbie's mouth and that was only half the problem. Barbie was loud about it. She had no qualms for showing her brother up publicly and Stolas wondered if she would ever realise the damage it did and if she'd feel remorse if she knew.

The Prince’s attention was drawn away from his thoughts as the rest of camp began to stir. Blitzø visibly bristled at the sudden number of people and gingerly offered the owl his empty mug, to which Stolas smiled at him in understanding.

“Why don't you go wash that yourself?”

Stolas frowned and turned to Verosika who was standing behind them, throwing Blitzø a filthy look that made him falter.

“Oh sh*t,” Barbie drawled. “Baby Brother is in trouble with The whor*. You wanna get into some trouble with me, sweetheart?” She bit her lip suggestively and Verosika blatantly ignored her.

“I'm all to happy to take that for you, Blitzø,” Stolas reassured him, gently pulling the mug from his grasp. The Prince took extra care to ensure their hands didn't brush and he shook his head at the blonde Succubus.

Verosika scoffed in disbelief. “You've got to be kidding me, he's perfectly capable of washing up his own mug, Stolas!”

“As am I,” Stolas responded curtly before whipping around, nearly stepping in the blonde's face. “As are you.” She pointed at Verosika with an outburst of irritation. “As is Striker and Moxxie and everyone else around here. Perfectly capable. I do all the dishes in the morning, why is doing Blitzø's mug suddenly a problem?”

Verosika blanched in disbelief. “Oh come on Stolas, really? It's them. You don't need to stoop so low as to play housekeeper for them. You put up with enough crap as it is. Honey, you can't be serious. He's no better than his Sister and you shouldn't expend your energy on them!" Verosika exclaimed, placing her hands on Stolas’ shoulders sympathetically.

Stolas shoved her back. “Say that again,” he warned, feeling thoroughly ruffled.

Bee's eyes widened and Stolas was even surprised at himself. His voice had dropped a little and there was a clear challenge in his tone. 'Say it' he silently dared the Succubus.

He wanted her to say it just so he could throw the truth out there, justifiably. The truth that despite the false premise that Blitzø and Barbie were part of the 'camp family' it was only their ability to hunt that kept them from being thrown out and for Stolas it was the fact that Bee would never let it happen.

The truth that there was no 'family' under Striker.

It all came down to what you could be used for.

Verosika stepped back, eyebrows raised and her hands up in surrender. “I'm just saying, you're not some dish washing doormat, Stolas. You're too nice and it's going to get you hurt. Demons like them are only after one thing and you're an easy target."

Blitzø shot up then, so fast it even startled Barbie who had been grinning, clearly entertained by the fight she was anticipating. Stolas caught the hurt on Blitzø's face as he stormed off, knew how much those words stung, and the owl swore he saw red.

The anger spiked that spiked was unstable, and somewhat irrational. It hit him fiercely and Stolas clenched his jaw as it rooted him to the spot in what he could only describe as unprecedented rage. He wanted to smash said mug in Verosika's face, and even felt his arm muscles clench in the unquantifiable desire to do so.

He couldn't believe it.

He, Stolas Goetia, was absolutely livid.

Chapter 4: Take Me Home

Chapter Text

The tension was so thick it felt like Stolas was breathing in cotton wool.

He needed to go.

His cerise-rose hues met Bee's knowing gaze, who in turn placed an understanding hand on the owl’s back. “I'll take Octavia,” she said quietly, stepping away as she threw Verosika a glare.

Verosika looked a little miffed as the owl set the mugs in the dish bucket, his hands clearly trembling. Stolas' chest was tight as he forced himself to walk off, leaving Verosika with Barbie's leering.

As soon as he was out of sight, Stolas' walk turned into an outright march. He didn't care about Stella’s reaction when she woke to find him missing. He would deal with that whenever his comeuppance was due.

He was sick of the hypocrisy, the unfair treatment of himself and of the good demons around them. He didn't even know where he was going, he just knew he wasn't stopping.

He needed to get away.

Away from the camp.

Away from the likes of them.

Like they weren’t all suffering enough? No-one was above the other, not now. Royal Demons were no longer on top. The human population was decimated, who the f*ck knew what happened to Heaven, it fell before Hell did.

They were all without magic, without their ability to wield so much as a thread of flight or safety. They were all helpless-

Stolas heard heavy footsteps behind him and turned, ready to challenge anyone who dared drag him back. The fire inside died upon seeing Blitzø, concern etched all over his face and crossbow situated untidily on his back.

With a sinking heart, Stolas realised that the Imp had hurried after him.

“What are you-“

“You f*cking stupid?!” He yelled, grabbing Stolas’ arm a little roughly. “You storm off like that out here and you could get killed, dumbass f*cking Loon!"

Despite himself, Stolas laughed dryly. “Oh. Oh you really are one to talk.” He slowly pried himself out of the Imp’s grip.

Blitzø’s temper visibly flared and Stolas almost regretted his words. Blitzø advanced, forcing the owl to take a step back. “I’m not some unarmed Royal bitch who doesn’t know sh*t about how to defend himself without magic! I ain't got a kid who needs him to be safe!”

The words struck Stolas like a punch to the gut, the breath in his lungs vanished and seemingly so did all the oxygen in the air. He felt his legs grow weak as the world careened sideways, but strong arms kept him from falling and he braced himself against a solid frame.

“f*ck’s sake, Stolas,” Blitzø mumbled exasperatedly, guiding the Prince to where he could lean against a tree. Stolas didn't release Blitzø’s arm though, and wasn't going to.

Not yet.

A weak laugh left his beak, noting it was the first time that Blitzø had ever used the owl’s actual name.

“I know.”

Stolas relished in the few seconds of silence that passed by. It was so blessedly quiet, save for the rustling of the leaves and his own heartbeat.

“Was just a damn cup. I could have washed it myself.”

Until Blitzø's voice broke it and Stolas was forced back into reality.

Stolas shook his head, willing the invisible vice around his chest to release him from its choking grip. “That’s not the point,” he managed, teetering a little as he heaved in a breath. “I’m sick of the lies. They say we're family. One big, happily family. It's all lies. You pay your way in by what use Striker can get out of you. It’s as bad as the being under the Goetia.”

Blitzø was deathly silent, Stolas couldn't even hear him breathing. The grip on the owl softened and Stolas dared to glance up at the Imp who sighed. Blitzø blinked, a lost expression on his face before something seemed to click and he dropped his head slightly. “It’s alright.”

It was Stolas’ turn to blink then, expression caught somewhere between confusion and annoyance. “What do you mean 'it's alright', it's not alright-”

Blitzø huffed, hands tightening on Stolas’ shoulders. “It is alright. I get it. You get it, alright? You f*cking see it. You know we aren’t like that. You know that Barbie isn't gonna hurt anyone. She’s an asshole but she isn’t like that. So it’s nothing to get f*cking upset over.”

That anger flared up again and Stolas glared. “It is everything to get upset over,” he told him firmly. “I was here when Striker first set up this camp. From day one. I was there when the Realms collapsed, when those… things, brought the Pentagram down, I stood next to Bee, watching the whole Universe go to sh*t.” His heart lurched at the memory, mind slipping as he relived it. “I was relieved when I found out we'd be in close proximity to others. Behind those Palace doors, stuck amongst the Goetia, Stella had the upper hand. Out here I thought I'd finally have some assemblage of an actual life. I actually felt relieved that we'd been driven out.”

Blitzø shifted, uncomfortable despite listening intently and Stolas realised that Blitzø may have had all the physical contact he could stomach. The Prince pushed him away further, trying to be gentle but Blitzø stumbled back hastily, giving Stolas space.

“Sorry, I just...” Stolas bit his lip, thinking of how to word his sentence. “I’m aware you're not a big fan of the touchy-feely.”

The shy smile he got was filled with relief. It wasn't reserved or embarrassed, and Blitzø was still smiling gratefully as he shrugged off his crossbow. “Yeah...”

"You're a good person, Blitzø. I saw it when you first arrived and I see it even more now. Yes, we haven't had ample time around each other but I've been around you enough to know you don't deserve the weight on your shoulders. You certainly don't deserve to be treated like you're of the same breath as Stella when Striker allows my suffering to go on at her hands.” He leant against the bark and turned away from Blitzø, arms folded.

“That’s why I felt like talking to you,” Blitzø admitted quietly, crouching against an adjacent tree. “That first day… saw you there. You never looked at me and Barbie like we were f*cking toads.” His eyes flickered up. “We didn’t ask to be here. Them out there?” He tilted his head in the direction of the camp. “They only know how to f*cking judge us. It's enough that one f*cker doesn’t.”

The sentiment was appreciated but Stolas wasn't satisfied with that.

It was obvious that Blitzø could see it.

“You aren’t gonna let it go.”

Stolas shook his head. “I can't. Not now.”

Blitzø frowned, wanting to understand but completely unable to fathom any of the owl’s reasons. “Why?"

The question actually irritated Stolas. “Do you know you're the first man I've gone out of my way to speak to since Stella?” Stolas pressed his back to the tree, chin tilted upwards as he spoke. “Bee and me, we're close friends and I adore her to bits but it's different. We talk about the kids and chores. I can try to talk to her about Stella but putting all that into words is just impossible. I don't even have to explain it to you. I look at you and-"

“I get it,” Blitzø finished with a smile so soft that Stolas wasn't even sure if it was really there. The Imp nodded shyly and jabbed a stick into the leafy dirt. “I haven’t kept hold of a friend before that wasn't Barbie's. Guess I haven’t had a friend at all... since… sh*t happened.”

“I don't want to stop talking to you,” Stolas admitted, not looking at him.

Blitzø went quiet again and Stolas waited patiently for him to speak. He needed the quiet moments, unpressurised.

Stolas knew that.

“How much...” Blitzø's voice nearly trembled as he trailed off and Stolas cast his gaze down at him without moving his head.

“How much do I see?” He asked, seeking clarity.

Blitzø nodded nervously and dipped his head.

Stolas sighed, knowing it would be difficult to voice. “I know you're tolerating all this for Barbie's sake. You can't survive out there, no one can, not alone but you would try if it weren't for your sister. She needs to be here to survive. That's why you're putting up with her, and Striker.” Stolas pursed his beak before sighing. “That's why you try so hard to provide for the camp, and why you run yourself into the ground trying to maintain Striker's expectations.”

Blitzø swallowed so hard it was visible, and Stolas wondered if the Imp would ever cry in front of him one day. “...how much about the other... stuff?”

It was a loaded question and they both knew it. Stolas inhaled and kept his breath for a moment, as though afraid that once it left another wouldn't replace it. “If I say and you feel it's too much, will you pull away?”

The stick Blitzø was holding dropped and he shoved himself back against the roots of the tree, shaking his head. “No.”

Seconds ticked by before the Prince decided that Blitzø had earned trust thus far.

“I only know that you've been where I am. I'm going to hazard a guess that it wasn't your wife though.”

“Nah.”

Neither of them could fight the laugh at that and Stolas was relieved to see it broke the tension in Blitzø’s shoulders.

“Old man,” he said simply. “Was just kids. Used to give us Hell, till Barbie couldn't take anymore and left the Circus. Was just me to give Hell after that.” Blitzø's breath hitched as he mimicked Stolas’ earlier actions, staring up at the sky through the vast fluttering of leaves. “Then I f*cked up, and it messed Barbie up bad.” After getting no response he lowered his gaze to the Prince.

Stolas stared back with that gaze that made others feel like an open book.

Stolas could read him so obviously it was clear that Blitzø almost wanted to walk away. The owl’s eyes didn't give any insight into his, but Stolas was internally arguing with himself over something and Blitzø held their staring contest as Stolas worked it out and came to a resolve.

“Make a deal with you.”

Stolas finally stepped away from the tree and Blitzø moved forward, instinctively concerned that Stolas would topple again. He held out his hands, gesturing to the Imp that all was okay.

“I want to be your friend. I want to have our conversations and I want to sit there with you and Bee in the mornings having coffee. I actually enjoyed that, and Barbie? Barbie wasn't a problem at all. I spend a little more time around her and I'll have her figured out.”

Stolas watched his companion’s face carefully as he spoke, drinking in every reaction Blitzø displayed at the words.

“I want Octavia to see that there are some bloody good demons in this world, and that you are one of them.”

Those words seem to hit a little too close to Blitzø’s heart because he inhaled a shuddering breath and finally looked away.

“I know what I'm saying,” Stolas bit out with conviction. “I know that Stella will blow up at me but I can't say I care to live any longer like this. She’s not safe around Octavia and I'm not sure how long I can keep distracting her.”

Blitzø raised his head up slowly before pulling himself to his feet. His lips were a thin line and he met Stolas’ gaze with steely scarlet eyes. “What are you saying?”

Stolas' voice wavered and his eyes finally filled with tears. “I'm saying that my wife has been looking at my child in ways no-one should ever look at a living being,” his voice broke and he brought his hands up to his face, voice petering off into a squeak at the end as he struggled to hold back a sob.

Blitzø didn't move to offer comfort and Stolas was so grateful for it. He didn't want to be pitied.

Blitzø merely processed the information slowly and started to pace, nibbling at his thumbnail whilst lashing his tail.

“What I'm saying, Blitzø, is that I want you to keep talking to me no matter what the consequences,” Stolas pressed on, wiping his face with his sleeves and staring at him with all the determination one could muster. “I need our talks to help me endure. I need my friends, I need my daughter, and I refuse to give anything else up. You know what we used to be in Hell, yet I have truly never asked for anything in my life, but this.”

Blitzø paused then and looked at the once-Prince.

He didn't just see Stolas, he looked, and then he read. He raised both his eyebrows and lifted his crossbow up, slinging it across his shoulder and glancing back up at the owl a few times before releasing a breath that neither had even known he was holding.

“f*ck.”

Stolas raised an eyebrow in question and Blitzø huffed impatiently. “Never gonna argue with the Crazy Laundry Loon, remember?”

They both exchanged knowing chuckles before the loud snap of wood brought them both out of their conversation. Blitzø instinctively raised his crossbow, moving his free arm to usher Stolas behind him.

Stolas’ heart hammered in his chest as the heavy weight of his actions dawned upon him. It wasn't safe out here, in the Universe he’d once called home.

Blitzø slowly lowered his crossbow but his body was tense, ready to react at any moment. “Back to camp,” he instructed quietly, pushing Stolas forward. If he hadn't been silently terrified, Stolas would have teased him about taking charge for once but it would have to wait for another time.

The Prince was mid-way up the hill before he remembered something and stopped abruptly, causing them to collide. Blitzø fumbled and cursed under his breath whilst Stolas turned around, completely unfazed.

“Dammit Stolas! You can't just do that!” Blitzø hissed in embarrassment, putting space between them.

“I said it would be a deal right? You agreed that you'd still talk to me even if Stella hits me.”

“The f*ck? I never agreed to that!” Blitzø almost sounded guilty but Stolas wasn't going to let him take it back. “Fine. What about it.”

“Your half. I have to agree to something for you.”

Blitzø clearly couldn't come up with anything, so Stolas was about to tell him to think about it when Blitzø shoved his hands in his pockets, the most sternest look etching across his ivory and rouge features.

“Fine, I'll talk to you, but no matter what, you need to storm off out here, away from Stella or that lot? You f*cking find me. I'm not having you getting yourself killed and Octavia left with only that prissy bitch to look after her. You find me and I'll just be there. Like today.”

Stolas didn't know what on Earth he had been expecting, but it wasn't that. His voice seemed to clog up somewhere in his throat and he emitted a small note that he couldn't for the life of him place.

Blitzø leant forward slightly, frowning.

“The f*ck was that? Did you just f*cking… hoot at me? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Stolas gasped. “Oh my Hell, nothing and yet everything. Yes, I can do that. I promise.” He inhaled and gripped his silvery tufts with both hands, staring at the Imp as he warred with himself.

Again.

“What?”

“I'm debating on how badly you'll hate me if I hugged you,” came the quiet admission.

Blitzø stepped back entirely, scowling as his face flushed. “Don't you f*cking dare.”

Stolas let his hands sink to the back of his neck as he stared at Blitzø pitifully. “You owe me for sneaking up on me this morning. You also forgot to bring a shirt,” he clicked his beak loudly. “I also stood up to Verosika for you!”

Blitzø grimaced as though it were the worst thing Stolas could have possibly said and he stepped closer, head tipped up towards the sky in defeat. “I’m not f*cking hugging you back. Get it over with. Please.”

Stolas nearly jumped for joy, wrapping his arms around a rigid chest, deciding that he wouldn't go for the traditional around-the-neck embrace. He squeezed as hard as he could, which was difficult since Blitzø had pinned his arms to his sides, but the owl managed before releasing him.

Stolas’ smile was bright and for whatever reason, he felt special again.

Blitzø shuddered as though Stolas had creeped him out and he stepped away, leaving a wide gap between them as he walked ahead.

“It was a good hug!” Stolas exclaimed, jogging slightly to catch up with him.

“sh*ttiest hug I ever had.”

“I'll get better with practice.”

“f*ck off.”

“I'll start my own personal goal with Octavia. Hug Blitzø a day, keep Stella away.”

“f*ck. Off.”

Stolas grinned at the shy smile on Blitzø’s face.

He glanced up at the rain-laden clouds and hummed quietly as the first few drops escaped their hold, thunder rumbling over the horizon.

“Well, sh*t,” Blitzø breathed as he stared upwards. “Not the only storm brewing,” he told Stolas knowingly. “You ready?”

Stolas nodded silently, his stomach in knots. His heart was hammering in his chest yet he’d never felt so ready.

If this was the end of life as they all knew it, then Stella and Striker could f*ck off.

Stolas wanted to die, living.

Chapter 5: Out The Way

Chapter Text

When Blitzø and Stolas walked into the camp, the rain was coming down fairly evenly. Blitzø's hands felt glued to the insides of his pockets and his spines were jutting out as they were prone to do when wet. Stolas had kindly pointed it out several times and he let him, knowing that the owl was nervous and needed to lighten the situation somehow.

Aside from Moxxie and Thyone, the camp was empty.

Everyone else had scuttled away into their tents to escape the downpour. Moxxie kept glancing nervously at Stolas as the owl walked next to Blitzø, and the Imp felt annoyance prick at him as the younger demon approached wearily.

“Hello, Your High- Stolas,” Moxxie quickly amended at the Prince’s frown, his eyes anxiously flickering to Blitzø. “Bee said to tell you to go straight to her tent. She and Odrega covered for you, said you were fixing uhm... stuff for the bathroom.”

Blitzø pretended he didn't hear that, though he inwardly praised Bee for her quick thinking. No upper-class demon wanted to be involved in the likes of that, least of all an up-tight bitch like Stella. Stolas thanked Moxxie graciously and Blitzø took that as his cue to leave. He nodded at the owl who smiled as he tapped the outside of Bee and Cyril’s tent. He heard Octavia's excited cry of 'Daddy!' and allowed his own nerves to settle.

They'd be fine, for now.

Moxxie was still staring at him like he had something to say and Blitzø just eyed him impatiently. When Moxxie seemed to fail in the verbal department, Blitzø scoffed agitatedly and marched ahead towards his tent situated at the back of the camp. He ungraciously stepped inside only to come face to face with Barbie's smug grin.

“Look who decided to show up!”

Blitzø's shoulders sagged as he stood there, letting his crossbow slide from his shoulder. Barbie was practically beaming at him and he knew why. He didn't feel capable of dealing with any of Barbie's usual attention today and he set his crossbow down in the corner of the tent. He rummaged around for a towel and attempted to dry the worst of the rain off.

“How was it?” Barbie finally asked, completely unable to cope with the silence. “You were gone a lo-ng time baby brother, had difficulty on the way, hmm? With a married Royal no less!” She laughed, looking proud. “You sure set the bar high.”

Blitzø couldn't decide whether he wanted the ground to swallow him or his sister at that. Either one was extremely appealing.

Barbie frowned, unhappy with the lack of details.

“Nothing happened,” Blitzø finally told her, suddenly feeling emotionally drained. He peeled the soaked shirt from his shoulders, making sure his back was facing the other side of the tent, away from Barbie's line of sight.

“What do you mean nothing happened?! You were gone nearly a f*cking hour!”

Blitzø silently sighed, tugging on a tee-shirt. “Wasn’t like that, Barbie. Not everyone's interested in hooking up every f*cking chance they get. He was just upset, and I had to make sure he didn’t get hurt.”

Barbie looked completely appalled. “No. No no, see that's just not how it f*cking works, baby brother. You don't go after that kind of puss* – upset Prince puss*, comfort him then not make a move! That's just lazy, boy!”

Blitzø let himself crumple to the tent floor, ankles crossed as he rest his arms on his knees, head in his hands, looking at Barbie like his sister was the most hopeless demon in all creation.

He frowned at his own thoughts. Who the hell was he kidding? Barbie was the most hopeless soul in all creation, and he himself weren't that far behind.

His expression must have triggered something rare in Barbie because she crouched down in front of him, making Blitzø look up in surprise when Barbie placed a hand on his head, tilting it back so he could meet her concerned stare.

“What happened? You didn't get rejected, did you? Because sometimes they just need time to come around and you chose a tough f*cking cookie. He’s got that whole abusive wife thing going on. Might take a little while for him to trust you. Seemed to like you enough this morning when he stood up to blondie for you. Don't let it get y'down, blondie's still playing hard to get with me.”

Blitzø ducked his head, hiding the fact that something terrifyingly close to tears had built up behind his scarlet hues. His twin was utterly, inescapably hopeless, but in no way was Barbie-Wire Buckzo, heartless.

Blitzø's chest ached with anxiety. He couldn't tell Barbie that he was up to his neck in pressure.

Feeding the group was hard. It was a vicious cycle, constantly. The Damned ate the flesh off anything alive and that often meant that any form of livestock was already caught and devoured. When he brought down large prey like Deer, it was a race to reach the injured beast before any of The Damned reached it first and as good as he was, Blitzø didn't have the heightened sense of smell those things had.

Many a time he had tracked a Deer, sometimes for days, hunting it down only for his efforts to have been in vain as The Damned reached it before him. His bolts never missed their mark but bringing down a Deer with a crossbow meant that it was a game of sheer endurance. If loud noises didn't attract The Damned, then he'd sooner use a gun - it would be over in a literal shot - but he didn't have that luxury. No-one did, but somehow Blitzø had ended up being the luxury and on high demand at that.

He didn't blame them, anyone would opt for fresh meat over anything they could scrounge up from the sh*t humans left behind. It just wasn't like the area they'd decided to set up camp in was overflowing with deer and boars.

“Blitzø?”

It was completely unnatural to hear his birth name come out of Barbie's mouth and he looked up, finding her serious enough to actually appear sensible.

“I’m fine. Just tired, and…” he had to come up with something to lose his Sister’s attention. If there was one thing Blitzø hated more than a drunk Barbie, it was an overly-worried Barbie. “Guess I just like him is all. Don't like seeing him upset.”

It wasn't a lie, he truly didn't like seeing Stolas upset, especially if he had something to do with the cause of upset, and Blitzø did like him. Stolas was understanding and that was something he greatly appreciated.

He was well aware of how Barbie would take it though.

Barbie hummed thoughtfully as he stood up. “You always were the sentimental one,” she drawled with a sigh. “Don’t go falling in love now, he’s a blue blood. Got got a wife. Unless you need her taking out but I wouldn't go tying yourself down to some bird-puss who has a kid.”

Just like that, Barbie was back on track to being an asshole.

Blitzø had managed to keep the subject from going further and that was fine. His legs felt cold, having not changed out of his soaked cargo pants and he wasn't even sure he had the energy to do so. He just felt tired and that was all there was to it.

It was Barbie who ended up badgering him to change them, going on about how Buckzo’s couldn't be seen getting sick. He wasn't entirely sure why Barbie wasn't in her own tent, but then Blitzø knew he wasn't acting himself and if there was one thing that brought Barbie down a peg it was the slightest notion that her twin truly wasn't okay.

She cared in her own ways, and that was something people seldom saw.

Blitzø tugged the sleeping bag over his head and tried to fall asleep to the sound of the rain. He also tried to ignore the concerned stare boring into his back.

“Blitzø? You ain't lovesick, are you?”

Sometimes, Blitzø wished his sister was as heartless as everyone thought.

When Blitzø awoke, the sound of rain had vanished and there was noise outside in the camp. Barbie was gone and she could be heard even from where Blitzø lay. He rest with his eyes closed, listening to the gentle hum of voices as the demons within the camp did their chores. He tried to pin-point individuals until he finally talked himself into getting up and getting on with his own work.

He didn't know what time it was, but he knew he had a better chance of catching a break if he brought back something worthwhile, and that would take time. The earlier he set off, the better.

Snagging a black shirt from his laundry basket he hurriedly dressed and ran a hand between his still-damp horns. He dragged three bolts from under his bed and scanned the tent for the fourth but gave up. Blitzø pulled his crossbow onto his shoulders and felt a sense of comfort from feeling it settle there.

He missed his pistol, but gunshots were a curse in this Universe.

Upon exiting his tent, he found that the skies were blue and the sun was high. He winced in the harsh light and let his gaze wonder over the camp. Odrega was talking to Verosika by the RV, Stella was sat on top of it, her obnoxious brother, Andrealphus, nattering in her ear.

Following the Swan’s gaze Blitzø rest his eyes over Stolas who was sat with Bee and the two children. They seemed to be in the middle of some home-school lesson and he could see from where he stood that Stolas didn't look troubled.

The Prince didn't notice him.

Verosika did though and she said something to Odrega who glanced up at him, a frown on his face.

Blitzø sighed.

Things were going to get so much harder for him if he didn't boot himself up the backside and start making a better impression.

“Blitzø!”

Well now everyone in camp would notice him.

Great.

Striker always seemed to shout his name from the top of his lungs.

The Snake-Imp hybrid came towards him with his usual confident, authoritarian stride. “You headin’ out?”

Blitzø shot him a look that clearly told him he'd stated the obvious and Striker placed his hands on his hips, glancing down briefly before eyeing him again.

Blitzø simply nodded.

“Good. We're gonna need you to bring somethin’ back for sure this time, you hear? Cities are startin’ to become a real problem gettin’ to.”

Blitzø nodded again. “Do my best.”

Striker clapped him on the shoulder, something Blitzø absolutely loathed. The once-cowboy grinned widely at him. “Good boy.” He patted Blitzø one last time before walking away.

Blitzø remained where he stood, rigid and bristling.

Who did that guy think he was? Blitzø wasn't a child, he wasn't a teenager either. There was all likelihood he was around the same age as the damn cowboy. He saw Barbie walking towards him in his peripheral and inwardly grimaced.

He was doing this for Barbie. He couldn't lose his temper. Not now, and certainly not at Striker.

"You’re not heading off back out there already are you, Blitzina?"

Ignore the name.

It's all he had to do.

“It’s my f*cking job. Won't be back till I find something worth bringing in.”

Barbie's teasing stopped there. “I’ve been put on another f*cking run,” she murmured, kicking the dirt. “Can't back you up for a long trip.”

Blitzø faltered. “Already? You damn near just got back from the last one.” He frowned, clearly not liking the idea of them both leaving camp so soon.

Barbie sighed, looking up at him with a knowing look in her eyes. “Unless you wanna split from this sh*t-hole tonight, I guess we’re both gonna be doing as we're told.”

Blitzø didn't argue, unsure as to whether Barbie had her own ideas about why they were staying with a bunch of strangers. He adjusted his crossbow and secured his bolts. “When you leaving for the run?”

“Daybreak.”

Blitzø just nodded his head, unable to formulate any verbal reply that wouldn't involve him accusing Striker of having ulterior motives. Barbie didn't need that in her head, didn't need any fuel for a fight. “Take care out there, Barbs.”

Barbie reached out unexpectedly then, placing a hand on Blitzø's head much like she had that morning.

“You take care, baby brother.” There was a look in Barbie's eyes that told Blitzø there was no arguing. He was going to be careful and he was going to get his ass back to camp safe and sound.

Blitzø broke their eye contact, slinging his backpack across one shoulder and giving Barbie his signature nod before casting one last look across the camp.

He wouldn't let them down this time.

Barbie watched, holding her breath as her brother left. It wasn't often she felt concern for Blitzø, but somehow the feeling felt natural all the same, despite the rarity of it.

Stolas only noticed Blitzø as he slipped away into the trees, his body melting into the dense tangle of wood and vegetation. He didn't hold any attention long though, and instead the owl chose to flip through the assortment of learning text books he and Bee were sifting through.

“Worried about your handy work?”

Stolas hummed questionably as he looked up at his friend who was eyeing him curiously.

“Oh,” Stolas shook his head distractedly, realising that Bee had observed him watching Blitzø's departure. “Just glanced up at the right time.” He placed a Biology book onto a pile he had selected for Octavia's home-schooling. His Daughter was currently laid out on a bed sheet with Cyril, both of them scribbling away in math books under their supervision.

“He doesn't stick around, does he?”

Stolas paused, looking up at Bee with a slight frown. Bee tilted her head, knowing her sudden interest in Blitzø was making Stolas suspicious. “You weren't the only person to surprise me this morning,” she admitted, her eyes flickering to her son.

Something started to bloom in Stolas's heart. “What do you mean?” he pressed, leaning closer so he and Bee could talk more privately.

Bee drew in a breath and clasped her hands together, elbows resting on her knees. “Well,” she started slowly. “He wasn't as impolite as I expected,” she murmured. “He was genuinely upset about what Verosika said, wasn't he?”

Stolas nodded, reaching for another book.

“Yet he didn't blow up at her, he just left. Then he went after you...” Bee tucked her dulled fur behind her ear, meeting Stolas's gaze evenly. “He didn't... try anything, did he.”

It wasn't a question, it was a statement, as though Bee were slowly coming to terms with the fact that some things she'd been told weren't exactly true about the younger Buckzo.

Stolas smiled gently down at the pages before him, trying to make sure his face was out of Stella and Andrealphus’ view. “He was angry at me,” he admitted, glancing upwards. “Was angry that I put myself in danger when Octavia needed me.” He felt shame trickle into his veins and he hoped that Bee wouldn't reiterate that sentiment.

He didn't want to be told twice.

“That's...” Bee trailed off, eyebrows raised as she shook her head slightly.

“True,” Stolas stated simply. “Absolutely true.”

“Well, yes. That's not what I'm pointing out though, we all have a breaking point and I can only imagine what was going through your head when Verosika said that, knowing what we allow to go on in this ca-“

“Don't,” Stolas cut in, firmly but quietly. “I know what I felt and some of it is justified but I damn well know that if you were permitted to knock Stella on her backside then you would.” He kept the motion of reaching for another book going, despite the fact he wasn't registering anything in them. “You're my best friend, Bee. Never doubt that I know what you'd do for me if you could.”

Bee swallowed hard and smiled meekly before laughing softly and blinking her eyes up at the sky. “f*ck. Couple of saps we are,” she joked, running a hand through her long fur. “I'm glad you know that, though. If I had my power still…”

“Never thought otherwise.”

It was true.

Stolas had overheard Bee outright demanding Striker to do something about Stella's abuse in the early days. It had shocked him, frightened him even, to hear a woman talk to such a man in such a way. He’d feared for Bee, especially when the widow threw Striker's previous position of being a man of dirty-work right in his face.

Striker hadn't hit her though, he simply tried to explain that it was not their right to get involved, which Bee did not agree with for even a fraction of a second.

“So he's friendly under all that... offishness?" Bee brought them back to topic of Blitzø so easily, it was oddly natural.

“I wouldn't say friendly,” Stolas smiled a little awkwardly. “He's not very chatty and he struggles with conversation. He's not comfortable with people all that much. I think he's the... silent company, kind of person. He's not what they've made him out to be, that's all,” he explained, gesturing towards the rest of camp with his book.

“You think he has uhm... what like, social anxiety?” Bee asked, looking at the others with an expression that told Stolas she was aware that people had judged too easily before. Not only that, he could tell that Bee was suffering from not being able to tell the emotional states of those around her.

No-one had the ability or luxury to be Gluttonous here. Without her powers, Bee couldn’t help them indulge, either. They were as powerless as mortals without the Pentagram, and with the disappearance of Lucifer, many had given up hope.

Stolas hummed and nodded after a moments thought. “If I had to label it, then of a sort? I don't know. I don't know much at all except that he had an unhappy home life.” He gave Bee a pointed look. “Very. Unhappy. Home life.”

“I see why you get him then,” Bee smiled sadly in understanding, stealing a glance up at Barbie, who was trying to converse with one agitated-looking Verosika across the camp.

“Striker seems intent on keeping Blitzø out of the camp as much as possible,” Stolas blurted out before he could even think about it.

Bee's head snapped round, eyes questioning him as she shifted her body towards Stolas. “What do you mean?”

Stolas sighed and glanced at her apologetically. “Sorry, that just-“

Bee shook her head reassuringly. “No, Stolas, it's okay. You can tell me. I'm not going to go running to Striker, you know me better than that. I have my own reservations about what Striker does or doesn't do.”

Stolas closed the text book with a heavy sigh. “Striker's been telling him that he's not bringing enough back,” he explained quietly. “Keeps sending him off back out there.”

Bee frowned. “We made that last squirrel stew stretch for three whole days.” She pursed her lips and once again brought her hands together, this time in front of her face. “Striker has reason to be concerned-”

Stolas huffed in annoyance, making Bee raise an eyebrow at him.

“I don't think Striker would actually allow people he thought were that dangerous in this camp, do you? He was a hitman, he's going to have a decent judge of character.” He jerked his head in his wife’s direction. “He lets Stella do as she flipping well pleases and yet Stella would lash out any number of the demons in this camp far sooner than either Blitzø or Barbie would even dream of it. Why isn't he trying to get rid of Stella? Stella's a danger to the children for pity sake.”

Bee stalled, Stolas's words forcing her to consider Striker's seemingly shocking lack of logic. Hearing no disagreement, Stolas took up the opportunity to continue whilst he could. “When Odrega and Zoath turned up with the RV, and they proved to be a considerably helpful asset with Odrega’s constant guard-post and fishing, Striker made sure everyone in the group accepted them. When Moxxie joined us and it became apparent the he was particularly proficient in getting in and out of places successfully on runs, Striker made sure everyone was welcoming.”

He glanced up to see Stella watching him suspiciously and pretended to show Bee a page in the book. “What's your point?” Bee asked in a whisper, fighting the urge to glance over her shoulder.

Stolas turned the page slowly, watching the cowboy in question stride into the camp like he owned the place.

“My point Bee, is that certain people have hidden agendas and they're trying very hard to keep everyone in their place - especially those who are perceptive.”

He placed the book back in the box as he spoke.

Bee opened her mouth to reply but the words died on her tongue as the faint sound of screaming reached her ears. They both jumped to their feet, Bee grasping at Cyril’s hand as Stolas pulled Octavia to his side.

He edged closer to their tent as heads began looking up in alarm, Bee stepping forward with frantic worry.

“Does that sound like Pria, to you?”

Chapter 6: Gravity

Chapter Text

Stolas held his daughter close, watching as Striker and Thyone snatched up a variety of garden tools. A rake and a shovel were the first to go, Moxxie seized a pitchfork and went charging towards the screams that were steadily getting closer. Verosika had started to run but Striker shoved her back, yelling at her to stay put as he darted off with the other demons.

Bee pushed Cyril to Stolas' side as she moved forward, beelining for a stricken Verosika. Stolas somehow registered Barbie placing her hand on the blonde's back, saying something to her as she gripped her hair. Stolas felt the urge to be with her but stayed with his daughter and Cyril dutifully, muscles tense as he waited for any indication that they would have to flee.

Odrega was there, then. He had come scrambling out of the RV, his face wrought with worry as Verosika reached for him, her face crumpling at the thought of her sister's fate. Barbie seemed to hesitate for a second before stepping away and grabbing another shovel, marching in the direction the other demons had gone.

Seconds felt like minutes, and minutes felt like hours.

No one dared move and it was only when Octavia tugged at his sleeve did Stolas even realise that the screaming had stopped at some point.

Then there were voices and Stolas' heart jumped with relief at the sight of all five -Pria included- re-entering the camp. She was tucked under Barbie's arm, sobbing, but alive. Verosika tore away from Odrega and Bee, racing ahead and embracing her younger sister with loud cries.

Barbie simply walked around them, but Stolas noticed Moxxie pat her on the back in what Stolas hoped was a silent thank you.

Barbie nodded awkwardly and placed her shovel back with the assortment of tools – when they'd originally grasped them they were clean, albeit rusty, but as clean as one could get them. Now they sported ugly decorations of tissue and blood. Striker was frowning deeply and Bee approached him with concern.

“Damned,” was all he said to her before stepping back with a hand on his hip, something that had become a signature pose for him.

“Up here?” She asked rhetorically, running a hand through her fur.

“We didn't just dream it up, Bee,” he almost snapped at her, and Cyril shrugged away from Stolas' grip, running towards his Mother and wrapping his arms around her legs. Striker seemed to bite back on his words at the sight and Stolas felt someone tug at his arm roughly.

“What the f*ck do you think you're doing?” Stella demanded, shaking Stolas free from Octavia's grasp.

The Swan had come out of no-where, and Stolas barely managed to process her question, mind going blank as he tried to comprehend what his wife was asking. He didn't know – had she not been there, watching? Had she and Andrealphus not been paying attention?

“D-Damned,” Stolas stuttered out, and Stella's face blanched as Andrealphus shoved his sister aside, now digging his nails into Stolas’ upper arm.

“Here?! There's a breach in camp?!”

Stolas took the Peaco*ck’s sudden shock as a chance to slip out of his grip, watching as Verosika rocked Pria in her arms, both in a sobbing embrace in the dirt.

“N-no, no, I think it was down by the lake or... something.”

“She dead?” Stella demanded, and Stolas shook his head furiously. It was pretty obvious that Pria wasn't dead and Stolas nearly blurted that out.

“No, I think she's just scared.”

“Well, is the bitch bit?” Stella was starting to get red in the face now, seemingly frustrated with the scene in front of them and the lack of information as to what was going on. When Stolas opened his mouth wordlessly, unable to answer, Stella grabbed the back of his head, wrenching him down.

“Stella,” Andrealphus hissed, tutting loudly.

The jarring movement sent Octavia tumbling backwards and she scrambled away in fright as she watched her Father struggle at the hands of her Mother. Stolas released a pained cry as Stella jerked his head forward, fingers tightening painfully on the short tufts at the nape of his neck.

“Is she bit, you pathetic, worthless bitch!” She shouted in his ear, and Stolas flinched away but was unable to escape.

“I don't- I don't know! I'm sorry!” Stolas yelped, his clammy hands unable to find purchase on Stella’s wrist.

“She's not bit, Stella!” Bee was suddenly there, sounding breathless and absolutely terrified. “Pria- Pria's not bit... she's not bit. She just... got back into camp. There was a- a Damned at the lake and they... they took care of it,” she assured desperately, her eyes darting from Stolas to the hold Stella had on him. “It's okay. We’re safe.”

“Stella, let him go. You’re creating a scene,” Andrealphus muttered lowly, sounding exasperated.

Stella glared before she thrust Stolas forward, releasing him and letting the owl fall to his hands and knees at their feet. Her eyes remained on Bee with sheer contempt before the Swan waved her hands wildly.

“There's no f*cking communication in this place,” she spat, smirking as she dared Bee in expression alone to make a move towards Stolas in her presence.

Stolas was weeping quietly in the grass, his hands shaking as he reached up and felt the back of his head and neck. Bee wavered impatiently, knowing what she wanted to do and what she needed to do were at opposite ends of her heart and of her brain. Stella finally relented, looking smug as she walked back towards the RV.

Andrealphus rolled his eyes, giving Bee a knowing look before following his sister.

He wasn't even three steps away before Bee darted forward, reaching down and bringing Stolas up to his feet. Stolas gasped and whispered out that he was okay, watery eyes searching for his daughter.

Octavia was rigidly sat where'd she'd fallen, a few spaces away with her cerise eyes blown wide and her small face, ever pale. She was absolutely petrified and Stolas called to her softly. Octavia made no indication she'd heard him and her chest was rising and falling in rapid, short movements. Her hands were gripping the front of her tee-shirt so tightly that her small knuckles were white.

Stolas moved towards her but stumbled from the pain that shot from his neck to his lower back. Bee fumbled, nearly falling with him and everything seem to blur by as Octavia's breathless voice reached his ears.

“Da-Daddy, Dad-“

Stolas reached for her and Octavia snapped back, scrambling to her feet and turning on her heels only to smack into a pair of bare rouge legs and end up on her backside again. A noise escaped her and she blinked up at the Imp she'd run into. Terror flooded across her face and her hyperventilating became audible.

Barbie crouched down in front of her and slowly took her wrist in gentle hand.

Octavia watched, breath quickening as Barbie opened her balled fist and placed something in her palm. She blinked at the item, brain trying to register what it was and she swallowed, pupils dilating at the small, washed out yellow fluff-ball on a key-chain.

Octavia studied it, not recognising its shape and placement of ears, eyes and nose. It was very tatty, but it was something to hold and she blinked again, her other hand coming up to close around it.

“You look after that now,” Barbie told her softly. The smile on her face did not reach her eyes and from where they were knelt, stunned by her sudden appearance, Stolas could see that Barbie was studying Octavia extremely carefully. “That used to be my baby brother's little buddy.’

She was still holding Octavia’s wrist and it was then that Stolas' stomach dropped.

She was checking Octavia’s pulse.

Barbie Buckzo was monitoring Stolas’ daughter’s pulse, talking to her to distract her and bring her to a state of calm. The older Buckzo knew what she was doing and she was doing it expertly. She had reacted to Octavia's panic attack instantly.

Stolas leant on Bee and made to go towards them but Barbie's eyes flashed up to meet his and Stolas stopped.

No.

He forced himself to remain where he was.

Barbie knew what she was doing, Octavia was frightened and right now she needed to be distracted. If she saw her Father right now, in the state he was in, she would be brought back to the scene she'd just witnessed.

Stolas swallowed and nodded at Barbie, eyes questioning as to whether or not she could watch his Owlette for a moment.

Barbie's free hand casually came up, waving at him in a slow, discreet gesture that told her it was fine.

She moved slowly to sit cross-legged in front of Octavia, who was responding to what she saying in small, quiet replies, holding whatever she'd been given to her chest.

Bee stalled with a concerned expression, seeing that something had passed between her best friend and the older Buckzo, and not following at all.

“I need an ice pack,” Stolas told her quietly and Bee looked from him to the Imp with Octavia. “I need to get to my tent,” Stolas croaked out, looking at Bee for help. He saw the fear in her friends eyes and blinked, the tears escaping and rolling down his cheeks. “Bee, she knows what she's doing. Via mustn't see me like this.”

Bee didn't argue, even though a million protests could be seen in her expression. She looped an arm around Stolas' waist and pulled him up for the final time.

Once inside the tent, Bee busied herself with handing Stolas a bunch of tissues to wipe at his face and muddied palms. She inspected Stolas' neck with worry, knowing that neck injuries were risky now more than ever.

“Is it bleeding?” Stolas asked bleakly, feeling Bee's hands smoothing down the plumage where Stella had held him. “Do I have a bald patch?”

“No, honey you don't. It's not bleeding either. You're going to have one hell of a sore neck though. Here.”

Stolas hissed in pain as something cold was pressed to the injured area. He felt nauseas for a moment, jaw clenched as Bee guided her own hand up to keep it in place.

With a sigh the widow sat opposite her, hands clasped in front of her lips.

Tears were silently spilling down Stolas' face as he sat there, looking more fragile than he had in weeks.

“I can't go on like this, Bee.”

Bee's eyes met his, filled with a lost sorrow that Stolas could relate to all too well. Bee nodded, wiping her own eyes and drawing in a shaky breath. “I know,” she whispered.

“We're in a world where Stella is not the monster that me or Octavia should be afraid of. If all we have is this camp, then I don't want my life to be like this.” Stolas was hopelessly furious and helplessly desperate. “I don't want her life to be like this,” his voice cracked and he shook his head as his shoulders trembled, his body breaking loose of the binds on his emotions and allowing the distress of his situation to overwhelm him.

Bee wrapped her arms around him as Stolas sobbed relentlessly, letting herself weep quietly for the man Bee had come to look upon as her own family.

No-one could keep living like this.

It almost felt like a whole new day when Stolas finally summoned up the courage to step outside his tent.

The sun seemed so much brighter, a blinding white and the noise of buzzing insects made him grimace visibly. Instantly his eyes searched for Octavia, who was sitting by Aquyna and Cyril. Seeing Octavia in good hands, his secondary objective was to locate his bitch of a wife. He found her sat atop the RV once more, her back to him as she and Andrealphus kept a look out.

Aquyna's kind eyes met his and the Hen Harrier smiled warmly, pausing in her reading to the two children as Stolas slowly approached them cautiously.

Barbie was no-where to be seen, yet the key-chain she'd given Octavia had remained with her. Octavia's head finally lifted as her Father’s feet came into her view. For a mere fraction of a second Stolas worried that she would bolt again but Octavia only grinned widely and stuck her hand out, Barbie's gift falling free if not for the hoop that was secured around her small thumb.

“Look at what I got!” She declared proudly.

Stolas slid to her side and inspected the well-worn bundle of fur. It was a small plushy horse. He had expected something more generic from them – a monster, beast, something gnarly – but the fact it was a horse made Stolas chuckle softly.

“It's very cute,” he told his daughter, letting Octavia pull it back to her.

'Very bedraggled, too' Stolas added mentally.

“Auntie Barbie says it's a Horse and that all Horses are great stompers. That's why they have long noodle-legs. To stomp snakes with. Sometimes they mistake Imps for snakes and then stomp them by mistake.”

Stolas nodded, only half-taking in his daughter's words, which sounded like a dig at Striker. His brain had slightly de-railed after hearing the phrase 'Auntie Barbie'. He wasn't too sure about that one but he wasn't going to address it right now.

Barbie helped him and Octavia out, that's all that mattered.

Aquyna placed her hand on his shoulder and Stolas smiled weakly as he stood up. “Just going to stop by Pria, I'll be right back.”

Verosika and her sister were sitting huddled together under a blanket by the unlit camp fire, both had cups, obviously having been given something sweet to drink to counteract the shock. Pria looked up as Stolas approached, a weak smile on her face as they embraced gently.

Stolas reached across and gave Verosika's hand a comforting squeeze, feeling at ease when Verosika squeezed back, nodding her head as she inhaled. No words were needed, they were all mutually relieved that everyone was safe and sound. Stolas withdrew from the blonde sisters with a kind smile, briefly looking for Bee who had taken a different path than him from exiting the tent.

Bee looked up to see him and smiled from where she stood with the men, beckoning Stolas over and placing a hand on Stolas' lower back as he stood beside her.

“- we need to do somethin’ about that. We'll put in a rule, no-one goes out of camp unattended. No-one,” Striker was saying, placing his hands on the hood of the car that had seemingly been re-assigned as a table for the meeting that had been assembled.

“I second that,” Odrega agreed. “Doesn't help if anyone gets caught out there, though.”

“What if we move one of the cars here down to the lake?” Thyone suggested, looking around. “Put an escape vehicle down there so that if trouble comes they can get out of there quick and maybe warn us here. Give us a chance.”

Striker tutted thoughtfully before frowning, having caught a hitch in that otherwise seamless plan. “Nah. We need the vehicles here. We can't shift either of ‘em without putting a dent in the camp's defences. Andrealphus was pretty clear about that from day one."

“He's right,” Stolas interrupted with a grim expression. “If Andrealphus placed those cars there then they need to be there.”

It was the only thing Stolas would ever defend with his Brother-in-Law.

Andrealphus’ obsession with security and set procedure had been the bane of Stolas’ marriage when it came to raising Octavia. andrealphus was regimented, systematic and calculating about everything. Whilst dating it had made Stolas feel safe and secure, being a Prince, but it quickly spiralled into something that was clearly unhealthy.

andrealphus was all about survival to the point he had bordered on paranoid when it came to their neighbour’s habits. Stolas remembered how angry he'd gotten when they'd first met Bee and Striker on that highway.

It felt so long ago now but the Peaco*ck had been furious with Stolas over being too friendly.

Operational Security.

Stolas fought the urge to roll his eyes at the memory. Andrealphus had used it to defend his reasons to Stella for not allowing Stolas to have any friends – but it came with a silver lining.

He was very good with strategy and he knew how to help Striker keep the camp as protected as it possibly could be with the placement of tents, fires and vehicles.

That was why Striker kept them all around.

At hearing Stolas agree with the man they all knew he'd never defend otherwise, the group relented.

Moxxie suddenly perked up, leaning one hand on the hood of their make-shift meeting table.

“What if Thyone and I scouted the highway for one? There's gotta be something out there we can bring back, park it at the lake and give people a chance to get away.”

“Or at least lock themselves in,” Bee spoke up. “Even if they can't drive, it gives them somewhere to hide until The Damned leave or help arrives.”

Striker nodded enthusiastically, looking pleased that a plan had been formulated.

“Where will you park it?” Odrega asked, turning to Striker questioningly. “There's not much space down there.”

“I'll run it by Andre, he'll know,” Striker told him, not missing a beat. He glanced at the sun, debating on if there was enough time to execute the plan in what hours they had left. “Let's get this done tomorrow. First thing. Better safe than sorry.”

“We were going out on that run, tomorrow?” Moxxie reminded and Striker paused.

“Whose goin’?”

“Uh...me, Thyone and Barbie,” Moxxie listed, adjusting his bowtie.

“Okay, new plan.” Striker ruffled his hair and leant on the hood with his arms folded on the warm metal. “You, Barbie and Thyone find a vehicle. Get it runnin’ and make sure it's able to withstand at least a small amount of pressure. I'd say about four, five Damned. No more than that ever come up this far anyway.” He looked at Moxxie who nodded, following along easily. “You secure it and you scout around the cars for supplies. Lets avoid the city for a while. Let things calm down ‘n focus on keepin’ this camp safe.”

He straightened up, broad shoulders rolling back as he crossed his arms. “Until then, no-one goes near the Lake. We clear?”

Stolas sighed as a chorus of 'yes, yeah and yes sirs’ rang in the air. He felt Bee's hand finally leave his back as they all dispersed, their instructions fresh and hopes high.

“I guess it was going to happen sooner or later,” Bee finally spoke, watching as Striker crouched before Verosika and Pria, filling them in on the new rules and the plan.

“Maybe we all needed the reminder,” Stolas added. “We're not going to be safe here forever, Bee.”

Even as the words left his lips, Stolas wasn't entirely sure which danger he was referring to, The Damned, or Stella.

Bee sighed and moved in the direction of Aquyna and the children. “We never were, Stolas.”

Chapter 7: From The Ground

Chapter Text

That night, Stolas could not find sleep in any position that didn't aggravate his neck injury.

He was fighting the need to turn over constantly, aware that Octavia would be easily disturbed after having such a stressful day.

The night felt too silent and there had been a sense of eeriness around the camp, as though everyone was waiting for something to just happen. Dinner had been silent and swift, with everyone practically announcing an early night.

In retrospect, they'd all been fairly foolish.

They'd gone about their daily businesses without truly considering the fact that the plague that took down the Heaven and Hell - and the world - was literally on their doorstep every day. They had gotten complacent, cut corners, started skipping over rules and the like.

Stolas turned over to Octavia's sleeping form in a bid to shake himself of those heavy thoughts. Octavia was curled up, her hands in front of her face and in those hands was the dreaded Horse. He had been completely unsuccessful in getting the owlette to give it up. Stolas had only wanted to give it a little bit of a scrub but Octavia had outright refused to hand it over, almost throwing a tantrum at the prospect of having to.

Stolas wasn't in the mood to argue and so simply let it go, feeling miffed as Octavia hurried into her sleeping bag with said key-chain in hand.

Stolas’ thoughts drifted to Barbie.

She’d said the key-chain had been her brother's.

Blitzø.

Stolas felt his heart skip a beat.

He'd been so wrapped up in the happenings at camp, he hadn't really spared a thought for the Buckzo that was out there. The fact that anybody would risk their life to provide for them was gut wrenching enough in Stolas' opinion, but something about it being Blitzø made his heart twinge uncomfortably.

There were a set few people in the camp he feared losing.

Bee was his absolute closest friend and he would be lost without her. Absolutely lost. Moxxie, who despite being a little aggravating at times, was an absolute dear and was always thinking of him. It had been Moxxie that had spent an entire afternoon putting up washing lines because he had thought it might be easier for Stolas than the previous set up.

It had also been him that brought Stolas the peg bag and sewing kit one day, having spotted them on a run and snagged them purely because he'd thought Stolas could make use of them.

Moxxie was kind and genuine.

Then there was Odrega, who always offered Stolas a sanctuary in the RV he’d purloined when the Prince needed a moment to gather himself or needed somewhere safe for Octavia. Odrega was a good man and even though he was close to Verosika, he didn't share her tendency to judge. It made perfect sense that Bee usually had Odrega's backing when she disagreed with Striker.

These people were personally important to Stolas and now he guessed that Blitzø was fitting into that odd category too. Blitzø was a lot like him, the Imp understood Stolas’ situation and that was something he didn't experience with the others.

Blitzø didn't look at Stolas with pity or as though he were breakable. Blitzø didn't ask Stolas why he was still with Stella, why he didn't leave her years ago, why this, or why that - as though the whole thing were so simple.

Stolas had their support and he cherished it beyond any words he could use to express that, but Blitzø knew what it was like to be in those shoes and Stolas, his. That was why there was little need for words, things were just... understood.

He didn't have to talk about Stella with him.

It wasn't that Stolas didn't care about the others, he would be sorry if anything happened to any of them but they were just people he knew. He didn't feel close to them, he didn't know them and if it wasn't for the chores, he wouldn't have any interaction with them at all.

It sounded cold to him, wrong, but it was the truth.

Feeling slightly guilty, he pushed the thought out of his mind. It was simple. He was sad that one of his friends was out there, alone, with a heavier burden than anyone else in the camp. Stolas bit his lip, wondering how Barbie must feel knowing that her little brother might not return.

The thought hit his a little hard.

What would happen then?

If Blitzø perished out there, then what? Stolas frowned, hoping that Striker's new no-single-trips rule hadn't come too late and prayed that whatever luck had graced Pria, now found its way to Blitzø and blessed him too.

With that, Stolas resigned herself to an uncomfortable night and forced all train of thought from him mind.

Stolas had known he'd wake with a crick in his neck, but that didn't stop him from feeling sour from having done so and that wasn't even the end of it. His lower back ached and he had a pounding headache that threatened to morph into a migraine.

Octavia had chosen today to be high energy and had woken his earlier than what was deemed humane. Needless to say, Stolas was not looking forward to the day ahead.

Everything felt sluggish, getting Octavia dressed, getting himself dressed. It felt like the morning had already passed by the time he joined the hustle of everyone else in camp. Stolas stood outside his tent, taking way too long to process what went on before him.

Bee was wiping Cyril's face after having given him breakfast, sat in the chairs that surrounded the main camp fire. Obnoxious laughter reached his ears and he dragged his eyes in it's direction. Striker was looking frustrated as Barbie's ridiculously wide grin vanished behind the steel and plastic frame of the car they'd chosen to take for their Highway Mission Run.

He could see Thyone looking completely unamused and Moxxie looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

Barbie wasn't known for her acceptance of smaller Imps. Thyone and Moxxie were the last people Stolas would have forced to put up with her. No matter how nice she'd been to Octavia, it didn't make the fact that Barbie was unpredictable any less of a problem. Stolas frowned, knowing that this was only one of the reasons for Blitzø's apprehension when it came to his sister and Salvage Runs.

Stolas didn't know of any others, but he knew Blitzø had a list and one of them had him questioning Barbie intensely the second she returned. Stolas had witnessed it once before but had no doubt it was an every-run ritual.

Barbie had returned with the group and was full of bravado even as Blitzø nearly dragged her to their corner at the very back of the camp. Blitzø had looked dark, Stolas remembered. It was the angriest he had ever seen him, and maybe even the most scared.

For sure, there were plenty of reasons but one in particular had Blitzø in a state of anxiety and paranoia that rivalled anything of Andrealphus’.

Speaking of the devil, where was he?

Stolas paused in his thinking, seeing that the car had already pulled away and driven off. Striker was talking to someone round the other side of the RV and Stolas exhaled in relief upon hearing Andrealphus’ voice.

Stolas caught the gist of their conversation, feeling a sense of respite at knowing that the two men were going down to the Lake in order to locate a 'prime position for the Emergency Escape Vehicle'. Seemed Stella was tagging along for the sheer fact she had to feel important and needed to ‘catch some sun’.

Stolas would have rolled his eyes had he felt more energetic. The two were just as bad as each other in some respects, Andrealphus talking like he was some Military Sargent and Striker acting like one. The notion was driven from the owl’s mind as Octavia tugged desperately on his hand, whining that she wanted breakfast so she could join Cyril for home-schooling with Bee and Aquyna.

Stolas groaned quietly upon seeing what was on his agenda for the day.

The piles of laundry were starting to creep out of their baskets and knowing the Lake was off limits meant he was going to be hand washing everything in buckets. He hung his head in defeat, not wanting to sit in the hot, harsh sunlight scrubbing away for hours.

It was his job though and he'd do it non-the-less.

There was a silver lining though, Stella wouldn't be there watching his every move and Octavia would be safe with Bee. Striker wouldn't be bossing demons around and the camp would be relatively silent with Barbie gone. All in all, after the previous day's events, Stolas was thankful for the absence of everyone who normally bothered him.

At least, that's what he'd initially told himself.

After being sat there, scrubbing away for over half an hour in an other-wise empty camp, Stolas found himself wishing that Blitzø would appear with his usual greeting of 'Crazy Laundry Loon'.

The feeling left him almost melancholy, knowing that the circ*mstances would have been perfect for Blitzø to talk to him. The first time Blitzø approached Stolas had been on a day very much like this one, with Barbie being on a run, Stella and Andrealphus being down at the Lake.

Odrega and Zoath were even on the RV and Bee was with Octavia.

It was almost exactly the same.

Stolas huffed in frustration and wrung out the small shirt he had been rinsing. His arms itched from the soapy water and his knees felt stiff from kneeling.

He didn't want to be doing this.

He wanted to either be in bed, resting his neck and head or engaged in one of Blitzø's awkward and oddly relaxing conversations. If you could really call it a conversation, it was more a mystifying form of small talk.

Heaving in a breath of hot air that did nothing to make Stolas feel any better, he sternly told himself that the sooner he got this done, the sooner he could retreat to his tent – or perhaps the RV if Odrega didn't mind.

He felt like a teenager again, having to do his room and knowing the sooner he got it done the sooner he could do as he wanted with his time.

Some things, never changed no matter your age.

The thought made his chuckle dryly and even though it was short-lived, he let it lighten his mood just a fraction. Wanting to get your chores done in the hope of seeing your friends seemed nostalgic enough to motivate him.

The worry that his newest friend wouldn't be returning threatened to sink in but he vehemently pushed it back from whence it came, shaking his head and scrubbing a little more vigorously than needed at the pair of socks in his bucket.

Blitzø would return and he would be successful. He would be given a break and he would not be sent back out there alone.

At least, not if the socks currently at the mercy of Stolas’ vicious scrubbing had anything to do with it.

By the time Stolas had washed, scrubbed and hung everything out, he was certain she'd done nothing but give himself heatstroke. Odrega seemed to sense the impending doom as he stepped down from the RV roof, carrying a bottle of water.

“Are you quite alright?” He asked, looking like he already knew the answer.

Stolas shook his head and accepted the bottle the older owl offered, managing to whisper a breathless thank you. Odrega placed a hand on Stolas’ forehead and the older Goetia’s frown deepened.

“Why don't you call it a day, hm? Go take a nap inside the RV whilst I hold the fort.”

“Oh Odrega, bless you for saving me from the monotony of laundry.” He bent over, hands on his knees as he let his head drop forward. “I feel sick,” he announced with a grimace.

Odrega's hands rest at Stolas’ back and he looked up as Verosika appeared out of her and Pria's tent.

“Mind helping me?" Odrega asked, looking a bit hopeless.

Verosika dusted off her hands and stepped around the camp fire, concern spreading onto her face as she took in Stolas' posture. She reached out, her hand replacing Odrega's and leaning forward, slightly mimicking Stolas' position. “Come on Honey, I think you need to lay down.”

Her eyes raked over the bruising at the back of Stolas' neck and her eyes drifted to Odrega's who only offered her a knowingly sad frown.

Any words that had come to mind promptly died and she faced forward, lips slightly parted in silent anger that something had indeed been going on whilst she had celebrated her sister's return the day before.

Stolas mumbled out an apology as they guided him towards the RV, only half-hearing their reassuring words in response.

A barrage of angry shouts came out of no-where and he failed to focus on what the yelling was about, but the voice he recognised.

It was Stella's.

She must have returned from the Lake with Striker and Andrealphus.

What prime timing.

“What the f*ck are you doing with my Husband!" Stella was suddenly bellowing right beside them, and Stolas teetered sideways in an instinctual bid to get away from the throbbing pain it caused.

Verosika steadied him and Stolas wondered if his eyes were closed or if he had gone momentary blind from his migraine.

“He's sick, Stella,” Odrega intoned compassionately, eyes boring into Stella's as though trying to reach some unknown pocket of pity.

Stolas would have snorted if he didn't fear the repercussions.

'Good bloody luck,’ he retorted mentally.

“Like hell he is! This embarrassment is just being f*cking lazy!”

“Stella-”

The voices around him rose in a garbled mess as he felt Verosika's hands leave and he heard what sounded like a quick scuffle.

“You back off!” Verosika's voice was loud, clear and furious. “You back off right now! You're nothing but an abusive bitch! You don't come in here with your fat, lazy ass and abusive backwater brain, and start talking to your spouse like that!”

“Don't think I think I won’t scratch your whor*-seeking eyes out, slu*t.”

“You don't scare me,” Verosika's voice was low, threatening and challenging. “You're sick, Stella.”

Stolas strained to hear her now, tilting his head finally to see Verosika right up in Stella's face, glaring with a look of sheer disgust. Her bright eyes flashed and her face contorted into unadulterated contempt. “You think I haven’t seen the way you look at your little girl?”

Stolas screamed as Stella lunged for Verosika, Odrega's hand being his saving grace as the older owl yanked him out of reach before Striker flew between them.

“Get off me! Get your hands off me!” Stella struggled against Striker, face red and furious.

Verosika's chest heaved in triumph, smug at the fact she'd finally spat the words she'd held back for so long. “You're a toxic bitch, Stella!" She shouted whilst Odrega pushed her back further. “Watch your back when The Damned come! Not one of us is going to be there to save you, Stella! Not one of us!”

“Verosika!” Pria was suddenly there, dragging her sister by the arms as she continued to rant off.

“We'll be dancing on your grave when you die!”

“Verosika, stop!”

“I'll piss all over your headstone!”

“Ve-Verosika!”

“You won't even get one on my watch! Unmarked grave you sad excuse of a bitch!”

Stolas' mouth was dry and his heart strained against his ribcage in absolute disbelief as Verosika's shouting finally ebbed away, having been pulled far from the audible tussle going on mere feet from where he stood, still doubled over.

“Come on, sweetheart.”

Relief flooded through Stolas' veins as Bee's quiet, reassuring voice reached him amongst Stella's shouting and Striker's authoritative demands that he calm down.

Andrealphus was, as always, just observing with a flat expression on his face.

Stolas shook his head, feeling his throat cease up on his as tears burned his eyes. “I’m gonna throw up,” he choked, feeling his stomach churn and his mouth fill with saliva, the precursor to his stomach purging itself.

“Okay, let's get you inside.” Bee's arms wrapped around him securely and the Sin of Gluttony guided him with a sense of urgency. As Stolas braced himself on the door he heard Stella's furious screams and felt himself wretch.

“Calm down, Stella!” Striker commanded, sounding near-infuriated.

“Stella, you’re causing a scene.”

“That's my husband! It's not your business, that's my husband!”

Bee shut the door and Stolas leaned heavily on the small counter, looking up blearily through the window as Stella stormed off towards her tent, still screaming her mantra about Stolas being her, like Stolas was some possession she was afraid of having taken away.

It was no secret that Stella liked to torment Stolas any chance she could. He was but a toy to her in order to destroy, she never had to put him together because Stolas patched himself up every single time.

Stolas felt his stomach pitch in warning and made a dash for the bathroom, his head pounding as the sickness he'd felt since that morning finally made true of its threats.

“It. Has. To. Stop.”

Stolas stirred, disorientated as he woke. He pulled the cool cloth from his forehead and turned it over, placing it upon his eyes.

He was still in the RV and he was safe.

Sick, but safe.

“Bee, it ain’t that simple!”

“Yes it is, Striker!”

Stolas furrowed his eyebrows.

Their voices were slightly muffled and he turned over, realising that the two were talking outside right by the RV, hidden from the rest of camp. The window was slightly open and the cool evening air was a welcome sensation.

“It ain’t Camp Business!” Striker hissed, obviously frustrated. “I start gettin’ involved in every domestic that kicks off in this camp, I'm gonna be in over my head! Where do we draw the line, huh?”

“This is not a domestic dispute, this is outright abuse and you wouldn’t have hesitated to put a bullet in Stella’s head before all this!”

“I wouldn’t have hesitated to put a bullet in his either! The world is not like it was, demons are not bound by the Pentagram anymore! I can't contain everything, Bee! I'm one f*cking demon!”

Stolas mulled over those words.

If demons were not bound by the Pentagram, bound by law… did that mean that technically he could just denounce his Marriage to Stella?

Stolas shifted, the idea swirling in his frazzled brain.

Before it had been a path that would have only wrought trouble. There were assets, Octavia, paperwork and the cost of a reputation that the Goetia Family would fight him against.

It was an option Stolas just couldn't pursue.

Now?

Well, now there was none of that.

It had been vaporised along with pretty much everything else in the Universe.

Striker wasn't entirely wrong in his statement but it was a weak argument considering that Stella was one demon too, and that Striker had designated himself Leader.

He got involved in other things he had no business in.

“That's a weak argument and you know it,” Bee told him and Stolas silently cheered her on for taking the words right out her head. “She raised her hand to Verosika, that’s not your problem?”

“Verosika overstepped-”

“Verosika was protecting Stolas!” Bee's voice rose slightly, warning that Striker was now treading a thin line. “What if it were me, Striker? If I decided to stand up for him, and that bitch hit me, would it be your problem then?”

“Bee-”

“You know what? You can preach all you like that it's not your place to get involved but I know that you get far more involved then you let on, Striker. It's not your right to get involved with the Buckzo's but you do. Don't think I don't see it. You keep them as close as you need them, but as far as you want them. So don't stand there and lie to me after everything. If you have the authority to state that no-one gets involved, to dictate whose family and whose not, then you're damn well in the position to stop Stella and we both know it.”

Striker remained silent and for a few seconds Stolas wondered what had happened. His question was answered when the door to the RV opened and Bee came in, perching herself at the edge of her cot. Stolas stretched out his arm and took her hand, giving it a squeeze.

Bee sniffed, squeezing back tightly. "You know what, Stolas?"

Stolas removed the cloth entirely and looked at her, Bee's blurred face was turned in his direction.

“I can't live like this anymore either.”

Chapter 8: Shout At The Devil

Chapter Text

It was a rare occurrence for two parties to return within the same hour, but the day had graced them with a much needed boost.

Stolas had been woken by Barbie's triumphant whooping as she and the other demons pulled back into camp. He didn't go out to see what all the fuss was about, hearing the cheers and appreciation chorus through camp was enough to tell him it had been a successful run.

Not five minutes later was there another round of applause, this time for the return of Blitzø. He could hear the absolute pride in Barbie's voice as she yelled, showing off whatever Blitzø had brought back. Striker's praise could be heard nearly as loud as Barbie's and the buzz around camp only heightened.

Stolas still couldn't bring himself to move.

He had handed Octavia over to Bee that morning, having spent the majority of the night in the RV.

He didn't feel much like facing anyone today.

They were all celebrating and so they should. It wasn't like anyone would be offended by his absence. He had a mission and it took priority.

Tuning out the noise from the others, Stolas stared down at the creased piece of paper in his hands. He ran his fingers over the elaborate print, over the signatures that should have depicted a promise of love and happiness. Ugly lies were all they had ever been, mocking and false. He sifted another page out from behind it, the vows he had spent weeks memorising had been nothing but a script to a play, an hour in time that held no future meaning except for in that one moment.

He stared down at his own handwriting, back when his lettering was neat and perfect. His hands shook now, he would never be able to write anything so neatly again. The person he was back then compared to who he was currently- a ghastly reminder that this would never get any better, only worse.

Stolas closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, his stomach twisting in knots as he considered his desired actions. It would blow things right out the water, could jeopardise his place in the camp – possibly Octavia's.

The more he thought of it, the more he shied away from his sudden courage.

Stolas folded the papers quickly, grabbing his worn folder and starting to return them back into their dusty prison-

Stolas stopped right there.

This marriage, was a prison.

It always had been.

This was not just for him.

This was for Octavia, too.

As Stolas thought of his daughter, he smiled. For all the suffering Stolas had endured at the hands of Stella, he could never regret the marriage to her, for it had blessed him with a gift he could never live without.

Even if the circ*mstances were downright traumatic.

His only regret was not leaving Stella the moment Octavia was born.

The Goetia Family had desired a Son, rejected Octavia as though she were a faulty part.

Stella, in her hope of fame and recognition in the Goetia Family, blamed Stolas for deliberately messing up her plans and so verbally abused Octavia all her young life.

There was going to be a point where verbal abuse didn't quite scratch the itch for her and Stolas knew it was coming. He felt like he was wasting time but there was no-where to run here. Out there, in the world there were other dangers.

There weren't just ghosts lingering out there in the woods, not just fable monsters anymore.

There was a literal blanket of death wrapped around them and it was forever hunting them down, intent of snuffing out any life that got caught out in it.

He envisioned Octavia, soft downy feathers and bright cerise eyes, smiling up at him with that joy that should never be taken from her. Stolas had vowed to never let the Swan he had grown to hate, lay a hand near the one gift that made it all worth it.

He had received a bulk of verbal abuse over the last month.

A couple slaps, shoves, yanking of his arms, but all in all he had escaped any real damage for weeks. He had contemplated if Stella had simply got bored of using him as her own private punching bag – then he'd noticed her looking at Octavia in a way no living being should ever regard a child and the curiosity twisted into ugly horror.

It wasn't that Stella was bored with abusing him, it was that her mind was wondering onto her next victim.

“Over my dead body,” he whispered aloud, the conviction in his own voice giving him strength over the fear of just how true that sentiment could one day be.

Stolas gripped the papers back to his chest. Consequences were consequences and this was something that had to be done no matter what those proved to be. Stella was already past the point of saving. After yesterday, there was going to be Hell to pay either way, but he would stand his ground from this moment onward.

He would announce it loud and clear.

Vacation was over.

He was aching every which way.

He wanted nothing more than to hide in his tent for the rest of the week and sleep away all the nightmares that came with long hunting trips. He didn't care to address his disheveled, dirty clothes or the fact that his arms were latticed with cuts, scratches and bruises.

Blitzø Buckzo simply sat on the dry earth outside his tent, knees drawn up and elbows resting upon them as the rest of camp took care of his catch. Normally it was Barbie and him who portioned out the catches, gutting them and cleaning them. He was so obviously exhausted though that Barbie had taken over, directing Striker and the others to help out to the point there was nothing left for him to do.

He didn't care in the slightest.

It had been a gruelling hunt. He'd lost one deer and more than a few bolts but in the end it had been majorly worth it. He'd snagged another deer, a couple dozen squirrels that he'd strung up, along with four rabbits, and some last minute wood pigeons.

Of course, he hadn't actually considered that he was going to be hauling it all back until after the fact. That would be the cause for his now aching body.

Blitzø sighed and leant upon the tree next to his tent. He willed himself to stay awake, knowing that if he slept now he would have to endure a restless night and his sleep schedule was already trying to kill him. Trying to rest up in a tree whilst knowing that you could fall out at any minute was not exactly the most relaxing of notions.

Needless to say, he was shattered out of his skull.

“You outta get washed up baby brother,” Barbie's voice jarred him out of his thoughts and he looked up at her in tired annoyance. When she received no reply Barbie offered him a knowing lop-sided grin. “Haven’t got any excuse to be messy, boy.”

Blitzø grunted as Barbie hooked her arms under his own, pulling him to his feet and slapping him on the back, making him step forward. Barbie ended up steadying him with a chuckle.

“Dead on your feet aren’t you.”

“Shut up.” Blitzø's words lacked bite and he shrugged off his crossbow, wincing.

Barbie gave him a shove towards his tent. “Go on now, get yourself presentable.”

Blitzø had more energy to do as he was told than argue. He reluctantly unzipped his tent and ignored his twins string of teases as he nearly tripped his way in.

Twenty or so minutes later and Blitzø emerged feeling almost ten times better. He hadn't tended to his war wounds but he'd get round to it eventually. At least he was clean and not dying in a day old shirt that probably couldn't be saved. He'd have to visit the Laundry Loon later.

Come to think of it, where was the damn owl? He'd spotted everyone but Stolas when he'd returned.

The camp had cooled down and Blitzø glanced up at Barbie who came towards him with a mug of black coffee. “Looking better baby brother. You sure clean up nice now don't you.”

Blitzø took the mug with a nod but otherwise paid her little attention. “Miss much?” he asked, taking a tentative sip.

Barbie placed her hands on her hips and shook her head airily. “Nah.” She kicked the dirt with her boot. “Nothing.”

It was then that Octavia decided to run by after Cyril, pausing to wave at them with a bright smile and the Horse keyring dangling precariously in her hands. “Hello, Auntie Barbie!” She declared cheerily before running off after her friend.

Blitzø's gaze drifted in a painstakingly slow movement to Barbie's. “f*cking nothing, huh?”

Barbie stared at him blankly before suddenly erupting into a loud laugh. “Well, come on! Should come see what your big sister Barb brought back from the run!”

Blitzø choked on his mouthful of coffee as Barbie once again slapped him harder than necessary on the back. He jolted, holding his mug out and leaning forward as he coughed. “f*ck, Barbie! I keep telling you to quit doing that!”

Barbie only laughed harder and bounded towards the centre of camp, leaving Blitzø to curse under his breath as he shook off his hands.

“Get your ass over here!”

Blitzø begrudgingly obeyed, wiping his hands on his jeans as he glared at her. He passed by Bee who smiled at him for what felt like the umpteenth time since he'd been back and by Verosika who did the complete opposite.

He half wondered if she were aware there were other expressions available in life.

It was far busier than he personally liked. Blitzø made a conscious effort to be scarce when everyone was hanging around inside the camp, the only ones not around the camp fire was Stolas and his wife.

Blitzø came to stand beside a proud looking Barbie, arms folded and smug grin on her face. “Isn’t she a beauty!”

Blitzø frowned, staring at the dilapidated looking assemblage of metal in front of them. “What a pile a sh*t,” he said with a smirk.

Barbie barked out a laugh and raised her hand to slap Blitzø's back but thought better of it at the last minute. She beckoned Blitzø to follow her instead. “Yeah,” she drawled in agreement, walking around to the back of the van she'd brought back. “You know what they say, though.” She hooked her hands into the small handle at the bottom of the van door and wrenched it. As the shutters drew upward, they revealed an entire hold of boxes and tinned goods. “All that's gold don't glitter, baby brother.”

Blitzø scowled at her. “Don't talk like you’ve ever read any damn book except those trash mags, Barb.”

“I’ll have you know that I’ve read many a fine writing. Unlike you.”

Blitzø grunted, finishing off his lukewarm coffee as Barbie secured the van back up. “Haven’t done bad with that.”

Barbie turned to him just as Blitzø gestured at the van with his now empty mug.

“Yeah, was damn lucky. Paired with what you brought back we'll be sitting pretty for a while.” Barbie stared at Pria and Verosika with an unreadable expression and Blitzø followed her gaze. “Just as well considering.”

“You sure I didn’t miss something?”

Again, that blank expression washed over Barbie's face. “No , nothing.”

Blitzø opened his mouth to call him out but at that moment someone came charging towards camp with a thunderous yell.

“Ah sh*t,” Barbie muttered beside him.

“Striker!”

Everyone seemed to flinch as Stella shoved her way around the group, nearly knocking Aquyna off her chair as the Swan barged her way in front of Striker, whose smile was promptly replaced with a stressed frown, Andrealphus once again rubbing his temples a little ways off.

Clearly he’d failed to restrain her.

“I don't care who you f*cking think you are but last night you crossed a line!” Stella accused, her voice like nails on a chalk-board. “You have no jurisdiction here, you f*cking waste of breath, you have overstepped!” She was red in the face and Striker seemed more than just slightly irked by the outburst. “Stolas is my husband, you have no right to stick your nose in matters of the Goetia Family!”

Verosika opened her mouth to say something but both Odrega and Pria stopped her.

Striker held up a hand and put his other on his hip. “He was sick, Stella. He has a duty in this camp. A duty that he needs to be fit to uphold and you have to allow for that. If Stolas goes down then we lose a vital member. I can't allow that to happen.” He glanced at Bee who seemed to nod in approval.

Stella spat at Striker's feet and Blitzø almost wondered if Stella’s head would pop off with how vibrant a shade of red it became. “He belongs to me!”

It was then the Prince in question appeared from his tent, face pale and looking just as livid as he did the day Verosika had pissed him off. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as Stolas stormed forward with a set of papers in hand. He lifted them and slammed them into the fire-pit, the rest of the group gaping in shock as Stella's mouth dropped open upon seeing their Marriage Certificate and vows set alight.

“I never belonged to you,” he declared without a single shred of fear. His eyes were a cold, stormy cerise-rose, severe and unforgiving.

Blitzø was completely struck by how unyielding Stolas was in that moment.

Stolas stood his ground, glaring at Stella with sheer defiance. He lifted his chin, looking down at her with all the stature of a King.

All was silent, then Verosika suddenly started to clap as she stood, looking beyond proud. Bee joined in, and soon all the women were congratulating Stolas for making a stand. Odrega and Moxxie were soon to follow, whilst Striker and Stella simply stood there looking stupefied.

Stolas was visibly shocked by the reaction, having told himself that the majority would try to make him reconcile with Stella but this, this was beyond empowering. Despite feeling slightly claustrophobic from the buzz around him, Stolas swallowed hard and remained where he stood.

“Y-you can't do that!” Stella stuttered, her expression torn between enraged and bewildered.

Stolas felt his daughter's hand clasp his own and the weakening in his legs faded away. “I can do what I bloody well like. You have for far too long. You will no longer lay your hand on me, Stella.” He drew himself up and raised his voice above any of the murmurs around them. “You will never lay a hand on my daughter.”

Stella's mouth opened and closed dumbly.

“I am not your husband.”

Striker raised his eyebrows and blew out the breath he'd been holding. Bee was looking at him pleadingly, her large bright eyes almost begging him to lay down the final words. Striker held her gaze before he turned to Stella.

“Sorry Stella, there's nothin’ I can do. As far as the camp's concerned, he’s not your husband.”

Bee released what sounded like a muffled sob and she threw her arms around Striker's neck, choking out a series of thank you's as he held her with a startled expression.

“You can't f*cking do that! You have no right! We are married in the eyes of the law! Of the Goetia! I will not allow it!” Stella screeched, her anger starting to build from the complete loss of control she suddenly had.

“There is no law, Stella,” Stolas bit out. “There is no Goetia. I'd keep that in mind next time you dare come near me or Octavia.”

“You threatening me?!”

“No, Stella. I'm warning you.”

“You're pushing your f*cking luck! I'll knock you into next week for doing this to me!”

“Yeah? You and whose army? If I remember correctly, it was me who had legions, Stella. Never you.”

“I second that,” Verosika finally spoke up, looking elated. She stood next to Stolas proudly, feeling a sense of strength as everyone shifted to Stolas' side. Bee's hand found hers and she held on tightly.

“Well, I don't usually get involved in any group activities,” Barbie's drawl broke the silence and heads turned as the Buckzo twins joined them, leaving Stella standing alone on the far side of the fire-pit. She turned her head, clearly looking for her brother but Andrealphus was nowhere to be seen.

Barbie's gaze drifted to Octavia's and she sighed as the owlette flashed her a shy but nervous smile. “Think I'm gonna have to make an exception this time.”

Blitzø remained silent but as Stolas' tiring gaze met his, he nodded and the owl felt a sense of calm wash over him.

Striker nodded his head to the side, seemingly satisfied with the group's unity. “It's a dozen to one, Stella. You lay your hand on Stolas, his little girl or anyone else in this camp ever again and you'll have me to answer to.”

Stolas had never felt the need to hug Striker before, but as Stella stormed off, grabbing a deckchair and throwing it at her tent, that's exactly what he did. Striker seemed shocked, as did Blitzø and Bee.

It was not for himself that he embraced the Snake-Imp though, but for the gift at his side who was looking up at him with childish confusion.

“Thank you, so much.”

Chapter 9: I’ll Be There

Chapter Text

“Didn’t f*cking miss nothing, huh?” Blitzø glanced at his sister from the corner of his eye.

Barbie swallowed visibly and shot him a sheepish grin. “Well... nothing that amounts to any real importance, like.”

Blitzø raised an eyebrow as they watched Bee help move Stolas and Octavia into a new tent, this time next to her and Cyril's. It was on the complete opposite side of the camp from where it used to be- by Stella's. It was also closer to the back of camp, which in turn meant closer to them. He watched as Octavia followed her Father about, key-chain in hand as she asked a myriad of questions as to why they were moving.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Blitzø finally turned to Barbie with a pained expression. “You’ve got Octavia calling you Auntie, she's got that damn pony-"

“Horse.”

“I don't give a sh*t what it is!” Blitzø felt his cheeks redden as he realised he was nearly whining. “You damn well know I can tell something went down and now Stolas stood up to his bitch of a wife and you’re gonna stand there and tell me nothing happened?” He huffed and bit at his thumb anxiously. “What’s with Verosika's kid-sister looking like a f*cking ghost?” He suddenly paused and gave his sister a weary look. “You didn’t hit on her kid-sister, did you?”

Barbie's face contorted in disgust. “Get your f*cking head outta the gutter! Don't be stupid! I’ve never even looked at Pria!” She clicked her tongue uncharacteristically and slapped Blitzø's hand away from his mouth. “Stop eating yourself!”

Blitzø scowled at her and huffed audibly. “Isn’t on purpose,” he mumbled.

“We had a run in with a Damned down by the Lake. Pria was down there. Was just a close call,” Barbie stated impatiently, folding her arms with a roll of her eyes.

Blitzø frowned, his hand coming back up to his lips as he nibbled anxiously at his skin.

“Then Octavia saw her Mother wailing on Pigeon. I had to do something. That's all.”

Ah.

Barbie was embarrassed for stepping up.

That was something that always puzzled Blitzø. Barbie was all for bravado until she did something undeniably right. He flinched when Barbie smacked his hand away from his mouth for the second time.

“Will you quit with that!” Blitzø snatched his hand away with a yell.

Barbie pointed at him accusingly. “You’ve gone and starved yourself so bad you’re looking like a skinny bitch boy!”

Blitzø finally had enough of his sister and moved away from her, leaving Barbie to grin at his retreating back.

Blitzø wasn't good with this.

He had never been good with this and he probably never would be.

For all of Barbie’s openness about her own sexuality, Blitzø wasn’t open about his and she got on at him for it in every subtle way she could.

Well, he wasn’t dealing with that today.

Blitzø had kept out of his sister’s way and so stayed at the back of camp, cleaning his crossbow and making a list of things he'd need on the next run.

He was in dire need of more bolts.

He had one left and he knew he'd end up going out to see if he could find any of the ones he'd lost.

Now he was sat, his back to the camp as he unpacked his hunting bag. He'd wanted to approach Stolas and say... something.

Anything.

He was impressed, he was more than a little surprised and he would even admit he was a little proud. Problem was, after his 'divorce' Stolas had been whisked away into the RV in order to collect himself.

Stolas had emerged half an hour later, looking a little less frazzled and had promptly started moving into a new tent. He hadn't settled for hours, constantly mingling with the women who lingered around him as though he were some damn celebrity.

Being a Prince… that wasn’t far from the mark.

Then, finally, when things had settled down and Stolas was less busy, Blitzø had choked up and remained seated instead of approaching the owl.

That's right.

Blitzø Buckzo was too damn shy to go and talk to his only friend. After he'd yelled in the Prince’s face, run after him, ruined Barbie's shirts and been more than a little bold when it came to talking, he was too shy.

Now.

After he'd already taken the gamble several times before and knew that Stolas liked talking to him, now he was shy.

His emotions were out to get him.

It had been him to approach Stolas every other time and for the life of him it made no sense that it was now he his brain decided to worry.

He groaned audibly and pouted moodily at his backpack.

Really, he was an utter idiot.

“I never welcomed you back.”

Blitzø jumped, so lost in thought that he hadn't heard anyone coming up behind him.

His breath hitched as he turned around, seeing Stolas, who seemed triumphant at sneaking up on him for the first time, standing behind him a little cautiously. The Imp blinked with wide eyes, taken aback that Stolas had actually approached him.

“That’s okay,” he answered finally, looking surprised. “L-looked like you had your hands... uh… full.”

f*ck, could he sound anymore nervous?

Had he really just stuttered?

Stolas frowned, eyeing him and Blitzø felt his cheeks warm under the scrutiny.

“Are you quite alright?” Stolas asked, a teasing lilt to his voice as Blitzø nodded. “Aw does Blitzø not like being snuck up on?”

Blitzø scoffed shyly and stood up, dusting his knees off. “You haven’t snuck up on me, Loon.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Blitzø. I know what I saw.” Stolas finally smiled warmly, and Blitzø offered a small smile return.

“Was brave,” he murmured, finally meeting Stolas’ gaze. “Doing that for you and your little girl.”

Stolas released a breathless, shuddering laugh and his shoulders relaxed with the exhalation. “Made up for storming off that time, hm?”

Blitzø paused then, looking at the Prince with his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “You good?”

Stolas sucked in air through his beak. “Normally you're the one to sneak up on me for a conversation,” he admitted, looking at Blitzø knowingly. “Wasn't sure I was going to make it over here. I thought my nerves were going vaporise me.”

Blitzø rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah... wasn't... I'm not good with... lots of people. Didn’t mean to ignore you... sorry.”

Stolas' heart warmed at the awkward apology and he shook his head with a smile. “It is the thought that counts. You were there when it mattered. Thank you for that, by the way. Barbie too.”

Blitzø’s expression grew uncomfortable and he furrowed his eyebrows. “I literally did f*ck all. I just stood there.”

Stolas tutted at him and folded his arms. “You were there, it meant a lot to me, take the damn thank you.”

He blushed at the demand. “...welcome,” he mumbled.

“That's better. I better keep an eye on you. Letting you out my sight for a few days was a bad idea."

Blitzø’s head snapped up and Stolas grinned teasingly, cerise-rose hues shining.

“Starting to argue with the Crazy Laundry Loon.”

Blitzø's heart skipped a beat and he laughed nervously, feeling some of his anxiety finally melt away. “I'd never.” He glanced up at the owl and regarded him thoughtfully. “You alright, though?”

“I've had a rough couple days,” Stolas admitted, tilting his head. He squinted in the light and frowned. “As have you by the looks of it. You look like you had a tussle with a bunch of cats! What did you do?!” He reached out, his fingers curling around Blitzø’s scarred wrist, studying the network of scratches adorning his arms. Blitzø was just as startled by Stolas’ touch as Stolas’ was at the state of him.

“It’s fine,” he mumbled again, embarrassed by the attention.

“Not fine. Luckily, I'm well versed in patching people up. Come on, lets get those cleaned before you get an infection.” Stolas’ tone clearly declared that he wouldn't take no for an answer and Blitzø reluctantly followed him towards the RV. He ignored the eyes that followed him, and he nearly walked into the Prince when said demon abruptly stopped – a common occurrence, it seemed.

“Odrega, would you mind if I borrowed your RV and Med Kit?” Stolas called up to the Snowy Owl, shielding his eyes with a hand.

Odrega waved with a smile and Stolas opened the RV door.

“Sit.” Stolas motioned to the small booth and Blitzø slumped down, propping his chin on his palm, waiting for the owl to collect everything needed. When Stolas finally moved to sit opposite him, Blitzø shifted, ensuring their knees didn't brush. “Ready?”

Blitzø hummed lazily, wincing as Stolas pressed an ointment soaked wad of cotton wool to his skin. He glanced at the bottle of rubbing alcohol and groaned. “Stings like a f*cking bitch.”

Stolas threw him a pitiful smile. “Poor baby,” he cooed.

“f*ck off.”

“You did well though,” Stolas changed the subject, though the grin didn't leave his face. “I'm glad you made it back safe.”

Blitzø was quiet, leaning away as Stolas worked. After what seemed like an age he turned to him. “You worry?” He asked tentatively, tail coiling anxiously.

Stolas paused, cotton wool poised just millimetres from rouge and ivory skin before continuing. “I did.” He was a little surprised that the Imp asked such a direct question. “I worried that Barbie wouldn’t cope without you, too.”

Blitzø winced at the burning sensation now crawling up his skin. “Barbie... didn’t cause any trouble, did she?”

“Barbie, is more like you than I gave her credit for,” Stolas sighed, inspecting Blitzø’s other arm. “She jumped in to help rescue Pria, and jumped in to calm Octavia down when she had a panic attack. Barbie is a good demon, too.” Stolas cerise-rose gaze met Blitzø’s then. “You don't mind about her giving Via the-”

“No,” Blitzø cut in a little harshly, and Stolas looked at him in surprise.

Blitzø didn't want to talk about it, the Prince could see that. He could also see that Blitzø knew he'd completely given that fact away rudely. He opened his mouth, more than just a little panicked.

Stolas held up a hand. “No, was good enough,” he told him reassuringly. “You don't need to worry so much about how you say things.”

Blitzø stared at the avian before him. Just stared like Stolas had spoken in another language and the owl gave him a funny look.

“What?” Stolas asked, trying not to laugh at the Imp’s expression.

“I'm... not good with words,” Blitzø mumbled, painfully self-conscious all over again.

Stolas' gaze lingered on him for a few moments before placing the cotton wool aside. He took a scarred hand in both of his own, startling the other male outright.

Stolas patted the Imp’s palm reassuringly and dipped his head so their eyes met. “You're fine with words. I have no problem with how you talk or what you say. I know this is easier said than done, but please don't worry so much. If you did say something that upset me – and you'd be hard pressed to accomplish that – I wouldn't just blow up at you, darling. I would at least clarify what you were saying.”

It had come out of his mouth naturally and so Stolas offered Blitzø a reassuring smile before releasing his hand, picked up the cotton wool again in order to carry on. The owl’s face felt a little warm and Stolas was worried as to whether the endearing term had made Blitzø feel like a child. It's what he was though – a darling, not a child.

Stolas giggled at the thought and Blitzø looked up at questioningly.

To Hell with it.

“I called you darling,” he tittered, biting his bottom lip in a bid to literally bite back the grin.

Blitzø snorted. “I heard.”

“True though. Was the first thing I thought that day you did the laundry with me.”

Blitzø didn't reply, and Stolas could see the Imp’s cheeks burning in the low light.

“So on a scale of one to ten, how uncomfortable am I making you right now?”

Blitzø glared and withdrew his arm. “Great,” he muttered, looking away from the Prince. “You're the sad*stic First-Aid Loon, too.”

Stolas laughed, preparing a new wad of cotton. “Definitely don't want you arguing with that one. You might enjoy it.” He checked Blitzø’s arms over, the owl’s smile being replaced with a frown. “Some of these might scar. Hopefully you won't have to go out there alone again from now.”

Blitzø furrowed his eyebrows, the feelings that Stolas’ initial words ignited quickly being overwritten by confusion.

Stolas caught the expression and sighed as he stood, motioning to Blitzø’s face. He groaned when the Prince gently glided obsidian talons between his horns. He desperately tried not to look at Stolas, and Stolas poked an ivory cheek knowingly.

“This is happening. Stop trying to escape.”

Blitzø shifted uncomfortably in his seat and huffed, finally daring to look Stolas in the face. “What you mean I won't have to go out alone?”

“New rules,” Stolas stated. “No-one is allowed out of camp unattended. That's part of the reason they went on a Highway Run instead of to the City.” He dabbed the new piece of cotton wool to Blitzø’s cheek. “They went to fetch an escape car, to keep down by the Lake in case any Damned come by. Gives people a chance if Damned show up. Again.”

“Hm,” he grunted thoughtfully, gaze lowering as Stolas finally stepped back and pet Blitzø’s head a smile. He glared immediately and moved away. “f*ck off.”

“Oh, you're such a gloomy little thing!” Stolas exclaimed, gathering up the bloodied cotton balls and plastic wrapping, throwing them in a carrier bag he was using to collect the trash.

“No I’m f*cking not,” Blitzø shot back defensively, not moving from where he sat.

“Whatever you say, Blitzy.”

He got up then and Stolas flashed him a grin, knowing the Imp wouldn't move past unless the owl stepped right out the way.

“Move.”

“I'm putting stuff away.” Stolas gestured to the box of medical supplies he had been using and threw Blitzø a pitiful pout. “So grumpy after I fixed you up.”

Blitzø rubbed a hand down his face and Stolas relented with a titter. “You really can't handle it can you.”

He looked at Stolas pleadingly and the Prince closed the cupboard.

“Come on then, Blitzy. Let us set you free.”

Blitzø followed Stolas out of the RV, inhaling the evening air with a sigh of relief as they stepped onto the dusty ground. His shoulders slumped as he rubbed his eyes tiredly, feeling everything catch up to him. He felt someone nudge his arm and he looked at Stolas standing next to him with folded arms. He followed the owl’s gaze and groaned at the sight of Barbie trying to convince Verosika to engage in clearly unwanted activities.

“You going to rescue her?”

“No.”

Blitzø started walking and Stolas chuckled, following him through the camp. Blitzø slowed down so they were at an even pace, inhaling nervously and glancing at the Prince who rubbed feathered arms in the cooling air.

“Thanks for... that.”

Stolas smiled without looking at him. “You're very welcome. Thank you for letting me bully you.”

There was that shy grin again. “Don't get f*cking used to it.”

They stopped at the edge of Stolas’ tent and he hesitated, eyes wondering to the tent at the opposite side of the camp. His light-hearted mood started to crumple and he felt his knees tremble.

“She's not going to accept this so easily.” He looked up at Blitzø who nodded grimly, hands in his pockets as he scuffed at the ground.

“Yeah. I figured. You got your foot in the door though.”

Stolas kicked the Imp’s boot with his foot as it edged dangerously close to the zipper of the tent. “Don't you kick dirt into my room,” he chided good-naturedly.

Blitzø stepped back without a word, looking back at Stella's tent. “If anything happens, I am only there, you know,” He kicked in the direction of his own tent which was situated on the other side of a secondary, but smaller fire pit.

It wasn't even a distance worth mentioning.

“I know. I just... I feel... I thought I'd feel safer and...” Stolas trailed off, running a hand through slate-grey tufts.

“Better the devil you know,” Blitzø finished knowingly as Stolas puffed out his cheeks, nodding with raised eyebrows.

“Every time I think of what could be coming, I feel sick.” The low light of the camp fire flickered behind them and Stolas shuddered. “Believe me, something is coming.”

Suddenly, Stolas became aware of how quiet the camp was. The main group had already retired and he noticed that Odrega was already setting up his nightly watch.

Blitzø took a single step towards the Prince who looked up at him curiously. The Imp looked a little unsure for a moment, glancing back over at Stella's tent before then he turned to Stolas with an intense shine in his aureate hues.

“I’m not gonna f*cking tell you that it’s gonna be fine, because I’m not dumb enough to try and lie to you just to make you feel better. What you did today was f*cking brave, and if I could have done that with my old man-” he broke off, looking away in frustration. “What I’m trying to say is that you already did the hardest part. sh*t will hit the fan but you proved you’re strong enough to deal with it, and you need to remember that.” He shifted slightly as Stolas blinked at him. “Might sound a bit weird but... I was proud of you for doing that.”

Stolas' heart swelled and he clasped his hands to the front of his face, cerise-rose hues positively sparkling.

Blitzø was so unbearably embarrassed, and Stolas desperately wanted to find the words to express how undeniably grateful he was for the honesty and encouragement.

“That's the second time since I've known you that you've rendered me utterly speechless,” Stolas whispered. “I never even knew happy tears were a thing outside of Octavia hatching…”

Blitzø ducked his head, hiding the blush that the words ignited.

“I really want to hug you again.”

Blitzø stepped back as a small whine left him. “No...” He looked at Stolas helplessly. “Why you wanna hug me, I said what I said because it's f*cking true. Just… f*cking feel better. Don’t need to hug me for being honest with you.”

Stolas gasped animatedly, eyes widened as he stared at Blitzø, making his blush deepen. “The want to hug you just went from a solid ten to a twenty.”

Blitzø leant forward slightly as he repeated his last answer. “No.” He leant back on his heels and looked the Prince square in the face. “I’m just being a good friend.”

“Solid fifty. A big thank you hug,” he grinned, eyes boring into the Imp. “Friends hug each other, too,” he added quickly.

Blitzø threw him a desperate look. “I’m not doing anything you need to f*cking thank me for,” he stressed a little urgently. “I told you the truth because you need to know, and I don't know if anyone has told you or is gonna tell you, and if no-one tells you then you'll worry and you shouldn't worry because you got nothing ahead of you that you can't handle. You proved that, like I said. You’re strong Stolas, you just need to f*cking know that for yourself.”

Stolas just stared at him with awe, hands on his cheeks. “It went from want, to need and it's now at one hundred percent,” he whispered, completely besotted.

Blitzø just stared back at the owl incredulously. “Why the hell do- ooft.”

The air was forced out of his lungs as Stolas' body collided with him non-too-gently, having decided to go ahead and hug him despite the arguments against doing so.

Blitzø stumbled a little and held his arms away from Stolas’ frame, blinking in shock.

Stolas’ arms wrapped around Blitzø’s middle and he was squeezed tightly.

“I know, you can hate me after this. I'm only giving you half an apology because really, this is absolutely necessary and I like it. I'm sorry you don't though. Kinda,” Stolas rushed, sounding as apologetic as he possibly could.

“Uh...”

Blitzø lost what little capability he had in formulating any kind of speech and lowered his arms, awkwardly resting his hands upon slight shoulders. Stolas sighed and looked up, eyes bright. Blitzø blinked down at him only for the Prince to grin wickedly.

“So if this is how you get with hugs, how do you react to getting kissed?”

They seemed to be the magic words that freed Blitzø from his muted spell. Instantly he froze up and he scowled, gripping Stolas’ shoulders and pushing him away.

“Off.”

He dusted the front of his shirt the minute he was released, and he glared at Stolas indignantly.

All he got was an innocent head tilt. “It was an honest question.”

“Not f*cking answering that.”

“Hey.” Stolas waved his hands in front of Blitzø’s face and he lifted his gaze, seeing a more sincere smile gracing the owl’s beak. “I meant it. The hug was absolutely necessary. Nothing I could ever say, would express how much your words meant. Even if you don't like them.”

Blitzø swallowed and ducked his head, slipping his hands back into his pockets. “They ain't... that bad. The hugs.”

“Is that you giving me permission?” Stolas teased, poking him in the side.

“No it f*cking ain't,” he huffed agitatedly, dodging the touch. “I swear down, you f*cking Crazy Loon-”

“Careful you two.”

They both started, turning to find Bee behind them. Stolas' joy seemed to dissipate instantly and he suddenly felt a little ashamed.

“Sorry, Bee.” She fumbled with her hands a little awkwardly. Blitzø was completely unabashed, rubbing his side where he’d been poked.

Bee threw the Prince a confused look. “No need to apologise, I just don't want Stella to come out here and ruin your fun.”

Stolas felt a sense of relief as he moved, giving Bee room to join them. “Mm. We were saying that Stella won't accept my 'divorce' that easily.”

Bee raised an eyebrow. “Looked to me like you were assaulting poor Blitzø, here.”

Stolas grinned at the ground. “Well... that too.”

“f*ck off.” Blitzø couldn't hold back the shy smile at their soft giggles as he pushed at the down-trodden grass beneath them.

“Wanna sit by the fire?” Bee suddenly offered. “There's still coffee and everyone's pretty much gone to bed.”

Blitzø paused, looking up to find both Royals staring at him expectantly. “Uh...”

He wouldn't lie, he was tired and he'd been longing for sleep for more than one day. However, there was warmth spreading throughout his body at the fact that both Stolas and Bee seemed to want his company. He looked at Stolas, knowing how brave he'd been, facing his fears.

It was high time that Blitzø started doing the same.

“Sure.”

Chapter 10: Levitate - Part I

Chapter Text

They'd ended up sitting around the smaller fire-pit between Stolas’ tent and Blitzø's.

As soon as they were all settled, a sense of calm washed over the Prince. He was holding his mug in both hands, relishing in the heat it gave off.

“This is nice,” he mused, staring into the warm embers.

“It is,” Bee agreed, staring up at the stars as she held her mug in her lap. “We should make this a thing.”

Blitzø just stared at them both with a puzzled look on his face. “Isn’t this what you usually f*cking do?”

Bee lowered her head and sat up. “Unfortunately, no.” She poured herself another cup of coffee, ears flickering back.

“We should definitely make it a thing,” Stolas' eyes travelled up Blitzø's jeans, up his shirt until the owl finally met the Imp’s scarlet gaze. “That means you, too,” Stolas told him bossily.

Bee raised an eyebrow. “Not that I don't second that, but what if he doesn't want to sit out here with us?”

Stolas glanced over to her. “He has no choice. It's what friends do, or so I am told. They ‘hang out’.”

Blitzø smirked and followed Bee's earlier actions, re-filling his mug. “Especially during laundry day.”

Stolas raised his mug in agreement. “Especially, during laundry day,” he confirmed.

“Speaking of,” Blitzø nodded his head in the direction of his tent. “I don't think my clothes are gonna be salvageable. Got pretty f*cking ugly out there.”

Bee looked at him with a small frown. “You did more than you needed to. If you'd have gotten hurt I'd have hauled Striker across the coals.”

Blitzø blinked at her in surprise. “No need for that. I go out there whether Striker tells me to or not. It’s not a big deal.”

“Therein lies the issue,” Bee sighed, looking at him. “Striker shouldn't be telling you to do anything. He can ask by all means but you're not obligated to provide for all of us at all.”

Stolas was wearing a victorious grin. “See? She gets it. You're the only one who don't.” He paused as Bee looked at him. “Doesn't,” he quickly corrected, looking a little embarrassed.

“Really? You spend just over a week with Blitzø and already you're picking up his speech. I cannot, believe you,” Bee chided, playfully smacking Stolas' thigh. She wagged a finger at Blitzø, next. “Don't you be influencing my Posh friend here.”

“f*ck off.” Blitzø sat back and let himself sink into the chair. “If anyone's a bad influence, it's him.”

Stolas groaned and let his arms flail out, mug only being held up precariously by his fingertips as he stared up at the sky. “I'm a good influence. I teach you to look after your clothes-”

“You fix them.”

“I give you hugs-”

“You f*cking force them on me,” Blitzø deadpanned and Stolas started giggling, still staring upwards.

Bee watched the exchange with a smile. “You know what though?”

Both Stolas and Blitzø looked to her, and she drained her mug for the second time.

“You've been happier since knowing Blitzø.”

Stolas’ cerise-rose hues met the man in question and his cheeks flushed visibly despite the dark around them.

“Yes,” Stolas breathed. “Yes I have.”

“Shame. I’ve been miserable as ever, since I met you.” Blitzø's eyes glinted with warmth and Stolas tutted.

Bee snorted as Stolas glared at him indignantly and nudged his leg with a toe.

“Know the feeling,” Bee agreed and chuckled when Stolas smacked her arm lightly.

“You're both mean,” he pouted, sitting up straight and adjusting his sweater. He glanced over to Stella's tent for the umpteenth time and Bee frowned sympathetically.

“Quit it.” Blitzø kicked Stolas’ shin non-too-gently, which caused Bee's eyes to widen. “She isn’t gonna do sh*t to you whilst I'm f*cking sat here.”

Stolas sighed in frustration. “I know, I know.”

“He’s just scared,” Bee offered softly.

Annoyance flashed across Blitzø's face. “Got no f*cking reason to be. Proved that today.” He turned to Stolas with an intense glare. “You did sh*t today that I haven’t seen anyone else in my life ever do,” he told the owl firmly. “I’ve known demons who have been in the sh*t you have, and not one of them did what you did.” He seemed to become self conscious then and he stared down at his mug sulkily. “So quit it. You’re safe. I promise.”

Stolas was giving him that wide eyed look filled with adoration and he edged away slightly, looking at the ruffled owl wearily. Bee was speechless and blinked at him in sheer astonishment. He finally caught her expression and thus furrowed his eyebrows.

“What?”

Bee licked her lips and turned to Stolas, pointing at Blitzø as though he couldn't hear them. “How old is he- how old are you?” she asked, turning to him mid-sentence.

The question came out of no-where and he wasn't sure what compelled him to answer it but he did. “Thirty, why?”

Bee nodded and then turned to Stolas. “You're going to marry him, you know that don't you.”

Stolas laughed and nodded his head as Blitzø threw Bee a dirty look. “I know,” Stolas tittered playfully, and Blitzø dipped his head down, not really sure if he was being made fun of or not. Stolas must have read his mind because the Prince sighed, looking at him with that level of sincerity that made his heart forget its normal rhythm.

“Bee’s saying exactly what I keep telling you,” Stolas informed him kindly. “You're an absolute darling.”

Blitzø groaned and sank into his chair tiredly, head tilted back as he exhaled in defeat. He wasn't going out of his way to be anything but honest and somehow that had landed him in ‘darling’ territory.

It could be worse.

Bee frowned. “That's funny, I thought I said you were going to marry him.”

“f*ck off.”

They were silent for a moment until Stolas snorted, making them both look at him. He shook his head, greatly amused by his thoughts. “Could you imagine Stella's reaction if I announced that I was married to someone else not even a day after my 'divorce'?”

The thought seemed to tickle Bee who laughed quietly before suddenly becoming quiet. “What's she going to do when she sees you two?”

Blitzø furrowed his eyebrows and Stolas frowned at her questioningly before seemingly catching on.

“I myself am not sure...” He worried at his lower lip nervously. “I… am not even sure that I actually care.”

Blitzø waited patiently for some sort of explanation and Stolas turned to him curiously.

“If Stella tried to attack you, what would you do?”

Blitzø scoffed and relaxed back. “Same thing I was gonna f*cking do the first time she laid hands on you in front of me.”

They both seemed satisfied with that, but Bee chewed at her lip anxiously after Stolas seemed content with leaving Blitzø in the dark.

“She's at her worst when she sees Stolas with other men,” she explained, glancing at Stolas apologetically but continuing on anyway. “Don't hate me for telling him this, Stolas. Stella has always harboured resentment towards you being gay, and that bitch is the sole reason your plumage is so grey, and why your feathers are so thin. I myself am a washed out shade of my natural palette. You’re not. Stella wouldn’t even let you preen properly in case you caught someone’s attention.”

Stolas sighed and patted Bee's arm in forgiveness. “That is true,” he admitted. “I got too many looks one day and that was it. Away with the floof.” He smiled at Blitzø with more joy than anyone felt appropriate. “I was a wonderful florentine blue, and I had very lovely feathers.”

Blitzø smirked despite the heaviness of the conversation. “I knew that.”

“I swear it's down to Stella that my crown feathers started going a little pale so early. All that stress,” Stolas mused a little sorrowfully before he tittered, unable to stay morose for long. “At the very least, I am not bald.”

Blitzø snorted and Bee clicked her tongue in disapproval.

“So how exactly is this going to work? We're going to just... hang out before bed?” Stolas asked, swirling the dregs of his coffee around the bottom of his mug.

“Pretty much, long as it's Odrega on watch,” Bee answered tiredly.

“You are right though, Stella will inevitably see me and Blitzø around camp. She's going to utterly lose her sh*t.”

“Let her lose it,” Blitzø breathed, closing his eyes as he leaned as far back into the chair as he could. “She hasn’t got anything else to lose and all she's gonna gain if she touches you is a broken face. Without you she’s nothing, and she knows it. So let her be f*cking nothing.”

“Stolas Buckzo really has a nice ring to it.”

“Be my Maid of Honour, Bee?”

“f*ck off.”

They both giggled and Blitzø smiled, eyes still closed. He'd never admit it out loud and he wasn't sure he would even be capable of putting his feelings into words at that point, but as the three of them sat there, he felt for the first time like he belonged.

Stolas could do this.

He had done this every day, since the day they built the camp.

His heart raced and his chest felt constricted. His mind was racing, his stomach was twisting in knots and his lungs were forcing more air out of them than what they were taking in.

All he had to do, was step outside his tent.

He had been so brave, so courageous and so confident the day before, that he was almost offended with himself for finding this difficult.

Octavia tugged at his hand and Stolas bit back tears, feeling utterly lost. He absolutely did not regret his actions or his words but now he was dealing with the unknown. He swallowed thickly and told himself to stop being such a f*cking coward.

There was no way he was crumbling now.

Stolas shakily gripped the zip and the sound of the metal links separating resounded uncomfortably in his ears. The buzz of insects got louder as the blue nylon door fell away, allowing the sunlight to filter through.

The air was cool in the early morning but Stolas could instantly tell it was going to be unbearable by midday. He zipped his tent back up as Octavia obediently waited by his side.

Stolas felt suffocated already, not wanting to look over to the main camp-fire where everyone would be sat for breakfast.

A whistle immediately caught his attention and he blinked in the direction it came.

Stolas’ cerise-rose hues blew wide and his voice cinched up as Bee waved him over from the small fire-pit they had sat at the night before. What shocked him further was that Blitzø was also there, looking tired as he raised his mug in greeted, and Stolas hurried over, feeling panicked.

“Oh my Seven,” Stolas breathed as Bee stood to wrap her arms around him. He held on for a long time, fighting back tears and feeling a huge weight lift off him at the knowledge that they were there, waiting for him.

As he pulled away he looked to Blitzø who shook his head. “You stole your last one off me last night.”

Stolas laughed tearfully as Bee sat him down. “How did you-”

“Blitzø,” Bee said simply as she reached for a mug, pouring Stolas a cup of coffee.

Stolas sniffed and looked at the Imp expectantly.

“No way you were gonna be hanging round that lot after yesterday.”

“Where have you two been all my life. I was nearly- I didn't think I'd get out the tent,” Stolas told them as he handed the bowl Bee had passed him, to Octavia.

Blitzø offered him a shy smile. “You did though.”

Stolas swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and nodded, feeling strangely proud.

“We're having breakfast here?” Octavia asked, looking up at Blitzø and blinking curiously. He blinked back at her and a smile slowly spread across her face.

“Yes, Starfire, we are,” Stolas answered her, holding a hand up as Bee offered him breakfast. “I swear, if I eat anything I'll just throw it up.” He turned back to Octavia, tidying her charcoal tufts. “Is it okay if we eat here?”

Octavia nodded enthusiastically, perching next to Cyril who had his mouth full of dry cornflakes. “Is Auntie Barbie joining us?” She asked, making Blitzø choke on his coffee.

Stolas smiled, feeling more at ease with the title than he had previously. “When Blitzø goes to get her, yes.”

Blitzø groaned at that and Octavia looked at him expectantly. He huffed and emptied his mug, pointing to it as Stolas poured the children cups of water. “The fee is my refill.”

“Of course, dear.”

Blitzø stalked off and Bee finally sat down, looking at her bowl of cornflakes with a depressing sigh. “I miss milk.”

“I miss everything edible,” Stolas agreed, filling up Blitzø's mug as instructed. “What's on the agenda for today?”

Bee crunched her mouthful quickly, making Stolas smirk as Bee covered her mouth with one hand, swallowing and reaching for a cup of water. “f*ck, that's dryer than a f*cking Nun.” She took a sip, ignoring Stolas’ tut. “I don't know about you, but the Lake sounds like a nice idea. I wouldn't mind going for a swim with the kids since they moved the car down there last night.”

Stolas raised his eyebrows and nodded, seeing Blitzø on his way back, sister in tow. Stolas held out the Imp’s mug as he dropped unceremoniously back into his chair. Barbie sat somewhat hesitantly next to him, rubbing her face.

“Morning, Barbie.”

“Hello, Auntie Barbie.”

At the sound of Octavia's voice she looked up, smiling at the owlette pleasantly. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Coffee?” Stolas offered.

“I won't say no,” Barbie replied musically, looking around at their little group. “So, this the new arrangement then, aye? Breakfast with Pigeon and Vixen.”

Bee threw Barbie a questioning look, raising her eyebrows as she turned to find the female Imp a bowl.

“If you'd like,” Stolas answered with a small smile. “I'm not exactly fond of big groups. Besides, this fire-pit is closer. Cornflakes?”

Barbie Wire shrugged and took the bowl, eyeing her silent brother who had nothing but his mug of coffee.

Her eyes drifted to Stolas who also lacked an actual breakfast and she let out a small puff of air. “Well I'll be damned,” she drawled, leaning one hand on her knee as she turned towards Blitzø. “You and Pigeon here are two peas in a f*cking pod. What is it you two got against breakfast?”

Blitzø let his head drop back against the chair and Bee chuckled.

“It's the most important meal of the day, too!” Octavia piped up.

Barbie turned to her with a wide grin. “That it is lil hoot. Outta the mouths of babes, as they say.”

“I’m not hungry,” Blitzø told her, glancing at his sister in his peripheral. Barbie shrugged and looked to Stolas who shook his head.

“I'm not feeling good,” he admitted, arms wrapped around himself.

Bee paused. “You know, you haven't fully recovered from the other day in the RV. You were so sick, honey. Then you've got all this stress going on-” She turned sideways in her seat and pressed the back of her hand to Stolas' forehead and cheeks. “-you're still running a pretty high temperature.”

Blitzø looked at them questioningly and Bee nodded at him. “Stolas got heatstroke the day before you got back. Couldn't even keep water down.”

Blitzø frowned at Stolas who leant forward, elbows on his knees as he held his head in his hands.

“How the f*ck did you manage to get heatstroke?” Blitzø asked, sounding a little more than just irritated. Barbie looked at him with a puzzled expression, apparently not used to hearing her twin be so forward.

“Stolas was doing laundry,” Bee told him. “Hand washing everything in buckets since the Lake was off-limits.”

Blitzø's face darkened and he crossed his ankles. “I should'a known you'd kill yourself over f*cking laundry. When I said you were the Crazy Laundry Loon, I didn't mean crazy as in f*cking suicidal.”

Barbie's eyes were so wide, Bee was genuinely worried they'd pop out of their sockets. She almost enjoyed seeing the Imp rendered speechless by her brother's behaviour towards her best friend.

Stolas groaned and shook his head. “I had to get it done, it was getting bad and I was feeling sick anyway. Then Stella turned up and Verosika... just-”

“Speaking of Stella,” Bee cut in, lowering her voice despite them being the only ones up and about. “She's on watch today. I think Striker took Andrealphus and Odrega on a perimeter check.”

Stolas lowered his hands and looked at her, colour draining from his face. “They’re both still listening to Striker? After what happened? Whole reason Striker never did sh*t about Stella was because of Andre. Did Striker change his mind?”

Blitzø nudged him with his foot. “No-one changed their mind about a damn thing.”

Stolas inhaled slowly, and exhaled even slower. “Lake sounds like a great idea, but I don't know how safe it is down there. Especially with the kids.”

“Got laundry to do?” Blitzø asked a little snidely, nudging Stolas again with his boot.

“No, just wanted to take the kids down there. It'd be good for Stolas to cool off anyway,” Bee answered for the Prince, seeing that Stolas was already past answering questions. “Striker's got everyone else chored-up with preparing the catches from yesterday. I'd already told him that me and Stolas would be taking the kids away from the buzz.”

Blitzø tilted his head at Stolas, who pouted at him glumly.

“Think food would just make you feel worse. You’re not gonna handle a bunch of meat cooking, are you.” He sighed as the owl shook his head in agreement.

Barbie hummed for a second before she slapped Blitzø on the back, making him flinch forward and clench his jaw, expression turning sour. “Well, long as you prissy puss*es aren’t planning on getting naked, I'm sure Blitzina here wouldn't mind playing escort for you and the kiddies.”

Stolas and Bee stared at the twins with wide eyes.

Blitzø sucked in an audible breath through his gritted teeth and shrugged his sister’s hand off of his back.

“You wouldn't mind would you?” Barbie asked him worriedly. “I'd do it but I gotta help them dumb-asses with the deer and-”

Blitzø's expression changed upon hearing his sister suddenly start to explain herself, audibly genuine in doing so. “I don't mind at all, just quit slapping my back. It f*cking hurts.”

Barbie flashed him a grin and nodded at the two Royals. “He's a good boy.”

“I wish I'd known that sooner,” Stolas admitted, slumping to the side. “All that time wasted.”

“Okay, enough of that,” Bee chided. “Cyril, up you get. Time to get your towel and bucket. You too Octavia, come on.”

The children hurriedly handed over their bowls and plastic cups, expressions excited at the possibilities ahead. Bee hopped around her chair, patting Stolas on the shoulder. “I'll grab us our shirts.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Barbie frowned and looked at the owl calculatingly. “You ain't in good sorts are you, Pigeon.”

“Nope. Kind of a shame you won't be coming with us. Octavia would have loved that.” Stolas drank in Barbie's stunned expression, truthfully finding the older Buckzo twin just as endearing as her brother. “Next time?”

Barbie Wire nodded numbly and Stolas smiled at the fact that he had found a way of knocking at least one of Barbie's walls down. He watched as Blitzø sighed and got to his feet.

“Bring a shirt, you're not escaping the water either,” Stolas told him, dipping his chin.

Blitzø waved him off and headed towards his tent.

Stolas watched him go with a weak grin before turning back to Barbie who was watching him carefully.

“Do join us for breakfast again, Barbie. I don't know how you really feel about all this but what you did for Octavia... I couldn't have been more blessed in that moment.”

Barbie's eyes widened even further. “Aw... sh*t, Pigeon. Don't say sh*t like that.”

She honestly looked devastated and Stolas smiled. “You and your brother are the best Imps I've ever met.”

For a second, Stolas thought her eyes watered and thus decided to back off.

“However, I must warn you that if Blitzø comes back in a foul mood it will be my fault.”

Barbie’s expression returned to something more... Barbie, and she raised an eyebrow as Stolas tittered.

“I'm going to tease him so bad.”

She chuckled and set her bowl on Blitzø's now vacated seat. “You saying you like my brother?”

Stolas blinked at her with a smile. “I think your brother is wonderful. Little bit worried about Stella though. She never let me have friends, but male friends? No-o.”

Barbie frowned slightly at the word 'friends' but she shrugged it off, decidedly not going down that road since her brother was walking back towards them.

“For what it's worth, Pigeon. I think my baby brother likes you, too.”

She offered the owl a lop-sided grin and said owl flashed her one of his own before reaching towards Blitzø who stopped short at seeing feathered arms outstretched in his direction.

“No.”

Stolas whined loudly and Barbie was back to feeling like she was in an alternate universe.

“I'm sick though. I need help out my chair.”

Blitzø walked around and tilted the chair on its front legs, forcing Stolas to stand with a yelp. He glared at Blitzø whilst steadying himself.

“How could you.”

Stolas looked utterly betrayed and Blitzø flashed the Prince a wide grin that in no way reached his eyes, face returning to his usual scowl.

“I told you. You stole your last damn hug off me.”

Barbie frowned.

She didn't normally consider her brother a true jerk, but if she was being honest, that's how Blitzø was coming across, and she worried that her sibling would blow the damn relationship out the water before it even started.

“Keep telling yourself that, Blitzø,” came Stolas' chipper reply, catching Barbie off guard. She'd expected the Royal to be upset at being outright rejected like that. Instead, Stolas seemed to be delighted at the fact. “You brought another shirt, right?”

“Yeah. I need to drop in a list for the next run though.”

“Oh?” Stolas took a sip of water and offered him the bottle. “What do you need?”

“Bolts. There's a game shop on the outskirts of the city.” He took the bottle from Stolas and sighed. “I got one bolt left. Not gonna bring f*ck-all down with that.”

Stolas hummed thoughtfully before placing a hand on Blitzø’s shoulder, adjusting the feathers adorning his knee. “Well.”

Barbie's jaw dropped when Blitzø didn't even flinch, just glanced at the owl and shifted his arm so Stolas could better support himself.

“If you give me the list, I can drop it by Moxxie. He always goes out his way to make sure I have everything I need, and he's good with places like that.”

Blitzø lowered his arm and Stolas stepped away from him.

“You don’t mind?” Blitzø asked, shy all over again.

“Of course not. You do more than enough providing around here, about time we started providing for you, hm?”

Blitzø didn't answer and Stolas just smiled like he hadn't expected him to. Blitzø started nibbling on the bottle cap and Stolas tutted, pulling it away from him.

Chapter 11: Levitate - Part II

Chapter Text

“Why is the Lake blue, the sea blue, but the pond at the park, green?”

Blitzø slowed in his walking as Octavia's question reached his ears. She was walking slightly behind him with Stolas, who was holding her hand tightly.

They were heading towards the Lake and Cyril who had been quiet up until now, looked to Octavia with an unreadable expression. “The sea can be green too, sometimes.”

“And brown,” Octavia added.

“Grey, too.”

Bee and Stolas exchanged smiles as their children discussed the matter with interest.

“Can you catch fish with a crossbow?”

Blitzø turned, slightly surprised that a question had been directed at him. “If you’re skilled enough,” he answered Cyril's question simply.

Octavia suddenly tilted her chin up at him, coming to walk on his left side. “Well, are you?”

Stolas gasped at his daughter and released an astonished laugh. “Octavia!”

Octavia glanced back at him. “It's a valid question.”

Stolas threw Blitzø an apologetic look but was surprised to find him looking at Octavia with nothing but curiosity. Had Stolas not known him, he would have been more than a little concerned, but even though the owl wasn't entirely sure what Blitzø was thinking, he wasn't as alarmed as he would have once been.

“Of course he's skilled!” Cyril suddenly came to walk on Blitzø’s right side, leaning forward so he could see Octavia. “Didn't you see him bring back a-all those animals?”

Stolas and Bee chuckled, walking slightly behind them.

“I didn't want to see the dead things,” Octavia said quietly, looking ahead. Her charcoal feathers shimmered as she turned to look back up at her 'Auntie’s' brother. “What's the difference between a crossbow and a normal bow?”

Blitzø paused then, seemingly taken aback by her question and Stolas smiled to himself.

Octavia, for all her trauma and timidness, was far from mundane. Her thought processes were deep and they stretched far beyond her age. Stolas had been wondering why his daughter had kept eyeing up the crossbow on Blitzø's back.

“There's a lot of differences,” Blitzø was telling her, looking at her as he spoke. “Different shape, for one. Different handling. Crossbow has bolts, Bow has arrows.”

Her smaller hand reached up and took hold of his, and Blitzø didn't even flinch, much to Stolas' surprise.

“I think a crossbow is cooler than a bow,” Cyril chipped in, sounding a little distracted as the Lake came into view.

“I do, too,” Octavia agreed.

“I guess that makes three of us,” Blitzø told them, guiding Octavia round a rock before letting her hand go so she could reach for the bag her Father had started to place down.

“Okay, before you run off, we're going to talk rules,” Bee announced, hands on her hips as both Octavia and Cyril straightened up attentively. “You don't leave either of our sides, you listen to everything Blitzø tells you and you don't go in the water without me, Blitzø or Stolas.”

“Blitzø is our bodyguard!” Cyril suddenly exclaimed and Octavia gasped, looking at her Father and the Imp in question with awe. Stolas smiled and Blitzø shook his head as though he couldn't understand the fascination.

“He is!”

“Hey,” Bee brought their attention back to her. “Do we understand the rules?”

“Yes,” they chorused, nodding their heads.

“No going in past your waist,” Stolas added, watching Octavia warningly. His daughter grinned sheepishly, having got in trouble before for ignoring that one many a time before.

Blitzø perched himself on one of the warm rocks lining the waters edge, placing his crossbow by his feet.

Stolas was pulling a pale blue tee-shirt over Octavia's head, Cyril was waiting for her by the waters edge and she ran towards him and Bee when she was ready.

It was quiet, bright, and the peaceful tranquillity around them eased his usually highly strung nerves. Stolas was still rummaging through one of the backpacks and he tossed something at Bee who caught it and thanked him.

Blitzø averted his gaze when they started exchanging their tops for the baggy tee-shirts everyone had decided to nominate as swimwear. Barbie had complained about it avidly when it became 'a thing'. Gone were the bikini days his sister adored.

Everyone had taken to wearing baggy shirts and shorts.

Blitzø didn't care, he had never seen the appeal – though one could argue he'd hardly seen the appeal in anyone at all. Hell, he'd state it himself quite happily.

“Okay, where'd I put that- oh.”

He glanced back over to the small group he was watching over to see Stolas zipping up the backpacks once more. He was wearing a red tee-shirt that reached just below his thighs. Red suited him, which seemed like a fairly evident thing considering he was a Prince.

Stolas looked about, seeing that Bee was sat in the shallows with the kids and that Blitzø wasn't even three feet from where he stood. Satisfied, he moved to join Bee, sitting cross-legged in the water, back to the lake as though he were placing himself between his child and an unknown danger.

Blitzø figured it must have been an instinctually parental thing to do.

Stolas was filling a small bucket with water and pouring it over Cyril's head, making him squeal as he ducked away. Blitzø's eyes turned to the area around them, holding his last bolt in his teeth as he pushed his foot through the stirrup of his crossbow, pulling back the cable with his hands and slipping his bolt into the flight groove.

“That looks like it hurts.”

Blitzø closed his eyes, cursing mentally before turning to Octavia who stood there, dripping wet. Her cerise pink hues were glued to the crossbow at his feet and he pulled his foot from its stirrup, tilting it so she could see it better.

“How long have you used it?” She asked, sitting down before him.

“Only since all this happened. Used to have a gun back in Hell.”

“It looks brand new, but you only have one bolt,” she pointed out, turning her head to study the front of it. “Horton,” she read aloud, then glanced up at him. “Auntie Barbie is your big sister, isn't she.”

“Only by an hour,” he nodded, getting the feeling that there was a string of premeditated questions coming his way. She stared up at him for a few seconds and he realised with a sense of dread that Octavia was staring at him with the exact same expression her Father did when Stolas was reading him.

That wholly unnerved him and he sincerely hoped Octavia was not quite as astute as Stolas. She couldn't be – she was what, ten?

“Twelve.”

Blitzø started, eyes widening as he felt the colour drain from his face and he swallowed hard. Did she just-

“I'm twelve,” Octavia told him, head tilted to the side as her cerise hues bore into his. “How old are you?”

“Uh...” He blinked, shook his head and inhaled sharply, trying to find his voice and some assemblage of a thought. “Thirty, he finally bit out, moving his crossbow onto his lap. He glanced up at Stolas and Bee who were preoccupied with Cyril and each other. Stolas' gaze did flicker to him and Octavia, but he seemed content to leave them to their devices.

Or rather, leave Blitzø to his doom.

Octavia was still staring at him owlishly and her gaze was rather calculating. “My Daddy is thirty-one. He’s older than you.”

A spark of indignation shot through him. “Yeah? Well, I'm taller.” He stuck out his tongue for good measure and she returned it with a laugh.

“Only right now. Back in Hell, we’re all taller than you.”

“Not here you ain’t.”

“You're funny."

“Am I?”

Octavia nodded and glanced back at his crossbow. “You look after your crossbow, but you're not very careful with your bolts, huh.”

He couldn't not grin at that, chuckling as he shook his head. “Nope. No, I’m not at all careful with them.”

Octavia nodded quietly and Blitzø could almost see the clogs working behind her eyes. “I think you should be more careful with your bolts,” she told him flatly, making him raise an eyebrow. “You need them. Your crossbow... you love it a lot. That's like your heart and your bolts, they're kinda like your feelings. If you let them go in the wrong direction or go to the wrong person, you end up losing those feelings forever.” Her gaze met his evenly and Blitzø felt a great sense of unease crawl up his skin at how much older the owlette seemed in that moment. “Doesn't leave you with very much left for when you find the right person, does it.”

It was a statement, and Blitzø didn't know how to respond.

He understood her perfectly, but at the same time he was utterly in denial about a child telling him something like that. Finally he said the first thing that came to mind.

“You, are one creepy little girl, you know that?”

Octavia grinned widely and just like that she seemed like a child again. “Auntie Barbie says I'm just perce-perc...” She frowned and screwed up her face.

“Perceptive?” Blitzø offered, and she pointed at him with a triumphant nod.

“That one.”

“Why do you call her ‘Auntie’?” He asked, having wondered the entire time, and not yet had the chance to find out.

“Just felt like it,” Octavia shrugged, drawing lines in the grey pebbles around her.

Well.

That wasn't what he was expecting but what could he glean from that?

“You often come out with shi- uh... stuff... like that?” He asked, cursing inwardly at having to censor himself. Octavia grinned down at her idle doodling.

“Not if it makes you uncomfortable,” she chirped, and he grimaced. She was definitely Stolas' daughter.

Through and through, she was Crazy Laundry Loon’s daughter.

Octavia sighed almost sadly. “I just thought... if you love your crossbow so much, you should look after the things that make it useful.” She scribbled out her drawing and sat back. “People aren't useful if they don't have feelings.”

Her words resounded in Blitzø’s skull for a moment and he found himself worrying about what was truly going on in her young brain. He slid off the rock, sitting opposite her and sliding his crossbow over his shoulder loosely. He tapped the small stones in front of her.

“What makes you say that people aren't useful without feelings?” He questioned, looking at her intently.

“If you don't have feelings, you don't have real reasons to do things,” she explained. “You help people because you feel sad for them. You hurt people because you feel angry at them. You love people because you care.”

“People don't always feel things the same way,” he told her carefully. He had a sneaking suspicion that this had more to do with her feeling differently to things than others. “It doesn’t mean you haven’t got feelings at all just because they're different from everybody else’s.”

Octavia's eyes widened slightly. “How do you know?”

“I feel differently about lots of things,” He said as he gestured to himself. “I don't like hugs.”

“You don't like hugs?!” Octavia gasped, eyes so wide with astonishment that Blitzø nearly laughed. “I couldn't live without hugs. What about cuddles?” He shook his head and she suddenly looked concerned. “What do you do when you cry? Or when you're hurt?”

Blitzø scoffed shyly at that. “Well... I don't really cry. If I do, I don't cry around anyone.” He bit his thumbnail and fiddled with the stones. “If I’m hurt I just deal with it.”

“Because you feel differently about it,” Octavia acknowledged, nodding sadly. “So... even if I don't feel about things the same way... I'm still... usef- normal?”

Blitzø dropped his handful of pebbles and frowned. “What's this about?”

Octavia glanced behind her. “Promise you won't tell?”

Well sh*t.

He'd gotten himself into a fine situation.

If it was serious enough he would have to tell Stolas, he was pretty sure the owl could find a way of resolving it without putting him in it. He wasn't exactly jumping at the notion of this particular twelve year old harbouring resentment towards him.

“I promise.”

He'd done it now.

“Daddy told me that...we weren't going to be Mum- Stella's, family anymore,” she explained, correcting herself carefully. “Cyril lost his Daddy before all the bad stuff happened and he still cries about it.” She dipped her chin. “I keep thinking about what if my Mum were gone and all I can think is that... I can't wait for it to happen.”

Double sh*t.

He was way in over his head and this was not an area of conversation he was even remotely good at. There was no-one else here and he wasn't about to betray what little – big – trust she'd put in him.

“Your Mum hurt your Dad, right?”

Octavia nodded. “He cried a lot.”

“Cyril's Dad, he hurt his Mum?”

Octavia shook her head. “He was a bodyguard and he used to know Striker.”

Oh.

Oh. Well that wasn't something Blitzø had wanted to be privy to in any regard. He was pretty sure that relations between the Snake-Imp and the Sin of Gluttony were somewhat non-platonic in nature.

“My old man? He wasn’t a nice man.”

f*ck, he was treading a thin line all round and he honestly was torn between wanting out of this situation, knowing how she felt, and not wanting her to feel that way. Her face turned up at him and Blitzø smiled sadly.

“I didn’t feel sad when he died. I still have feelings though. I still love my sister, still like your Dad, and Bee. You don’t have to worry about what you feel when someone who hurt you is gone, or if you wish them gone. You should feel happy that they can't hurt you anymore. Would be weird if you didn’t.”

Octavia was quiet and then she nodded, getting to her feet. “I like you, Mister Blitzø,” she said simply. “I'm glad you met my Daddy, because he likes you, too, and you make him smile.”

Blitzø chuffed a little at that. “Yeah? Might like you, too, kid. Even if you’re a bit creepy.”

Octavia finally grinned and she leaned forward without warning, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him a quick hug. “Sorry,” she said suddenly, pulling away. “I forgot.”

Blitzø blinked, then snorted. “Definitely your Father’s daughter.”

“Everything alright over here?”

They both looked up to find a pale looking Stolas walking towards them, sounding breathless.

“f*cking Hell, Loon.” Blitzø stood up, carefully placing his feet around where Octavia was still sitting and offered Stolas a hand. The owl took it gratefully and Blitzø guided him to the rock he'd previously been sat on.

Stolas inhaled slowly and shivered.

“I wanted to feel cool, but now I'm regretting it.” He took the bottle of water offered and nodded at his daughter. “You give him a hard time, Starfire?”

Octavia nodded as she stood, marching back towards the water. She turned on her heel, looking at them both. “He likes you too, Daddy.”

Blitzø glared at her and Stolas laughed. “Thank you, Via.”

“You didn’t send her over here just to make me pay for not carrying you earlier, did you?”

Stolas shook his head. “No, I wish I'd thought of that though. Octavia said she wanted to ask you about your crossbow.” He placed a hand over his chest and winced uncomfortably.

“Really ain't feeling good, are you.”

“No.” Stolas shivered again, and Blitzø glared at the prince’s red top.

“You need outta that shirt.”

Stolas paused mid-sip only to smirk coyly at him. Blitzø furrowed his eyebrows before running over his words and exhaling a drawn out groan. It didn't stop his cheeks from trying to mimic the hue of the shirt that the Prince was wearing.

“Well.”

“Don't.”

“Blitzø, Buckzo.”

“Please, don't.”

“I have to say-“

“Say f*cking nothing.”

“I am almost tempted.”

He glared exasperatingly as Stolas grinned at his scowl. “Why you gotta do that.”

“You're the one that wants me out of my shirt.”

“I don't want-” He made a frustrated noise in his throat, a soft growl escaping him as Stolas laughed. The Imp gestured to all of Stolas’ frame. “You need to get outta those wet clothes.”

“Oh, not just my shirt?”

“f*ck off.”

“I have no other clothes,” Stolas admitted, and Blitzø huffed, rolling his eyes as he threw the owl the shirt he'd brought for himself. Stolas caught it at arms length, keeping it from getting damp and he raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not getting in there,” Blitzø huffed, lashing his tail in the direction of the water even as Stolas frowned. “No, no way. I'm out here keeping watch.”

“Does this mean I get to practice my striptease for you?”

Blitzø rubbed a hand down his face and breathed in what sounded like a pained breath of air. “Just… stop.” When he removed his hand, his cheeks were burning and he refused to look at the smug Prince.

“What was it like?” Stolas asked, and Blitzø glanced at him witheringly.

“What was what like?”

“The mental image I just gave you. Of me. Stripping.”

Blitzø blanched, losing his ability to mentally function for the second time that day. “I- will you just... I don't-”

“That good, huh.”

“f*cking Hell.” Blitzø dropped onto his backside, knees up as he slumped back against the rock.

Stolas grinned and peeled off the shirt, quickly buttoning up the dark red one that Blitzø had allowed him to borrow. The Prince glanced down at him, finding his back still turned as he chewed at his thumb.

Stolas wrung out the red shirt he'd been wearing and tossed it towards the bags they'd brought before sliding down to sit next to him. He opened his beak but Blitzø held up his hand.

“Say one more f*cking thing and I'll leave.”

“Is that one more thing in general, or just one more thing that makes you blush?” Stolas felt the Imp’s sigh rather than heard it and finally relented, nudging him with a shoulder. “You know why I do it, right?”

Blitzø shook his head, face hidden as he rest his chin on folded arms. “Think it’s funny or something.”

“Why do you hate it so much?”

He shrugged, still nibbling at his hand. “Feel stupid, I guess.”

Stolas frowned then, reaching up and caressing the spikes at the back of Blitzø’s head. He turned with a questioning expression, only to be surprised to find the owl looking genuinely sorry.

“I'd never think you were stupid, or try to make you feel like you were. I honestly just think you're cute when you're embarrassed.” Stolas grinned when Blitzø turned away, reacting in the exact way the Prince had just described. “See?” Stolas poked a warm, ivory cheek. “See? It's so cute, I'm just a Prince, have mercy on my soul.”

Blitzø shifted and Stolas pulled his hand away.

“I’d never tease you about anything else though,” he promised, knowing that the message would be understood loud and clear.

Blitzø bit his lip and finally lowered his hand, nodding. “I can handle that... I think.”

“I'm sure you can handle a lot, Blitzø Buckzo,” Stolas teased suggestively, glancing down Blitzø’s body only for him to shove the owl away, who laughed.

“I take it all back.”

“You can't!”

“Already have.”

“Blitzø!”

“I am not being objectified by the likes of you.”

“You're so pretty though, Blitzø.”

“What? I am not f*cking pretty, get your eyes checked.”

“I don't need to get my eyes checked, I check you out quite fine without any help.”

“f*ck off.”

“Maybe I could do with glasses though. I'd probably get a much clearer image.”

“Stolas.”

“Yes, Blitzø?”

“Just shut up.”

“Make me.”

“I’m not falling for that one.”

“Which one would you fall for?”

“I'm trying to keep you safe here. Stop distracting me.”

“I'm glad to know I can distract you. I was pretty worried after you turned down the striptease.”

“I didn’t turn it down, I just-”

“Wait, what?”

“What?... I hate you, f*cking Crazy Loon.”

Blitzø fought the smile, fought the blush and fought the fact that despite how much he hated the teasing, he wasn't sure he'd ever bring himself to really tell Stolas to stop.

He didn't understand why he smiled despite being uncomfortable, he didn't have a clue about the way his heart fluttered in his chest at Stolas’ presence. All he knew was that as Stolas nudged him for the umpteenth time for his silence, he knew he didn't want to be anywhere else but right there.

In that very moment, he was having… fun.

Chapter 12: Black Dahlia

Chapter Text

“What is with this?” Stolas tutted disapprovingly, holding up a text book. “This isn't biology.”

Bee snorted at the page. “Wow.”

“Oh my. Sign me right up,” Verosika mused as she walked behind them, arms laden with wood. All three started giggling and Stolas promptly chucked the book aside, deciding it was not appropriate material for the children.

“Well, this was pointless,” Stolas sighed, leaning back and finding himself scanning the camp.

He was falling into a new routine.

Wake up, have breakfast with Bee, Blitzø and the kids – sometimes Barbie – and then get on with the chores until the evening. They hadn't got round to another nightly coffee stop since that first night three days prior, as Stella had been assigned night watch as of late.

Stolas frowned, feeling his skin prick uncomfortably.

He'd managed to avoid any repercussions so far and the horrible sense of foreboding was only getting worse. He wasn't sure how to handle this situation, because the unknown was terrifying.

Blitzø had aptly put it that first night – Better the Devil you know, and by Hell was he right.

At least Stolas knew his boundaries before, knew what set Stella off and how he had to act to keep the Swan off his back. Knew where he stood and where the limit of Stella’s beatings were, too.

Now Stolas had no clue about anything and it frightened him more than he'd ever been. He felt the constant weight of an unwanted false sense of security hanging permanently over his head- of which existed one already given the knowledge that there were worse dangers than Stella crawling around.

There were obviously great advantages to being 'divorced' from Stella - apart from the painfully obvious.

Stolas felt more integrated within the group, people he’d hardly spoke to were far more friendly towards him and often stopped by to chat. There was a sense of community almost and Stolas was hardly left on his own. Maybe due to his new-found freedom, maybe because there was a communal understanding that he wasn't entirely safe.

Either way, even now, as Stolas sat with Bee and their children, he didn't trust the serenity around them.

He’d foolishly thought that maybe Stella would take off, leave the camp in a fit of anger or maybe even hit Striker and get thrown out. The notions seemed stupid now, just as stupid as him debating on ending Stella’s life months ago. Stolas would never have the courage to do that, not after he struggled to step out of his tent every morning.

Then there was Andrealphus, though Stolas was unsure as to whether the Peaco*ck would actually care.

Bee had made it a habit to collect Stolas and Octavia every morning, which honestly made Stolas feel both relieved and pathetic. Of course, when he voiced that, Bee had sternly forbidden him to ever view it that way.

Their morning ritual went mostly unnoticed, being that they deliberately had breakfast before anyone else was up. It was nothing new, and Stolas needed the distance from everyone else.

Stolas trusted Bee and Blitzø.

He needed to be with the people he could trust.

Speaking of Blitzø, that was another subject waiting in line to kick him in the rear. They'd not been overly social around camp, Blitzø still completely disconcerted by anyone's company outside of their breakfast group. Even having Barbie there seemed to be a little too much at times.

He'd been given a break but Stolas could see Striker looking more grim with every meal the camp had.

It wouldn't be long before Blitzø was sent back out, and that was far more worrisome now than it had been originally.

He'd become something of an anchor for the owl.

Stolas didn't know how he'd ever word it if it came up, but the Imp’s company had boosted his confidence by more than a significant number. Blitzø’s submissive behaviour when it came to the Prince’s bossiness, his patience and tolerance when it came to the teasing and outright reaction to it, made Stolas feel assertive – something he'd not experienced before.

Stolas had control of the majority of their interaction, and it felt good.

It wasn't that Stolas was using him – he loathed the notion and would probably strike anyone who dared suggest it, but the fact was that Blitzø allowed Stolas to act in ways he'd never been permitted.

The truth was that Stolas had been tied to Stella long before their marriage. They’d been betrothed as children and Stolas’ duty of producing a Precautionary Heir had been made clear along with it.

The process of isolating Stolas had taken away all of his childhood, and he was forced to become a Father shortly after being forced through the wedding ceremony itself. Without having dated anyone else, it felt good to be able to flirt without treading on anyone's toes.

Especially considering he was gay.

Except maybe Blitzø's toes, because Stolas didn’t think the Imp swung the same way at all. He wasn't entirely sure how Blitzø felt about Stolas or his attention, but it was fairly safe to say that Blitzø wasn't taking anything serious by any means, he simply got Stolas’ humour, and vice versa.

Bee had questioned as to whether Blitzø knew it was platonic and it had crossed Stolas’ mind more than once as to why he never asked if the owl was actually interested in him, but Stolas knew the answer was too ugly to face.

They were suffering from the same mindset, and were most likely of different sexualities.

There came a point amidst the abuse where you became romantically dead. Your self-worth was obliterated into so many pieces that the idea of someone finding you attractive to that extent just didn't exist. They both shared that view of themselves and in Stolas’ opinion that removed the risks.

“You okay there, honey?”

Stolas was broken from his reverie by Bee's soft voice and he smiled at her. “Just thinking about what you asked me the other day.”

“About the soap powder?”

Stolas pursed his beak humorously. “No, about Blitzø misunderstanding me.”

“Oh.” Bee glanced over to the man in question and frowned. “It was just a passing thought, Stolas. I wasn't trying to suggest anything.”

Stolas followed her gaze. “I know, was just thinking about it,” he murmured, watching as Blitzø stepped back from Barbie as she tried to grab at his head spikes. The two were over by their own tents, far enough to not really be able to distinguish what they were saying but close enough for Stolas to see their expressions and pick up on their tones.

He frowned slightly, seeing that Barbie wasn't getting the hint and that Blitzø's movements were getting more aggressive as he dodged his sister’s grasp. “Hmm.”

Bee seemed to be thinking the same thing as she pushed the box in front of Stolas out of the way. “I think you might need to break that u-”

Stolas was cut off when Blitzø shoved Barbie back with enough force to make her stumble. Barbie's laughter was loud and it only seemed to piss Blitzø off more.

“Knock it off, Barbie!”

“Aw what's the matter baby brother? You haven’t got the balls?”

She moved forward, aiming a kick for Blitzø's backside and the younger Buckzo's expression darkened as he swung his arms down, nearly punching Barbie's leg as he blocked it.

“Come on, baby brother, you’ve not got an ounce of man in you - or have you? Ooh!”

Blitzø swung at her and Barbie erupted into a bout of brazen laughter.

“That's my cue.” Stolas was on his feet then, marching towards them and not giving it a second thought. “Barbie!”

The Imp in question turned with a sh*t-eating grin that otherwise would have made Stolas return it, but he only shook his head at her knowingly.

“Come on now, Barbie. Stop winding Blitzø up.”

Barbie chuckled, backing away as Stolas approached a clearly agitated Blitzø. Stolas tutted at Barbie who only made a cooing noise. Blitzø was pacing and at the sound took another step towards his sister with an enraged expression.

Stolas instantly moved between them, holding his hands up and making Blitzø stop just in front of him.

“Enough,” Stolas said firmly, pointing at Barbie with one hand whilst placing the other on Blitzø's chest.

“Alright, alright,” Barbie relented with a chuckle, holding her hands up in surrender. “Was just having some fun.”

“Past the point of fun, don't you think?”

Stolas was a little disappointed in her and Barbie smirked as Stolas turned back to Blitzø who was still glaring at his sister with gritted teeth.

“Come on, time out. We're walking,” Stolas told him, grabbing his arm and pulling him in the direction of his crossbow that was propped against the tree. “You wanted to see if you could find your lost bolts, let’s go do that.”

Stolas stopped when Blitzø refused to move.

“Blitzø!”

Said male’s head snapped round at Stolas, whose stern expression exceeded that of Blitzø’s and he reluctantly followed the owl, snatching his crossbow off the ground and storming into the woods.

“See you, Blitzina!”

Stolas threw Barbie an exasperated sigh and she grinned all the more, looking like she'd wanted this very situation.

“I'm going to have words with you later, Auntie Barbie.”

Barbie nodded and waved Stolas off as the owl quickly hurried after Blitzø.

It was always going to happen.

It was always only going to be a matter of time before Barbie’s issues cropped up again.

Stolas had to admit, Blitzø was good at making it clear that he wanted him to leave.

Unfortunately, he wasn't good enough at not making Stolas stay.

He was ensuring that every branch he shoved passed sprang back in Stolas’ face and the Imp was moving so fast that the Prince was practically jogging after him. Stolas had initially managed to avoid tripping over but it was quickly becoming inevitable and even when he finally did, succumbing to what the tree roots had obviously wanted all along, Blitzø didn't so much as glance back at him.

That was fine, Stolas could handle that.

It wasn't like Blitzø to dive in and rescue him when he fell anyway - and Stolas was fairly clumsy. He dusted himself off and simply continued, silently keeping up but deliberately keeping a few steps behind the enraged Imp.

Blitzø was fuming but Stolas couldn't let him go alone – 'new rules and all that', he told himself, preparing for the inevitable confrontation that would eventually come about.

Stolas stopped at that, letting the situation sink in.

His body refused to move and he simply stared at the Imp’s retreating form before finally managing to remember how to work his own limbs. His heart started to race a bit but he swallowed it down.

Blitzø was angry.

Anger meant unpredictability and somewhere in the back of Stolas’ mind, alarm bells went off. He was following a severely pissed off demon who didn't want company at all, after having just left a violently abusive one.

Stella had definitely smashed his skull in one time too many.

The idea that Blitzø was any danger to Stolas’ person was almost laughable but then... did Stolas trust him enough? He had to, otherwise why was he following him out here?

Stolas told himself to stop being stupid. Even if Blitzø lashed out, it wasn't like it could be anything worse than what he'd dealt with before. Minus the fact that Stella was mostly screech and Blitzø was all muscle-

Stolas cut that thought off, rolling his eyes at himself for even going there at such a time.

He was only an owl, sure, but for Seven’s sake did he have to immediately focus on the physicality of his friend? Blitzø was upset, Stolas shouldn't be ogling him at a time like this!

Stolas’ foot got caught under another tree root and he yelped, tumbling over and ending up with a face full of dry leaves. He huffed softly and spat them out, pulling a few from his head feathers as he got to his feet for the second time.

Blitzø still wasn't slowing down, and Stolas was still telling himself that that was fine.

He paused upon seeing a familiar looking object amongst the foliage and almost called to the Imp but thought better of it once he saw how much distance there was between them. Silently, Stolas retrieved the bolt and held it tightly, hurrying after him. It wasn't even two minutes later that he fell again and that seemed to be the deciding factor in Blitzø’s temper because he whirled around and wrenched Stolas up by the arm, shoving him back and nearly landing him on his backside.

Stolas’ body jolted in a familiar way, the breath in his lungs hitched painfully and his vision blurred for only a second before he felt steady, and then the pain he knew all too well surged up his shoulder.

“f*ck off following me!”

Blitzø’s voice reverberated within as he yelled, Stolas distinctly feeling it in his chest with a wince, unable to focus as he tried to recall what it felt like to be here.

Was this what it had always felt like?

“I don't need some Royal f*cking prick sticking his f*cking beak in-between me and my sister! You got that?!"

Blitzø was in Stolas’ face, right in his face.

Blitzø had never been this close to Stolas before, was Blitzø aware of how close he was?

His eyes were burning scarlet, absolutely furious but all Stolas could think was that actually, Blitzø was pretty tall for an Imp and really, he had a pretty nice face even when it was scarred and screwed up in anger. “I don't need no piss-weak little feathered bitch playing Mother Hen to me! Just go the f*ck back and look after your little girl! I don't need you here, and I sure as Hell don't f*cking want you here!”

Okay, that hurt a little more than it should have but it was fair.

Barbie had really riled him up and maybe jumping in like Stolas had the right to, wasn't exactly the best thing to have done.

He could admit that.

No, he couldn't... his voice was gone.

He realised with surprise that he wasn't even the slightest bit scared of Blitzø, he just felt kinda bad. Stolas wasn't even looking at him, he was existing near him.

His body felt numb.

Very numb.

His beak felt cold and he felt like a mess.

Was he dazed?

In shock?

Stolas didn't feel panicked, he felt more like he'd float up and out of his body. So, he nodded, still not looking at Blitzø but not out of shame or fear, the owl just wasn't... facing him. Stolas lifted a hand, pressing the bolt he'd found against Blitzø’s chest and letting it go, knowing he'd catch it.

Stolas gestured to the way they'd came and nodded again, walking in that direction without even thinking.

His mind was racing, but he couldn't tell if he was actually thinking. His steps were sure-footed and he felt as calm as ever. If he had been in his right mind he might have considered that he was walking through the wood, unarmed.

When that thought did reach him, Stolas paused then shrugged. It was his own fault, he'd gone after him and got involved when he shouldn't have.

Whoops.

The walk felt way shorter than it initially had and Stolas was mildly surprised that he'd managed to find his way without getting lost once. The minute he broke the trees he met an expectant Barbie who was sat outside her tent. Barbie Wire turned to him, a big grin on her face that vanished completely upon seeing him and she was on her feet in an instant.

“sh*t, what did he do?” She was in Stolas’ space in a blink, cupping his face with large, concerned eyes and Stolas furrowed his eyebrows, leaning away from her.

“Noth- nothing,” he told her, and Stolas frowned at his own voice.

Was that his voice?

Stolas was wavering for the first time.

Barbie steadied him, tilting Stolas’ chin up. “Woah, woah you came back on your own?”

“Yes.” Stolas blinked and shook himself, noticing that his sweater was muddy and dead leaves were stuck to him. “Oh. I fell. Tripped. Uhm... I need to- he was upset. You shouldn't... upset him like that, Barbie. He's not strong enough to take that,” he told her, sounding completely out of it and he could tell that Barbie was thinking the exact same thing.

“Alright, I get that. I'll back off him but you’re not okay. What did he do? I’m not stupid, I love my baby brother but he's a loose cannon when he's mad and I never thought to stop you.”

She was so concerned and it seemed she genuinely did regret winding Blitzø up.

Stolas swayed, his hand coming up to his head. “Yelled, just yelled. I deserved that though. Don't be mad at him. When he comes back, if he comes back.”

“He'll come back. I’m not gonna give him sh*t, I promise.”

Stolas nodded airily and motioned towards the RV. “I need to... clean up.”

Barbie let him go looking more than worried. She frowned in the direction of the woods but seemingly decided to leave her brother be.

She couldn't promise she'd keep to her word when Blitzø returned though.

Stolas just waved at Bee who waved back as he passed, moving behind the RV to wash his face in one of the many large containers that held water. He was glad to have the privacy round this side of the RV and he plucked the dead leaves from his body.

He knew full well he might have blown the friendship he’d just been romanticising, and he wasn't sure what he was feeling.

He was dazed, Blitzø's words still ringing in Stolas’ ears and his shoulder was aching with a pain he knew all too well. He cupped a handful of cold water and splashed his cheeks, rubbing away the numbness. He didn't know what hit him when an unknown force slammed into the back of his head, thrusting his face forward.

Stolas gasped, gagging as he inhaled a mouthful of icy rainwater. The rim of the water-butt dug into his chest and he struggled, his hands unable to find purchase on the edge of the container.

Panic and disbelief were screaming at his senses, his lungs burning as he tried to find the strength to push himself away. He threw his arm behind him, elbowing his attacker in the throat and no sooner had he stumbled back, snatching a desperate gulp of air was that hand covering his beak, stifling his cries and once again trying to cut off his air supply, before firmly wrapping around his neck.

He’d known it was coming.

Known it, pre-empted it and flat out predicted it.

He'd spent every night since, worrying over it and running through every possible scenario, back up plan after back up plan so why had he been so stupid as to waltz into the camp without even checking where Stella was?

He knew these arms, knew this hold but he didn't know this woman. He doubted he'd ever known this woman. Not from the day he'd met her had he known her, and Stolas felt as though the full hideousness of Stella Goetia had finally been revealed.

His strength was starting to fail him, the grip on his neck tightening as his senses seemed to go wild for a moment.

He could hear yelling in the camp but it wasn't for him.

Somewhere in his overwhelmed state Stolas recognised Barbie's voice and another that was only ever going to be Blitzø's. Stolas realised the reason no-one had even heard his struggle was because currently, Barbie and Blitzø were shouting at each other from the complete opposite side of the camp.

Striker's voice was rising above it all.

Stolas’ thoughts whizzed past but time was slowing. He wasn't going to see Octavia again but Octavia would be safe. Everyone would know it was Stella and they'd kill her for this.

She wouldn't touch his little girl, and that was worth dying for. Bee would never let the Swan take Octavia.

Stolas had known it might come to this, and maybe killing Stella wasn't the answer.

Maybe it was letting her kill him.

Stolas' body stilled at the thought.

This was how he was going to go out?

After everything?

Hearing them two idiots fighting whilst he choked on his last breath of freedom?

What the f*ck was this?

He'd escaped being bitten, eaten alive, being beaten to death and blown up, even escaped drowning just a few moments ago and now Stolas was going to be choked to death whilst listening to them?

Stolas bit down on the fingers clamped over his beak, not releasing them until he tasted blood.

Stella let out a shocked yell, and he thrust his elbow back once more, ignoring the wrenching pain in his shoulder and collapsing forward, scrambling away from the Swan as he gulped in air, his throat burning. Every inhalation was like breathing in searing-hot sand. His body shook as it was racked with coughs, desperately trying to gain some form of oxygen as time suddenly sped up.

This was fear.

This was what it felt like.

This is how it had always felt.

What little air he'd managed to steal was physically punched from her as Stella landed a blow to his ribs. No sound left him, he only managed a strangled gasp before he twisted out of her grasp and landed on his back, Stella’s body overshadowing his.

He tried to scream, willed his voice to do something – anything.

Stolas came to an earth-shattering realisation.

It didn't matter how much he'd stood up for himself or how many friends he had. In this moment, the moment that mattered most, Stolas was exactly where he'd been from day one.

Alone.

Chapter 13: Been To Hell

Chapter Text

It was hot.

Undeniably, unbearably, and unforgivably hot.

The air felt thick and Stolas felt like a dead weight had settled over his body, making it impossible to move.

He didn't feel weak, he felt powerless. Pain started to crawl up his spine and he gasped for air against what felt like a floor made of ice.

He was struggling to recollect his thoughts.

Where was she?

He couldn't remember.

Why was he here?

No idea.

sh*t.

Mustering up all the strength he could, Stolas rolled onto his stomach, feeling that pain in his back ignite into pure agony. It hurt more than he could verbally express and he released a silent scream, breath coming out in a raspy shudder.

The inhalation that followed was a shock, lashing its way into his lungs before it morphed into that searing hot pain as he exhaled with force.

He was Stolas Goetia.

He wasn't dead.

Not yet.

The sun was glaring down at him, screaming at his ice white pupils and the face that blocked it was all it took before he snapped back into the reality of his situation. His foot came up, smashing into that hateful face and Stolas felt his toes throb at the impact.

Wholeheartedly, he hoped Stella’s face felt ten times as worse.

There were no words for the fear, no words for the pain as Stolas compelled himself to stand, inwardly demanding more of his spine than he truly thought it capable. His body did not entirely fail him. His world spun as he attempted to plant his feet. No sound left him as he careened into the water butt, sending it over as he went down with it.

The icy surge bit at his skin but it woke him from that stupid pained haze that he'd fallen prey to, too many times before.

Not again.

Never again.

'Up!'

His body obeyed.

As soon as Stolas felt Stella near him, he lashed out, not even able to negotiate a moment to actually aim. His blind swing caught Stella awkwardly and she hissed, stumbling back and slamming into the RV. Stolas sucked in air through his beak, simply standing by the sheer force of his own conviction.

Blitzø may have spat those awful words at him moments ago, but the Imp wasn't taking back the words he'd told Stolas days before.

He could handle this.

Blitzø had believed in Stolas at that time – whether this was exactly what Blitzø had had in mind whilst spewing what possibly could have been total bullsh*t or not. Stolas could handle this and he was downright going to.

He backed up with flailing limbs even as Stella lunged. He knew the movement like the back of his hand and stumbled out of the way before switching their positions.

He couldn't bring her down, he wasn't strong enough. He couldn't scream out, his voice had completely left him.

Somewhere in the back of his fractured consciousness Stolas knew his silence was not down to fear – something was wrong. Physically wrong, but now was not the time. The only way he would have a chance was if he somehow got them out from behind the RV.

Stolas braced himself for the impact but it took more than everything he had to not end up on his backside. He back peddled furiously as Stella’s body slammed into his, the wing-mirror to the RV whizzing above him as the ground seemed to sweep under him faster than his legs could move.

Never before had Stella been so silent whilst laying into him.

He swore his spine vibrated under the strain, sending pins and needles spreading throughout his hips and tail as he finally passed the front of the RV.

They were out, everyone would see.

There was a loud scream and voices rose in sheer panic almost immediately.

Those sharp hands found his neck again and Stolas drew back his fist, thrusting it forward with whatever he had left, before striking Stella square in the face. Her body was ripped from his and Stolas rolled against the warm metal of the RV, staggering away from the scene.

Someone caught him and he panicked despite knowing it wasn't Stella. They didn't let go and Stolas gripped at their arms.

He knew these arms.

He knew them much more than he'd ever dare admit.

Blitzø.

Stolas’ heart hammered harder inside what he feared was a broken ribcage and he practically threw himself against the Imp. Blitzø held him tighter, scarred hand clutching the back of Stolas’ head as the owl buried himself into a safe chest.

Stolas couldn't cry, wasn't going to.

Had no reason to.

Amongst all the panic he heard Stella's enraged voice, and Bee was now standing behind him, hands at his back as he tried to hide further in Blitzø's hold. Stolas stored the moment away, knowing he'd remind Blitzø of this – his first hug.

“-nothing but an Imp-sucking whor*!” Stella was screaming, blood dripping down her face. From his attempts at self-defence or from fighting off Verosika and Striker, Stolas wasn't sure. “You cannot leave me for some gutter-f*cking fire toad, you worthless excuse of a Prince!”

Bee was moving in fast, ignoring the shocked expressions of everyone around her. “He is a friend,” she spat loudly, utterly enraged. “-and he's done a damn sight more for Stolas than you ever, ever have!”

Striker looked bewildered, looking at Stolas and Blitzø's embrace with complete and utter shock before turning back to Bee. Everyone was staring and gaping, and at the same time was clearly worried.

“I saw them!” Stella screeched, slamming her hand down on the hood of the RV. “I saw him go after that dirty f*cking Imp!” She spat in their direction. “Should have seen the state of him when he came back.”

She had such a disgusted expression on her face, it almost hurt not to laugh. “I told you no man of any respectable standing would want you, and you go off with the likes of him?! I knew you were pathetic, and desperate, but to fall so far from grace, Stolas! You are an embarrassment!” She took a step towards them and Blitzø's grip tightened. Stolas could feel those arms tremble as Blitzø tensed but he didn't let Stolas go. “How long? How long have you been screwing around with this vile piece of worthless shi-”

Stolas shoved himself from Blitzø and did the only thing he had mind to do.

He gripped his ex-wife’s collar and rammed his knee right into her crotch with so much force he swore he heard something crack. There was a chorus of gasps and shrieks as he shoved the Swan back, letting her crumble to the ground, open mouthed and gasping in pain.

“I loathe ever having been forced to breed with your cancerous body.”

Oh how good it felt to say those words, even if the taste of blood flooded his mouth.

Stolas felt the weight of his own body sink upon his bones and he crumpled back against Blitzø, feeling empowered despite everything.

Striker was still stunned, and Stolas lifted his chin weakly, the expression he wore the night he renounced his and Stella's marriage gracing his features, painting a clear picture of how truly formidable his inner strength was.

He may not be what the Goetia had intended for him, but it no longer mattered.

He was here, and the Goetia, were not.

Blitzø had felt many things from the minute he'd made the Prince leave.

Too many things, and all of them hideously wrought with self-loathing, yet in this moment with Stolas safe in his arms, teetering with every breath the Prince gasped, Blitzø felt unequivocally reconciled.

He knew the feeling wouldn't last long, but he would have liked to hold onto it for longer than this.

He was pacing outside the RV, where Stolas was inside getting seen to by Aquyna, Pria and Thyone. Bee hadn't left Stolas’ side even once, and Odrega was sitting atop the large vehicle with a very quiet Andrealphus sat next to him.

Moxxie and Zoath were refilling the water butt that had been knocked over and Blitzø swore it had never been so quiet in camp before.

The doors opened and Striker appeared, causing an immediate buzz.

“He alright?” Blitzø asked anxiously, stepping up to him as Odrega stepped down the ladder, looking like he'd been ready to ask the exact same thing.

Striker let out a loud, drawn out groan as he exhaled and ignored Blitzø's question entirely.

He ran a hand through his hair and wrenched open the door to his Jeep, glaring at the younger Buckzo as though he'd been the cause of everything wrong with the world. He slammed the door shut and started the engine, death glare still in place before reversing out of the camp roughly.

Odrega watched him go with a grimace as Blitzø turned to him, biting his thumbnail. In that moment, Blitzø was the most anxious man that Odrega ever seen.

“What's his problem? Crazy Laundry Loon gonna be okay or not?”

Blitzø didn't expect an answer, so was surprised when Odrega sighed loudly and moved over to him. Wrought with worry, Blitzø edged closer than he would normally dare stand to another person by his own volition.

“Striker doesn't like losing control.” Odrega took off his hat and patted it out, looking sympathetic. “You and Stolas were right under his nose and he never saw it. This was bound to happen. Stella was always going to take it too far one of these days. If it wasn't for being friends with you or leaving her, then it would have just been for something else.”

Blitzø just stared at the elder avian with a blank expression before nodding slowly. His question hadn't been answered and he wasn't sure how he'd sound repeating it. He almost didn't want to know at this point. If no-one wanted to give him an answer then maybe it was too tragic to bear and that notion utterly crippled him.

“He's been lucky these last few weeks. Stella seemed to have calmed down, somewhat. Stolas did the right thing and so did you,” Odrega continued, glancing up at the quiet Peaco*ck who could clearly hear them. “It was good of you to be there for Stolas.”

Blitzø's eyebrows furrowed at the words and he turned away angrily as he shook his head. “All I did was get him into this sh*t.”

“Stolas was in it already! You made sure he got through it!” Odrega was watching him carefully, far too much compassion in his expression and tone. “You gave him strength. So you had a hiccup – it's not like he didn't know you had a temper.” He placed his hat back on his head, adjusting it with a sigh. “You know you're good for each other, you wouldn't have gone up to him that first time otherwise.”

Blitzø looked up, shifting his crossbow shyly. “Just saw him was all. Asked me if I wanted my pants patched up.” He kicked the ground absentmindedly. “Weren't afraid of me or anything.”

Odrega raised an eyebrow at the latter comment but chose to ignore it for now. “Striker... I don't know what he's going to do about Stella but he's not going to like that something like this went on under his radar,” he informed Blitzø heavily. “This is probably why he didn't want anyone getting involved.”

Blitzø placed a hand on his hip, leaning his weight on one leg as he turned towards the older Goetian. “Why does everyone f*cking listen to him? You help someone you help them, don’t you? You need to ask his f*cking permission for that?”

Odrega exhaled at length. “Between you and me, there's not a lot of people here who could have stood up to Stella. She's not afraid to hit anyone, throw things – who was going to take her on? Thyone? Moxxie? Me? We'd all be just as bad off as Stolas and that wouldn't end it. Stolas would have just got it ten times as bad after.” He looked up at the retreating vehicle as it finally vanished from sight. “No, Striker's the only one who could hold his own against someone like Stella, but he was not going to get involved. Not when her brother is such an asset to this camp.”

Blitzø kept his head lowered. “Stolas didn’t deserve this,” he said quietly, burning a hole into the ground with a remorseful gaze.

Odrega raised a hand and rest it upon Blitzø's shoulder, causing him to start. His head snapped up to find the Snowy Owl staring at him, eyes full of sincerity. “No, he really didn't, but then again, neither did you.”

Blitzø's breath caught in his throat as Odrega offered him a kind, knowing smile. Before he could even process the feeling, the door to the RV suddenly burst open, making them both jump.

Bee's eyes locked onto Blitzø's, expression wrought. “Hey.” Her voice was wavering, eyes were wide and tearful.

Blitzø's stomach dropped and he felt his throat cinch up. He watched her carefully as her gaze drifted to the ground.

“Where is he?” He asked tightly, not dropping his stare from her and Bee seemed all the more unnerved by it.

The Sin’s jaws opened and closed wordlessly a few times as though she couldn't decide whether it was a good idea to say or not, before Blitzø stepped forward in desperation, unable to take being kept in the dark any longer. “How-”

“He's going to be fine,” Bee cut him off, closing the door behind her and stepping out to join them.

Blitzø shut his mouth and he shifted his weight, hands on his crossbow nervously. “He's okay?” He couldn't blot out the concern in his voice and Bee's expression softened. She nodded, eyes on the dirt and licking her lips before she folded her arms.

“He's got two fractured ribs that Aquyna can tell. No internal bleeding as far as we know but he was strangled... badly. He's also got a sprained ankle, and a concussion. Aquyna think he's fractured his larynx, or at least bruised it. Badly. He's not going to be able to talk for a while yet and-” she broke off, her voice cracking as the tears spilling over. Odrega moved towards her, his arm coming up to comfort Bee as she waved her hands in front of her face as though she could simply wave the tears away.

“Striker should never have ignored this,” she croaked, wiping her eyes. “We should never have ignored this. We should have all voted to have Stella thrown out the minute we all knew.”

“Where's Stella now?” Blitzø asked, his voice dangerously calm.

Bee finally turned to him. “Striker locked her in that car down at the Lake.” She looked at Blitzø pleadingly. “What happened between you two? Stolas came back and was completely out of it.”

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it in favour of hanging his head shamefully. Bee's eyes widened in disbelief. “You didn't... you two didn't actually... did you?”

Blitzø's face couldn't heat up any further as he swung his arm out in her direction, stepping right back. “We ain't been f*cking, alright?!” He exhaled heavily and began pacing again. “Barbs f*cking pissed me off. Stolas broke it up, told me to walk it off. Of course he couldn't just let me do that, had to f*cking follow me.” He glanced at Bee with an irritated look. “Probably because of that stupid f*cking new rule or some dumb sh*t like that.” He lowered his gaze and dropped his chin. “Kept tripping over and that’s why he was a f*cking mess. I got pissed off, yelled at him to go back to camp, which he f*cking did.”

The silence settled back over the camp and Odrega nodded as though trying to invoke a sense of peace. “I think it's safe to say, that Stolas and Blitzø are purely friends.”

“Things have been going so good for Stolas, this is extensive. Even for Stella, this is bad.” It was clear that Bee was in shock herself. “We should have known better than to think she'd just accept this. I should have gone to Stolas the minute he came back.”

“He knew this was gonna happen.” Blitzø was almost whispering and Bee strained to hear him. “I should never have yelled at him. If I wasn’t such an asshole then none of this would have f*cking happened.” Guilt crawled up Blitzø's skin, twisted in his gut and threatened to pry open feelings he'd long-since locked away. “The only reason that bitch got her hands on him was because I started fighting with Barbie the minute I got back.”

Bee slammed the notion down hard. “No. Stella was going to do this at any opportunity. This is not on you.” She ducked her head, making sure Blitzø's eyes met hers. “Stolas will not be blaming you for this and neither should anyone else. You're the reason he got through it. You told him he could handle it, and he did.”

The positive words were making him feel nauseous and Blitzø felt the need to bolt, his brain screaming at him to ignore the lies.

Stolas would blame him because this was his fault.

Odrega and Bee exchanged knowing glances but he ignored it, feeling a darkness wash over him. He wasn't used to people suddenly being kind.

Where had the support from Odrega even come from?

Why?

“Where's Octavia?” Bee suddenly asked, looking a little frantic.

“Barbie,” was all Blitzø trusted himself to say. Two sets of eyes implored him to elaborate and he swallowed hard. “Barbs grabbed her the second she saw Stella with her hands on Stolas. I don't think she'll let her out the tent until someone gives the all clear.”

Odrega's face paled slightly. “Is that okay?”

Blitzø's face screwed up in annoyance. “Hey! Barbie's an asshole, I know. She hasn’t done anything but cause problems but she would never hurt a kid. She'd never lay hands on someone either, unless she absolutely had to!” He was quiet for a moment, piercing scarlet hues glaring at the ground as though he was fighting with himself.

Bee's hand came up, gripping his arm and Blitzø flinched from her gentle touch, though she refused to pull away. “You have something to say Blitzø Buckzo, you say it,” she told him firmly. “We're listening.”

Blitzø glanced up before exhaling sharply. “Me and Barbie had... problems too. At home. Back when… when we were raised in the Circus, and after I…” He struggled with his words and Bee's grip on his arm softened. “Point is, she ain't got any tolerance for this type of sh*t. If Barbie hadn't have been here- f*ck, if Stella had managed to kill Stolas, Octavia would have f*cking seen it. With Barbie is the safest place for that little girl to be right now.”

He wasn't used to defending his sister so passionately, not so honestly either. Normally he was saving his asshole sister’s backside from reaping the consequences of her dumb-ass actions, but not this time.

He didn't dare look either of them in the face until Bee's hand finally dropped from him. “Okay, Blitzø. Leave Octavia with Barbie until she deems it safe for her to see Stolas.”

Bee’s voice was laced with something Blitzø wasn't used to.

This wasn't a warning, it wasn't even an order.

It was outright trust and he cherished it far more than he could ever express.

“If Stella managed to escape at least Octavia is in the last place she'd look,” Odrega added, and a sense of relief came over the three of them.

Bee nodded and backed away, gesturing towards the RV behind her. “I better... get back.” Her gaze lingered on Blitzø, as though she were worried for him but he turned away and ignored her sigh.

“Yes, and I better get back up on watch,” Odrega agreed, waiting for her to close the door behind her.

Blitzø paused in his step as he moved to walk away.

“You were wrong.”

Odrega blinked him at him from where he was perched, half way up the ladder of the RV.

“Striker isn’t the only one who can hold his own against Stella.”

Odrega nodded, looking a little pleased with Blitzø’s words.

“Oh. Believe me, I know.”

As he slumped down inside his tent, Blitzø nearly tore the sleeping bag from his cot.

It was his fault.

He had literally, nearly got Stolas killed.

This was why he didn't make friends.

He had such a f*cking temper and in that moment he could say anything and most of what he came up with hurt more than physical blows. He was bad news, always incited some f*cking tragedy like a f*cking curse.

He’d caused so much f*cking pain throughout his life- he was the sole reason Barbie was how she was. That unhinged part of her, it was all because of him.

He’d destroyed their lives- he’d destroyed so many lives, all in one go.

This was why he should have stayed the Hell away.

The thought opened too many cans of worms for him to cope with and Blitzø felt his world shrink in on him.

Old nightmares he'd locked away burst open and clawed at him, fearful of what may one day come out about his past.

Stella's words weren't lies.

He was worse than sh*t from the gutter, he was a worthless f*cking Imp and those were things he constantly tried to escape. Every time he had felt equal to someone, something shoved him back down.

He was at a total loss.

He'd had a taste of something beautiful and true, and then he'd completely wrecked it just like Barbie had told him not to. Guilt and frustration at his own stupidity boiled beneath his skin and there was nothing left to keep the tears from falling.

So Blitzø gave in and sat there, letting his insecurities devour whatever was left of his pathetic self.

It was the flames that consumed his life all over again.

Chapter 14: Dark Places

Chapter Text

To say Blitzø Buckzo wanted nothing more than to curl up and cry, would be an understatement.

Blitzø Buckzo wanted to curl up, cry, and die.

He wasn't new to this, hating himself. He wasn't new to f*cking up this badly, being treated like he didn’t live up to an expectation or even being outright told that he was a f*cking failure. Everyone in his life had made it painfully clear that they didn't want him around, one way or another.

His Mother paid the price for loving him.

His Father beat him for being the reason she was gone.

Barbie lost her sanity because of it all.

He'd grown up knowing he was hated, understanding that, expecting that and most importantly, accepting that.

So why was he sat here, trying to keep the tears at bay and feeling for all the world like it wasn't supposed to be the case? It was precisely the way it was supposed to be.

He was Blitzø Buckzo. No matter how much he wished not to be, prayed not to be and tried not to be, that was who he was.

He was violent, spiteful, unattractive and...

Blitzø pressed the tip of the bolt Stolas had found for him into the soft skin of his palm. He felt the metal dig into his flesh painfully and it only made him apply pressure more fervently.

Everything he had was just a pile of negatives. He himself was a negative, all his thoughts were riddled with so much negativity he couldn't fathom why Stolas had even liked being around him.

No one did.

Not even himself.

Oh he couldn't stand himself.

So why was he even here? Why was he even trying? What was the actual point?

Blitzø raised his head, letting it hang back as he stared up at the dark roof to his tent. His body felt heavy and he simply wished he could walk off his acidic thoughts. Fat lot of good that had done anyone earlier though.

Unbelievable.

A sardonic chuckle left his lips humourlessly. His life was made up of a sh*t ton of 'un's'.

Unlovable, unintelligent, ungrateful...un, un, un...

He hung his head again and exhaled shakily, his breath seeming to rattle the entire tent.

He knew the very first day they'd arrived at this camp that they hadn't been welcome.

He'd known because when he'd told them his full name, Striker had instantly looked at them with disdain.

The name Buckzo was something unpleasantly spoken of. His Father had been well known for his deplorable behaviour and Barbie had picked right up from where their old man left off in terms of getting into all kinds of trouble- especially after the tragedy that Blitzø caused at the Circus.

Fights, breaking and entering, theft, DUI's, drugs, assault...

Murder.

Striker had been a hitman in Hell. A Bounty Hunter, and a prolific one.

There was no way that he hadn't heard the name Buckzo or ever come across it, because Blitzø was well aware that their family name had to have passed by his intel more than once.

Blitzø was the only one who hadn’t ended up on a serious ‘Wanted’ poster- though he certainly had a f*cked up reputation.

Apple doesn't fall far from the tree and all that.

Blitzø sunk the bolt further into his hand, finally feeling the jolt as it pierced his skin. He relished in the icy throb as it ebbed away, savouring the pain as it blossomed. Rivulets of noir crawled down the thin metal and dripped from his trembling fingertips. The inky liquid – proof of his undesired existence – pooled under the nock, turning the blue flooring of his tent a murky colour that displeased him. His watery gaze returned to the trails of black etching their way down the metal shaft, mesmerised.

Hypnotised.

Fascinated.

Tormented.

It was a dangerous fixation, one he was toying with precariously. One of these days he was going to plunge over the edge and lose himself in his haunted obsession with spilling the very much-needed liquid from his veins. It wasn't even about the pain anymore. That part often made him feel sick, made old wounds re-open and made everything worse.

It was about knowing that he could rid himself of a small portion of that one, cursed thing.

Life.

It didn't feel like his life – it felt like some abhorrent amalgamation of his old man’s, and Barbie's. He carried the weight of their mistakes along with his own. How could he even possibly feel like this life was his when it was constantly taken away from him?

He had fallen prey to everyone else's opinions and those opinions were what dragged him into a steep depression shortly after their Mother’s death and then he was on the streets.

His old man had perished along with most of Hell’s citizens. He'd searched for his only living blood relative as soon as the Pentagram began to fall apart.

Only for Barbie to nearly get him killed whilst he was trying to reach her.

Barbie hadn't been the most sane demon a-going after losing their Mother, but for real, what the f*ck was with that? Blitzø had managed to get to Earth just to find Barbie shooting up an entire police station and rendering it to sh*t.

It was so… Barbie.

A wretched sob escaped Blitzø’s throat and he curled inward.

Everything was messed up.

His sister was so messed up.

Everything was messed up, and now Stolas was messed up because of him.

He wasn't stupid.

He'd known that feelings he'd been so sure to tear up and shred had been stitched back together by none other than the f*cking Prince. Stolas had started making him care, feel like he belonged and had made feel... wanted.

Blitzø had lost so much, but nothing hurt as much as the mere idea of losing Stolas, and Blitzø had been the one to set up the perfect situation for that to happen.

He might as well have handed Stolas to Stella directly.

It hurt.

It hurt so much that Blitzø Buckzo felt as though his voice box had cinched up, making it impossible to swallow, and his lungs? f*ck, did he even have any? Were they working? He couldn't breathe, had the air around him decided to take off, along with his ability to hold himself together?

He had wondered many a time if he owned a heart but there was no questioning that now.

The organ that symbolised life and love had suddenly decided to go on a suicide mission all of its own inside his chest. It throbbed with every beat, pounding against his ribs as though the messy onslaught of emotion were simply too much for it and it voted out.

For once, it was something he and his heart could agree on.

The RV was silent.

Stolas’ mind couldn't be more loud.

Screams of how foolish he'd been waged war against the roars of how bloody well proud he was. He had, for the first time in his fourteen-year enslavement – it would no longer be referred to as a marriage – fought back.

Stolas Goetia, had hit back with all he had.

He would never forget that look in Stella's eyes.

Fear.

Despite his broken body, his throbbing head and his swollen vocal chords, Stolas was grinning like an idiot.

Fear had chased him down since the day Stella first yelled in his face.

It had coursed through his veins since the first day Stella had hit him.

Stolas remembered that moment so clearly.

It was long before their wedding, and Stolas had questioned Stella over a book of his that had been ripped up. Stella had become enraged and had backhanded him across the face.

Oh, didn't that seem like the end of the world right there?

At the time, Stolas had bawled his eyes out and cried for hours.

What a funny thought as he lay here, nearly in pieces, never feeling more elated.

Fear had changed from when he’d first met it.

Changed from the day Octavia was born and changed again from the day Stolas knew he had to make a stand to protect his baby. It changed again when he started looking at the world, not just seeing it.

It changed today.

Blitzø had shoved him, yelled at him, even revived an old injury in his shoulder when wrenching Stolas up, but he had not felt the familiar wilting of his composure, the instinctual shrinking of his world as the panic of what was to come struck him to his very core.

No.

Stolas had been completely accepting of his mistake. He should have let Blitzø walk off the anger in the privacy that he needed, the isolation he had cocooned himself in.

It was his safety net, his security blanket.

It was also his affliction.

It had been too soon to try and join him behind that particular barrier.

Stolas would have to wait for that door to open, and he was absolutely going to. Blitzø already started breaking out of his chrysalis, that entanglement of hurt and exploitation he'd succumbed to wasn't permitted to smother him for much longer.

Not whilst Stolas had anything to do with it.

Blitzø didn't see it in himself, but he wasn't the nightmare he'd deemed himself to be. He just wasn't. Stolas thought of him as a broken dream, something precious that had been discarded long before it had been given the chance to flourish, to come true. Whoever had given up on him didn't matter – Stolas was going to return the faith the Imp had placed in him.

Stolas was going to restore him, heal him and show Blitzø that it wasn't just the owl himself who could handle the demons planting themselves before him.

Blitzø been there for Stolas’ battles. Stolas was going to be there for Blitzø’s, too.

The subject of Stolas’ battle was beginning to take a more physical focus, the pain in his ribs starting to flare. It was going to be a bit of a struggle getting back on his feet this time. His body may have taken a beating but his voice... he needed that to discuss Stella's future.

Stolas wanted her out of the camp.

Andrealphus’ skills be damned, that level of unhinged violence had no place here.

Stolas wanted them to support this, to show that they were on his side and recognise that if this was a ‘family’, they had to protect each other from all dangers – not just the ones crawling around the Earth where they now huddled.

Blitzø and Barbie may not be the most conventional demons in the world, but they were part of this group. They had been there with everyone else, sharing that concern for him, that shock at what Stella had done and tried to do.

They would support Striker if he just opened up and allowed them in as Stolas was doing. All everyone had to do, was give them a chance.

Most importantly, Stolas needed his voice to keep Blitzø's own out of his head. He wouldn't cope well with this and Stolas knew it. He'd find a way to blame himself for sure and Stolas needed to silence that notion before Blitzø let it eat at him.

Stolas’ eyes were starting to feel weighted, begging him to close them and drift off, allow his body to begin it's slow healing process. His breath hitched as he tried to sigh, his thoughts flickering to Octavia who would finally be safe, to Bee who hadn't left his side and to Blitzø, who held him on his own for the first time and hadn't let him go until the owl was physically taken from him.

Stolas decided to sleep on that particular note, finally feeling at peace with his new-found truce with fear.

Chapter 15: Reclaim

Chapter Text

Stolas frowned moodily at the cup in front of him, a pink plastic straw hanging limply over the rim.

It wasn't the gallant aftermath he'd exactly been hoping for.

He'd woken after having slept most of the day, been jammed full of painkillers and given cup after cup of water – with a straw.

He wanted to go out, wanted to embrace Octavia and then he wanted to march up to Striker, demand to know what was going to happen to Stella, and finally, Stolas wanted to drag Blitzø out of wherever he was hiding and demand to know why he hadn't visited yet.

Demand another hug as compensation.

He couldn't even ask for him and Stolas doubted anyone but Bee would seek him out.

“You need to drink that, Stolas.”

He huffed silently and nodded as Verosika sat next to him on his cot. Stolas was propped up, unable to take laying flat on his back any longer.

“I am so proud of you, for doing what you did to Stella,” Verosika told him- but there was a pause. “I really hope that you don't mind me saying this, but please Stolas, don't get caught up in a relationship that could put you back here. Please. You're such a wonderful person, a Father like you is so hard to come by in a world like this. Don't put yourself in this position again, please.”

At first, Stolas wanted to throw the cup at her, knowing she was referring to the misconception that he'd slept with Blitzø and might be more than physically involved with him. Verosika’s words though, regardless of who they were directed at, were earnest and true.

They were undeniably true, he couldn't allow himself into a situation like this ever again – nor Octavia.

Stolas smiled gratefully at the blonde, who looked relieved as Stolas nodded, squeezing her hand in reassurance.

'I won't.'

“Drink it,” Verosika reminded him, glancing at the cup as she stood.

Stolas glared at the cup in question, knowing it was filled with water and soluble painkillers. As far as he was concerned, he'd sooner drink a cup of paint stripper, but he obediently sipped the liquid through his uncooperative straw.

It was a problem he'd have to address swiftly.

Verosika was far from the only one who had the wrong idea about him and Blitzø. Especially after the Imp had held him like that.

Stolas’ heart picked up, racing away ahead of him.

Blitzø's hold had been the most exhilarating thing that Stolas had ever felt. Maybe because he'd never been held so securely before, maybe because he knew how adverse to contact Blitzø was and in that moment Stolas was more important than any phobia the Imp suffered.

Either way, Stolas wanted to feel it again.

The Prince could almost hear his voice then, that quiet and uncomfortable tone as Blitzø pleadingly told him to 'f*ck off'.

For once, Stolas obeyed.

No time for reminiscing on those arms being around him.

It was a terrible situation anyway, he'd need another, less harrowing scenario for that to happen in.

With a sigh Stolas relented, knowing that Blitzø was not going to be thinking of him that way, in the first place.

Stolas shook his head, chiding himself. The matter at hand was far more imperative. Stolas had not slept with him, everyone needed to know that more for Blitzø’s sake than Stolas’.

Blitzø wasn’t gay, and that was something Stolas didn’t want anyone confusing. It could potentially cause resentment to build, and he didn’t want that.

He would have a hard time putting the idea right without a voice.

Blitzø was more likely to bury himself alive if asked - of course, after losing his temper at whoever it was that inquired. Stolas doubted anyone would view him badly, they'd turn on Blitzø though.

Already had done, like Verosika.

They thought him to be in the same aggressive, unpredictable area that Stella was. That was the main problem. If they decided having Blitzø there was also a risk, a danger, then they may throw him out too.

Stolas wished that he could groan audibly, suddenly realising how much tension verbally expressing oneself could expel. It was a bit weird how quickly everyone had seemed to accept the idea that he and Blitzø had hooked up.

Then again, it was a bit weird how close they'd become in a short matter of weeks.

The idea of Blitzø being intimate was – regrettably – a bit funny and Stolas blushed, turning his head into his upper arm as he bit his lip in a bid to bite back the grin.

'He'd never get anywhere, all the blood would rush to his cheeks.'

Stolas could literally imagine him scrabbling at the doors and windows if put in such a situation. It was funny, but also a little sad and more than a little mean.

Relenting on his inner teasing, Stolas swirled the remnants of his medicinal mixture and downed them as best he could. He crumpled the cup loudly in an attempt to get Verosika's attention.

It worked and the blonde came sidling through the little doorway, smiling warmly. “Alright,” she breathed approvingly. “Now we just need to get you a writing pad or something.”

Stolas shook his head with a slight grimace at the movement. His neck was bruised and it felt more like his throat was made of sponge more than being stiff.

“Lay back.”

Stolas glared at Verosika in childish defiance and only got ignored as the blonde ushered him to obey. “You're not going to get any better by being f*cking stubborn.”

Stolas couldn't wait for this to be over, he felt trapped and claustrophobic.

His mind was wild with the prospect of being truly free.

Again, he was brought back to that nostalgia of being a teenager, being sick and wanting nothing more than to play out in the sun. It was the exact same feeling, except now he wanted to start living.

It was strange, to finally feel like he was starting to do so, when the rest of the universe was dying.

“How f*ckin’ stupid, could you possibly f*ckin’ be?!”

Striker's voice was still incredulous, and gratingly pissed off.

Bee was stood before him, arms folded and near-infuriated herself.

“What do you mean 'stupid'? Stolas isn’t allowed friends? What, Imps and Royals can't be friends now?” Bee asked heatedly, gesturing to the rest of the camp that existed outside of Striker's tent. “Got something you wanna tell me?”

They'd been bickering inside for a whole ten minutes and it wasn't getting anywhere for either of them.

“You both knew – knew, that Stella would never just let ‘im so much as look at another man!” Striker argued, posture tense as he glared at the Sin who he had a very complicated dynamic with.

“He’s not looking!” Bee shouted, losing her patience. “Stolas and Blitzø are friends, Striker. Friends. f*ck, I'm his friend! You going to say that justifies you smacking me around too? You saying this is Stolas’ fault, Striker? Or mine?”

Striker threw her an exasperated frown. “That's not what I'm sayin’ and you f*ckin’ know it. I'm glad he has friends, hell I'd be glad if he found someone who did keep ‘im in check, that part isn't my business and I'm not tryin’ to make it my business. Blitzø Buckzo? Do you know anythin’ about those twins? At all?” He ran a hand down his face in frustration. “All I am sayin’, is at the very least, why the hell didn't someone let me know so I could keep Stella on a tighter leash.”

Bee was taken aback and Striker dropped onto his cot.

“Look, I don't know what the f*ck I'm supposed to do. We have no law system here to even f*ckin’ go off. No-where to lock up a bitch who just tried to murder her husband.”

Bee glared at him and he rolled his eyes. “Ex-husband,” he corrected.

“We can't keep her in camp,” Bee waved impatiently. “Can't let her stay here, she's had this a long – long time coming and you know it. f*ck, we all knew it. One day she was going to try to kill him. What happened was going to happen whether he was friends with Blitzø or not.”

Striker sighed, dropping his hat aside.

“Yeah, well, I didn't see this coming.” He shook his head, opening his mouth but it was a few seconds before any words came out. “I had no f*ckin’ clue that Blitzø and Stolas were...” He faltered and gave up, shaking his head.

Bee sighed running a hand through her fur and slid next to him.

“I swear to you Striker, I promise you – there is nothing romantic or sexual going on between them. Nothing. They talked sometimes, I was there for most of their interactions. Blitzø is not like that. He doesn’t swing Stolas’ way.”

“Hell I don't know what anyone's like right now.”

Striker looked beyond overwhelmed and her heart lurched.

“I don't trust Blitzø,” he admitted, hanging his head in his hands. “Barbie is a pain in my f*ckin” ass but at least with her what you see is what you get. She's done time before, had her on my lists more than f*ckin’ once- I know Barbie.” He frowned, eyes burning with an unknown anger. “Blitzø just vanished. He's been on several wanted-info lists for a long time, Bee. I don't know anythin’ about that clown except he was an assassin at some point. Have you seen the way he takes down Damned? No emotion. None. Not even a sense of accomplishment. He’s a killer like me, but he’s got nothin’ to say for it.”

Bee opened her mouth then closed it. “That doesn’t mean he’s dangerous to us, Strike.”

“If it had been Blitzø instead of Stella, Stolas would have been dead within f*ckin’ seconds. You have to understand that I'm tryin’ here. Yeah, I took on clients that wanted Royal demon blood, but we ain’t in f*ckin’ Hell no more. We got this sh*t survival situation to make-do with and everyone’s at f*ckin’ rock bottom. No-one’s better than the other anymore. We’re all f*ckin’ washed up and washed out.”

Bee let the words sink in.

Blitzø was infamous for his hardhearted approach to Damned and those who were infected. Problem was, his social anxiety was being misinterpreted as him being antisocial. For a killer like Striker, he would have been the perfect competition. Striker was confident, full of bravado, took pleasure in the hunt and was openly proud of his kills.

Blitzø was silent, and he didn’t show emotion either which way.

Cold-blooded, was how it came across.

Bee bit her lip, knowing more than Striker did and contemplating whether or not to share. She decided against it, instead placing a hand on Striker's shoulder. “You do more than try, Strike. I am indebted to you in so many more ways than I can express but you have got to believe me, please-“

“As much as I could sit here and discuss my personal opinions on this entire matter, we need to decide what to do with Stella,” Striker interrupted impatiently, shrugging her off. “Whether I agree with what's goin’ down with Stolas and Blitzø or not, Stella tried to kill him.” Striker sighed, dragging a hand between his horns. “Either we put her down or we send her out there. At the end of the day, there's not a f*ckin’ difference because we lose Stella, we lose Andrealphus.”

Bee frowned, withdrawing her hand. “What are you saying, Striker?”

He straightened up, linking his hands together as he rest his elbows upon his knees. “She's gonna get bit out there. She ain’t no survivor, she's no hunter. We send her out there, she's going to die. No other way around it.” He rubbed his forehead, stressed under the weight of his responsibility. “Better off just puttin’ a bullet in her head and being done with it.”

Bee shifted, uneasy about the notion. “We do that, we set a new precedence around the camp. Not sure that’s how we should handle this, Strike. We said from the start we couldn’t start killing each other.”

Striker grimaced and glanced up at her with a heavy exhale. “What if she sticks around, huh? We let her go, she could just find her way back around here and try again. What do you think we should do, Bee? We ain’t exactly got a lot of options.”

“I- I don't know,” Bee admitted, jaw set. “I just know that we vowed not to kill the living. We promised not to be like that.”

“Yeah, well The Damned are,” Striker nearly whispered, his eyes glazing over. “If we let her go we're just sendin’ her out there to get killed and to turn. Not exactly ‘humane’ either.”

“I can't believe you are even thinking about this!” Bee hissed. She ran a hand through her fur, scared because she was well aware of the man Striker used to be. “How will Stolas feel about this?”

He shifted under her gaze. “To be completely honest with you, Bee, I'd have been toyin’ with the whole 'till death do us part' idea for a long time, if I were Stolas.”

Bee's eyes watered and she stepped back, nodding as she placed her hands on her hips. “I-”

She shook her head, a sob breaking free and Striker pulled her close to him. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck.

“It doesn't feel right to just kill her in cold blood.” She pulled away, cupping his face. “That feels like the old you.”

Striker tutted, apparently irked by the comment.

“Okay. Look. Maybe we pack up Stella's things and drop her off somewhere... I don't know, a safe place. House or something. I'll send a group out to scout it first. Give her some supplies, give her a fighting chance.” He pushed Bee away slightly and looked her in the eyes, studying her waveringly. “Let Andrealphus go with her or whatever, create a link between two locations like a f*ckin’ half-way point between us and the Highway. Least make it functional.”

Bee nodded, satisfied with the suggestion as she handed him back his hat. “That’s the Striker we look to.”

Striker wished he felt as sure about that as she sounded.

Chapter 16: Cashed Out

Chapter Text

Two days.

Two whole days.

It had been two whole, boring, tedious, stodgy days inside the cramped RV, with nothing but the sound of Odrega on the roof and stuff going on outside. Bee had brought Octavia to him the day before and Stolas had explained as best as he could in scrawny handwriting that Stella, along with Andrealphus, was gone.

Octavia had taken it a little too well, simply stating that Stella couldn't hurt anyone anymore and that she was happy her Mother was far away. Stolas worried over his daughter's lack of emotion, but Bee had reminded him that Barbie had already taken her through the motions of what had happened.

Stolas had never expected such a quality to find itself in the likes of Barbie Buckzo, but once again he was blessed that she had come to his daughter's aid.

Barbie had only visited him once, letting him know that Blitzø had taken to hunting every day and only returning to camp at night. The news had hurt more than a little, but Barbie had simply shrugged, stating it was their fault no-one had heard what was going on.

She had apologised to Stolas bluntly, explaining that when Blitzø returned, he'd automatically blown up at her on the spot. Stolas was relieved to hear that Barbie hadn't initiated the confrontation, but more than a little disappointed that Blitzø had lashed out immediately after coming back.

Alas, that meant that Blitzø was putting the full weight of the blame on his shoulders and Barbie couldn't snap him out of it without it incurring Blitzø's wrath.

Striker had also popped in, talked to Stolas about Stella being effectively thrown out and how he was sorry for not keeping a better eye on things.

Stolas had been more than gracious, writing in his scruffy pad of paper that no-one was to apologise for such a thing. Stolas should have been more careful with his friendships around camp.

To his credit, Striker had looked a little guilty, more than just a little uneasy, and then told him he needed to be careful around Blitzø, repeating what had been told to Bee in his tent.

Stolas just accepted the concern as just that – concern.

He wasn't going to be deterred because he knew better.

His mind was made up, and until Blitzø raised his hand and struck him, Stolas wasn't going to budge. Blitzø had saved him, Stolas had vowed to save the Imp back.

“You ready?”

Bee's voice roused the owl from his thoughts and he nodded, unable to wait any longer. He would be stepping out a door, for the first time in over fifteen years, without Stella in his life.

“Come on then, take it easy, though.” Bee was soon joined by Verosika, who wrapped an arm around his lower back, guiding him onto his feet.

It wasn't a great feeling, but it wasn't enough to deter Stolas from taking another step forward. Bee chuckled as he tried to move faster than they would allow.

“Stolas, you're not going to get out any sooner if you fall,” Verosika reminded with a laugh, fully understanding him for feeling penned in.

A silent huff, a wince at the movement and Stolas slowed reluctantly.

His muscles burned – from their injury or from being held back, he didn't know. What he did know, was that the RV seemed to go on forever, and the door opened painstakingly slowly.

The sunlight that filtered through the small doorway almost glowed, washing the small step in a veil of golden light. It was all Stolas needed to encourage the belief in the existence a better life ahead.

The first thing he felt was a jolt of pain as he took the single step a little heavily. Bee gasped but Verosika had a good hold on him.

“Steady, Stolas.”

Then Octavia's cry of excitement reached his ears and Stolas opened his arms, unable to kneel but doing his best to return his daughter's hug. Octavia released him, stepping back and waving to Cyril who was already giving Octavia an excited grin, eyes shining.

Everyone was suddenly before Stolas and around him, their smiles of relief warming his heart. Striker was quick to break up the celebrations with a crooked smile, reminding them that they had work to do.

“Sorry Stolas,” he said unapologetically. “Got my hands full. Had to re-arrange Stella's chores.”

He looked a little unsure about mentioning Stella’s name but Stolas simply waved him on with a smile. Striker reached out, hand brushing against the owl’s arm and Stolas paused, looking up at him curiously.

“Should have got rid of her sooner. I do know that,” Striker said with earnest, apparently seeing a brighter side to the camp without the tension of having Stella there.

Stolas gestured to himself and nodded his head with a wide smile.

'Me too.'

Striker released a low laugh and rubbed the back of his neck, glancing up at Stolas from the ground.

“Yeah...”

He inhaled and patted the owl’s arm in farewell, adjusting his hat and turning away to help arrange the supplies that had just been brought in.

“Right, we're setting you up in your tent.”

Stolas frowned at Bee and shook his head, not wanting to be inside for at least a couple hours. It was already cooling down and he didn't want to say goodbye to the outside just yet.

Heck, he was even missing the laundry at this point.

Besides, he was on a mission.

There had been one demon in particular who had managed to avoid him at all costs and it wasn't going on for any longer.

Not on his watch, at least.

Alas... Stolas had no way of conveying this, having left his paper pad in the claustrophobic RV that he refused to go near for at least a week. So, with very little ability to argue, Stolas found himself being guided once again around the camp, and towards his own tent.

It was cooler inside and despite not wanting to be confined again, he had to admit he'd missed his sleeping bag.

Bee stayed with him for an hour, explaining what he'd missed.

They'd dropped Stella and Andrealphus off in a lone house by some dingy little back road, away from the camp and away from the City. Andrealphus was all too happy to be isolated, though according to Bee, the Peaco*ck was treating Stella with an ice cold shoulder for being so stupid.

There were only two Damned at the property and Stolas was astonished to hear that it had been Blitzø who had been assigned to dispose of them.

Stolas wanted to laugh.

Figures Striker wouldn't let Blitzø off easy for being the other half that caused this.

Striker probably figured that Stolas had already done his part, having the crap beaten out of him. He hoped that was the end of Blitzø's punishment, at least. Oh, Stolas desperately wanted to see him, but knowing he didn't get back until night made the whole ordeal almost impossible.

Almost.

Stolas was stubborn and very patient. He was, at the end of the day, a bird of prey.

He was also shrewd – Octavia didn't get her intelligence from her Mother, oh no. Stolas was no simpleton and neither was he going to put his resolution to face Blitzø on the back burner. He'd ticked everything else off his list and the Imp was the last thing he'd need to set straight.

It hadn't been easy, convincing Verosika that he hadn't gotten involved with Blitzø, but Stolas had managed without incriminating anyone. He had been sat there with the blonde, scribbling away, asking if everyone truly thought him so easy.

Verosika had been appalled, grasping his hands and shaking her head, telling him that no-one would ever dream of Stolas doing such a thing with such a lowly Imp.

Well... that was more than what Stolas could say.

Stolas thought of it several times, just because it seemed funny to him that everyone thought it possible.

They couldn't be more wrong.

It couldn't be further out of the realm of possibility for either himself, or for Blitzø. So, he'd sat up one night running the whole situation over in his mind, wondering where he'd given off that impression because Blitzø sure as hell hadn't. He never initiated contact and they certainly hadn't been that openly chatty – hence the shock on everyone's faces when Stella accused them of being together.

It had sent Stolas into a tizzy and he'd analysed the topic into oblivion, falling asleep with it wrapped around his mind. So it was inevitable that the subject of his dreams that night were of the exact thing he was trying to prove hadn't occurred.

Not that it bothered him, he'd woken up and promptly tried to laugh, which ended badly as he then choked in pain and the whole ordeal lost it's hilarity.

Sad really.

He would have absolutely loved to tell Blitzø and see his reaction. Maybe one day, when Stolas’ voice decided it had punished him enough with silence, he could tell the Imp.

It had taken the better half of an hour before Stolas finally scribbled down the truth for Verosika.

Or at least... part of it.

Stella had damaged him so much, he couldn't bare to let someone put him in that position – that level of vulnerability – ever again. Verosika had looked at him with wide, heavyhearted eyes as she glanced from the words Stolas had scribbled, to Stolas himself.

'Couldn't ever get involved with anyone again. Not even for fun.'

It was the truth, it's what he set out to do and had planned to do should he ever escape Stella.

Verosika accepted it then, sighing and telling him that she was only concerned that Blitzø was taking advantage – or trying to. Stolas had waved her off with a smile.

Once that had been addressed, Stolas had asked the blonde to make sure everyone else understood that it was simply a friendship.

Clearly thinking that this was about Stolas not wanting to be lumped with the likes of a Buckzo, Verosika had enthusiastically promised to do so. Despite wanting to tell Verosika it was actually because it would make Blitzø uncomfortable, Stolas let it go.

It didn't matter the reason, as long as it was put to bed.

“Need anything?”

No, he didn't, but he'd no way of telling Bee that he was fine, so Stolas clenched his jaw and shook his head. The repetitive left to right movement had become the bane of his existence – being that for some reason, he hardly found himself nodding.

It was definitely giving him a crick.

“Right, well... I'm going to get you a soup cup with a new straw and then bring Octavia in for bed, that okay?”

Stolas nodded and waved to her tiredly. He had to nap, feeling everything drain from him as Bee left the tent. A nap would be good, he needed to be alert for Blitzø's return so he could be cornered.

Stolas just had to make sure he'd wake up in time.

Chapter 17: Hear Me Now

Chapter Text

Despite being absolutely determined to do this, Stolas was feeling more nervous than he could ever remember being.

It was late, Octavia was fast asleep in her sleeping bag and Stolas was hunched over, sat on his cot, waiting for Blitzø to return from doing f*ck knows what, f*ck knows where.

Why was he so nervous?

If Stolas was right about him, then Blitzø was only avoiding because in his mind, Stolas would not want to see him. The thought was utterly ridiculous and if the Prince weren't afraid of enforcing the idea, he'd happily slap it right out of the Imp.

Barbie hadn't been about much today either, though she had waved whilst helping Striker with manoeuvring things. It seemed that in some weird, twisted turn of events, Striker had started putting more than just a little trust in Barbie. It bit at Stolas because he had originally got the impression that the reason for everyone’s treatment of Blitzø was because of Barbie's behaviour.

Now, it seemed like Barbie was being accepted into the group – or at the very least, successfully shoving her way in, and Blitzø was being outed for being... well, Blitzø.

It was inevitable then that Stolas thought back on what Striker had told him.

Stolas knew from others that Blitzø showed absolutely no emotion when it came to putting down Damned.

They used to be people, demons, angels- it was completely understandable that most of them felt a sense of horror at the notion given that in all honesty, it’s what they too would become one day.

Killing a Damned felt too much like seeing your own demise to a lot of the group – so seeing Blitzø handle the affair so callously was unnerving.

There was no way around that.

Except that to Blitzø, they were already dead.

He was effectively killing nothing because the Damned were not living.

Everyone knew that until it came to dealing with them.

How ironic.

It also turned an ugly possibility that the reason Striker held Blitzø's singular hunting status and kept upping the frequency of his trips, was because he was trying to up the chances of him not making it back one day.

The idea felt too far-fetched, even for Striker, considering that it was Blitzø single-handedly feeding the camp.

'He wouldn't even kill Stella.' Stolas told himself, wincing a little as he leant forward. 'Maybe I'm paranoid?'

It was then that he heard footsteps and his heart decided to run a marathon all on its own. Stolas placed a hand over his chest, grimacing at the discomfort the palpitations caused. It was hard enough to breathe without his heart demanding more oxygen at a faster pace.

Oh he felt sick.

His stomach churned with anxiety and despite willing himself to move, he just couldn't.

The sharp hiss of the zipper to Blitzø’s tent was so loud to the owl that he wanted cover his ears. Stomach in knots, knees bouncing nervously and beak worrying at his bottom lip – it was now or never.

Stolas unclipped the peg that was holding the door to his tent closed – very clever, he was good at being in stealth mode – and marched as quickly as he could, one hand around his burning ribs and the other balled into a fist as he strode towards the tent designated as Blitzø’s.

If only he had taken his time, watching out for twigs, sticks and that damn rucksack of Blitzø’s that was strewn across the crushed soil right outside his tent. The disbelief and dread as Stolas felt the fabric of one of the straps catch the front of his foot was unwelcome and made his stomach flip. He lurched forward with a strangled sound of surprise, crashing through the partially- open doorway.

“What the fu-”

Stolas finished the Imp’s sentence mentally as he landed, ending up mostly inside the tent. A small puff of air escaped him as he collected his thoughts.

That wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind.

His ribs didn't feel any worse, but his knees didn't feel so great and he knew he'd grazed them.

It could have been worse, Stolas mused, pushing himself up. His arms straining under the weight, shoulder protesting as he sucked in a breath through a clenched jaw.

Stolas felt hands gingerly push him upright and he heaved a sigh of relief as he dropped backwards onto his backside, pulling his knees from under him and inspecting them casually.

No blood, but he'd definitely have marks.

Stolas rubbed them absentmindedly, finally turning his attention to the man he'd been waiting to see for days.

Blitzø was in a similar position to the Prince, except his arms were glued to his crossbow and he had scooted so far back he was actually tugging at the nylon of his tent, causing the front to pitch forward slightly. His eyes were wide, like Stolas had managed to really frighten the life out of him.

The owl paused, wondering if anyone had heard his fall and he suddenly found himself holding his breath, straining to hear any sign that they were caught.

Or that he was, caught.

Even Bee would be displeased with the stunt he was pulling right now. Seconds ticked by and Stolas finally relaxed, deciding that if someone was going to check on anything, they would have already moved to do so.

Stolas shifted awkwardly, zipping up the door to the tent and deciding to give Blitzø a moment to come to terms with the fact yes, the owl was here and yes, this was happening.

It wasn't like Blitzø would be tired or anything after being out there all day...

The thought made Stolas feel a little guilty but he hushed it, telling himself that Blitzø could have at least visited once whilst the owl was in that dumb RV.

Stolas turned back to him, blinking in the bleary light.

Blitzø was using a dimly lit camping lamp but it seemed too bright for the Prince’s eyes and Stolas squinted slightly, the loss of sharpness to his vision something he rarely considered until moments like these.

Blitzø hadn't relaxed at all, in fact he hadn't shifted an inch. Stolas was doubtful that Blitzø had even blinked.

Unable to verbally break the ice, Stolas waved his hands in the Imp’s face, making him flinch and finally register that yes, the Prince really was there. Blitzø's chest was rising a little too quickly as his shoulders slumped, the grip on his crossbow slackening as he moved it off his lap and lowered his gaze, letting his hands fall between his knees as he brought them up.

Stolas frowned.

Blitzø’s arms were laced with those familiar scratches again and his right hand was poorly bandaged in what looked to be that red bandanna usually hanging from his right back pocket. He looked drained and there was a shudder to his breath that told Stolas that the male before him was beyond his emotional capacity.

Blitzø seemed just as verbally suppressed as Stolas was.

The silence stretched on for what felt like an age, Stolas staring at Blitzø, and Blitzø looking everywhere but Stolas.

An awkwardness settled between them, one Stolas didn't feel equipped to handle and he wondered if he should just leave.

No.

This wasn't going to go away, it never would.

Stolas had finally rid himself of all reason to fear being free, Blitzø needed to do the same. Stolas wasn't losing the first friend he had made.

This friendship was his, and he'd been the one to guide it, he wasn't giving it up.

Words were void here, but actions weren't. Holding his injured ribs tightly, Stolas finally decided it was time to cut the crap. He reached out for Blitzø, a determined expression on his face.

Blitzø's jaw went slack as Stolas braced a hand on a scarred shoulder, Blitzø instinctively placing a hand on the owl’s hip as Stolas wobbled on feathered knees, steadying him. Stolas wrapped a free arm around Blitzø’s neck, pushing his knees further apart and settling between them.

Blitzø’s heart was beating rapidly under the thin material of his shirt, his breath departing him in short, panicked puffs of air. His muscles tensed as Stolas’ hold tightened and the owl felt him tremble under every touch. Blitzø didn't seem to know what was going on or how to respond, but when he finally wrapped his arms around the Prince, Stolas swore he saw stars.

It wasn't the most comfortable position to be in, but Stolas wouldn't have it any other way.

Blitzø was hugging him back, and Stolas felt forgiven for all his pushing and prying.

Blitzø's face turned into the curve of Stolas’ damaged neck and the owl let his other arm move up, hand gracing the back of Blitzø’s head. Stolas closed his eyes, revelling in the moment because he knew this was a moment that would seldom happen again.

Blitzø was warm.

He felt alive and he felt liberated from the pit of despair he'd eagerly sacrificed himself to over the past few days. Stolas' body was slight, too fragile in his arms and it only made him hold onto the owl more securely.

He could feel his heart slamming against his ribcage again, this time seemingly intent on merging with the one parallel to his own. If this was Stolas forgiving him, if this was Stolas giving him another chance then he was powerless to refuse.

He had resigned himself to the fact the Prince would most likely want nothing to do with him. So when it sank in that the owl was here, in his arms, had come to him – sought him out and without a seconds hesitation placed embraced him, Blitzø felt his world speed up and he fought to stabilise himself.

None of his whirling emotions were secure enough to anchor him, so he held onto the only thing he had left.

Stolas.

Stolas didn't know how long they'd sat like that, but he knew his message was clear and had been understood.

'Everything's okay.'

Eventually his knees began to scream at him for holding the position longer than they were able and Stolas reluctantly dropped his arms, rubbing Blitzø’s back in a bid to soothe his nerves from the loss of contact.

Stolas didn't move away, only settled himself more comfortably between the Imp’s legs and smiled at him tearfully.

Blitzø didn't return it, only ducked his head meekly, pulling his arms closer to his body and dropping his hands to the ground between his thighs.

Stolas tried valiantly not to frown at the instant withdrawal.

The insidious demons gnawing at Blitzø were more stubborn than Stolas had anticipated and frustration mingled with anger bubbled from within him bitterly, causing his blood to boil with resentment towards whoever had thrown him so far out of reach.

Again, Stolas turned to his belief that actions could speak louder, cupping Blitzø’s face with obsidian hands and forcing him to look up. Stolas’ heart ached with sorrow at the helplessly despondent expression Blitzø was wearing and the owl shook his head, earnestly trying to convey that none of what had happened was Blitzø’s fault.

Blitzø inhaled a shaky breath and wrapped his hands around Stolas’ wrists so carefully that the Prince wondered if the Imp thought he were made of glass.

It seemed that Blitzø himself was made of glass for he pulled Stolas’ hands away from him, turning away and refusing to look the older male in the face.

'Fine.'

If Blitzø was going to be difficult, then Stolas would be ten times worse.

With a very indignant glare, he leant forward and kissed Blitzø on the cheek.

Hard.

The Imp jerked sideways with an audible gasp, looking alarmed and completely in denial that Stolas had done something so awfully intimate. Wide scarlet eyes found cerise-rose hues and Stolas threw him his most impudent glare, the one that told him that Stolas wasn't giving in, and he wasn't taking no for an answer.

It was also the one that stated that Stolas wasn't going to give a hoot about Blitzø’s self-depreciating thoughts or his no touching rule.

When Blitzø rubbed his cheek with his sleeve, Stolas simply leant in to give the other side the very same treatment and grabbed at his injured hand when it came up to stop him, placing a kiss to scarred knuckles until Blitzø finally became too flustered to handle anymore.

“Okay! Okay!” His voice didn't sound like his but Stolas dropped his hands immediately, folding his arms and glaring at Blitzø in pure defiance.

Blitzø was almost hyperventilating, shuddering as he wiped his blazing cheeks and gulping in air at the blatant boldness.

Stolas scooted back, sensing that now the Imp really needed some space to breathe.

It was as far as Stolas dared to go, knowing that he didn’t want to be misunderstood.

“f*ck.” Blitzø ran a hand between his horns, unable to calm himself down or force the very uncomfortable blush from cheeks to leave. His face almost hurt from the intensity of self-consciousness he now felt.

“You're the worst type of friend, y'know that?” He wished his voice hadn't cracked, wished that he hadn't looked at Stolas with eyes laden with tears as the words passed his lips and he really wished he hadn't blinked, letting them fall.

He ducked his head, pulling his sleeve over his palms and wiping his eyes.

Stolas was both stunned into a stupor and past the point of joy. He was unable to hold back the wide, unbridled smile that spread across his face at the knowledge that he’d finally broke through another one of Blitzø’s dumb walls, and the Prince couldn't have been more happier.

Stolas waved his hands frantically, moving to remove those tatty sleeves from those damp lashes and replacing them with his own.

It was okay to cry in front of him and Stolas was proud of Blitzø for doing so.

Blitzø sniffled, embarrassed by his tears but didn't turn away as Stolas brushed his thumb against mismatched skin. Blitzø exhaled sharply, trying not to tense up and failing miserably, but Stolas didn't care, only tilted his face down and placed a chaste kiss upon Blitzø’s heart-shaped insignia.

Blitzø tried to ignore the way his heart fluttered at the touch, telling himself it was just the close proximity and the fact he'd somehow managed to skirt another bout of heartbreak.

This time, when Stolas sat back, their gazes met and they both chuffed, though Stolas’ was silent.

Blitzø cleared his throat, rubbing his face roughly and scooting over to where the owl decided to lean up against the side of his cot. They sat there in silence, hugging their knees with more than two spaces between them.

It was the most normal either of them had felt in days.

Blitzø’s brain felt battered and he couldn't hold onto a single thing that crossed his mind. He felt Stolas take hold of his injured hand and he gave the owl an apologetic shrug. “It’s nothing.”

He could see that Stolas didn't believe him, but could also see that Stolas knew better than to push- for now.

The Prince in question was in a strange state of mind. Stolas' skin was tingling from all the contact, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Blitzø's did too. Unfortunately, Stolas’ body was already regretting all the shifting he’d done. His ribs were smarting, assaulting his nerves in punishment for his actions. His throat was burning, mouth feeling far too dry and his shoulder was singing its own agonising chorus within his bones.

He would definitely be bed-ridden tomorrow, but it was worth it.

The silence between them was comfortable, and Stolas exhaled slowly, deciding that whatever happened, he’d make sure they were okay.

Somehow, it felt as though they'd said more tonight than they ever had before.

Chapter 18: Sweet Dreams

Chapter Text

Somehow, Stolas had ended up leaning on Blitzø, and somehow Blitzø had ended up not caring.

“It’s fine. I’m not your f*cking laundry.”

Stolas had been unable to stop fussing the Imp once they'd finally broken the walls between them. He’d been adamantly trying to get him to remove the bandanna on his right hand.

“Look, I didn’t think you’d wanna be around me after everything I said,” Blitzø admitted quietly, letting the Prince unbind his self-inflicted injury.

Stolas had known that.

“Since... you know... if I hadn't blown the f*ck up at you for following me... that bitch would never have-”

Stolas cut him off with a shove, and Blitzø grimaced at the owl’s furiously hurt expression, it was worse when Stolas held Blitzø’s injured hand up with a look that said Stolas knew exactly how that bloody wound had got there.

Blitzø winced, feeling shame claw up his spine, wrap itself around his neck and constrict his vocal cords. He’d never considered how anyone else would think about his self-destructive nature. He wasn’t aware anyone could care.

Stolas sighed heavily and squeezed Blitzø’s wide-set wrist. Stolas didn't like it, was probably going to give him an earful when able, but tenderly took care of him anyway.

The sting of the damp cloth was enough to make Blitzø ball his other fist up and hit the ground under him.

“sh*t.”

The pain was never welcome.

He hated the pain, just loved the visual image of it.

As vulnerable as he felt with Stolas knowing about the hideous coping mechanism, Blitzø also felt relieved, as though the burdens of lying with every breath he took were alleviated. Somewhere in his slowing mind the voices whispered to pull away, to send Stolas back to his own tent, and for Blitzø to return to the safety of isolation.

They dug into his peace of mind, sank their teeth into his positive thoughts and wrought havoc with his faith.

He'd only hurt Stolas again.

The group would think bad of the Prince.

Barbie would do something stupid- if Blitzø himself didn't, and somehow Stolas would end up paying the price.

Blitzø would do to the Prince what everyone had done to him- and they only treated Blitzø that way because of what he’d done in the first place, back in Hell. It was going to happen and he could do nothing but push everyone awa-

A semi-hard nudge jostled him from his downward spiral and he blinked at Stolas’ knowing frown. They didn't say anything, didn't need to. It was painfully obvious that Stolas had taken up the cry, declaring war on those demons that hid beneath Blitzø’s anxiety, fuelling it, nurturing it… giving it life.

Blitzø almost felt excluded from the battle, he was simply being dragged along for the ride, tugged this way and that at the mercy of his own personal hell and Stolas’ devoted ferocity. It baffled him, he'd never felt like such a damsel in distress.

He snorted at the thought, ignoring Stolas' inquisitive expression as the owl looked up at him.

Stolas was one weird knight in shining armour.

'Why?'

Blitzø squinted at the almost glowing piece of paper that had been thrust in his face. He stepped back, blinked a few times then took it from the Prince who held it.

He'd awoken feeling hungover despite not ingesting a single drop of alcohol.

His brain felt like sponge and his heart had ached from the moment he became aware of it's existence. He’d gotten dressed, vaguely remembering that Stolas had tugged him up and forced him into his cot that night, literally tucking him in.

Blitzø had been too exhausted to argue, or feel embarrassed by it. The last thing he felt was the covers being pulled over his shoulders and the owl sneaking another kiss on his cheek before he drifted off.

Stolas had obviously retired himself, seeing that Blitzø had stepped outside his Stolas-less tent and been abruptly assaulted with a crinkled pad of paper that reflected the sunlight so effectively that it momentarily blinded him.

“f*ck, and I thought my handwriting was bad. Aren’t you rich pricks supposed to write all fancy?” He held it out, looking incredulous. Stolas scoffed and snatched it back with a slight blush. “Morning to you too,” Blitzø amended a little more softly, honestly wondering if the Prince knew how cute he was.

Stolas’ glare vanished, a little surprised as Blitzø offered him a shy smile.

The Imp wasn't expecting the expression of utter elation he got in response and cleared his throat uncomfortably. Stolas nodded at him enthusiastically, then winced, hands coming up to clutch at his bruised neck.

Blitzø shook his head, the fondness vanishing. “You haven’t got a f*cking clue how to help yourself get better, do you.”

“No, he doesn't.”

They both turned to Bee who was waiting by their usual breakfast camp fire. She held up two coffee mugs with a grin and Blitzø felt his heart skip a beat. His second chance was there, waiting for him to either take it or leave.

Stolas held out his paper pad and beckoned Blitzø along, the owl reaching out towards Bee who helped him into a chair. Octavia was already pointing out things to Cyril as Bee began handing out the bowls.

A hand slapped Blitzø’s back and his breath hitched, ready to thump his sister who had obviously come up behind him. His anger died upon meeting Barbie's warm gaze and the tension left, the sting almost instantly ebbing away. “Come on, baby brother. Breakfast won’t wait all day.”

Blitzø gave her that singular nod and Barbie threw him a lop-sided grin.

Looks like he was taking that second chance whether he wanted to or not.

Breakfast ended up being swift and quiet, for the most part. Stolas drank in the atmosphere with a heart that kept on clenching. His instinctive need to check where Stella was had ghosted over him several times and Blitzø had been softer than usual when correcting that particular learned-behaviour.

Said Imp was quiet, looked more than a little exhausted but it was the most peaceful Stolas had ever seen him.

Barbie had even seemed to pick up on her brother's fragility that morning, focusing her attention on Octavia and Cyril. Stolas would never forget the look on Bee's face when her son fired off a myriad questions and Barbie simply answered each of them with such finesse it was like listening to an entirely different person.

Stolas could have stayed there all day, listening to Barbie entertain the children and Bee pitch in when a subject that piqued her interest popped up. He found himself stealing glances at Blitzø, who looked exactly how Stolas felt.

Sadly, it was not to be.

Bee had whisked the children off to do their home-schooling which did not involve the owl, and Barbie seemed to vanish into thin air the second Verosika and Pria were out of their tents. Blitzø was called away by Striker and so Stolas found himself sitting by his usual laundry table, folding clothes habitually.

Shake.

Smooth.

Fold.

The motions were mindless, soothing and kept him from petering off into the void of boredom. He deliberately refrained from looking up at the now empty spot where Stella's tent used to be. He ignored the chair obscured by the towels hanging on the lines. Stella wasn't hanging over him any more and he was free.

No more worrying over the likes of her, no more dreading the proximity of everyone in the camp.

Stolas paused in his thoughts, coming across a pair of tan cargo's that made him sigh wistfully.

They really were rather tatty.

His stitching in the right knee already starting to pull apart. What a weird, strange turn of events.

“You got a problem?”

Stolas grinned without needing to look up. The words sent him right back and he folded the cargo's swiftly, holding them out. The minute they were pulled from his grasp he placed his hand over his eyes, shielding them from the golden glow that bore down upon the camp.

Blitzø was grinning sheepishly at his clothes, standing two spaces back than need be from the table.

Some things just didn't change.

Some things however, certainly did. The camp was busy, yet Blitzø had come to the Prince just as he had that very first day. Gingerly reaching for the basket that was designated for the laundry to-be, Stolas shimmied round the table and handed it to him expectantly.

Blitzø was surprised for a fraction of a second before realisation dawned on him and an uneasy expression settled over his face. “You sure?”

Stolas nodded as Blitzø sighed.

“Yeah why not. Ain't doing nothing else.”

Stolas felt eyes on them as the Imp followed him around the camp, mumbling under his breath at the looks he got for helping with the camp laundry. Stolas desperately wished to reassure him, but on the other hand the Prince liked having his personal little rain cloud of doubt trailing behind him.

He couldn't fix everything for Blitzo, even if he wanted to. The Imp would have to learn to ignore what others thought and that was something he could only learn to do himself.

Blitzø had tuned out everything else around him, his attention completely fixated on Stolas as the owl inspected every garment before putting it in the basket. He left anything black, red or navy blue. Anything made of fine lace, wool or silk.

Blitzø really wanted to ask why.

He wanted to ask why on several things.

He wanted to ask why Stolas had given him another chance, why Stolas was so happy despite everything, how Stolas could be so forgiving and how Stolas could stand so strong in the face of reality. He wanted to ask Stolas how he really felt when Blitzø had blown up him, how it felt making Stella kneel at his feet.

How Stolas felt about the way Blitzø held him... the thought made him blush and he tried to hide it behind his upper arm as he lifted the laundry basket.

It all came down to one thing really, he missed Stolas’ voice and was impatient to hear it.

Stolas was so focused on sorting out the build up of laundry, he had forgotten how full the camp was. Had he been more aware then he would have seen Moxxie's small grin at the two of them, Thyone rolling his eyes and Odrega looking at them with a pleased sense of smugness.

Verosika watched with a frown as Stolas fussed over the laundry, the younger Buckzo in tow. He had surprised her a little, made her doubt her concrete belief that he was bad news. It annoyed her, for she was not one to be dissuaded from her own understanding.

“I think it's kind of sweet,” Pria said quietly beside her as Blitzø forced Stolas to slow down, no words passed between them but as he set the basket down and fetched a bottle of water, it was hard to see anything other than genuine care between them.

Verosika rolled her eyes and looked at her sister in dry disbelief. “Don't be so easily deluded.”

She shook her head and eyed the scene wearily, folding her arms. “I don't trust him. Not one bit. Imp like that would never see past a kid. He isn't going to take on a child- he's not the type. Whatever this is, isn't real. It's just him looking for an easy lay.”

Pria frowned, looking at Verosika sceptically. “What if it's genuine?”

Verosika shoved the box of clean dishes into her sister’s arms with a huff. “Remind me to never let you date,” she muttered, glaring at the pair that seemingly sparked off her younger sister’s delusions about romance. “That type of Imp doesn’t love. They’re born performers for a reason, Pria.”

“You mean a clown?” Pria asked, furrowing her eyebrows as Verosika nodded.

“They only know how to play tricks.”

It was like Stolas had woken up in some fairy tale daydream.

Everything seemed right with the world and he wasn't even going to reap the usual consequences for having a good day. There was nothing stopping him from being liberated – minus the fact that he couldn't talk.

Actually, what was starting to dampen his spirits was the fact that he had missed seven – seven – opportunities to tease Blitzø.

He had almost felt like crying at the way life was now spinning his new-found freedom.

His problem was that Blitzø seemed to possess the mind of a Nun. He had to, to not immediately think of the things Stolas thought of. The Imp didn't even blink when the Prince had held up what Stolas deemed to be a rather sexy bra to himself, wiggling his eyebrows.

Blitzø simply shot Stolas a weird look. “That looks f*cking uncomfortable.”

True.

“Not f*cking practical either.”

Hence why Stolas had singled them out. They were the complete opposite and he knew it. He huffed at his failed attempt to get Blitzø to envision him in it and dumped it in the laundry basket.

“Also, doesn’t look like it would f*cking fit you.”

Stolas stumbled, glared at Blitzø’s smirk and dancing scarlet hues, then promptly cursed his vocal cords for not being able to snap out a witty 'So you've been looking?'

He prayed that he would be able to make up for lost time, knowing that it was the only way he really maintained the control of their... conversations?

Whatever they had.

It took forever this time, his injuries making it a slow process that only served to bring the mood down further. Blitzø didn't seem to mind at all, though, and that was something Stolas ended up leaning on for support.

He wasn't complaining, and Stolas shouldn't be either- clearly for Blitzø, it was the company that mattered.

Chapter 19: Bitches

Chapter Text

“You’ve gotta hold it more like- yeah.”

“It's heavy.”

“It's not. You're just small.”

“Auntie Barbie says that I'm taller than you were at my age.”

“Auntie Barbie can kiss my as-” Something cut him off.

There was a gasp and then, “You were going to say a naughty word!”

“Was not, now pick that back up and hold it right.”

“I'm telling Daddy that you said a naughty word.”

“You can’t, because I didn’t say it.”

Stolas decided it was time to exit his tent and rescue Blitzø from his daughter.

The Imp had been indulging Octavia's interest with his crossbow for a while, teaching her the parts, teaching her how to load it and clean it. He hadn't let her use it – Stolas didn't think he'd dare but it was kind of him to pander to her curiosity.

As Stolas stepped outside, he breathed in the thick afternoon air. It was humid again and he ran a hand through his dark grey tufts. His feathers were in desperate need of preening, they’d become ruffled, giving him a near-constant bed-head. Luckily, Stolas was surprised to find it was something that he could get away with for the time being, and even more surprising, he kind of liked it.

Mainly because Stella would have hated it.

Blitzø was sat on one of the chairs by their camp-fire, Octavia still glaring at the large crossbow in her arms. She was sat next to him on one of the log-benches, most unhappy. She couldn't even lift the weapon and this seemed to amuse the Imp greatly. It looked like nothing in his arms, but in Stolas’ daughter’s lap it looked positively monstrous.

Stolas wasn't entirely sure he liked the idea of Octavia playing with it, but at least it wasn't loaded.

Blitzø looked up then, giving Octavia a nudge and pointing in Stolas’ direction.

“Daddy!” Octavia exclaimed, face lighting up. It immediately changed into an accusatory glare as she pointed at Blitzø. “Mister Blitzø's been saying bad words.”

Sometimes, Stolas loved his daughter for reasons other than her being... well, his daughter.

Blitzø's eyes narrowed as he glared at Octavia, looking utterly betrayed.

Stolas was too busy swallowing hard at the sight of him.

Blitzø was wearing a new black short-sleeved tee, his usual shirt tied around his waist. He usually looked tense and stressed but there he was, a matchstick lodged neatly between his teeth as he leant back at an angle in the deckchair, one leg propped up on the seat, the other stretched out as he pointed a bolt in Octavia's face, the fletching tickling her beak.

He looked utterly carefree.

“You are little snitch, Eighths.”

She giggled, rubbing her beak and pushing his hand away only for him to twist his wrist and tickle her cheek with it instead.

Stolas watched the scene with an indescribable emotion trickling into his veins.

The last two weeks had seemed to practically drag by at a pace that made it feel like it had been months. Things had fallen into place quite nicely, though the underlying distaste still writhed beneath it all.

Blitzø had taken to calling Stolas’ daughter by that name - Eighths - and the Prince kept wanting to pry and ask why, but held back in fear of making him retract it. Octavia loved the nickname and responded to it with a sense of pride that Stolas wouldn’t risk taking away.

The two had developed a bond of trust, though everything Blitzø ever did with Octavia revolved around that crossbow of his. Not exactly a trustworthy tool in Stolas’ daughter’s hands, but Stolas was determined not to get overprotective.

If anyone knew how to handle that... thing, it was Blitzø.

Barbie was different when it came to Octavia.

When she came back from trips - which seemed to be every two days now - she would bring Octavia practical things like coats and shoes. It was sweet, really. They both seemed to step up and take the place of that rotten woman who dared steal the title of Mother.

All in all, they had fairly little to do with Octavia, but Stolas wasn't going to lie.

Octavia was being spoiled by the Buckzo Twins, and he absolutely loved it.

His daughter fully deserved it after everything she'd gone through in her early life. Barbie had even taken the liberty of popping by in lessons with Bee and Cyril, helping out with maths when it came to measurements and had a funny, not-so-questionable knack for chemistry and horticulture.

Stolas tittered wryly, rubbing absentmindedly at his throat. All things had a silver lining, including Barbie's history with recreational chemicals and plants.

“My Daddy is looking at you.”

That snapped Stolas out of his reverie and he finally moved to join them.

The day wasn't even nearly over, but he felt exhausted from the largest batch of laundry he and the women had ploughed through that day. Everyone had been in dire need of new clothes and it was a welcome feeling to have clean, brand new attire. It certainly made for a pleasant break in stitching up holes and tears.

Stolas eyed Blitzø's new jeans with a sigh.

The denim around his boots were already frayed and torn. The fabric stretching over his right knee was faded, wearing dangerously and on the brink of shredding.

Blitzø would forever be in need of Stolas’ sewing kit, no matter how new the clothes he wore were.

“Daddy, why are you staring at Mister Blitzø?”

Then there were times Stolas really disliked his daughter.

Blitzø was watching him with a weirded out expression, that unwanted tension creeping into his composure. Stolas blinked rapidly and shook his head, wanting to clear his throat but knowing he couldn't.

“Looking good,” Stolas winced, his voice sounding a little rough but not entirely unpleasant. He gestured towards Blitzø’s newer apparel and the Imp relaxed, fiddling with his bolt.

“Not so bad yourself.”

Stolas smiled at that. Blitzø was so sweet, and the Prince couldn't get enough of it. “Water?”

“Oh, yeah sure.” Blitzø reached behind him, tilting his chair sideways and steadying his precarious lean with the leg still planted firmly on the soil beneath them. “Pass this to your Dad, Eighths.”

Octavia listened to him without even blinking, taking the bottle he was waving in her direction and leaning forward towards her Father’s chair.

Stolas threw him a grateful nod, twisting the cap off and relishing in the cooling sensation that the liquid offered his strained vocal chords as he took a sip. He was doing so much better but he still couldn't manage verbalising more than a few words at any one time. He should have been relieved with his progress but honestly, a bill of clean health couldn't come soon enough for him.

He missed conversing with others sorely and had built up a repertoire of questions he simply couldn't live without knowing the answers to. Even the most mundane and trivial were enough to send him reeling with a desperate need for explanation.

“You feeling any better?”

Stolas nodded and lightly preened his daughter's feathers with a free hand as Octavia fought to lift the crossbow off her lap. Blitzø snorted and lifted it for her single handedly, and Stolas felt his gaze drift as the Imp’s arm flexed with the movement, placing it by the foot of his chair.

“You're looking again,” Octavia announced, large eyes all-too innocent and at the same time, not.

Stolas smacked her arm lightly with a shy grin.

“Can't help it.” He coughed when a laugh threatened to escape him at Blitzø's expression. Stolas leaned back and blatantly ogled the Imp’s body, unabashedly letting his gaze linger long enough to ensure he was in no way mistaken. “So much man.”

“f*ck’s sake.” Blitzø looked away with his cheeks burning.

Stolas coughed again and winced, forcing him to take another mouthful of water.

Blitzø scowled as the owl did so. “As much as you deserve that, take it easy will you?”

Stolas nodded through the tears that stung his eyes. It was a physical response to the sharp pain, not necessary or heartfelt in any way.

Blitzø frowned at the Prince and watched him wipe the moisture away with a look of silent sorrow.

“Miss hearing you natter on,” Blitzø suddenly voiced, and Stolas looked up at him in surprise. The Prince once again wiped his eyes, biting his lip through a grin at Blitzø’s shock in regards to his own admission. He didn't look like he'd meant to say it out loud but the words made the pain bearable and Stolas reached out an arm, opening and closing his palm pleadingly.

Octavia leant back as Blitzø reluctantly took her Father’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go.

She wrinkled her beak and glanced at them both. “So weird,” she finally said, getting to her feet and dusting down her summer dress.

Blitzø took the matchstick from his lips and pointed it at her. “Says you.”

Octavia laced her fingers together behind her back, rocking on her heels innocently. “I do hope you don't choke on that, Mister Blitzø,” she said sweetly. “Daddy says that you shouldn't put things like that in your mouth.”

Stolas snorted as his daughter stalked past a sulky looking Blitzø who nudged her lower back with his foot as she skipped by him. Blitzø laughed as the little girl stuck out her tongue and walked backwards into Barbie who had been heading towards them.

“Woah there, kiddo,” Barbie chuckled, steadying her with kind hands as Octavia looked up with sparkling cerise hues. Barbie seemed to get caught in them before patting her forward.

“Mister Blitzø keeps saying bad words, Auntie Barbie,” Octavia said pitifully, clutching onto Barbie’s leg.

Barbie placed her hands upon her hips and looked at the owlette knowingly. “He’s teaching you how to talk properly, huh?”

Octavia shook her head. “Bad language. You talk better than Mister Blitzø.”

Barbie barked out a laugh and inhaled jovially. “Facts, kiddo.”

Blitzø ignored them entirely, closing his eyes and soaking up the sun.

“Hey! You perverted piece of sh*t!”

Stolas furrowed his eyebrows and turned to look behind him, seeing a red faced Verosika storming towards them from the entrance of their camp, turning heads as she went.

Instinctively, Stolas and Blitzø turned to Barbie with duo expressions of disdain. Octavia huffed and folded her arms, looking at Verosika grumpily as she returned to her Father’s side. Barbie looked ready for a round of arguing and grinned as the Succubus neared.

“What f*ckery did you do now, Barbie?”

No-one could even begin to process the shock when Verosika stormed right past Barbie-Wire, standing before Blitzø whose eyebrows had shot up in surprise at the red faced blonde huffing furiously in front of him.

Stolas looked between the two in confusion.

Blitzø and pervert didn't belong in the same room let alone the same sentence. Barbie's grin had transformed into a thin line, glancing at an awkward looking Pria who was standing quite some distance from them.

“You thought you had everyone so f*cking fooled, didn't you,” Verosika spat, looking like she'd caught a criminal red handed.

It wasn't far from her actual thoughts.

“Uh... what?”

Stolas was just as surprised at Blitzø's calmness as he was at Verosika's words. Blitzø was still slouching in the chair, albeit leaning slightly farther back than originally and his shoulders had tensed.

“Don't sit there like you don't know, don't you even. What is it with you two?!” She shook her head in disgust, folding her arms. “You're both f*cking pigs, you think because you do sh*t for us that buys you a get out of jail free card?”

Stolas didn't know what was happening – Verosika was angry but the atmosphere around them didn't reflect it.

“Verosika-”

“Don't you even start, Stolas!” Verosika snapped, making Stolas clench his jaw.

“Hey! Don’t you f*cking talk like that to him!”

Oh dear, now Blitzø was on his feet and towering over Verosika, making her step back defiantly. It would have made Stolas' heart flutter, had Verosika not recovered so quickly.

“Don't you act like you actually care about him.”

“What would you f*cking know.”

Blitzø's voice was so low it spoke volumes. For a moment, Stolas worried that Verosika would push his buttons like she had Stella's.

Barbie was there then, pushing Blitzø back gently and giving Verosika a patient look. “What's this about, blondie?”

Verosika grit her teeth and pointed at Blitzø with a violent jerk of her finger. “Your sick asshole of a brother was watching my little sister bathe!”

She belted it out in Barbie’s face, but Barbie didn't even flinch. The older Buckzo just looked at Verosika like she was insane before letting out a laugh.

Barbie stepped back, turning to Blitzø who looked just as humoured.

He slumped back down in his chair, apparently unbothered. “Didn’t even notice your kid sister,” he told her. “Striker told me to walk round the perimeter this morning. I do my job no matter what. Don't be stupid, alright? I ain't interested in spying on kids f*cking bathing.”

Satisfied, Barbie sat next to him and Stolas stepped to the chair on his other side. Verosika's mouth was hanging open in utter disbelief. “She saw you!”

“Damn right she saw me,” Blitzø retorted, pointing at Pria with his bolt. She was still hovering a little ways off. “I’m not gonna f*cking know whose down at the lake, doing what, every f*cking time I do a round. Whole reason I even do these dumb rounds is 'cause she got attacked by The Damned down there.”

“I can't believe this. You're seriously going to sit there and deny this?” She turned to Stolas who looked just as perplexed as Blitzø. “I expect this from the likes of Barbie, but not you. You're just going to sit there and accept this?”

Stolas swallowed and inhaled sharply. “Blitzø has to do his job, Verosika. If Pria was so- so-” he struggled and Blitzø placed a a hand on the Prince’s shoulder to stop him.

“Don't over do i-”

Stolas held a hand up, cutting him off. “If Pria was so concerned, then why didn't she say something when she came back? She's been... here... long before Blitzø got back?”

Verosika was tensing with pent up rage. She was furious but she seemed unable to get a rise out of any of the people in front of her. She was unable to get them to see what heinous crime had been committed and was completely unable to wake them up from the spell that had befallen all but her.

“This is bullsh*t!”

Pria took a few tentative steps forward then, looking nervous. “Verosika...”

“No!”

Others were now starting to linger and she was gaining a crowd, which only spurred her on. “He was perving on her! On my little sister! You admit it you sick sh*t!”

Stolas frowned, knowing that Blitzø was starting to lose his patience as quickly as Verosika herself was.

“Blondie, you don’t know what you're saying,” Barbie drawled out, a look creeping onto her face that Stolas had never seen before. “You want your sister to be safe but you’re expecting a f*cker to know the difference between a bather and a Damned from a distance. You want to be told that my baby brother's been getting hanky with the image of your little sister then you’re gonna be sorely disappointed. You know more about me than you do him, and you'd be best looking to keep it that way.”

There was a clear warning in Barbie’s tone and it felt heavy around their camp-fire.

Verosika was visibly taken aback. “Are you threatening me?”

“What's going on here?” Striker's voice broke the tension, all but Verosika sighing exasperatedly and rolling their eyes as he marched towards them.

Blitzø jumped in before Verosika could say her piece, huffing in annoyance. “Blondie's kid sister took a dip in the lake whilst I did my round this morning. Somehow me walking in clear sight right past her on the opposite side of the damn bank means I was being some sick peepin’ prick.”

Striker glanced between them and licked his lips, hands going to his hips as usual. “Verosika... you do realise that Blitzø was an assassin, right?”

Stolas pursed his beak at the look of clear offence on said male’s face. ‘Was?’

That seemed to make everyone falter in their thoughts and Striker shook his head. “Yeah, see I don't know about you but that tells me that if Blitzø was gonna pull a f*ckin’ stunt like that, he wouldn't get f*ckin’ caught. I sent him out there, and Pria has been told not to go down to the lake to bathe alone three times now. Everyone else gets escorted. I can't pull my guys off their guard just because your sister decides to take a spontaneous dip, alright?”

Everyone was stunned.

Verosika was gaping in disbelief and she shook her head, unable to believe her ears and outright refusing to.

“Screw you, Striker! Screw you! You’re damn well aware that everyone knows Pria goes down to the lake in the morning!” She turned to Blitzø who looked like he was going to start ignoring her. “You could have waited!”

“You're being real unreasonable now,” Blitzø told her. “I’m not gonna know 'bout anyone's damn routine in this camp and you all know it. I don't even know 'bout Barbie's schedule. I’m coming and f*cking going like a yoyo. I take my orders from Striker and I’m not gonna skirt my duties just 'cause some skinny bitch decides to get f*cking naked. I’m not interested in anything else but hunting and keeping the camp safe.”

“Hey! Hey you don't talk about my sister like that you piece of sh*t!”

Striker placed an arm out in front of her and threw Blitzø a look that told him his name-calling wasn't appreciated.

Stolas huffed and spotted Bee headed towards them, worry on her face.

“What the f*ck is going on? I can hear you from all the way on the hill.”

“Pria took a dip this morning in the nude whilst Blitzø was on his usual round. She saw him, ran to Verosika, and now Verosika's taken up the cry and decided she has solid proof that Blitzø's the big spooky bad guy. What else is new.”

All head's turned to Stolas as he rubbed his throat, looking beyond pissed.

“Oh. Is that all,” Bee sighed, squeezing Striker's shoulder as she stood beside him.

“I can't believe you,” Verosika stated, a mocking chuckle leaving her lips as she shook her head at Stolas. “You get Royally beat up by your wife and now you think you have all the savvy in the world, huh? If this is what you were like before she hit you then no wonder you ended up the way you did, bitch.”

Her words stung but it wasn't Stolas that reacted. Bee jumped up and before anyone could stop her, she slapped Verosika right across the face, her head snapping to the side with the force of the hit. The sound seemed to echo and even Verosika seemed speechless.

“You're the only bitch here and you know it,” Bee told her, ignoring everyone's gawking. “You were the one to convince Pria that Blitzø was perving, weren't you.”

Bee glanced to a stricken looking Pria who was visibly too shocked to say anything.

Verosika wiped her face, seemingly accepting that she'd overstepped a mark but overall, she refused to back down. “I'm not as f*cking blind as you lot. I know exactly what his game is!” She looked around the camp before turning her attention onto Blitzø again. “Couldn't get anywhere with Stolas so you're turning your attention elsewhere, you sicko.”

Stolas released a strangled sound of frustration and sat up, turning towards Blitzø who was glaring up at Verosika.

He was sick of it, sick of this. “You know what? I'm getting utterly tired of this. You wish to know why all this sexual bullsh*t is impossible?”

Verosika opened her mouth to retort but Stolas was faster.

Blitzø had no idea what hit him when Stolas suddenly grabbed his face and turned it non-too-gently, crushing their mouths together in a kiss that literally blew the Imp’s mind.

The world slammed to a standstill.

Stolas’ beak was weirdly soft against Blitzo’s lips, and his heart started to race faster than the rest of his body could keep up. Time froze, he froze, the entire world froze. There was just him and Stolas and a kiss that he couldn't even begin to comprehend.

Then he heard the gasps around them, the feel of someone so close sent pins and needles ripping down his body. Time accelerated beyond what his mind could cope with as it all came crashing down around him.

What was was happening?

Why was Stolas kissing him?

Everyone was watching and then he did exactly what Stolas had hoped he would.

He freaked.

Blitzø wrenched himself away with a yell, knocking his chair over as he scrambled away from them all. “What the f*ck, Stolas!" He was so red and hyperventilating so heavily that Stolas worried the Imp would pass out.

“You know I can't stand that sh*t! Don't f*cking touch me like that- no! No!”

He stormed off in a blind panic, Barbie going after him with a look of fear that Stolas barely registered.

Stolas glared at the utterly astonished demons before him. “That's why.”

Everyone was silent, trying to grasp the extremely panicked reaction they'd just witnessed. Pria suddenly seemed to pipe up and she sounded relieved. “Oh. He’s a virgin.”

Everyone stared at her before the group shared an exasperated groan and dispersed, Striker gripping Verosika's arm as he gave her a harsh talking to.

Stolas ignored the look Bee was giving him as he sat beside her, the atmosphere becoming more than tense.

“Well... at least they won't be jumping to the conclusion that he’s gay anymore,” Bee said quietly, the tension stretching out between them. Barbie had chased after Blitzø into the woods and Stolas was still looking away from her.

Pria was being dragged back towards her tent by Verosika, and everyone was acting like nothing had happened.

“You going to go after him?”

“He needs Barbie right now, not me.”

“You mad at yourself?”

“No.” A pause. “A little.”

They listened to the silence before Bee locked eyes with Striker from across the camp.

“That kiss got you thinking didn't it, Stolas.”

“Shut up.”

Chapter 20: Apologize

Chapter Text

"Blitzø! Blitzø, slow the f*ck down!"

Blitzø heard his sister, but was absolutely unable to stop.

He couldn't believe what Stolas had done.

Why had he done that, in front of everybody?

How could he have done that?

He trusted Stolas, and yet he’d humiliated him in front of everyone!

The hugs, the random hand-thing he’d asked for – all fine. Blitzø had been able to give that much, but this?

This?

They were friends! What was Stolas trying to do, kill him?!

“Blitzø!”

He turned then, causing Barbie to walk right into him. Barbie jammed out her arms, stopping Blitzø from bolting and keeping him too close to hit her.

“f*ck, baby brother, it was a kiss. I know you’re not a fan of getting startled but you have got to a get a grip on yourself!" Barbie had a desperate tone to her voice, hands gripping at his shoulders tightly and Blitzø felt anger, shame and pent up frustration bounce around his chest.

“I'm just asking you to breathe, and talk to me,” Barbie's voice was quieter now, urging him to calm down and listen.

“Stolas- Stolas-" He was going to do it, was fighting back on the feeling but it was only getting worse and so he slammed his fist into the nearest tree and let the first few traitorous tears fall.

“Stolas kissed you.”

Okay.

A kiss.

It was a kiss.

“Stolas-”

Barbie sighed, her hand coming to rest gently on his back. “Stolas kissed you, Blitzø.”

Barbie didn't fully understand her brother's reaction, didn't fully grasp his distress but she was going to be there for him and she was going to try.

“In front of everyone.”

“Yeah, in front of everyone.” Barbie was a little impatient, wanting the problem out in the open so she could offer some form of respite. “First kiss since… what happened?” She inquired, not even realising that she was starting to rub slow circles on her brother’s back.

Blitzø nodded.

Ah. Okay, first kiss since what happened.

“Was it... bad? Looked like just a peck to me but... bad kiss?”

Blitzø seemed to relax slightly as he took a second then he shook his head, sniffling. Barbie was thrown back to all the times her twin would come to her in their younger days. She’d skipped out so much of that time- and yet now, here she was.

Years on, comforting her brother just as she failed to do back then.

“Okay, so you got a kiss from the Prince. That ain't nothing to be upset over.” She was trying, trying hard but for an Imp like her... it was hard to see the drastic issue with a peck on the lips.

“I thought you liked Pigeon?”

Blitzø huffed and leant back on the tree he'd punched, sliding down until he was sat on his heels, head hanging. “I do like him.”

Barbie furrowed her eyebrows. “I'm all out of bullsh*t, bro. I ain't got a clue what the problem is. You say you like him, he kissed you to make a point, I think it's safe to say the point was ma- ah.” Barbie shut her mouth and knelt down too. “Not why you wanted him to kiss you, huh?”

“Not even that.” He stared at Barbie as though deciding whether or not this conversation was really happening. He licked his lips and rubbed his face with his hand. “We’re not... I don't- we haven’t f*cking talked about sh*t like that. I don’t even think he likes me like that. I don’t know just- it wasn’t a f*cking reason to kiss me. It’s been so f*cking long since I’ve been… you know… with anyone. Stayed away from hooking up after what happened.”

Barbie nodded, knowing well enough not to push the topic. “I’ll tell him to keep off you, yeah? He won't argue. Pigeon is probably just that, a Pigeon. He knew what he was doing then, if he knew you don't like-”

“It's fine, he's not... he was trying to get them off my case, I know that. Stolas is like that. Rash,” Blitzø's voice was softer now, though his skin still crawled unpleasantly. His lips however, were tingling and that was more than annoying. “Just shocked. I don’t like being startled.”

Barbie watched him carefully and finally placed her hand back on Blitzø's shoulder. “Look, Blitzø. I’m not good with a lot of sh*t and I haven’t been the best sister to you either. I'm asking you because I care and I’m not gonna rib you either way but I need to know.” She took a deep breath. “Are you in love with him or not, because up until now, I was pretty damn sure you were but if you freak out at just a peck on the lips then...”

Blitzø blinked at the messy damp leaves he was sat in.

He didn't know.

He wouldn't know.

He wouldn't know what it felt like or how to tell the difference, and if he did what could he do about it?

What should he do about it?

“I dunno.”

“You don’t- f*cking hell.”

“He’s my best friend, Barbs!! It's not like this worked out for me last time is it! Fizz never f*cking knew! f*ck! I keep- why does this f*cking happen to everyone I get close to!”

Barbie slumped down fully, neither of them caring about the dead leaves they were gonna end up having stuck to their backsides. “Well, did you like the kiss or not?”

Blitzø licked his lips, unsure of if he was upset at the kiss or just... the circ*mstances under which he'd been given it. “Dunno. Hate how it happened.”

Barbie was so blatantly relieved to be getting somewhere that Blitzø felt shy all over again. It wasn't an exact answer but it would do. “Okay. Do... you still wanna be friends with him?”

“Yeah.”

Not a seconds hesitation.

Barbie was more than pleased about that. “So just tell him that's not how you wanted your first kiss to be,” she shrugged. “Don't want him thinking it's him you don’t like if you’re not sure on that.”

Blitzø scoffed, feeling a sense of ease rest over him. “Stolas isn’t gonna f*cking worry about that. Just gonna be worried 'cause he damn well knows I’m gonna hate the fact everyone now thinks I'm a freak.”

“Blitzina, sweet baby brother, they have always thought we be freaks.”

Blitzø eyed his sister wearily, mulling the words over. “So... nothin's gonna change, is what your saying.”

“Yeah. Except now they might think you’re freaked about sex and love and that sh*t on the whole. Won’t accuse you of dumb sh*t like f*cking Stolas- or spying on Pria.”

Blitzø scrunched his face up. “What was with that, f*ck.”

Barbie sighed sadly, tail messing up the leaf litter. “Blondie's getting less and less attractive, you know.”

The quiet settled and Blitzø finally inhaled an audible breath. “Thanks for standing up to her.”

Barbie smiled at the area around them. “Weren't just me. Got good set a friends here. Even if Pigeon messed up, it was with good intentions.”

“I know.” Blitzø prodded the ground with a stray stick. “Thanks for... coming after me.”

“Meh, you been chasing after me so many times now. Figured it was my turn.” Barbie's lop-sided grin made Blitzø smirk and he watched his sister stand and offer a hand out to him. “Come on.”

Blitzø took his twin’s hand hesitantly, feeling himself be pulled to his feet. “...you’re not a bad sister to have, Barbs.”

Barbie's grin faded and a look of despair washed over her features. “I- sh*t.”

Blitzø didn't say anything more, just moved to awkwardly give his sister a one-armed hug. It was so very quick, but Barbie was rocked to her very core. She swallowed hard as Blitzø pulled away, looking more than a bit weary. Barbie inhaled and shrugged her emotions off.

“Pigeon got you all cosy.”

“Shut up.”

When Bee spotted them, she breathed a sigh of relief.

She approached them with a look that was more than a little overwhelmed and just a little cautious.

“Well... interesting day,” she started, rubbing her hands together.

“You can say that again, Foxy,” Barbie drawled with a sigh.

Bee nodded and took in a deep breath, turning to Blitzø. “Okay. Before anything kicks off, Stolas is sorry for how that went down. He was pissed off and tired, and Verosika ruined the mood of the day. Point is, he’s driving himself insane with guilt because he thinks you're going to hate him now- although at least the general consensus is that you aren’t gay or f*cking him so, there’s that. If… that makes any of this better.”

Barbie snorted. “You two really are two peas in a f*cking pod y'know that?”

Blitzø sighed heavily, looking at Bee with slight annoyance. “He in his tent or something?”

Bee shook her head. “Yeah, but... not sure he’s gonna be able to say much. His little rant did a number on his throat again. He’s nearly downed half a bottle of cough syrup.” She paused, wincing a little. “How mad at him... are you?”

Blitzø looked at her properly, seeing that Bee was shifting and biting her lip. “I’m not that mad… just... with everyone f*cking stood there-”

“Yeah. Stolas hated it too. Been wanting to kiss you all day,” she laughed then bit her lip apologetically when Blitzø groaned. “New clothes. Said they made you look like a poster model.”

Barbie barked a laugh and glanced up at the camp. “Where's blondie?”

“Verosika? In the RV with Odrega.”

Barbie nodded and made to move in the direction of the camp. Bee stepped back to stop him. “It's probably not a good ide-”

Barbie held her hand up, shaking her head. “Not seeing blondie no more. Want to pay her sister a little visit. Don't want her thinking she's gonna end up on the ropes 'cause of her sister.” She paused, looking at Blitzø. “Younger kids end up with their asshole older sibling’s mistakes putting them on their asses.”

Blitzø felt like someone had punched him in the gut but he remained silent, just nodding his head.

Bee was oblivious, stepping back up to him with a frown. “What Verosika said, that entire scenario, was so out there even Striker was pissed. Between us two, I know from Striker directly that he doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you, so you know it was ridiculous.”

Blitzø smirked and shuffled on the spot. “That’s why I've been acting like such a damn sheep.”

Bee nodded and licked her lips nervously again. “Yeah well don't play sheep till the slaughter, okay?” She jerked her head in the direction of Stolas' tent. “You better sort this out. I don't think a kiss between you two should bring the world down for a second time. For what it’s worth, Stolas takes rejection fairly well so don’t hesitate to draw lines, okay?”

Blitzø sighed and Bee paused again. “I'll take Octavia for dinner but uhm hey... did the kiss, make you think?”

He furrowed his eyebrows at her. “About what?”

“Nothing, just wondered if it... yeah, let me get Octavia,” Bee murmured, moving over to the Prince’s tent.

“Stolas?” Bee stuck her head through the tent door and spotted her friend laying on his cot, staring at the nylon ceiling. “Gonna take Octavia for dinner. Want anything?”

“No.”

She'd known that would be the answer but had asked anyway.

“Alright. Well, Blitzø wants a word.”

Stolas' heart clenched in his chest as Bee's head was replaced with the man he'd just kissed. Stolas sighed and pinched the bridge of his beak as the Imp stepped into the tent.

Stolas hated these awkward situations.

“Sorry,” he finally managed.

“It could’a been worse.” Blitzø stared at the owl, laying there looking like he was about to burst into tears. Blitzø swallowed hard and moved closer. “Stop acting like you broke my f*cking crossbow.”

Stolas blew out a puff of air, finally sitting up. “Sorry.”

Blitzø shrugged, deciding there was nowhere suitable to sit except on the floor between Stolas’ and Octavia's cots. Stolas placed one foot either side of Blitzø’s knees as he sat cross-legged in the tiny space.

The Prince looked down at him from between obsidian hands which held up a heart-shaped face. “I am, sorry.”

Blitzø nodded, staring down at his own scarred palms. “Wasn't entirely you... just in front of... yeah.”

Stolas grimaced and patted Blitzø’s head. “Sorry.”

The Imp huffed then, looking up. “Stop f*cking apologising. You'll wear out your voice.”

Stolas snorted at that and then looked at him. “I...” he trailed off, not knowing what to say and not knowing if he'd even be able to. “Why?”

Blitzø knew what was being asked and he cringed inwardly. “You damn well know why. I know you were making a point. Might not like the way you handled it... heck I really didn’t like the way you handled it, but I get it. I just...” He shook his head. “I’ve done worse and you didn’t even get mad at me.”

“For uhm... what it's worth?” Stolas hardly ever sounded nervous and it surprised Blitzø that the owl did. “It uhm... was a good kiss. First one with another man, for me.”

Blitzø felt his cheeks warm and looked away. “I haven’t kissed a guy in a… long f*cking time,” he mumbled, grimacing lighting. “Haven’t kissed anyone since I lost my best friend. They were my… last kiss.”

Stolas' breath caught in his throat, an ugly pit forming in his stomach. “Oh f*ck, I took away the last kiss you were consciously keeping?” His eyes were so wide and so guilty that Blitzø scowled.

“Isn’t a big deal!” He bit out defensively, feeling his cheeks get warmer.

“It's a very big-” Stolas coughed and reached for his bottle of water.

“Damn it, Crazy Loon. When you gonna learn not to talk so much,” Blitzø hissed in annoyance though his worry was clearly audible.

Stolas’ bottle crinkled noisily as he drained it, trying to find a solution to his mistake. Massaging his throat he tossed it aside and turned his attention back to the Imp. “Let me make it up to you.”

Blitzø scrunched up his face in confusion. “What?”

“Let me make it up to you. Forget about that kiss.”

“You don't just forget something like that!”

Stolas tilted his head at him, now curious. “Then... let me give you a better kiss to leave you with.”

It hung in the air as Blitzø stared at the Prince with wide eyes. “I-“

“No-one will ever know, you won’t have that as your last kiss and I'll feel better knowing you don't think of me as a bad kisser.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad kiss just that-”

“So you liked it?”

Oh Stolas had a way of turning the tables so easily, and Blitzø regretted ever wishing the owl’s voice would heal.

Stolas swallowed the titter wanting out and moved to cup the Imp’s face, tilting it up. “I'm asking because I didn't ask before and because to take away something so precious as your best friend’s... I want to give you something better at least to walk away with.” He clicked his beak at Blitzø’s expression. “The offer is there, Blitzø.”

Blitzø blinked, trying to understand, trying to decide whether he was curious enough to say yes. He licked his lips nervously and he caught how Stolas’ eyes flickered down at the action. “I haven’t got a f*cking clue what to say.” He moved the owl’s hands away from his face but didn't let go of Stolas’ wrists. “If... if you kiss me…” His whole body tensed and he glanced away again, too embarrassed to look at the Prince as he spoke. “You gonna start kissing me randomly like with the hugs and sh*t? I can't... I’m not even-“

“I promise I will not kiss you after this, Blitzø,” Stolas murmured, cerise-rose hues lowering their gaze.

Blitzø peeked at the owl nervously. “...not gonna make us being friends weird?”

Stolas breathed in and exhaled calmly. “No, I'm giving you an apology kiss because I was a bitch and stole your friend’s kiss from you.”

Blitzø seemed slightly less apprehensive and Stolas looked at him with a warm smile. “Besides, it might help you be less... adverse to touch? You never know, one day you might actually fall in love with someone and you'd want to be able to kiss them without having a panic attack by that point, wouldn't you?”

Blitzø scoffed, letting go of Stolas’ wrists. “No-one’s gonna fall in love with me.”

“Don't say that, Blitzø.”

He glared at the owl impatiently. “You gonna kiss me or what?”

Stolas nodded softly and cupped Blitzø’s face again, leaning forward. He was nervous but he didn't jerk back when the Prince’s mouth pressed against his, didn't feel the panic that had taken hold last time. Stolas pulled back briefly, stroking a scarred cheek, not opening his eyes. “Calm, it's okay.”

Blitzø lost his voice so he focused on Stolas’ until he brought their lips back against one another. It was just as mind blowing as before, until Stolas pulled them together even closer. It was then that things seemed to melt away and Blitzø forgot about the series of events that had brought them there. Obsidian hands were shifting from his cheeks to the back of his neck, talons trailing down his nape as Stolas tilted his head.

Blitzø forgot to breathe, his heart was fluttering wonderfully in his chest and he moved a hand to the edge of the cot in front of him, fingers curling around the thin metal frame. It was warm, it was gentle and it felt completely natural to have Stolas’ lips against his.

It was also over far too soon.

Stolas broke the contact, opening his eyes slowly and bumping his beak with Blitzø’s snout affectionately. “Alright?”

He hummed a reply, eyes still partially lidded as he leaned back in but Stolas smiled and stopped him, placing a finger to his lips.

“I'm not taking any more of your kisses today, Blitzø.”

He wanted to ask why, wanted to tell Stolas to take today’s, tomorrow's- f*ck, all his future kisses could be Stolas’ if they made him feel like this. He looked up then, the owl’s chin propped up on a palm as the other stroked his cheek as though trying to soothe an oncoming panic attack.

Stolas’ cerise-rose hues were positively sparkling and Blitzø smiled shyly, looking back down at his boots. “Thanks...”

Stolas pressed one last kiss to Blitzø’s heart-shaped insignia as he had done weeks ago and patted magnificent bands of black and white. “Are we alright now?”

“Yeah.”

“If I'd have known you liked my kisses that much I'd have kissed you a lot soo-“ Stolas broke off, his voice finally giving up on itself and he coughed into his hand, eyes watering at the stinging pain.

Blitzø sighed and rummaged through the supply box by the door of the tent, pulling out a gooey bottle of cough syrup. He handed it to the owl, finally getting to his feet. “That's for trying to tease me right after apologising.”

Stolas nodded in agreement, eyes shining with mirth and relief, and something else that Blitzø couldn't identify, but he liked seeing it there, in his direction.

“Get some rest. See you in the morning.”

Stolas waved him off, already grimacing at the bottle as he unscrewed the cap.

Blitzø stepped outside the tent and instantly felt all his nerves ignite and tingle in a way he'd never experienced before.

He'd liked the kiss.

He'd loved that kiss and he'd wanted more of them. All of them. He marched towards Barbie's tent, ignoring the way his sister jumped when he barged in.

Barbie sat bolt upright on her cot as Blitzø nearly slammed himself down next to her. They both sat there, facing the other side in silence until Barbie finally nodded.

“In love with him, aren’t you.”

Blitzø's voice was hoarse as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“In love with him.”

Chapter 21: Sell Your Soul

Chapter Text

It was a strange feeling, to be sat there next to Barbie in complete silence.

Blitzø was half muddled in his own ever-storming emotions and half shocked that Barbie had the ability to shut her mouth for this long. He'd said it, that set of words he'd never dreamed of ever saying.

Barbie hadn't laughed in his face, hadn't encouraged him to do a single thing and it was nerve-racking. For once, Blitzø almost felt like a younger brother confiding in his older sister. He almost felt like he had proper family. He almost felt proud, of himself and of Barbie. It kind of gave all the other instances for her lack of vocal awareness a horrendous light though. Who knew his sister had it in her all this ti-

“I told you not to!” Barbie suddenly hissed, getting to her feet. “I f*cking told you not to go falling!”

Sod's Law.

Blitzø buried his face in his hands, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I didn’t f*cking mean to!”

Barbie groaned loudly. “You don’t make sh*t easier for yourself do you. Pigeon has a kid!” She placed her hands on her hips and leant forward. “You can't even kiss!”

Blitzø dropped one hand and gave his sister an exasperated look. “Barbs... nothing is gonna happen between us. I’m... I’m not looking to tell him or anything.”

Barbie's face went slack, arms hanging pathetically by her sides as she gazed at her baby brother with a crestfallen expression. “What, you’re just gonna be in love with him and not... not do anything about it?”

“Exactly. What the f*ck do I know about being someone's boyfriend? I haven’t done sh*t but sleep around after what happened with Fizz. You know where that landed me! Sides, I’m not stupid. Stolas is way outta my f*cking league.”

“No he ain't! You f*cking blind, baby brother?!” Barbie was speeding through emotional switches and it would have been funny had Blitzø not been on the receiving end of them.

“Barbie, just drop it. I... really like him... but nothing’s gonna be done about it.” He shook his head as Barbie opened her mouth, ready to argue. “I can’t, not after what happened with Fizz.”

That shut her up.

Blitzø was petrified of the feelings clutching at him but he was going to play it cool till the sky fell. Especially around Barbie. Stolas was out of his league and he didn't know if it was love exactly but the desire of being... there with him for the rest of his days was impossible to shake.

Even now, it coursed through him and lulled him into a haven of serenity he knew wouldn't last.

It was as though the kiss had swept the splinters of his existence aside, leaving a wide, gaping abyss in his heart that finally knew the remedy and was simply awaiting its administration.

It wasn't going to happen.

Couldn't happen, wouldn't happen and shouldn't happen.

It was one kiss.

One.

Okay, two, if he was completely honest.

Stolas had stated that it was an apology for abruptly stealing his best friend’s kiss in a horrific manner. There was nothing more behind it and there never would be. The fact Blitzø loved him was good enough, the fact Stolas had kissed him at all was good enough. Stolas was his new best friend and for Blitzø, it was more than good enough.

There was no reason to panic.

Stolas might be good at reading him, but this was something Blitzø could hide.

Love didn't just slap you in the face, obviously this had been a long time coming and the owl hadn't picked up on it so far. It wasn't all that surprising, he had wanted to talk to the Prince from the second he saw him.

Something about the owl had caught Blitzø’s attention and he'd been powerless to ignore it. Stolas had been stood there by the RV, a basket propped up on his hip and a cerise-rose gaze that seemed to pierce the soul.

Stop.

Breathe.

Blitzø Buckzo was not going to call it love at first sight.

“Stolas, for goodness sake just put it down before you break your back!”

“I'm fine, Bee.”

“Oh Hell, I can't believe you.”

Blitzø groaned quietly and rolled over in his sleeping bag.

He felt rather than heard footsteps outside his tent and groaned louder when Barbie popped her head through the door.

“Time for risen and shining, baby brother! Get your ass up, boy!” She kicked Blitzø non-too-gently and chuckled as her twin sat up, leaning on one hand as he rubbed his eyes with the other. The voices were still going on outside and he wriggled free of his sleeping bag, reaching for his boots and one of his new tee-shirts.

Barbie vanished upon hearing Octavia call to her, her retreating shadow allowing the blinding white sunlight to flood Blitzø’s tent. He felt like he'd slept far too heavy and for far too long.

Camp sounded noisier than it did on most mornings and Blitzø worried briefly if he'd overslept. He stepped outside, shaking out his usual mahogany dress shirt and squinting in the almost-painful rays that bore down upon their home.

He wasn’t used to such bright sunlight.

He was greeted by Octavia who skipped over to him with a wide grin. “Good morning, Mister Blitzø!” She handed him a mug of coffee and he sighed, something akin to fondness sweeping through him.

He blinked down at her and reached out, ruffling her charcoal feathers and making her push his hand away with both of her own, ducking away. “Morning to yourself, Eighths.” He drank the lukewarm liquid swiftly and she reached out, taking the empty mug from him with a look of accomplishment.

“Daddy says to tell you that Striker wants to see you, but you're going to wake up with us first, right?” She looked up at him hopefully and he nodded, nudging her forward with his knee. He shrugged on his shirt, battling with an inside-out sleeve as he thread his arms through.

He was just rolling up the sleeves when Stolas came outside his own tent, holding a box of tins that looked heavier than he did. Blitzø frowned, knowing the owl was a nuisance to his own injuries which were far from being fully healed. He sighed and jogged the few steps between them, taking it from Stolas without so much as a word.

“Oh goodness, good morning, Blitzø. You don't have to-” Stolas was cut off as the Imp ignored him, taking the box from his arms without touching him. “Oh... thank you.”

“Handy having someone around isn't it, Stolas?” Bee passed by with her own box and Stolas threw her a disapproving glare. Something passed between the two but Blitzø wasn't sure what it was and he shrugged it off, following Bee as she set her box down. “Just drop it down there, Blitzø. We're putting up a store-tent, apparently. Striker wants to start making this place more authentic. Been talking about trying to put up a gate and a fence.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and she bit her lip. “Yeah. I'm not sure this place is quite the place for a permanent residency either.”

Stolas dumped another box down and Blitzø turned to him just as the owl straightened himself up, tugging the hem of his red sweater over his hips. Stolas’ plumage was untidy, short silver spikes framing his petite frame as his feathers renewed. It almost gave him a starry hue.

“Mister Blitzø's looking at Daddy,” Octavia announced to them, making them all look at him.

Blitzø huffed at her warningly, his face heating up. “Course I'm looking at him. He’s trying to kill himself carrying sh*t he shouldn't be.”

Octavia's mouth fell open and Blitzø cursed himself as she pointed at him. “You said a bad word!”

Stolas patted her towards the tent. “Leave Blitzø be, Starfire. You've got more tins to fetch. Go on now. Cyril can't fetch them all on his own.” He turned back to Blitzø and the smile felt forced. “You really do put your foot in it with her, don't you.”

Blitzø felt a wave of uncertainty wash over him. He was acting off and Stolas was worrying. He swallowed hard, unable to make eye contact. “Yeah.”

Okay, that wasn't a good reply. Not helping to alleviate the growing tension at all.

Stolas put a hand on his arm and he flinched from the sudden contact. Of course, the Prince was alarmed by the reaction, having managed to get him to a place where pats, taps and other small touches mostly went unnoticed.

Blitzø cleared his throat nervously, feeling jittery. “I’m fine. Just nervous.”

Bee fought the urge to snort and left them knowingly, eyes searching for her son and Octavia as she sought to join them.

Stolas instinctively watched her go before stepping closer to Blitzø. He nearly took a step back and held up a hand apologetically as he fought the urge, seeing the owl frown with concern at his movement.

“Kiss?”

His brain seemed to disintegrate at the word and for a fraction of a second he feared the Prince was offering him one. He shook the thought from his head and heaved in a breath. “Yeah.”

Stolas’ smile widened, eyes filled with such sad adoration it was almost suffocating to have such a gaze directed at him. He felt like he was under a spotlight, unable to hide and unable to lie.

“It is alright to regret it. I should never have done such a thing, especially considering that I am… well. I- I’m sure it’s obvious to you now that I’m… not into… you know. I mean, I’m gay, and you’re… I- It is alright, is what I’m trying to say. We can still be… friends? Maybe?”

The question sent Blitzø's heart spiralling with anguish and he felt a rush of emotion, worry and regret spilling over at the notion Stolas had even thought them not being friends was a possibility. His silence didn’t help and he was hyperaware when Stolas quickly dropped his hand from a scarred palm.

“No, no no.” Blitzø found himself taking the Prince’s other hand in his, turning to face the owl fully. Cerise-rose hues widened as he held onto obsidian palms tightly, standing so close that Stolas had to tilt his head back to look up at him.

“I don't regret it. Don't think that, please don’t think that. Just… it's not something I thought I'd ever do and you ain't some dumb bitch Barbie's pushed at me in a bar you know? You’re a f*cking Prince, you’re classy and sh*t, and it just makes me a bit nervous be cause I’m not exactly... I ain't...” He struggled and huffed impatiently, eyes pleading with Stolas to understand. “You... aren’t the kinda Crazy Loon I thought I'd be getting a kiss off of, is what I'm saying.” The need to reassure overwrote Blitzø’s own embarrassment at admitting such a thing.

His own humiliation faded as Stolas stared up at him, eyes as wide as they could possibly be. His breath hitched, his hands went slack and Stolas’ beak parted as his mind went blank.

He blinked, gaze everywhere but the Imp’s.

Blitzø watched in disbelief as moonlit cheeks started tinting pink and for the first time, Stolas Goetia blushed furiously right in front of him. Blitzø raised his eyebrows as the owl stammered incoherently, a smile starting to pull at his lips as Stolas shook his head and tried to hide his face behind his hands.

“Blitzø, oh my goodness,” was all he managed.

“Are you… are you blushing?” Blitzø leant forward, fingers around slim wrists as he laughed breathlessly, trying to pry those obsidian hands away from a heart-shaped face so he could see the owl properly. “What you f*cking blushing for, you haven’t got sh*t to be blushing for. Stolas, what-”

Stolas pulled away from him, his hold on stopping the owl from escaping entirely. Stolas blinked rapidly before stepping back up to him and placing a chaste kiss to his cheek, making him freeze up and finally let go.

Stolas patted his own cheeks and stood on his tip toes, wrapping his arms around Blitzø’s neck. “You're so sweet. Stop selling yourself short, Blitzø. I'm just as proud to have kissed you, too.”

He was still frozen and the Prince didn't push his luck. Stolas moved to release him but strong arms came up unexpectedly, wrapping tightly around his waist.

“If Daddy gets to hug Mister Blitzø, then why can't I?”

Caught red handed, Stolas laughed and pulled away.

“I never get to hug him.” Octavia sounded genuinely heartbroken and Stolas almost felt bad for laughing.

Blitzø sighed through his relief and turned to Octavia who was frowning dejectedly. He held up one finger and gave her a stern look. “One hug. For saying shi- that bad word earlier.”

The absolute joy Octavia responded with was unprecedented and he had to remind himself that he and Barbie were the only two Imps in Octavia's life that she trusted. He leant down as she skipped up to him, arms outstretched eagerly as he picked her up and lifted her. She held on a little tighter than she needed but he didn't care.

For Octavia it was more than just a hug with Blitzø, just as it was more than just a kiss with Stolas for him.

Stolas watched, an indescribable emotion stirring once more in his hollow bones. It was making him feel light headed and he smiled at Bee who was eyeing him with a look that was almost frustrated.

“What?”

Bee glanced to Blitzø who was placing Octavia back on her feet. “Really? You're not even going to think about it?”

Stolas furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head. “Think about what?”

“Ugh.” Bee dropped her box with an exasperated huff and threw the confused owl a lop-sided grin. “We'll get you there, Stolas. I promise.”

Completely baffled by his friend’s behaviour and words, Stolas gave her a funny look and they both chuckled. “Better get yourself to Striker,” Stolas finally told Blitzø. “He was rounding up Verosika, Moxxie and Thyone too.” She smiled at him a little sadly as he nodded. “Fill me in later?”

“Course.”

“Alright.” Stolas felt uncomfortable watching him go and was even more distracted whilst setting up the to-be store tent.

Bee watched him constantly, a knowing look on her face but kept her mouth decidedly shut. Things were brewing in her friend’s heart and Bee finally knew what it felt like to see more than what existed on the surface without her magic.

It was the most infuriating thing she'd ever experienced.

Striker was leaning against the hood of that damn car they always seemed to bunch around during these... meetings?

Blitzø had been all too happy to get away from Stolas, feeling overwhelmed and slightly confused by the owl’s reaction and words. He'd have to keep a tight lid on his own mouth if Stolas kept acting and saying things that made him almost want to blurt everything out in the open.

He had to bury his feelings deep.

He didn't want to have to keep reminding himself that he didn't have a chance just because the Prince kept making him feel like there was.

“Buckzo!”

Blitzø shifted and nodded towards their designated leader, pushing down the feelings of unease that welled up inside him. Striker was the only one that called him by his last name. Barbie was Barbie, Blitzø was Buckzo. He wasn't too fond of that fact, but was far too dedicated in his goal of staying as useful and as agreeable to Striker as he could. It meant putting up with some pretty undesirable comments and conditions.

Such is life. He had more reason than Barbie to stick around now.

Striker waved towards the camp and Blitzø eyed the individuals that started walking towards them. His eyes drifted over Thyone, Aquyna, Moxxie and Verosika until his gaze finally rest upon his sister. He raised an eyebrow and Barbie moved to stand next to him, her hand coming up to her baby brother's shoulder.

Striker nodded in satisfaction and propped his boot up. “Listen well, because here's the plan. Highway is becoming a non-viable entry into the city. City itself is a death trap in the waiting. We're sending in one last run- a major one.”

“All of us?” Moxxie asked, looking unhappy with the idea.

Striker nodded at him. “I'm sending you all out on a last run, I want you to take the van, find another and get whatever you can. I don't care if you think it's junk, you bring it home. We're not going out to the City after this, Moxxie. I need more than just you, Thyone and Barbie for this.” He pointed to a street on the scrawny map laid out on the hood of the car. “I want you to make this area a priority.”

Verosika nodded enthusiastically. “That could be a gold mine.”

Moxxie sighed heavily, looking troubled as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I want you to leave this afternoon. Take your time on the highway, if you think there's a chance you'll find anything there then make that stop. Moxxie, I'm leaving it to you to make that call.”

Moxxie nodded firmly, still looking uncomfortable with the amount of people he was taking.

Blitzø felt Barbie's hand leave his shoulder. “So we going on this run together, baby brother?”

Striker shook his head, pointing to the map again. “I need Blitzø to join me on a scouting trip.”

He looked at Blitzø who had clear surprise on his face. Striker placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked into Blitzø's eyes, tipping his hat down. “I want to scout around and see if we can pick up any fences, sheet metal, any barbed wire- anything we can use to work an actual perimeter around this place.”

Blitzø was being given a chance and he wasn't going to blow it. He nodded his head, jerking his head in the direction away from the city. “Was a chicken farm up past the old garage station. Can see if anything’s still standing, can take what's left.”

Striker nodded, looking pleased. “We'll start there. Only problem we have is tools. Odrega's got the only tool box and you guys will need it for the run.”

Barbie scoffed and tapped on the map. “Can pick one up from here. No-one’s gonna have taken all of them that were sat pretty in there.”

Blitzø nodded in agreement and gestured to the RV behind them. “Take Odrega's box, you pick up another couple from there. Isn’t gonna be any use if we only have one set of tools to work with for making this place secure.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Verosika agreed, folding her arms.

Striker folded up the map and handed it to Moxxie with the same look a Sargent would give his soldier. “You better have got this, Moxxie.”

Moxxie was visibly holding his breath, hand curling around the map gingerly as everyone looked at him expectantly.

Blitzø glanced at his sister as she started teasing the younger Imp, frowning at the idea of Barbie being around so many people – not to mention the whole assemblage was fair game to his sister’s collection of insults and borderline-harmful jokes.

As Barbie clapped Moxxie on the back in the same manner that Blitzø detested, he winced and forced down the worry. His sister had come a long way and hadn't messed up yet.

There was a chance she’d finally stick to the rails.

“We're leaving in an hour, Buckzo.”

Striker gave him one last nod before he left and Blitzø found himself stood alone by the car, his sister now being pushed along by the group. He was shocked to see Moxxie laughing and felt out of place, shrugging his shirt more firmer onto his shoulders and mentally preparing himself for his duty to the camp.

If he was going to step up, then he'd have to do it now.

Stolas and Barbie were moving forward and this time, Blitzø was not going to be left behind.

Chapter 22: Outcast - Part I

Chapter Text

An hour wasn't much time to get ready for a trip – let alone get ready for a trip and say your goodbyes.

Especially if you were utterly crap at them.

“How far?”

Blitzø tugged at the zipper to his backpack, having hurriedly packed it. “Dunno.”

“What do you mean you don't know? You can't just go willy nilly off out there and not know where you're going!”

“We're going to that old farm. Out past the garage. Scouting round there for something to bring back and put up round camp.”

“When will you be back?”

Blitzø breathed in slowly, reminding himself that this was part of caring and in turn, being cared for. “I'll be back as soon as possible.”

He turned around, finding Stolas stood between him and the exit to the tent, looking distraught with worry.

“You're going out there alone? With just Striker?” The Prince’s voice wobbled and Blitzø furrowed his eyebrows slightly. Stolas always wished him a safe journey and lectured him for his lack of care when it came to his scrapes and bruises, but this was a new one.

The owl had never got this wound up over him going hunting.

“Yeah, just me and Striker. Everyone else is pretty much on the Mass Run.” He swung his backpack over one shoulder, looking at the owl expectantly.

Stolas was starting to look a little more than panicked, placing a hand over a feathered chest, the other finding purchase in dark slate grey tufts as he sucked in a breath.

“Striker won't look out for you.”

His gaze had drifted, some horrendous scenario playing out in front of him that Blitzø wasn't privy to.

“I don't- I can't- what if something happens and you don't come-“

Blitzø dropped his bag, worry biting at him that the Prince was so worked up. “Hey, hey.” He tilted Stolas’ chin up to look at him. “I'm gonna come back. I promise you, I'm coming back. I’m not gonna do anything stupid. I’m not gonna f*cking trust Striker to have my back anymore than I trust Barbie to light the camp-fire.”

Stolas laughed, eyes watering and face dipping down as he tried to compose himself.

Blitzø felt at a loss, knowing the weight the owl was carrying, knowing the weight he himself was shouldering. He was making a promise that he shouldn't and they both knew it. It was absolutely impossible to know what faced him out there and he swallowed hard, glancing behind the Prince.

There just didn't feel like enough time.

“I can't bullsh*t you, and I'm not going to,” he started, clenching his jaw as he returned his gaze to cerise-rose hues. “I can only tell you that I’m not gonna do anything I wouldn't do alone.”

Stolas inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself. “Okay. Alright. I- I know you're more than equipped to do this,” he puffed out, hands moving to rest on the front of Blitzø’s shirt, fingers splaying over the cotton. “It's not that I think you're not... capable, because you're the most capable demon in this camp.”

Blitzø would have smirked had he not been so overly conscious about his rapidly beating heart and knowing that Stolas would be able to feel it.

“I don't want you to think I doubt you.” The owl was still looking at his hands upon the Imp’s chest, dark lashes fluttering briefly as he tried to keep his voice level. “I'm only scared that you'll let your heart rule your head. If something happens, Blitzø…” Stolas was gripping the collar to Blitzø’s shirt, tugging him closer. He forgot how to breathe, half trying to focus on the owl’s words and half trying to fight the urge to lean in completely.

Stolas finally looked at him, their foreheads touching lightly as the grip tightened, causing the fabric to crinkle. Blitzø lost his voice and felt struck by the cold intensity of searing cerise-rose.

He'd marvelled at Stolas when he looked this powerful against Stella twice before, but Blitzø felt the desire to shrink away now that it was directed at him. The back of his collar dug uncomfortably into his neck and he grunted softly as he was tugged harshly.

“If something happens and it's between you and him, it's you that comes home.”

Stolas’ voice was low, soft and utterly clear. It was an order, it was a warning and it was non-negotiable.

Blitzø didn't know how to speak anymore, so he just nodded, in awe and marginally afraid. Stolas must have been a sight to behold back in Hell.

Stolas sighed then, glancing down at Blitzø’s lips.

'Damn. It.'

Stolas was too close, was too intense and he was making the small space in the tent feel unbearably hot. It was taking Blitzø everything he physically had to not close the gap between them. Unfair, but Stolas’ tactic had worked.

Blitzø heard the message loud and clear.

“S-Stolas,” his breath hitched and he winced. “You’re tugging too hard on my shirt.”

Stolas nodded nervously and released Blitzø’s collar, choosing to slip cool hands on the inside, making him roll his eyes as the owl caressed the back of his neck apologetically. “You’re f*cking killing me, Crazy Loon,” he muttered, grasping fragile wrists and pushing them to Stolas’ own body.

Stolas shook his head and pushed against him again, holding his face in shaking hands. “I need to hear you say it.”

Stolas was searching him with that all-seeing stare of his and Blitzø huffed lightly, feeling a little trapped and more than a little distracted.

“I f*cking promise, alright?”

Stolas' gaze lingered on him before he dropped back down, finally stepping away. Blitzø realised with a dull ache that he preferred the previously non-existent distance and frowned at the underlying difficulties that presented.

Stolas was staring at him again and he nearly fumbled as he reached to retrieve his backpack. Striker could be heard calling him from the other end of the camp, and he needed the Prince to move.

Stolas didn't look entirely sure about doing so.

“You better come back, Blitzø Buckzo,” Stolas warned, finally stepping aside.

Blitzø was warring with himself in the few seconds he had left. His mind and heart were at odds and finally he forced them to meet half way, leaning towards the owl and pressing his lips to a moonlit cheek. “Never gonna argue with my Crazy Laundry Loon.”

Stolas held back the sob, held in the happiness currently being overshadowed by a deep trench of worry and nodded, knowing he could see the struggle and hoping that Blitzø knew how much his words meant.

Stolas cupped Blitzø’s cheek one last time, managing to whisper a farewell before he nodded and slipped out the tent.

The Prince collapsed onto the Imp’s bunk, burying his face in his hands as he listened to all the motors start. His head was a mess, his heart even more so and all he wanted was to run after him and make him stay.

He’d just gained independence, just gained freedom and now he felt like he was about to lose the anchor to his world.

Even as Bee's voice rose above the din, calling for Cyril and Octavia to stay by her, Stolas felt sick. Even after hearing his name being called shortly after the drone of engine's faded, Stolas wept quietly, torn between two halves of his new personality.

He couldn't tell which he regretted more, giving such a heartless order to Blitzø or ignoring his desire to kiss him.

Blitzø wasn’t interested though, not like that, and Stolas knew it was wrong to push. He wasn’t consciously trying to, he was just… new, to this. He didn’t- couldn’t -become dependant on another, and he couldn't force Blitzø into a role that the Imp had no desire for.

So what the f*ck was Stolas doing?

For the second time in his life, Stolas didn't know who or what, he was.

They'd been driving in completely silence since they'd left.

Not that Blitzø minded, not that it particularly bothered him. It just felt... off. They'd decided to go with the pick-up truck Blitzø had hijacked shortly after getting to Earth, and per his goal to get in Striker's good graces, Blitzø had generously opted to let him drive.

Striker had been giving him sideways glances for the last ten minutes, and though Blitzø had kept his gaze on the world outside the window, it hadn't escaped his notice.

From the seat of a vehicle, everything outside looked normal. Houses passed by, crows clung to the curbs looking for the rodential victims of hit and runs, and there seemed to be a continual stream of bad traffic.

Only when you stepped out did the ugly truth reveal itself.

Cars were either abandoned, or had become make-shift tombs to the deceased that lay inside. Houses were vacant, haunted by the bodies of their residents – Damned or deceased, no-one could be sure.

“Which turning?”

Blitzø blinked and reluctantly pulled his hands away from his mouth, pointing vaguely to their left. The minute Striker began turning the wheel in the desired direction, looking to his right out of habit, Blitzø returned to biting at the jagged skin on his thumb.

“Not much for talkin’, are you.”

A statement, an obvious one, but Blitzø had to play along. Striker was trying to work him out, it was obvious and Blitzø had nothing to hide.

“Habit,” he said quietly, giving the ex-hitman an apologetic look. “Not used to talking, being an Assassin and all. That, and I’m sh*t with words.”

Striker eyed him a little sceptically. “You talk to Stolas alright, though.”

Ah. This was where the conversation was going.

Blitzø inhaled a little sharply and exhaled a sigh that he hoped expressed his frustration to the topic. “Stolas just don't let up if I keep my f*cking mouth shut.” That earned him a chuckle. “For the most part I don’t have to worry about what I say. He gets it.” He tugged at the cable to his crossbow that was nestled in his lap. “Stolas gets me.”

Striker went quiet as he pulled into another lazy-looking neighbourhood. Instinctively both Imps tensed, sitting up straight and scanning the now-ornamental houses lined up. The road was narrow and Striker's frown was increasing.

“We aren’t gonna be able to turn around if we hit any Damned,” Blitzø observed, seeing the vast amount of abandoned cars that made the already narrow street even more treacherous. Bodies lay strewn across lawns, blood decorated the porches and there was a noise from inside one of the houses to their left.

Striker grimaced and began a slow reverse.

“Don't think we'll pick up anythin’ from here,” he said curtly, leaning one arm behind Blitzø's head as he tried to see behind him. Blitzø agreed silently, sensing an inevitable death-trap should they continue.

“Never did like fancy f*cking streets.” Blitzø received another chuckle and suddenly, the assassin felt at ease. As Striker pulled away, rolling over the pavement as he pulled what was definitely considered an illegal u-turn, Blitzø glanced down. “You knew my old man?”

Striker seemed genuinely surprised and shot him a calculating look, as though trying gauge his play. Blitzø shrugged at him, leaning back against the passenger door. “Wondered, considering.” He glanced ahead of them, ever watchful of their surroundings. “Between Barbie and that f*cking asshole... kinda surprised you let us stay at the camp at all.”

Striker was quiet for a moment, seemingly thinking. “World's changed,” he started, carefully. “People change.” He pulled into another street, this time the road wide and the houses mostly boarded. Blitzø sat forward with interest, scanning for signs of danger and life.

“Hey, hold up.” He patted the dashboard urgently, making Striker break softly. “This'll do.”

He opened the car door, stepping out with his already loaded crossbow poised at the ready. He glanced behind him at Striker who lifted the tool box, looking around them. “Looks clear,” Blitzø told him quietly.

Striker raised his eyebrows, surprised that someone had seemingly heard their conversation and blessed them.

Blitzø nudged the pile of wire fencing a little gingerly. “Some poor Sinner spent out on this sh*t,” he declared, studying the name-brand in washed out labels. “Didn’t get far enough to use it though,” he muttered, spotting what was most likely the once-owner of the new fencing on the steps towards the front door.

Or... what was left of him.

“Waste not, want not,” Striker exclaimed with a heavy exhalation, lifting one of the rolls off the pile and half carrying, half dragging it to Blitzø's pickup truck.

“You want a hand with that?”

Striker shook his head but then waved him over. “Just help me lift ‘em in, but keep on watch whilst I get ‘em over.”

Blitzø complied without a word, keeping his eyes on nearby houses. The street was too quiet and it had him on edge.

“Your old man, Cash? He weren't a good person,” Striker suddenly spoke up, dragging his second roll onto the pavement, his face red from exertion. “Weren't a good conman neither.”

Blitzø scoffed, eyes on the boarded up windows as he lined up his crossbow. “Ain't gotta f*cking tell me that.”

“Yeah, well. When Barbie started getting a rep, most of us doing hits knew we had a problem.” He glanced at Blitzø as he helped him shove the coiled up wire next to the first. “Cash Buckzo was a big problem. Barbie Buckzo, was an even bigger problem.”

Blitzø didn't argue.

He couldn't.

Striker was being honest and Blitzø wasn't one to blindly rise to the defence of his bloodline just because they were... well... blood. Barbie was in rehab the minute she became of age to be.

Barbie was in everything she shouldn't be and part of everything she shouldn't be.

“You, on the other hand?” Striker leant on the side of the truck, catching his breath and staring at him. “You, no-one could ever place.”

Blitzø scoffed as he followed him, turning backwards to survey the street. “Grew up watching my Pops whack Ma around. Grew up watching him drive Barbie crazy, grew up taking the blame for Ma turning herself into a f*cking torch.” He paused to look behind him, seeing Striker listening intently. “I didn’t have any desire to turn out like that.”

Striker's face was somewhere between sympathetic and sceptical. “Where'd you find Barbie?”

Blitzø raised an eyebrow. “Some f*cking Cop Station,” he said simply. “Asshole was f*cking crazy when I got to her. Don’t know how she even got there, or why. Was shooting the f*cking place up, though.”

Striker gave him a lop-sided grin. “So, Barbie.”

Blitzø returned it a little shyly. “Yeah, Barbie.” He breathed in and fought back the ill-feelings of anxiety.

Barbie was out there right now, and it was hard not to think of worse case scenarios.

“We best be getting this sh*t in before we run outta luck.”

Striker grabbed hold of his third roll just as a guttural, raspy sounding moan followed by the distinctive sound of bone scraping against gravel reached their ears.

Blitzø grimaced and raised his crossbow as Striker looked up.

“Speak of the f*cking dick-sh*ts,” Blitzø cursed, lining up his shot as a Damned grappled aimlessly with the picket fence between them and the neighbouring garden. It appeared to be female, in its early thirties at the very least and it wore a buttoned down floral dress.

The head of what must have been golden curls was greying from decomposition- much like the rest of what remained attached to her. Her right leg was bent at an odd angle, her femur and fibula being the cause of the scraping they'd heard. It was probably what killed her, two compound fracture's in the leg to such an extent would have most certainly severed an artery. The blood caking the lower half of her attire confirmed Blitzø's suspicions.

“Dumb bitch bled out,” Blitzø sighed, taking aim and releasing his bolt. The hiss sent shivers down his spine, the force of the release sending his heart racing and for that fraction in time he felt exhilarated. The feeling vanished as the raspy groaning was silenced, ebbing away just seconds after the sickening crunch of the bolt hitting its mark permeated the air around them.

“Nice shot,” Striker complimented, already heaving his fifth and second-to-last roll towards the pickup.

Blitzø wished he'd kept the compliment to himself, more so because he wasn't particularly proud of using his bolts for such a job than because they made him feel awkward. He wound his fingers around the cold metal and wrenched his bolt free of the once-woman's skull. He grimaced, shaking the blood off it and side stepping the stream of liquid that chased his bolt out of the wound.

“Nasty,” Striker panted, pointing to the corpse now hanging over the otherwise immaculate fence.

Blitzø re-loaded his crossbow and shielded his eyes as he looked about them for signs the disturbance had attracted other unwanted attention. “Won't be the last of them. Let’s move before we start pushing our f*cking luck.”

“Hear you on that, Blitzø.”

Hearing his name made him turn and Striker only offered him a nod in response. Blitzø felt a shy sense of acknowledgement trickle into his veins and he moved to help Striker load the last the roll into the back of his Ford and secure their find.

“Best drop this back at camp and head back out tonight,” Striker informed him, closing the door to the truck and fumbling a little with the seat-belt. Blitzø turned to him, unsure about Striker's plans. Striker tilted his head slightly at him. “I really wanna check out that Chicken Farm,” he explained, once again putting the vehicle into reverse. “If there's Chickens... we might be able to breed them. It's a long shot, I know, but if the pens are intact then we might be lucky.”

Blitzø started nibbling nervously at his hand again, knowing he'd have a hard time explaining that to Stolas, but personally finding himself agreeing with Striker.

“It's in the middle of f*cking no-where, there's a chance. Don't know if they held co*cks though.”

Striker groaned and leant forward on the steering wheel. “Roosters. Always forget about the damn Roosters.”

Blitzø scoffed and rest his boots on the dash, sinking down in his seat. “Can check it out. Even if there's no Hens, small pens could be good for something.”

“If we pull this off, and Moxxie pulls off his run, we might just get through this in one piece,” Striker breathed, taking the turning before them a little wide and making their wired-treasure shift in the back. It forced them to swerve slightly and for Blitzø’s feet to slide off their perch.

He glared at Striker as the Snake-Imp smiled a little sheepishly, straightening out their position on the road.

“That’s if you f*cking get us back in one piece, asshole. You drive like a f*cking pisshead,” Blitzø told him with a click of his tongue.

Striker finally laughed, tilting his head up as he looked over the front of the vehicle before they hit a dip in the road. “I think your family set the bar a little too high for me to qualify,” he shot back, grinning.

Blitzø snorted, humoured by the sentiment and set his feet back up on the dash.

Striker was alright, but Blitzø wasn’t letting the f*cking hitman drive his truck again.

Bee held onto Cyril's hand, a headache threatening to erupt behind her eyes as she counted the seconds between inhaling and exhaling. She could feel her son’s concern in the way he held onto her palm and she swallowed the rush of guilt.

She was feeling as insane as the people around her looked.

Stolas was pacing nervously in circles outside the RV, biting his nails and staring into the nothingness in front of his every step. Octavia was watching him thoughtfully, intent on colouring in one of the books Barbie had collected for her on a run.

Pria was sitting next to her, furiously colouring in pages of the book Octavia had given her in a bid to help calm her nerves. Pria had accepted the twelve year old's pity gift with a look of sheer relief, burning through lead pencils so fast Bee hoped Barbie would be stopping by an art store on the way home.

Odrega must have seen her exhaustion as he handed Zoath his pair of binoculars and shimmied down the ladder from the roof of his RV.

“How you holding up?” He asked pleasantly, patting Cyril on the head.

“I want to sit with Octavia.” Cyril looked up at his Mother expectantly, squinted in the low sunlight.

“Go on, just stay by the RV. No wandering off,” Bee told him quietly, leading him out of his chair so Odrega could take it. She watched her son perch himself by Octavia, who in turn offered him her last colouring book. Cyril smiled sweetly and pointed to the page opposite the one Octavia had been colouring and she nodded her head enthusiastically, edging closer so they could share.

Turning to Odrega, Bee sighed heavily and let her true mood free in all its glory. “Making me nervous,” she admitted, nodding to Stolas. “Reminds me of the nights I'd wait up alone. Cyril would be asleep in his cot, I'd be waiting for Vortex to come home after an event in Greed.” She rubbed her thighs, struggling with the memory. “I'd make myself sick with worry.”

Odrega nodded, contemplating his next words. “Stolas is nearly at that point.”

Bee nodded as Stolas finally halted his repetitive motions and finally dropped into the chair next to her, leaning forward as he rest his head against shaking fingertips. Bee rubbed his back soothingly and passed him a bottle of water.

“He'll be okay, honey,” she cooed softly.

“He's born for a world like this,” Odrega added.

Stolas nodded, not trusting his voice and not trusting his stomach to resist the urge to hurl the minute he opened his mouth. He was so worried, so wrought with the sickening feeling- the dread that twisted his gut and sent him in a whirlwind of anxiety that he didn't hear the truck's engine slowly getting louder in the distance.

“I don't even know why. He goes out on hunts, he is always alright and yet I feel like I'm falling to pieces,” he choked out, looking to Bee with sincere fear.

Odrega and Bee exchanged helpless glances.

If Stolas wasn't able to recognise what his own feelings were, this whole situation was going to be impossible.

“I used to worry like this too,” Bee offered, hoping Stolas would take the hint.

“That was with your husband,” Stolas bit out, still covering his face. “Blitzø is not my boyfriend. He’s not even gay.”

Bee breathed in and finally picked up on the sound of the approaching vehicle. “Love is love, Stolas. Husband or not.”

Stolas barely even registered the words before headlights flooded the camp and he swore his heart stopped beating for a full three seconds.

This couldn’t be love.

Love, was not in the stars.

Not for him.

Chapter 23: Outcast - Part II

Chapter Text

Blitzø swung out of the passenger seat of his Ford pickup in such a way that even Bee had to do a double take. She glanced at Stolas who was standing next to her anxiously, looking exhausted from all his worrying and finally, her self-proclaimed brother regained sanity at the sight of his 'best friend'.

“They're okay,” Stolas breathed, falling back into his chair.

Bee frowned. “You're not going to go to him?”

Stolas looked up at her in surprise. “What? No, of course not. I know he's safe now, he's right there. I can breathe.” He emphasised his answer by inhaling forcibly, letting his head tip back as he closed his eyes and simply exhaled the internal drama away. “Sides, I don't think my legs would make it that far.”

“Don't think they'll need to,” Bee said dryly, moving away from their seats.

Stolas' head snapped up to look at her retreating back, but only ended up focusing on the Imp who was turning the owl’s world upside down as he walked towards them. Bee patted his arm as he passed her, then she began a slow jog up to Striker.

Stolas felt his hands tighten on the plastic arms of his deckchair as Blitzø waved to Octavia before giving him a nervous smile, crouching down in front of the Prince with a breath he'd obviously been holding for the entire walk over.

“Oh no,” Stolas protested, the tension he'd managed to chase away crawling back up his spine. “What is it.”

Blitzø bit his lip, scarlet searching cerise-rose. “Look, I have to go back out,” he informed the Prince quietly. “Tonight.”

Stolas felt that gnawing sensation start to bite into his nerves and he clenched his jaw. Stolas wasn't quite sure if this was fury, or just him being overprotective of the world he'd built up around himself. He felt Blitzø sit next to him rather than saw him move, the Imp exhaling heavily, sliding down in the chair till his backside was nearly off it. His knee brushed Stolas’ and the owl pressed himself into the plastic behind him, watching as Blitzø’s tail oscillated lazily against the dry earth.

“Promise still applies?” He whispered, leaning hid head in Blitzø’s direction.

“Yeah.”

“Very well then.”

“You mad?”

Stolas closed his eyes and willed the control he seemed to desire over everything to turn its attention to himself. “I'm so furious I could strip you down in front of everyone and not feel guilty for a whole hour,” he bit out under his breath, glaring at the RV and willing it to implode.

He felt Blitzø freeze beside him, his eyes widening as he looked up at the Prince with a semi-smirk. “That so?”

“I don't want what could be our last words to be... me being a bitch.”

Stolas’ body wasn't paying his demands any heed.

The pressure was building, the worry urging on the tears until his vision was thoroughly blurred. “You're doing your job and I have no right to complain about that.”

Blitzø poked a moonlit cheek, making Stolas look at him. “You”re no bitch,” he chuffed with a smile. “I give you permission to be upset at me for leaving you again.”

Stolas scoffed affectionately as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “I would thank you, but I said complain.”

Blitzø finally chuckled freely, swallowing hard as Octavia watched them.

There would be no-one here to protect them, to protect camp for possibly the entire night. He felt his own worry creep into his veins. “Stolas-”

“Why are you going?” Stolas suddenly interrupted, making him blink.

“Uh... f*cking chickens.”

“Chickens?”

“Striker wants to check out the Hen Farm. See if the pens managed to keep out any Damned. It's pretty isolated so... there's a chance we might get lucky.”

Stolas felt the nerves threaten to break loose entirely and he found himself needing to focus on something else, so he reached across, gliding his fingers over the spikes trailing down the back of Blitzø’s head. He threw the owl a questioning look but Stolas merely stared ahead, not turning to face him.

“I need to just... touch something.”

“f*cking touch yourself.”

The second Blitzø said it, he felt that hand pause and he sunk even lower in his chair.

He really needed to think before he spoke.

“I don't know how I feel about you risking your life over a chance of Chicken Nuggets.”

Stolas’ voice was so quiet, if it had trembled Blitzø wouldn't have been able to pick up on it.

“As for your suggestion-”

“Don't.”

“I get far more pleasure out of touching you. There's more pleasure in giving than receiving, as they say.”

“Please. Stolas.”

“Yes, beg me. That's exactly what I like to hear.”

“What... the f*ck?”

“I think I'd do rather well as a dominant, don't you?”

Blitzø didn't want to think about it and groaned, pinching the flesh between his eyes as he slid himself back up the chair. “Can you not? This is not the last conversation I wanna have with you.” He leant forward, lacing his fingers together as he rest his elbows on his knees.

Stolas tutted, cerise-rose hues staring off into the RV's dark windows. “I think you should thank me. I'd say going out with the image of me all dressed up in leather, whips and chains in tow, should be quite fascinating regardless of sexual preferences.”

Blitzø glanced back at him, hands pressed to his lips as he blushed and rubbed his cheeks. Stolas’ gaze finally met his and they both laughed, Blitzø leaning back and smiling shyly, ducking his head half-heartedly.

Stolas watched him fondly and allowed himself to feel the turmoil coursing through him.

“Blitzø, I have no clue what's going to happen when you get out there.”

He looked up at that, intently.

“It frightens the f*cking life out of me,” Stolas whispered tearfully, finally letting his own walls crumble. “I have been through Hell on so many accounts. I have literally faced death and I can honestly tell you that sitting here, knowing this could easily be the last time I see you... it is the single, most terrifying thing I have ever experienced.”

Blitzø shook his head, noting the low light of the camp and how it only brought out the shine to Stolas’ eyes as they glistened with tears. “You’re not gonna lose me.”

Stolas let out a soft sob and Blitzø almost whined in distress.

The owl glanced behind him, at Striker and Bee who seemed to be having a similar discussion.

“You know that it's ten times more dangerous at night, you know that. Everybody knows that, so why is he going out there instead of waiting for tomorrow?”

Stolas was reaching for him again with that same damn adoring look in his eyes.

Blitzø simply let it happen, not knowing the boundaries to their friendship anymore. It was no different to not knowing whether he was on a high, overly confident or just numb to danger. “Haven’t got a choice, we need to be here when Barbie gets back and sh*t. Striker's not wrong here, it's a risk we need to be taking.”

Stolas was already nodding before the Imp finished, stroking the scarred side of Blitzø’s face upon realising that he was just as unnerved by the situation.

“Alright, darling. Alright.”

Blitzø forgot they were in the middle of camp, in front of everyone and leaned into the touch. “It's gonna be fine.”

“I know.”

Stolas was whispering again and glancing at his lips with a slight smile, thoughts too obvious for Blitzø to let slide.

“No,” he scoffed with a shy smirk. “You already had your first two.”

Stolas tittered softly and pouted. “M'but this might be your last chance to give me your third.”

It was too much and Blitzø shook himself free, feeling his cheeks flush at the prospect but knowing that indulging in those few seconds of heaven would only worsen his situation for years to come.

“I’m not gonna die out there,” he reassured with a heavy exhale. “Not gonna be my last chance.”

Stolas reluctantly allowed him to escape, almost scowling at the ground when he moved away. “Fine.”

Blitzø scoffed at that as he stood. “Don't sulk.” He nudged the Prince’s knee with his own and Stolas sighed, standing up as Blitzø opened his arms to hug the owl tightly. “Stay safe. Don't leave camp. No matter what happens, I will come back.”

“You take care, too.”

Stolas felt strangely small in Blitzø’s arms and so squeezed his eyes shut. “I don't think I can let go,” he whispered, gripping onto the Imp’s shirt.

Blitzø poked him in the side and Stolas squeaked softly, immediately releasing him with a soft glare.

It didn't last long.

Stolas heard Striker calling Blitzø’s name and all the joy fled him as Blitzø squeezed an obsidian hand gently.

Watching him go hurt, but Stolas made sure to see him off properly.

“You okay?”

Stolas nodded numbly, feeling as though his insides were trying to escape their physical casing and bury themselves six feet under. He groaned, one hand on his stomach.

“Yeah.” Bee was slowly lowering herself into her own seat. “I am feeling that pain.”

“What you said before, about love being love,” Stolas flopped unceremoniously into the chair next to his best friend, who was looking up at him in surprise. “I do love him, but not romantically.”

Bee's face fell flat and she bit her lip to keep herself from screaming out words. “How do you know?”

Stolas watched the truck vanish into the darkness. “I just do.” He rubbed his hands together nervously. “It just can't. I, just can't.” A sigh. A cough. “He just... can't.” Stolas gave Bee a sad smile. “We, just can't.”

Stolas was so sincere and serious, Bee had to hold her own belief's steady.

Had she got it all wrong?

Determined not to give up on her friend's future as quickly as Stolas was ready to give up on himself, she dug her heels in and simply remained quiet.

They had a long, tedious night ahead of them and now they had to be ready for anything and everything. She'd promised to get Stolas there – and she would once they made it through this nightmare.

They'd ended up putting Octavia and Cyril inside the RV since no-one felt safe putting the children in a tent.

Stolas had decided to do what he did best and gathered a small pile of clothes that needed his care. He was running out of cotton and it was making him feel desperate. He had to keep himself busy, there was no way he could sleep and no way he could sit there around Bee doing nothing but wait.

Bee needed to focus on keeping the few left at camp, safe. Bee also was the queen of waiting, having had a husband whose job depended on him being away from home in life-threatening situations. Stolas didn't want to remind her of the man she'd loved and lost.

Which brought Stolas to the dilemma at hand.

What if he lost Blitzø? Not just tonight, but at all? What if Blitzø found someone eventually and left? What if he lost Barbie and left? What if Barbie and Blitzø decided they wanted more and just left?

Stolas would be devastated. Octavia would be devastated, also.

Stolas felt his heart plummet.

'You let them in and the kids will trust them too easily.'

Those were Bee's words once upon a time.

They had been a warning, a reminder to not let people into their lives in order to keep themselves safe from being the subject of further abuse, but they could be applied to a more brutal meaning.

Don't let people into your lives because you will inevitably lose them.

It was a notion that Stolas hadn't fully considered on a grander scale. Octavia had grown soundly attached to the Buckzo Twins. Barbie was the one to spoil her, bringing gifts and making her laugh. Blitzø... felt like something else. He didn't spend a lot of time with her, certainly not as much time as Barbie did, but when he did he gave her his undivided attention.

Often it was Blitzø that Stolas would hear barking at Octavia to stop running or to 'leave it' when she found something he deemed unsafe. He was always watching out for her, had even scolded her a few times. Unlike Barbie, who was always pampering and coddling her, Blitzø was good at being stern.

Octavia had blossomed, losing her timidness and picking up on things around camp that she previously wouldn't have had the freedom to.

Octavia, wasn't just growing up under their care.

Under their constant input, she was maturing. Her confidence was growing, her knowledge and perception was constantly stretching far beyond what Stolas had expected. Octavia was reaching her teenage years and to lose that stability now would be catastrophic in terms of her emotional and psychological health.

Case in point – Barbie and Blitzø Buckzo were crucial to both their lives.

They had given Stolas and Octavia strength, freedom, lessons that Stolas swore he couldn't dream of living without, reasons to hope, to strive for more.

It was a little disheartening to know that despite all they'd done for him and Octavia, there wasn't much that Stolas could offer back in return. In a way he wished things had taken this path without an explosion of death, because had they, then Stolas knew he would be taking them in and ensuring they had a home, clean sheets, safe places to sleep and a constant supply of food.

That was something he could rant about till the cows came home, had they any.

Blitzø was a terrible eater.

Not exactly picky, but he didn't eat frequently and Stolas had been keeping tabs on his belt. Ever worn and forever wearing, the fact he'd started using punch holes situated further and further from the belt loop had not escaped the owl’s notice.

He'd been losing weight and Stolas hadn't quite gotten the chance to wring him out for it.

Not that Stolas hadn't enjoyed the slight inclining of his more defined hipbones when he stretched or lifted his crossbow, but the Prince wasn't about to have his eye candy ruined by the Imp’s lack of an appetite.

Maybe Stolas could step up and start making more of an effort to cook. He wasn’t very good at cooking, but he had found a genuine interest in delving into books on edible creativity.

Perhaps the world could do with a little spirit-lifting in the form of actual meals and not just lumps of meat in a bowl, but actual meals containing a little variety on the plate. There were farms located around about them, maybe Striker would allow Stolas to go with a small group to find some sort of farm?

Maybe Stolas could put up a vegetable plot? He knew how to grow plants, that was his passion. He could easily grow potatoes and carrots, and Stolas would be more than up to it. The idea buzzed in his skull and he settled slightly. Focusing more on the future than the now was therapeutic and chased the pessimism away.

It didn't chase the images of Blitzø's physique away, however, and Stolas huffed, thoughts clouding his head until he paused upon one that stilled his movements.

Oh dear.

Crap.

Was it normal to think of him like that?

Would he find it offensive?

Oh Hell.

He probably didn't even know… would he mind if he did?

Crud.

Should Stolas at least confess that he seriously thought that Blitzø was gorgeous, and that Stolas checked him out every chance he got? The owl bit his lip, trying to imagine the Imp’s reaction to being told such a thing and found that he actually wanted to find out.

Drat.

Now he'd do it out of sheer curiosity.

Stolas played with the thought until his mind started to wander onto more mundane matters, anxiety never allowing him to find solace for too long.

It was another two hours before he'd finally started winding down. His eyes had grown heavy and his hands had started to slip, causing him to prick himself more than once. He’d been listening to the quiet, distant chatter of Bee and Odrega as they camped on the roof of that damn RV he'd come to feel skittish around. It ended up lulling the owl into an uneasy doze that sent him into a heavy slumber.

So when cold hands shook him awake, Stolas was too adrift in his mind to be startled.

It took him a full four seconds to recognise Blitzø's voice as he whispered tiredly that he was back. Stolas reached for him almost dazedly, grabbing his hand and tugging his crossbow strap from his shoulder. It fell to the floor with a slight thud and the owl scooted back, giving Blitzø room to sit down.

The Prince’s movements were mindlessly automatic, half-awake and unable to clearly think about what he was doing or feeling.

Blitzø perched on the cot silently, looking over the Prince as though he was worried that Stolas taken a turn for the worst.

“You alright?” He asked, dropping his bag down by the tent door.

“Mhm,” Stolas confirmed, blinking up at him sleepily. “Octavia's in the RV,” he answered the unspoken question as to his daughter’s whereabouts. Stolas tried to see him clearly in the bleary light of the tent, sensing unease. “What time is it?”

Blitzø shook his head, looking drained as he rubbed his face with both hands. “Too f*cking late, too f*cking early,” he breathed, exhaustion weighing heavy over him. There was a pained tint to his voice and he sounded like he'd faced something too horrid to share. He was trembling ever so slightly and his shirt looked like it had been through the shredder.

It hadn't gone to plan, that was for sure.

Stolas reached up, curling his talons round Blitzø’s right horn and pulling him down. He grunted at the movement and let himself be shifted about until he was on his back. He held his breath as Stolas nestled under his arm. His mind told him to get up, move, leave - but he was too exhausted to listen. He was cold, tired and frankly had spent the whole drive worrying that something would happen in his absence. All he wanted was to be close to the damn bird.

“Did you get what you were looking for?”

Blitzø closed his eyes as obsidian fingers splayed over his chest. “Nah. Was overrun.”

Stolas had been afraid he'd say that. He leant up and over the Imp, concern in his cerise-rose hues as he caressed a scarred cheek. “You didn't get hurt?”

Blitzø was struggling to keep his eyes fully open and so could only blinked sleepily. “Nah. Just a... lotta running back to the truck. Lost my bolts. Got grabbed a bit.”

Stolas nuzzled into the Imp’s neck and Blitzø’s breath hitched as feathers tickled his jawline. “I'm sorry,” Stolas whispered. “I'll make Striker replace your bolts.”

Blitzø chuckled breathlessly and attempted to reach down and tug off his boots. Stolas sighed and sat up, leaning over to finish the job for him. “Remind me,” he strained slightly as he pulled the first off. “To get you new laces.”

Blitzø grinned as the Prince tutted at the state of him.

“You have holes everywhere.” Stolas poked a finger through one of the said tears near Blitzø’s belly and he shied away from the touch with a soft giggle that had the owl finally smiling.

“M’fine,” he murmured as his other boot was tugged off, the Prince dropping them both by his bag and crossbow. Blitzø sighed comfortably as he finally drew his feet up. Stolas leant right over him, reaching for the blanket on Octavia's cot. The Imp pressed himself against the thin excuse of a mattress as Stolas’ torso brushed against Blitzø’s stomach and hips.

Stolas didn't seem to notice Blitzø’s frazzled state, pulling the blanket over them and settling back down, draping one arm around the Imp’s waist whilst tucking the other under his head. Blitzø absentmindedly pulled the owl closer and tilted his head in the direction of silvery tufts, letting soft feathers rest against his cheek.

“Goodnight, Blitzø,” Stolas murmured and the Imp mumbled something in response.

Stolas smiled as Blitzø’s breathing evened out, and he held him just that little bit tighter.

He drifted off to the steady rhythm of a strong heartbeat and decided that right now, all was right with the world.

Chapter 24: El Urgencia

Chapter Text

Stolas awoke feeling strangely rested and very contented.

The sound of a quiet camp was a relief and at the same time a disappointment. He felt his pillow shift and smiled slowly. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as he rubbed them because he needed to see this.

The light filtering through the still-open tent door was pale and cold, the dew having made most of the canvas lining damp. They couldn't have slept for more than a couple hours. Stolas sat up, pulling part of the blanket with him and was promptly greeted with a whiny protest.

Blitzø turned onto his side, dragging the blanket off and bundling it up around himself. Stolas raised an eyebrow as the Imp’s tail nearly whacked him in the face, but didn't question it.

Blitzø deserved a lay in.

In the morning light it was clear to see that he'd been a little more than just grabbed. He'd taken a tumble at some point and the owl wondered how much worse off Striker was, being that Blitzø was probably the most durable in the camp.

At least he was mostly unscathed.

Mostly.

His palms looked grazed, he was developing a few bruises up his arms and he had a cut just above his eyebrow. Stolas sighed, knowing his morning was going to consist of patching him up.

“Blitzø?”

He mumbled something incoherent and Stolas settled behind him, resting his chin upon a barely covered shoulder. He gazed across the tent, feeling the cool morning breeze sift in and he shivered. “Blitzø, you need to wake up.”

Stolas felt him exhale in disappointment as he rolled onto his back, eyes half lidded and looking slightly annoyed. Stolas gave him an apologetic smile, cupping his cheek and running his hand between the Imp’s horns. “Sorry, darling.” That term of endearment was becoming a thing, a thing that was far too easy to say. “Good morning, though.”

Blitzø closed his eyes and scrunched up his face before sitting up, dragging his hands down his face with a groan. “Morning.”

Stolas' heart fluttered in his chest,

Oh no.

His voice was thick with sleep, rougher than usual and it sent shivers down the Prince’s spine. “Oh... Blitzø, you have that sexy morning voice,” he whispered, completely in awe.

Said male paused, looking at Stolas like he'd grown two heads. “What? Are you okay?” He reached forward, placing a hand against Stolas’ forehead. The Imp frowned, seeing that Stolas wasn't overly warm or too cold. “You were a bit out of it last night and all.”

Stolas wasn't paying his concern any heed. Blitzø had a slight slur to his words after waking and it had the Prince’s complete attention.

“Stolas?”

“Yes?”

“You okay?”

“Absolutely.”

Blitzø raised his eyebrows and shrugged off the weird behaviour.

Stolas was Stolas. What else was there to do?

Stolas suddenly crawled over Blitzø’s lap, forcing him to lean back on his arms as he let the owl pass.

“Looks like we can catch an early-morning coffee,” the Prince told him, wriggling a jumper over his tee-shirt. Blitzø nodded, not really listening. He was tired and his body was aching from the previous day’s drama.

“Blitzø?”

f*ck, Stolas was far too energetic and Blitzø groaned, letting himself fall back against the cot, an arm resting over his eyes. He heard a sigh and felt a tug at his shirt. That woke him up with a start, his hands flying to obsidian knuckles as he stopped the owl from unbuttoning it.

“What the the-”

“Up. You need out of these clothes and into new ones. You also need your cuts seeing to. You also need coffee, breakfast, and a wash. If you don't take care of yourself, then I surely will.” Stolas stretched, giving him a stern look. “Barbie is not coming back from her run only to see you looking like you had a fight with a blender.”

Huffing loudly Blitzø swung his legs off the bunk. “You are f*cking bossy in the morning.”

Stolas laughed, rummaging through the pile of clothes he'd been stitching up the night before. He pulled out a black button up shirt and offered it to him. “I fixed the button. You don't have to worry, I won't peek.”

He took it, not really caring since his back was facing the tent wall. “S'fine,” he sighed, pulling off what was left of his shirt.

Stolas hummed thoughtfully, having not kept to his word at all. “I actually...” he faltered as Blitzø looked up, pausing half way on his mission to secure the buttons to the shirt Stolas had fixed. “I have a question and a confession, and you have to promise not to avoid me after.”

Blitzø scoffed ignoring the concern and so carried on. “Nothing you could do or say is gonna make me leave. Haven’t we f*cking established that by now?”

Stolas shrugged and reached for his nearly empty bottle of cough syrup. “Very well then. Does it offend you that I find you gorgeous?”

Well.

Blitzø froze, looking shocked, then miffed and finally embarrassed. It was a fascinating transition, especially when he reached for his boots and scowled, refusing to look at the owl. “It's too early for this sh*t,” he muttered, tying up his laces hurriedly and failing.

Stolas tittered and knelt down, batting his hands away and doing it for him. “It's an honest question,” he assured gently. “I am gay. I have been involved in a forced marriage my entire life. Even if we are friends, I do find you exceptionally handsome and I'm asking if you mind that I can’t help but go out of my way to look at you.”

Blitzø glanced at him awkwardly, looking unhappy and slightly flattered at the same time. It was funny to see him fight between the two. “I guess... it's better than thinking I look stupid or something.”

Stolas flashed him a wide smile, moving to tie his other boot. “That's a relief, because I don't think I can stop.” Stolas glanced up at him briefly and Blitzø blanched at the owl’s coy expression. “So, there's one other thing I need to confess.”

“Don't.”

“You're my other best friend. I have to tell you everything, even if it involves you.”

“You say that, but I know that expression, Stolas. It's one that tells me you’re gonna f*cking say something way too awkward for me to f*cking handle.”

“Aren't you at least a little curious?”

“No, I’m really f*cking not.”

“I'm being a good friend here.”

“Stolas, I mea-”

“No hiding who or what I am anymore. You need to know, and I need to know, because I don’t want it to bite me in the arse later on. I dream't that we had sex.”

Blitzø stared at the Prince in utter disbelief before he threw himself back against the bed with a mortified groan, hands covering his face. He grabbed the pillow and placed it over his head, causing whatever he was complaining about to be too muffled to grasp.

Stolas was thoroughly pleased with the response- it not being disgust or anger -and so patted the Imp’s ankle before sliding next to him. Blitzø pulled the pillow away, glaring up at the tent roof with a furiously flushed face. He blew out a puff of air and bashed the Prince softly with the cushion in his hands.

“I was being honest with you for good reason,” Stolas murmured, tugging it free of Blitzø’s hold and placing it back next to him. “I don’t want to cross lines that will harm our friendship, but you are the first man I’ve been free to talk to and to be friends with. That has… brought a lot of things up.”

“Can't even look at you,” Blitzø bit out, legs still hanging off the cot.

“You need to know, though. You always act like you're not attractive to others and that is very sad because you genuinely are.”

Blitzø seemed to be ignoring what was said, but Stolas knew better.

The Imp was listening to every word.

“I don't f*cking care about being attractive to other f*ckers,” Blitzø finally mumbled, gaze elsewhere in the tent. “It's not like I'm looking for anything outside of what I have here with you.”

Stolas' heart thudded to a stop before it jump-started a race without warning and he opened his mouth to ask him to clarify, but suddenly there was the sound of a car alarm in the distance and it blew any questions from his mind.

Blitzø's eyebrows furrowed as he sat up, tilting his head.

“What the f*ck is that?”

The blaring noise was getting louder by the second and Blitzø was out the tent with the Prince right at his heels. Striker and Bee were just coming out of the RV, and Odrega was looking around from the roof of it with his binoculars.

Blitzø took hold of Stolas' hand and walked swiftly towards Striker, temper already flared.

“Is it them?” Pria asked, appearing from no-where. “Are they back?”

“It f*cking better not be, making that racket!”

Striker was frowning, lips a thin line as a red sports car came speeding up the dirt-track towards the camp, alarm bouncing over the rocks around them.

“What is it?” Zoath asked, voice uneasy.

“Stolen car or... something,” Odrega shrugged his shoulders as it pulled up, making Pria and Bee cover their ears.

“Keep the kids inside!” Striker ordered, jogging up to the car. “Turn that sh*t off! Turn it off!”

Blitzø was already at his heels, ready to defend their camp but both men started as Moxxie struggled out of the drivers seat, looking completely wired.

“Turn that damn sh*t off!” Striker practically screamed at him, thumping the bonnet.

Blitzø shoved past, leaning inside the car and popping open the hood. He pushed Moxxie aside roughly, ignoring the way the younger Imp was panting, and lifted the bonnet, rummaging frantically inside until he wrenched the desired wires apart.

“Where the f*ck are the others?!” Striker demanded the second the piercing shrill ceased its assault on their senses.

Moxxie opened his mouth to answer but Pria was suddenly in his face. “Where's Verosika?! Is she okay? Are they on their way?”

“Y-yes! They're okay! Everyone’s okay!” Moxxie said breathlessly, holding out his hands.

Blitzø swore under his breath and slammed the hood down, glaring at Moxxie heatedly. Stolas reached out to him as he returned. “I need to get my crossbow,” he puffed out, spines all standing on end. “Maybe got one bolt somewhere in my tent.” He turned back round to the Imp still looking nervous by the stolen car. “Gonna f*cking need it if it this place starts crawling!” His voice was loud, laced with anger and Stolas grabbed at Blitzø’s arms, pulling at him gently.

“I'll help you find it, Blitzø,” Stolas offered, feeling relief when a hand took his own again, though it turned to worry as Blitzø nearly dragged him along.

Moxxie watched them go anxiously.

“Are you trying to get us all f*ckin’ killed?!” Striker took a furious step towards him.

“That alarm was bouncing all over these mountains,” Odrega suddenly cut in, giving Moxxie a sympathetic look. “I daresay it would have been pretty hard to pinpoint.”

Pria seemed to vibrate with nervous desperation and grabbed Moxxie's arm. “Where's my sister!”

“They're right behind me!” Moxxie finally shouted out, wrenching himself free of her grip. “They're okay! Everyone... everyone's okay.”

“Alright... alright,” Odrega cut in, gently pulling Pria out of Moxxie's space.

Striker huffed as a white van appeared on the dirt track. “That them?”

Moxxie nodded and Bee ushered the kids out of the RV. “Breakfast, Cyril! Octavia!” She called to them, moving them away from the van as it rounded the last corner.

The van pulled up just short of the camp and the passenger door swung open violently as Blitzø came storming out of Stolas' tent, his crossbow armed with the last bolt he'd been unable to find over a month previously.

Stolas was a serious wonder and he would contemplate that later.

Stolas frowned as soon as they joined the others, there was commotion in the back of the van and as Verosika and Aquyna appeared from behind it, her stomach dropped. Blood was all over their clothes and Verosika's cerise pink blouse was missing. They were saying something to someone else and finally Verosika was calling for Striker.

Blitzø was stepping up behind him, still fighting with his crossbow and Stolas felt his world crumble as Striker jogged over, pulling what could only be an unconscious Barbie from the back of the van.

Stolas’ blood turned to ice, splintering his heart.

Hearing the clatter of the crossbow fall next to him as Blitzø shot forward made the scene before him all too real and everything seemed to reach a high note, ringing in his ears and blotting out all other noise.

A Hellhound Stolas hadn't seen before was holding Barbie up, Striker was looking at the stranger like he was seeing a ghost, and Bee was even worse. The Hellhound saw the Sin of Gluttony and almost faltered but couldn't release his hold on Barbie. Blitzø pushed him aside non-to gently, taking his place and shooting questions at a struggling Striker.

“Dad! Dad!” Cyril whizzed past them and Bee was charging after him.

Stolas couldn't comprehend anything going on around him.

He could hear his own heartbeat, feel it pounding against the confines of his skull. He was needed and he couldn't remain in shock any longer. He willed his head to stop spinning, his ears to stop ringing and for that traitorous control that would not bend to his whims, to finally submit to his demands.

Noise.

Oxygen.

Focus.

Move.

Stolas ran past Bee who was sobbing in the dirt, the stranger in her arms, Cyril nestled between them. He ran past Moxxie who had his hands on his head in distress and past Verosika and Pria who were a mess.

None of them mattered right now.

“Move!” Stolas shoved Thyone away from the RV door and forced himself inside. There was chaos, but he could manage that.

His life was chaos, he lived chaos.

His Imps needed him, he could do this.

Barbie was slumped over the small table, her right hand wrapped in Verosika's blouse, a pool of blood steadily growing under her. A belt was cinched tightly around her arm- someone had been smart enough to use a tourniquet.

Blitzø was white as a sheet, looking completely lost and in shock as he held his sister still.

Aquyna was firing orders to Striker as she peeled back the soaked shirt, frantic in her movements. Without a word Stolas turned to the cupboards of the RV, slinging them open and letting their contents spill out as he rummaged for all the items they'd need.

Barbie was dying.

Blitzø needed his Twin.

Stolas wasn't going to let this happen.

Aquyna was starting to panic. “I don't know what to do! I don't know what to do!”

Striker was pulling the make-shift belt tighter and looked just as harried. “What the f*ck happened out there?!”

“She was- she wasn't supposed to- she was getting us out! She lost her hand!" Aquyna was nearly sobbing, completely in over her head.

Stolas' mind raced and he turned, staring at the small kitchen and what it had to offer him. His cerise-rose hues zoned in on the small stove and he swallowed hard.

“Was it a clean cut?”

Three pale faces turned to him and he felt annoyance bite at their hesitation. “Was it a clean cut!”

“Y-yes!”

Stolas whipped off his sweater and moved towards the stove, head clear and heart steady. “Moxxie!”

Stolas turned on the stove as the smaller Imp popped his head in, looking terrified. “Yes, Your-”

“I need you to get me all the antibiotics you can find from the store tent, all the dressing and all the painkillers. Now!” Stove on, Stolas turned and rummaged through the lower cupboards, hearing Moxxie slam the door in his mad rush to obey the command.

“What are you doing?” Blitzø asked weakly, voice hoarse as he held his sister’s head parallel with the rest of her.

“We're going to cauterise the stump.”

Aquyna stared at him in disbelief before nodding her head. “Striker! I need you to take this!” She handed her position to the ex-hitman and hurried over to Stolas' side. “Keep her arm up!”

“Blitzø, keep a watch on her pulse!” Stolas ordered, not stopping his movements as he pulled at anything he could use. “We need something here!” He hissed, slamming the cupboard shut.

“Iron?” Aquyna suggested, eyes wide. “You have an iron!”

“Iron,” Stolas breathed, shimmying out the kitchen and rushing out the door to his laundry table.

Bee called to him but Stolas ignored her, snatching his iron and wrenching it from its battered box. Confound his habit of keeping things in their packaging when not in use!

“Stolas!”

Blitzø's panicked cry was all the owl needed in order to keep him going, racing past stunned and confused faces. He nearly slammed into the lit stove, handing Aquyna the Iron and moving to finally ready himself. He glanced at Blitzø and pushed him aside. “Go.”

Blitzø shook his head furiously. “f*ck no!”

“Blitzø Buckzo, I am not going to ask you again! I need room, I need you to move!”

He looked at Stolas helplessly, gripping Barbie's bloody arm.

“I am not asking you to leave her side, I am asking you to step away so we can save her life!”

With a panicked sob Blitzø reluctantly stepped back, pressing himself against the small sink as Stolas unwrapped Verosika's blouse.

Blood spilled, mangled flesh glared, and Stolas thanked whatever ruled over Earth for his strong stomach. Stella had left him with plenty of gnarly scars, proof that he'd stitched and cauterised wounds himself just to escape the inevitable trips to the E.R back in Hell.

How shameful that would have been to Goetia Name.

“I'm ready!” Aquyna declared, towel around her hands as she stepped through, holding a blackened iron.

Striker groaned in distress at what was about to happen and Stolas heard Blitzø turn away behind him, cursing under his breath.

Stolas' hands trembled for a moment before his gaze met Aquyna's.

Stolas held his breath and held the iron steady. “You better be the woman I think you are, Auntie Barbie.

Chapter 25: Ghost

Chapter Text

It was chaos.

Verosika was still holding onto Pria, Moxxie was sat next to Thyone who had blood all over his shirt, both looked haunted, and Bee was literally shaking in her seat as Blitzø paced the entire length of the RV manically.

No one dared approach him and no one was emotionally or mentally ready to divulge on what had happened.

All anyone knew was that Barbie Buckzo had nearly died giving the group a chance.

Stolas stepped out of the RV and closed the door, immediately finding Blitzø right before him. The Prince said something to him and his posture crumpled, nearly falling into Stolas’ arms as he reached out to hold him.

Bee stood then, fearing the worst. A hand grabbed her but she shrugged it off, already moving forward with tears building.

She could see Blitzø's shoulders shaking and dread exploded through her veins. “Stolas?”

Stolas shifted so he could see Bee clearly and pushed Blitzø away slightly. “Bee-“

Bee moved to place her hand on Blitzø's back, not knowing what to say and already fighting a breakdown.

“Is he okay?” A voice came up behind her and they turned to see the stranger, also covered in what could only be Barbie's blood. He wore a black t-shirt, and had a scar over one eye, a kind face and dark fur.

“She's going to be alright,” Stolas told them, turning to Blitzø who was still struggling to process the events and the fact that his sister was likely to survive despite the horror she'd endured. Stolas cupped the Imp’s face, finally giving him the strength to gather his usually calm composure. “She's going to be okay, darling.”

Blitzø nodded, wrapping his arms around the Prince and squeezing his eyes shut.

Bee released a sob of relief and leant forward, holding her chest. She straightened up immediately after and pulled Blitzø from Stolas who patted his arm. Blitzø didn't protest when Bee hugged him tightly, telling him how much he and his sister were her family just as much as they were Stolas'. The words made his eyes sting but he only gave her a squeeze in response.

Stolas took his hand as Bee stepped away, wiping her face and leaning into the man beside her.

“She's going to be fine, she's strong and you know it.” Stolas was still trying to soothe Blitzø's nerves, stroking his face and looking up at him intently. Finally, the Prince stepped back, looking down at himself and then at the rest of the camp.

Striker was still inside helping Aquyna, and Bee looked beyond overwhelmed.

Feeling stronger than ever after his ordeal in the RV, Stolas swallowed hard and stepped up. “Okay, we're all in shock and I need everyone to get out of their bloody clothes. I want everyone accounted for in fifteen!”

Shocked, but not in any state to argue, feet shuffled and relief spread through the camp. Blitzø watched as Stolas pulled Verosika to her feet, giving Pria instructions to get her into something warm.

Moxxie approached the owl nervously, holding his tail in his hands.

“Moxxie. Can you light the camp-fire after you get Thyone to change his clothes? Everyone needs a warm drink and we need to catch everyone up to speed when Striker gets out here. He's going to need help with this one.”

“Y-yes, of course, Stolas.”

Stolas smiled at him as he let go of his tail and hurried off. Bee was looking at Stolas with a dazed sense of awe and Stolas hugged her tightly before turning to the man beside her. “We will go through introductions later, you need new clothes- I have some spares in the store tent.”

“I'll take him,” Bee spoke up, nodding to Stolas gratefully as she gave Blitzø's arm one last squeeze.

Stolas watched as the demons he'd come to care about vanished into their designated tents. His strength was beginning to wane, his own emotions beginning to rattle against the temporary walls he'd erected about them. He inwardly scoffed, wondering if in some weird way it was Barbie's strength he was borrowing.

“Come on,” Stolas ushered, beckoning Blitzø to follow. “We need to get changed too.”

He followed the Prince a little aimlessly, and Stolas took hold of Blitzø’s hand, the grip firm and sure.

Stolas, would be the anchor this time.

“Here.”

Everyone was sitting around the main camp-fire.

No-one dared speak and Stolas wasn't going to encourage it.

Striker was in charge, not anyone else. Blitzø was quietly sitting beside him, too emotionally wrapped up to care about the number of people around.

Stolas had handed out mugs of sweet tea, hoping to bring down the nerves and settle some minds. It seemed to be working and he thanked Lucifer - wherever he may be - for answering any and all pleas when finally, Striker emerged from his tent, looking worse for wear but in clean clothes and somewhat less traumatised.

His gaze locked onto their newest member, who was already moving towards him. The two men embraced and Stolas' suspicions were confirmed when Striker buried his face in the mans shoulder, stating his name.

“Vortex.”

Stolas turned to Bee who was smiling through tears, looking guilty as she glanced at Blitzø. Stolas poked her gently in the arm.

“Don't you dare. He wouldn't hold it against you at all. I'm so happy for you, Bee.”

Vortex was back from the dead, healthy and by the looks of it, completely indebted to the hitman he so often crossed paths with back in Hell.

Vortex's gaze drifted to Blitzø and he patted Striker on the shoulder, stepping forward.

“I uh... I guess we owe everyone an explanation,” he started.

Stolas instantly decided that he liked Vortex's voice. The Hellhound glanced nervously towards Blitzø before stepping forward. “Blitzø... right?”

Blitzø nodded, not looking up at him, but holding onto Stolas' hand tightly. Vortex glanced at the Prince and Stolas smiled at him encouragingly.

“I'm Vortex. Your sister she uh, she nearly sacrificed herself for us.”

That had Blitzø looking up with wide, unbelieving eyes. Verosika sniffed loudly, looking upset. “She did... She... She didn't even think about it.”

“What happened?” Bee asked, motioning for everyone to sit down.

Verosika sucked in a breath and nodded through her tears. “She uhm,” She gestured to Vortex, bowing her head. “He uh...”

“I messed up,” Vortex admitted, looking down. “I thought the City was a safe zone- back in Hell that’s where everyone went, re-grouped and joined forces.” By the looks on their faces, Vortex could tell this was a grave mistake. “Yeah... went in with a horse.”

Moxxie glanced up from his mug. “Didn't come out with one.”

“Oh f*ck.” Pria looked sick and Verosika held her close, and Stolas furrowed his eyebrows at the expression Blitzø war upon hearing such a thing.

“Took a shot at a few Damned, didn't realise the City was overrun.”

“I saw him hide in a tank,” Moxxie piped up. “Didn't feel right just leaving him in there.”

Vortex was gazing at the younger male with all the gratification in the world. “Saved my sorry behind, that's for sure,” he inhaled, leaning forward. “Anyway uh, these guys were ready to leave and because of my dumb-ass they were trapped in the store.”

“Van was already loaded up. We were just setting up to go,” Thyone butt in, eyes lost in the burning embers. “Damned started breaking through the doors.” He shook his head, clearly reliving the fear. “Just kept on hammering at them.”

“We couldn't get out the way we came in and the garage doors at the back would barely open.” Verosika's eyes started filling with tears again. “Vortex worked out a plan, cut open one of the Damned-”

“Oh no. Oh that’s gross, oh f*ck, I can’t,” Pria's groan's reflected their shared thoughts perfectly.

“-and uhm, he and Moxxie went out to get the van close.”

“Hot-wired a car, set the alarm off and I led the Damned away from the doors,” Moxxie nodded his head as he spoke, holding in a breath. “I just kept on driving till Vortex had a clear shot.”

“Barbie and me,” Thyone set his cup down. “We were holdin' the doors. The damn lever wouldn't lift 'em. Vortex comes up with the van, everyone's pilin' in and the Damned are movin' in fast from behind.” A wave of distress washed over him and he looked at Blitzø with glazed eyes. “I freaked out. Didn't wait for Barbie to get under the door, I ran to the van without checkin- without lookin' back. I thought she was right behind me I swear, but she was still holdin' the damn door up for Verosika n' Aquyna.”

Stolas' mouth was dry, partially angry for Barbie being left behind and partially proud. Blitzø's knuckles where paling in Stolas’ grasp and the owl tensed, wondering if he'd have to break up a fight. Blitzø sensed the worry and relaxed, though he didn't lift his head or say a word.

“We got into the van just to see the door slam down on her,” Verosika croaked out, shaking her head.

“I circled round,” Vortex finally told them. “She'd managed to get out but the door had crushed her hand. We didn't have any time and we couldn't free her.”

Verosika reached across, grabbing Blitzø's other arm and Stolas felt possessiveness cut into his skin at the sight. He bit the feeling back, almost angry with himself for having such a reaction.

“Blitzø, she told us to leave,” Verosika choked out. “She told us to go, to leave her there.” Verosika’s voice was laced with disbelief and horror at knowing what Barbie had been prepared to do.

Vortex shook his head. “Weren't gonna leave her behind. Not after-” He swallowed hard and sighed. “Had a tool box, Aquyna threw me the saw and we just...” he trailed off, head down. “Got her out of there as fast as we could.”

The entire camp was silent until Blitzø finally placed his still-full mug aside and stood, looking Vortex straight in the eyes. He rolled his shoulders back and stretched out his hand, offering it to Vortex who looked stunned before he clasped it, shaking it firmly.

“Saved my sister,” Blitzø told him simply. “More than what anyone else has ever f*cking done, or would have f*cking done.”

Vortex looked a little confused at the comment but took it all the same.

“It's my fault.” Thyone also stood, looking for all the world like he expected Blitzø to kill him.

Blitzø shook his head. “Something you’d all do well learning is that nobody can kill Barbie, but Barbie.”

Striker exhaled at length at that, nodding once as he adjusted his hat. “Can attest to that, I’ve f*ckin’ tried too many times.” He gave Blitzø a somewhat reluctant tilt of the head.

“Good job I f*cking failed.”

Chapter 26: Second Chances

Chapter Text

It was quiet, and the day had been emotionally treacherous, yet Stolas sat on his own at the small fire-pit, staring into nothing.

The air was filled with the buzzing of crickets and other Earthen insects that Stolas had simply grown accustomed to being bothered by. The evening sky was a blanket of periwinkle, darker tones streaking an intense blush across the horizon, framing the clouds in an ultra blue. The glow of the setting sun glossed over the vast expanse above, filtering gold through the trees and casting a burnt orange shadow overhead.

He missed Pride’s garnet skies.

He missed Hell.

He missed home.

Camp was silent.

Blitzø had vanished into the RV to be with his sister, Bee was with her husband and son, and Octavia had somehow slept through all the drama in her cot.

It didn't surprise Stolas, his owlette had barely slept the night before. Octavia was a creature of habit, not feeling content unless she was in her own bed.

A blessing, truly.

Stolas feared a beast was battling its way inside him. It was crawling up his spine to escape, take charge, demand things of him that he could not give – was not prepared to give and he was struggling furiously to keep it caged.

Even now it bit at him.

Stella had truly held him back.

Maybe in some way Stolas had needed her to. His ability to confront, take control and move onward felt too easy. It exhausted him, but in the moments that he took charge, Stolas felt unbreakable. It frightened him to think that he'd been so timid, so fragile, and yet there had been a hidden monster of boldness and dominance within.

‘Prince of the Ars Goetia’

Who was he becoming? Why now? Why when Hell was gone, when the hierarchy of Hell had collapsed, when there were no such things as magic and power- why was it now that he grew?

He wasn't a leader, wasn't a fighter – yet these were things that he felt compelled to do when the situation asked for it.

A protector? Brother? Friend? Enemy?

‘Prince.’

Father.

He was a father. He hadn't known how to be one.

Hadn't known how to be a Husband either, but he had adapted, he had learned.

Maybe that was all it was. Maybe he simply had an ability to adapt to the needs of those around him. He wasn't adverse to the idea, but it weighed heavy in his bones. It didn't bode well for his desire for freedom.

“Hey,”

Stolas jumped, gasping as the cooled tea in his mug sloshed precariously around in its porcelain confines. It spilled onto his hands and he tutted at himself, flicking the drops away from his talons.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare the sh*t out of you.”

“You'd think I'd be used to you sneaking up on me by now,” the owl replied dryly, standing up and tipping the cold contents of his drink into the grass. “How is she?”

“Still out. No fever. You saved her life.”

Stolas paused, looking at Blitzø and letting the cup dangle by its handle. “I did what I had to do to help. Barbie is strong enough to fight this alone.”

Blitzø shook his head, hands in his pockets. “She would have died out there if they'd left her.”

Stolas exhaled shakily and nodded his head. “They didn't though.”

Blitzø stepped closer, daringly cupping heart-shaped features and looking at the Prince intently. “You, saved my sister’s life.”

Stolas lowered his gaze, unable to find any words to reply with. “I'm just glad you haven't lost her.” He pulled away and sat back down, surprised to find Blitzø taking a seat next to him. The Imp motioned to the pot of tea still on the fire and Stolas hummed, handing him the cup.

“May we join you?”

Stolas started for a second time, glancing behind himself to find Bee and Vortex walking towards them. He somehow found it in him to scoff. “Like you ever need to ask, Bee.”

“Isn’t that what friends do?” Blitzø spoke up quietly, leaning over his chair to find two other mugs. “Hang out and sh*t?”

Bee smiled in reply and accepted the mugs, pushing her chair a little closer as she sat opposite Blitzø.

Vortex looked a little nervous and Stolas felt sorry for him.

He'd been through a lot, that much was obvious. It was a miracle he'd managed to find Bee and his son, and Stolas partially wondered what would become of Bee and Striker, but his attention was stolen by Blitzø as he poked a hole in his jeans with the bolt they’d found in the owl’s tent.

“Oh! You bastard you!” Stolas scolded softly, slapping his hand. “I'm going to be the one to have to stitch those up!” Blitzø laughed sheepishly as the Prince glared at him. “I'm going to use pink cotton to fix everything you bring to me from this point onward.”

Blitzø’s face fell flat as he frowned. “I’m not wearing f*cking pink on everything of mine.”

“Pink is pretty nice with black,” Bee pitched in, looking relaxed.

“Think I'm with Blitzø on this one,” Vortex added, shifting to get comfortable as he placed his jacket on the log beside him. “Not everything. Pink with that checkered shirt? Don’t think it’ll go.”

“Crap,” Stolas frowned, looking to Bee. “Blitzø has back up now.”

Bee snorted as Blitzø took on a slightly satisfied smirk, raising his mug to Vortex who reciprocated the gesture.

“All fun aside, thank you for going back for Barbie. Never got the chance to thank you earlier,” Stolas spoke up, smiling into his mug.

“Yeah... never thought Barbie would pull something like that.” Blitzø sank into his seat, mug resting on his knee as he folded his arms. “You’re a bodyguard, right?”

Vortex nodded, taking a mouthful of tea and wrinkling his nose a little.

“You ever heard the name Buckzo?”

Vortex paused, looking at him before his eyes widened slowly. He swallowed his mouthful and coughed. “That’s Barbie Buckzo?”

Blitzø chuckled dryly. “Yeah.”

“You're Cash’s kids?”

“Yup.”

Vortex shook his head in disbelief and sat back with his eyebrows raised. “Damn. If I'd known that I might of cuffed her to the roof and left her there,” he said humorously. Blitzø smirked at him and Vortex shook his head. “Nah, still would'a gone back.”

Stolas smiled, wishing he could absolutely believe him but the doubt was sitting there in his soul and he sighed.

“Daddy?”

Stolas started and turned around, hearing his daughter coming out of their tent. “Uh oh.”

Blitzø looked up at that and frowned. “What?”

Stolas turned to him, glancing at Bee who was worrying at her lip. “I haven't told her.”

Blitzø's face paled and he sat up straight. “Aw sh*t.”

Stolas placed his cup down as Octavia sleepily approached them wearing her coat. Blitzø held out his arms, Octavia wordlessly moving across to allow him to pull her onto his lap.

“You sleep all day, Eighths?”

She nodded and looked over to Vortex. “Hello.”

Vortex smiled warmly at her. “Hello.”

“This is Vortex.” Blitzø told her. “Cyril's Dad.”

Octavia looked at him with wide eyes and she smiled widely. “You found Cyril!”

“Octavia and Cyril are best friends,” Bee told him with a smile. Vortex looked even happier and watched as Blitzø tugged at her coat, pulling it more securely around her shoulders.

She scanned around them, then.

“Where's Auntie Barbie?”

Blitzø paused, studying her, but Octavia only frowned at him. “I'm not stupid. I know something happened.”

“She got hurt, Starfire, but she's okay,” Stolas explained gently, reaching out to tidy his daughter’s plumage. “She's resting in the RV.”

Octavia looked at him then looked back at Blitzø expectantly.

“She's gonna be fine. Nothing can bring down Auntie Barbie.”

She was still frowning and he handed her his bolt. She took it from him slowly, eyes never leaving his.

“I promise.”

Octavia nodded slowly, looking upset. “Okay. Will I see her tomorrow?”

Blitzø zipped up her coat and held her close as she snuggled into his arms. “If she's awake. Remember when Daddy got hurt?”

Octavia nodded and huffed a little nervously. “I had to wait until he was better to see him.”

“Mhmm. That's what you’re gonna have to do here, too. Okay?”

“Okay,” she yawned, looking over to Vortex and Bee. “I'm glad you found Cyril. He missed you, a lot.”

Stolas sighed, heart aching at his daughter’s kindness. Blitzø was smiling softly and set his mug aside, plucking his bolt from Octavia's fingers. “You, are missing your bed,” he declared. “If you're going to see Auntie Barbie in the morning, then you best be sleeping.”

Octavia pouted but Blitzø shook his head. “None of that.” He lifted her up and she giggled softly. “I might give you your Daddy’s blanket even.” He grinned down at Stolas who took a sip of his tea.

“Mhm. I'll be stealing yours then,” Stolas stated matter-of-factly, making Blitzø frown.

“You stole all the covers last time, you bit-“

“Bad word!” Octavia declared, pressing a finger to his lips. Blitzø shook his head free and huffed as he shuffled round the chairs with her. “Daddy said you're not allowed to say bad words. You don't listen to him at all.”

“Like you listen to him, at all?” Blitzø shot back defensively as he carried her away.

“I'm a child, Auntie Barbie says I'm not supposed to listen yet.”

“What the sh*t kind of logic is that?”

“Bad!”

Bee snorted and Stolas tittered. “He really puts his foot in it with her.”

Bee nodded and sighed. “He's good with her though.”

“How old is she?” Vortex asked curiously.

“Twelve. She'll be thirteen come Winter,” Stolas told him, smiling as Blitzø returned, bolt in hand. “She settle okay?”

“Yeah, fine. Not sure that Barbie will want visitors tomorrow, though.”

“Via understand if she can’t see her,” Stolas assured, knowing how accepting Octavia could be of sudden changes. His little girl was far more adaptable than Stolas himself was.

Vortex yawned and blinked rapidly. Bee laughed and patted his knee. “Think that's our cue,” she whispered, and Vortex laughed sheepishly.

“Thanks but uh... yeah, long day.”

“If you don't sleep in, we'll see you for breakfast?” Stolas offered, and Bee nodded gratefully.

Vortex reached out and shook Blitzø's hand once more, giving him a grin. “Looks like I'll be your back up at breakfast too.”

Blitzø nodded, feeling at ease with him. “Yeah, f*ck knows I've needed it.”

Stolas tutted and playfully slapped his arm. “I won't give you any blankets if you don't behave.” He looked at Bee tiredly. “Thank you, my beloved Bee. I shall see you in the morning.”

Blitzø started putting out the fire and Stolas watched them leave with a sigh. Blitzø glanced behind him and moved to stand next to the owl.

“That was unexpected,” Stolas said quietly, folding his arms.

Blitzø scoffed. “I wonder how he'll feel when he finds out about Miss Sin and Mister Slytherin.”

“It wasn’t really a… thing,” Stolas uttered quietly, shifting to stand close to the Imp. “Bee’s not stupid. She did what she had to in order to make sure Striker didn’t bar Royals from the Camp, given his… past.”

“Yeah well, everyone’s in the same f*cking sh*tty situation now. Could argue that Royals are more vulnerable, given how pampered you f*cks lived before all this.”

Stolas hummed in half-agreement. “Striker knows that, and that’s why Bee did what she did.”

“Seen way too much of what Bee did, thanks. I wouldn’t be sitting too comfortable if I were her or Striker right now.”

Stolas spluttered and elbowed him in the gut, making him grunt and double over slightly. “Don't you be mean!” Stolas hissed, trying his hardest not to huff. “Didn’t even know that you knew about that.”

Blitzø rubbed his stomach with a glare and tipped the contents of their mugs onto the already smoking fire. “I notice, everything.”

Stolas scoffed and shook his head. “No you don't.” He glanced up at the moon and shuddered at the sudden chill. “Come on. We should sleep.”

Blitzø paused, looking at the owl strangely. Stolas frowned at the Imp’s hesitation and waved at him to follow.

“You were the best pillow I'd ever had. You've had a horrible day, you're not sleeping in that tent all the way over there on your own,” he said firmly. “I am going to hold you and hug you and make damn sure that you don't feel alone in this. We're family, I've got you, now move your shapely butt in this direction.”

Blitzø blinked rapidly and looked up at the sky, feeling a cascade of emotion tumble over him. “Ah... sh*t. sh*t.” He felt hands on his face, tilting his head down so Stolas could nuzzle between banded horns. Blitzø wrapped his arms around the owl’s lithe frame, rubbing his face against a feathered shoulder and effectively wiping away the tears.

“Come on, you know I've always got you,” Stolas intoned softly, heart aching that his words had been enough to move him.

“I’ve always got you too,” Blitzø whispered back, pushing away the want to kiss the Prince.

He wanted, to kiss his Prince.

Vortex watched as they parted.

He'd popped out of his tent to do the necessary, and couldn't help but smile at the scene before him.

Bee had told him that Stolas was her best friend, and that the Prince they all knew was the victim of an arranged, abusive marriage- not to mention that he was in fact, gay, but Bee had left out the fact that Stolas had remarried.

The Buckzo's were no joke, yet Stolas seemingly wrangled them in and straightened them out. When Vortex had known of them, they'd been tagged as lost causes, wreaking havoc across Rings and forever lowered on every hit-list and black-list out there because it was just impossible to track them down.

Vortex had lost several clients down to Barbie-Wire, and had directly been part of several attempted captures and set-ups organised by Striker. They’d crossed paths many a time, but not once had they managed to directly cross paths with the Buckzo Twins.

Vortex had seen the way Stolas had taken charge amongst all the drama. The way he rushed in to reassure Blitzø despite having to handle a severely injured relative of theirs. He’d kept his cool through the entirety of it, and it reminded Vortex that despite being stripped of power, Stolas was indeed a Prince through and through.

There was no mistaking it.

That Stolas Buckzo was one tough cookie.

Chapter 27: Faking The Folk

Chapter Text

“Blitzø, we have to get up.”

Stolas' tired complaint woke him, though Blitzø didn't open his eyes or give any indication he'd heard. He shifted sleepily, feeling an arm tugging at his waist. “Mm... kay.”

He heard a muffled sigh and smiled, eyes still closed. He'd slept well considering how emotionally wrought he'd been- then again, maybe that was why. Stolas had kept to his word, holding him all night and Blitzø hadn't felt alone.

He was content, and he was comforted.

Then something heavy landed in his lap and all the niceties he'd been thinking of presently splintered as he groaned in pain, instinctively curling onto his side as the culprit wriggled over him to get to Stolas.

“Oh, Octavia!” Stolas had one hand on his shoulder, the other guiding Octavia off the cot. “Oh Starfire, you mustn't launch yourself like that!” He sounded tired, and suspiciously like he was smiling.

“Done a... f*cking number on me,” Blitzø bit out and he opened his eyes to find Octavia looking at him blankly.

“Morning, Mister Blitzø,” she whispered, patting his face. “Sorry I hurt you.”

“S'okay, Eighths,” he groaned out, pushing himself up and rolling onto his back, one hand at his forehead. “f*ck.”

“I'm going to wear my summer dress today, Daddy. I want to look my best!” Octavia announced proudly, already marching out of the tent.

“Oh!” Stolas was suddenly up then, crawling over him in a mad rush and he flailed as a knee connected with his crotch – the area taking a hit for the second time in under a minute. Stolas gasped as Blitzø yelped, the owl trying to free himself from the blanket snagged around his long ankle, looking at him in guilty panic.

“Sorry! Octavia wait! I need- Sorry, Blitzø!”

Blitzø stared up at the tent roof, flushed, and aching in places he'd rather not ache.

This was going to be one of those days he didn't know of, but had heard many complaints about, wasn’t it.

He just f*cking knew it.

Blitzø only allowed himself to re-cooperate for ten minutes before finally coaxing himself to move. He shimmied into a clean pair of his cargo's and tugged a dark red tee over his head.

“You mustn’t just run out of the tent like that, Octavia!” Stolas' voice was fast approaching and Blitzø yanked the top over his torso just as the owl entered, a scowling Octavia in tow.

“I need to look my best for Auntie Barbie!” Octavia was looking the closest to tears Blitzø had ever seen her.

“You will look your best, but you must never run out there without someone,” Stolas chided firmly, pushing Blitzø to sit on the cot so they could move. “Blitzø, I am so sorry about earlier, are you okay?”

Octavia huffed as her Father busied himself with finding their clothes. Her eyes moved over to Blitzø and she got up, crossing the tent to sit next to him moodily. He smiled at the owlette, ruffling her plumage as she leaned into his side. “You’re not gonna cry, are you, Eighths?”

She blinked up at him and pouted. “Maybe.”

Blitzø scoffed and lifted her onto his lap, albeit, a little more carefully than he usually did. “No sense crying, you'll only mess up your pretty face.”

She grinned shyly. “I’m not pretty.”

“You got your Daddy’s eyes and his pretty heart-face, of course you're pretty.” He set her down, completely unaware of Stolas' expression at hearing him, and lifted Octavia's chin, making her look at him. “Don't give Daddy a hard time, alright? He had a Hell of a day yesterday while you were sleeping.”

Octavia nodded obediently and grabbed her comb, holding it out to him. “Okay.”

He sighed and motioned for her to sit before him. “Don't blame me if you end up with nothing left. No complaining that it hurts, either.”

“Okay.”

Stolas wanted to watch the oddly paternal interaction but didn't have the time as he rushed about gathering Octavia's clothes. With such a lot going on in the camp, the day would be crazy and he didn't feel prepared. It was still early but he knew Bee would be up soon and his worries were only mounting.

Barbie.

Laundry.

The Run.

The Supplies.

“Quit rushing, Stolas,” Blitzø reminded, not looking up from his task. He knew Stolas was in the middle of his own personal crisis, and had Blitzø not known how upset the owl was getting he would have laughed.

“I have to put the coffee on!” Stolas suddenly gasped out, looking about himself frantically.

“Daddy, you should listen to-“

“Octavia, I do not need you to- ah. Here we are. Found it.” He straightened up and sighed in relief, placing the other black sock by its twin. “Right.”

Blitzø glanced up at him and motioned towards the door. “Go on, get that coffee on before you give yourself a f*cking heart attack.”

Stolas inhaled, running a hand through his slate grey tufts and nodded, finally relinquishing the control he'd been striving to maintain and following the instruction without thought.

Feathers tangle-free, Octavia jumped up excitedly and turned to Blitzø with a wide smile. “I think Daddy needs a hug.”

“Go give him one,” Blitzø huffed, tossing the comb back onto Octavia's bed.

“Morning, Bee. Vortex, I've got your shirt almost dried.”

Blitzø exited the tent, guiding Octavia in front of him at the sound of the couples voices.

“Morning,” he greeted the Sin and Hellhound, and Octavia immediately ran forward to embrace Cyril.

“I'm happy for you,” she told him excitedly, arms squeezing him a little tighter than he could manage.

“Thank... you... Octavia,” he smiled widely at her as she released him and she took his hand, leading the young Hellhound towards their breakfast camp fire.

“She's lovely, really,” Vortex told them, grinning when Octavia pushed Cyril to sit down as she rummaged through the bag of assorted cereals.

“Thank you.” Stolas looked proud, and Blitzø strangely felt the same. “Coffee?”

“Oh please,” Bee looked at her with yearning. “I'm dying for a mug or two.”

Stolas nodded in agreement and began handing out the cups. He had a sneaky feeling this was the last break he'd get in a while.

Breakfast had been swift and quiet for the most part, Stolas and Bee doing most of the talking as Blitzø kept a steady eye on the RV and the surrounding area.

Something had him on edge and he wasn't sure what.

By the time others began appearing, he'd already started setting himself up for a perimeter check. He'd considered inviting Vortex to go along but thought better of it, deciding that Striker might not be too pleased with that kind of arrangement.

He'd popped into the RV to check on his sister, but Barbie was still out cold. Aquyna had reassured him that it was still early, that she'd most likely be awake later in the day.

Blitzø had felt more disheartened than he'd prepared himself to be, but thanked her nonetheless.

Now he was outside his tent, fighting with his last bolt. The early morning sun was already beginning to make the air around them thick and humid. He hated days like this, where it felt close and the constant drone of insects hung in the air.

f*ck, he missed Hell.

Blitzø sighed.

He almost missed Barbie's annoying laugh, too.

Octavia watched as her father busied himself with laundry at the camp entrance, then Blitzø as he moved about the back of the camp, loading his crossbow.

She frowned thoughtfully.

He looked like he was having a little trouble with the cables.

“Octavia, right?”

She turned, finding Vortex standing beside where she sat. He knelt down and she waved at him shyly, unsure yet as to how she felt about Cyril’s father. He grinned at her and she decided right there and then that she liked him.

“I wanted to thank you for looking after Cyril whilst I was gone.”

Her eyes widened and she gasped. “You don't need to thank me for that, Mister Vortex! Cyril looked after me too! He's my bestest friend!”

Vortex's heart melted at her response and he patted her head fondly. “Well, I still owe you. Your Daddy looked after Bee too, it means a lot to me that they weren't alone.”

Octavia smiled in understanding and flashed him a brilliant grin. “We're all family. Daddy says that Bee is his sister.”

Vortex chuckled and nodded his head, glancing up at Blitzø and glancing at her. “What's your Dad doing?”

Octavia froze for a second before following Vortex's gaze.

Her eyes widened at the realisation that he meant Blitzø and in that split second her young mind ran through several decisions.

If she could choose her Auntie, she could choose a parent... right? Blitzø looked after her, he shared their tent now apparently, and she knew there was something between him and her Father.

She didn’t want another Mother.

She could have two Dads.

Feeling suddenly very elated, Octavia kicked her legs out slightly. “He's trying to put a bolt in his crossbow,” she told Vortex proudly. “I think it's broken though.”

“Ah. Well little lady, I'm gonna find Striker. Remember, thank you,” he smiled as he stood up and Octavia made an instant beeline for Blitzø, purpose in every step.

Blitzø glanced up at the owlette as she approached and he pulled the bolt from between his teeth. “I gotta go soon, Eighths,” he told her distractedly. “You should go help Daddy.”

He noted her stubborn expression and raised an eyebrow. She almost looked annoyed at him. “You alright?”

“Auntie Barbie is my Auntie,” she stated authoritatively.

Blitzø bit back a smirk and nodded at her. “Yeah, you decided that.”

“That's okay, right? To decide she's my Auntie?”

“Yeah.”

He was grinning now.

“And Bee and Daddy decided they were Brother and Sister?”

He nodded again, placing the bolt back in his teeth as he battled with his crossbow cables.

“Daddy and me decided that Stella was not my Mummy anymore.”

Her statement made his grin falter and he nodded again, looking at her a little carefully. Octavia's face lost its annoyance and took on a sort of wobbly determination, her small hands balling into fists at her sides.

“Okay.”

Blitzø slowly took the bolt from his mouth again, trying to read her as she stood right before him. Her eyes were wide, piercing cerise and her mouth a thin line. “I don’t want another Mummy. You're now my other Dad.”

Blitzø’s heart dropped, then jumped until finally vibrating rapidly in place as Octavia stormed off without so much as a glance behind her. Her words resounded in his skull for a few seconds before he found the ability to move. He dropped his crossbow, jogging after her and noticing that Stolas was watching them from the other side of camp, looking concerned.

“Hey! Hey hey hey!” He skidded round Octavia who paused, stepping back as he nearly slipped over. “Woah! Octavia, woah, you can't just decide something like that!” He told her, panic bubbling through his veins.

“Why not?”

“Blitzø?”

Blitzø cringed as Stolas and Bee walked up towards them. At least they were out of ear shot of everyone else. Octavia turned to them and frowned. “I decided,” she told them sternly, and Blitzø dragged a hand down his face.

Stolas crouched down to his daughter’s level, running a hand through her charcoal tufts. “Decided what, Starfire?”

Octavia puffed out her chest proudly. “He's my Dad now.” She skipped off happily, leaving Stolas looking horrified and Bee grinning triumphantly.

Blitzø looked torn between the two.

“What... how-“

Bee shrugged and pulled Stolas to his feet.

“Octavia-“

“Ah sh*t.” Blitzø ran a hand between his horns and paced slightly.

Bee watched them and rolled her eyes. “Will you two f*cking quit it?”

They turned to her in shock and she dragged them closer to her. “Okay, look. I am not entirely sure what's going on with you two but as far as Vortex is concerned, you're married and Octavia's your daughter,” she hissed, ignoring their astonished faces.

“What?” Stolas' cerise-rose hues were wide and he stepped further away from the camp, edging the conversation completely out of of the way. “Why-”

Bee groaned and threw her hands in the air. “You're sharing a tent, you've kissed each other twice now-” she paused at Blitzø's mortified expression and threw him a sympathetic look. “-of course I know about that, and you have Octavia calling Barbie her Auntie. Of course Vortex thought you two were married! He thinks Barbie is literally your sister-in-law!”

“Oh goodness...” Stolas covered his beak with his hands, the understanding of why others would think that now dawning on him.

Bee tutted as the Prince kept paling and Blitzø kept looking more and more guilty.

“I don't care what you've got going on, but you are confusing the f*ck out of that little girl, and frankly, me. Without even intending it, you've started giving her a stable family life and you're either going to live up to that standard or make a clean break – and after everything we've been through it bloody well better not be the latter.”

Stolas swallowed hard, looking at the ground with a mortified expression. Bee waited patiently and Blitzø finally gave her a nervous shrug, inhaling shakily. “If it wouldn't change anything…” he spoke so timidly that Bee wanted to hold his hand for moral support. “If it... if it helps Octavia and sh*t then I’m not gonna mind her calli-”

“No!”

Stolas' head snapped up and Bee glared at him.

“No! That's not okay! Who the f*ck gave you the right to even try to take that role in her life?! You don't get to just decide that! She's my daughter! We are not even a thing!”

Blitzø froze, nodded once and turned on his heels, pulling up his crossbow and swinging it over his shoulder.

He left without a word and Stolas gaped after him.

“Oh well done, Stolas,” Bee shook her head at him and Stolas' gaping expression transitioned to her.

“What do you mean 'well done, Stolas'!”

Bee grabbed his arm and dragged him to the side, completely out of sight.

“That man has literally been playing Dad all along and you've been playing f*ck-damn happy family for weeks! Octavia decides to call it how she sees it and now it's a problem? What is it with you and your stupid fear of labels?!” She hissed, clearly annoyed. “You might as well have slapped his face!”

Stolas closed his mouth and inhaled shakily, chest tight. “I- I didn't mean for it to come out like that-“

Bee cupped his cheek and looked at him pleadingly. “I'm not asking you to marry him or date him. You told me you both can't, it's not in either of you, and I accept that but you have something here, Stolas. Whatever it is – labels be damned, it works and it's beautiful. You were the one who stated that people needed to give them chance and he's trying so hard.”

Stolas stared at her blankly before nodding his head slowly. “I... what if...”

“Look.” Bee took the hands and held them. “I thought I'd lost the man I loved forever, I messed up so badly that morning, my last words to him-” she broke off, looking away. “Stolas, even if you're just friends and you're just... roommates, it's making you happy. It's making him happy, and Octavia happy. If you truly are not looking to be with anyone ever again, then what's the harm in letting this be whatever it is?”

Bee was making sense and it hurt. Hurt because he'd lashed out without thinking, instinctively not wanting Octavia to get this attached.

“It's already... happened... hasn't it.” Stolas turned around and groaned. “I didn't mean for this to happen.”

Bee shook him lightly. “You can't change that now. Just let her call him Dad, you know how much she needs this. You know that seeing Cyril having his Dad back is going to make her feel bad- it's not like she's not old enough to realise that he's not blood-related and she's a smart girl, Stolas. She's not a toddler, she's twelve. She's thirteen in a few months. If this is a phase let it be. The world doesn't have time for you to be scared of labels anymore.”

“Alright,” Stolas swallowed hard and pushed the air from his lungs. “Alright. I hear you. I get it.”

Bee threw him a warning look. “You can't just ogle him and not give him a definite place in your heart, Stolas.”

Stolas clicked his beak and nodded sorrowfully. “I know... it's not that... I mean I haven't-” he huffed. “Idon't just ogle him. I think he's an absolute darling and if anything happened to him I'd be devastated, but that’s why-“

“Stolas, have you ever actually thought of being with him?”

Before the Prince could answer, Vortex popped his head round the tent. “You two okay?”

“Uh uh... lovers... quarrel?” Stolas said quickly, sounding unsure and stumbling over his words.

Bee nodded and Vortex raised an eyebrow, looking to them humorously. “Something you wanna tell me, Bee?”

Stolas scoffed and Bee laughed. “Yeah, I'm marrying my gay brother.”

“Oh Bee, that's awful.” Stolas snorted, slapping the Sin’s arm. “Love you, though.”

“Okay okay, as wonderful as it is you've made up, I need to find Blitzø. Striker's looking for him.”

Stolas sighed. “That makes two of us.” She glanced at Bee who smiled at him sympathetically before walking towards her own tent. “Won't take him long to return from his round.”

Stolas finally turned his attention back to the Hellhound before him.

Vortex smiled and nodded, tipping his head down as the owl moved to walk beside him. “You guys alright?”

Stolas nodded hastily. “Of course, absolutely. I uh... he takes a lot of things to heart and I don't always think about that.” f*ck, this was rather awkward. “He works very hard. He has a lot on his shoulders and I don't always keep that in mind.”

Vortex grinned and the Prince knew he could relate to Blitzø instantly. “Yeah... that's a spouse thing.”

Stolas sighed and folded his arms as they approached Striker. The owl tilted his chin up at him in a greeting and he nodded at them, eyes lighting up upon seeing Vortex.

Blitzø suddenly appeared up the track and Stolas moved to meet him. He nearly side-stepped but Stolas simply held up a hand.

Striker went to yell for him but Vortex nudged him. “Give them a minute, Striker.” He got a funny look in return for his words but Striker simply huffed impatiently.

Blitzø looked peeved.

“Don't be mad at me,” Stolas told him quietly. “I get scared too, sometimes.” The Prince frowned and huffed as Blitzø raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Okay, I can also be a stupid sh*t sometimes, too.”

Blitzø nodded, looking slightly uneasy.

“Do you mean it, Blitzø?”

He blinked and nodded again.

Stolas exhaled at length, trying to calm his heart. “If you say yes to this, then you're stuck with me as well, you know that, don't you. You're giving up all future chances of being romantically involved with anyone else until she’s old enough to understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Blitzø, I am not a woman, and that is a big issue if you’re attracted to them. You need to seriously consider that. We’d have to work out boundaries and how to… to navigate you… possibly hooking up with others in the background if you wish it because I don’t want to outright lie to her about us.”

Blitzø's eyes widened and his lips parted slightly in a silent gasp. “What-”

“I'm fine with her calling you her Dad. Lucifer knows you're practically the real thing and I owe so much to you. I just need you to know that people will assume we're together... even though we're not, and again, I am completely accepting of that.”

Stolas’ cerise-rose hues were searching for something and Blitzø swallowed hard, anxious that the owl would see right through him.

“Okay... so what you're saying is...”

“I'm asking you if you're okay with that. If you’re going to be okay with people thinking that we're together. If people think Octavia's is yours and I'm... yours.” The words felt weird on his tongue, but not entirely unpleasant. In fact, they made him look away awkwardly. “Not that you have been with anyone here, but given how we have no idea what the future holds, it would be best to not be involved with anyone in the camp. For now.”

“I'm... fine with... what that... is?” Blitzø cringed, was that even a sentence?

Did it even make sense?

Stolas nodded despite thinking that Blitzø sounded unsure, and the Prince was still not looking at him. “Move your stuff into my tent after you’re done with Striker.”

Blitzø blinked in surprise at the clinical order and shook his head as Stolas walked off.

Damn Prince really was something else.

Vortex grinned at Blitzø as he approached. The Imp sighed heavily and Vortex chuckled, patting his lower back and making him squirm slightly but Blitzø didn't flinch away. Instead, Blitzø watched Stolas walking towards his – their – daughter with open arms. Vortex followed his gaze and saw Bee practically bubble over with excitement at whatever Stolas was telling her.

“Royals, am I right?”

Blitzø smirked and leant on the hood of the car as Striker gathered up the rest of the team. “Don't need to say that again.”

He wasn't sure what he'd exactly got himself into, but he hadn't agreed without reason.

Octavia, Stolas and Barbie were all he had.

Bee was something, he wasn't entirely sure what. Her husband too. They felt like distant relatives but his closest – dare he say it – family were just Stolas, Octavia and Barbie.

Blitzø knew his feelings were growing, knew he was being somewhat selfish in agreeing to take on such an intimate role within Stolas' life and knew it would probably cause more pain than joy in the long run but it didn't matter.

If this was as close as he'd get to being with Stolas, he'd do it no matter the cost.

Chapter 28: Mother Murder

Chapter Text

There was a storm brewing.

“Striker, it's not gonna work, man.”

Silence.

“You're putting every single one of us at risk, Striker. There’s nothing left there, Damned are moving out.”

Well, this wasn't exactly the turn of events anyone had been hoping for. Vortex was standing, arms folded – Blitzø suspected it to be a Bouncer thing – whilst Striker glared at the hood of the car.

“How can you f*ckin’ know that, Tex?”

“Striker, I was there. The City is... it's flooded with Damned and they're moving out in hoards. You'd be wasting all your resources trying to secure this place and the amount of Damned coming this way? They’ll just break through anything you have here.”

“They don't normally come up this far…” Moxxie pitched in, sounding doubtful of his own words.

Blitzø frowned. “It's not like they never f*cking have.”

Striker ran a hand over his face. “Then what do you suggest we do, huh? Half of us don’t f*ckin’ know this world. All we know is that one of those f*ckin’ Sins opened up as many Portals as he could and dropped as many of us here as possible. We’re sittin’ ducks.”

“I know that, I know that all too well, but we’re better off taking what we have, and finding another place altogether, one we can secure.”

“Not a lotta places round here that can offer us that,” Striker argued, sounding beyond stressed. “If what you're sayin’ is true then how do we know when far is far enough? Huh? How do we know?”

Again, Blitzø felt torn.

He'd vowed to play by the rules but he wasn't so sure about this anymore. He'd had his reservations just as Bee had, but kept his mouth shut in fear of being mistaken for challenging Striker's authority.

Vortex, had no qualms about blatantly doing so.

“Striker... you didn't see it out there.” Thyone was now looking straight at their leader with a haunted expression. “You should'a seen the way they took down that horse. There was nothing left of it. Gone in minutes.”

Striker stared at him warningly and the Incubus quietened.

“The Damned are hungry, Striker. Maybe even starving – they've eaten everything alive that comes close to the City. We're sitting ducks here, too. There's nowhere to go for supplies, now. Winter’s just a couple months away and you can't expect everyone to live in tents. We’re not built for this world, this climate.”

Ah. Golden Star to Vortex.

Had anyone considered that?

“I had this sh*t all figured out-“

Vortex shook his head, clasping a hand to Striker's shoulder. “I don't think you're wrong about how you wanna secure a place, Strike. Your plans- they're flawless, it's just that they won't work here. We need to find a place where they will work, that’s all I’m saying.”

Striker looked at him wearily before heaving out a sigh. “Yeah alright. Alright.” He looked to the rest of them and nodded his head. “Take a vote in the mornin’. Leave or stay. Sleep on it.” He started walking away and Blitzø felt unease thread through his veins.

Moxxie mumbled something and everyone seemed to be unsettled with the prospect.

Vortex nodded, seemingly satisfied before exhaling at length. “Yeah... there's one more thing, Strike.”

“What now?”

Blitzø raised an eyebrow at Striker's clear agitation. He definitely did not like being challenged or disagreed with.

Vortex was looking at him a little nervously. “We're going to need more guns.”

Moxxie's face paled slightly. “Right, the guns.”

Striker faltered, looking between them. “What guns?”

Vortex inhaled and rattled off a list. “Six shotguns, two high-powered rifles, over a dozen handguns-”

Interest washed over Striker's face and Vortex shifted. “I got dropped in a cop station when I found a way outta Hell. Cleaned out the cage there before I left. I dropped the bag when I got swarmed. It's sitting there on the street waiting to be picked up.”

Striker licked his lips. “Ammo?”

“Seven hundred rounds, assorted.”

“f*cking Hell.” Blitzø took a step back and Striker leant right over the hood, nearly pressing his forehead to the warmed metal.

“Whether we stay or leave, we're gonna need those guns,” Vortex told him with no doubt in his voice.

Striker scoffed, nodding his head. “I gotta think about this. I gotta think of a way around this f*ckin’ mess.”

Vortex shrugged, looking to Blitzø for silent support. “Pretty simple to me. If you decide to stay, I take Blitzø and Moxxie, collect the guns and come back.”

Blitzø raised an eyebrow but nodded.

He was game.

“Oh, come on,” Moxxie whined, shoulders sagging upon hearing his name.

Vortex tilted his head sympathetically. “You know the way- you've been there before. In and out, no problem. You said so yourself.”

Moxxie pulled at his dusty bowtie, sighing reluctantly as he ran a hand through his hair.

“It's not fair of me to ask, I know that, but I'd feel a lot better with you coming along.”

“That's just great,” Striker bit out hoarsely. “Now you're gonna risk three of my men, huh?”

Again, Blitzø tried not to bristle. His, men?

Vortex frowned at him. “Not if we decide to leave. We leave, we can pick them up on our way through.”

Striker stared at him in disbelief. “Through?”

Vortex nodded. “Look, I heard that some Demons broke into a place when all this first went down. Called the CDC. Apparently humans were trying to find a cure for this- we all know it was Mortals that started this in the first place.”

Striker sighed. “Heard that too. Heard a lot of things before the Pentagram fell.”

Vortex met his gaze evenly. “What if the CDC is still up and running? What if our guys are working on it?”

“That is a f*ckin’ stretch right there,” Striker muttered under his breath, adjusting his hat.

Blitzø was having a hard time reading him- not exactly surprising considering that Striker was a Snake.

He wanted to trust that Striker was disagreeing solely because he truly felt different to Vortex, but Blitzø had a creeping feeling it was purely because Vortex was taking the lead on this.

Blitzø couldn't help himself.

“Why?” He asked, shifting his feet as he watched Striker with slight annoyance. “There any damn chances left, any damn structure at all-”

“Mortals would protect the CDC at all costs,” Vortex finished for him, nodding his head and glancing at Blitzø gratefully. “I think it's our best shot. Shelter, protection-“

“Okay, Tex. You’re wantin’ those things, yeah? We all f*ckin’ do,” Striker gestured to himself as he spoke. “Now, if they damn near exist anywhere on this stinkin’ planet, they'll exist at an Army Base. Nearest one we can get to is Fort Benning.”

“That's a f*cking hundred miles in the opposite direction!” Blitzø exclaimed impatiently.

Striker stepped closer to him, almost desperate to find support. “That’s right, but it's away from the this f*ckin’ mess.”

Blitzø shook his head, stepping back but Striker pushed forward, looking around at the other demons urgently.

“Listen, if an Army Base is operational then it will be heavily armed, we'd be safe there.”

There was a pause, everyone trying to wrap their heads around the conversation.

“The Human Military were on the front lines of this thing,” Vortex said quietly, sounding downtrodden. “They got overrun, we can all see that!” He looked at Striker pleadingly. “The CDC is our best choice!”

“Where'd you hear this?” Odrega suddenly asked, making them all turn around. “This does not sound like information that just… passes by one coincidentally.”

Blitzø stepped aside giving him room and thus glanced at Vortex in tow, curious.

“Asmodeus. He managed to seal off Lust.”

The group simultaneously froze.

“Wait… not all of Hell is gone?” Moxxie whispered, utterly shocked.

Vortex exhaled heavily. “It’s going. Lust is the only damn place in Hell that’s managed so far but it’s disintegrating. I was trying to get to Bee.” He ran a hand through his fur with a heavier sigh. “Asmodeus is the one who opened the portals using his Crystals. Look, we would have died if it weren’t for him. It's because of him that any of us are alive.” He scuffed the ground with his boot. “He told me about the CDC way back when we were evacuating Pride. Said that if we could somehow find a cure, or… find out information, we might be able to restore some semblance of life somewhere.”

The group instinctively gasped, knowing exactly what that meant.

Vortex nodded and blew out a puff of exasperated air. “We have a chance at beating this if this… CDC actually exists.”

Odrega furrowed his eyebrows. “How would we get word to him? There is no cell-service here anymore.”

“Walkie-talkie, the one in the bag I dropped? He's got the other one. He made them. Plan was to connect when I found an answer.”

“So he’s waiting for us to save the whole f*ckin’ universe?” Striker asked, running a hand down his face as though he were dreading the answer.

“Yeah.”

“So contact him now and let him know you lost it, the CB works,” Thyone suggested, gesturing to the radio they usually used

“CB's fine,” Bee pitched in, visibly exasperated. “It's Ozzie’s f*ckin’ walkies that suck to f*ckin’ crap. Tech that old made in Hell won’t match any other bandwidth here.” She hung her head, threading her claws through her fur dismissively.

Striker growled in frustration. “Not even the scanners in any f*ckin’ cop cars will pick that signal up.”

Vortex looked at him imploringly. “Striker, we need that bag.”

“Whether we go or stay?” Odrega asked him and Striker straightened himself up, tugging at Vortex's sleeve in reluctant agreement.

“Whether we go or stay.”

“It's a fine mess,” Stolas commented under his breath, casting Bee a sideways glance.

“It is, but I trust Vortex.”

They were sitting by their camp-fire, and Bee was already packing.

The low light was beginning to hurt Stolas’ eyes. The day had indeed ended up being a horrible one. Tempers had flared, revelations abounded and a heavy decision weighed on everyone's minds.

“I wasn't sure about staying here at all. Not permanently,” Bee continued, sounding almost impatient to go.

Stolas nodded his head, watching as other members of the camp milled about aimlessly. “Me and Octavia? We go where you go,” he smiled nervously. “Long as you'll have us.”

Bee gaped at him, pausing in her packing. “f*ck Honey, you don't even have to ask!” She paused. “What about Blitzø?”

“What about Blitzø?”

Both Royals jumped as the Imp in question materialised behind them. Bee shook her head, returning to her packing.

“Wondering if you were staying or leaving,” Stolas informed him quietly, his gaze failed to keep the Imp’a and so the owl turned back to the items before them. A meagre collection of belonging's that made him feel ever so insignificant.

Blitzø stood idly for a moment, nibbling his thumbnail. His eyes flickered to Bee in an unspoken question.

“Leaving.” Bee sat back on the grass, looking up at him. “You're welcome to come with us – if the whole group doesn't go then it will be our family.”

“Barbie?” Blitzø asked, sounding like he was holding his breath.

“I said our family,” Bee reiterated pointedly, causing him to exhale and nod his head.

“Vortex didn't leave her behind before, no-ones going to leave her behind now,” Stolas reassured, reaching out and giving Blitzø’s hand a squeeze.

Stolas’ body felt numb, anxious over the unknown that lay ahead of them.

“We should get everyone together,” Stolas finally sighed. “How's Barbie doing?”

“She's still out...” Blitzø trailed off before swinging his crossbow more firmly on his shoulder. “She'll be fine. It's us lot I'm f*cking worried about.”

Bee nodded and pointed towards Vortex. “Blitzø? Can I ask you a favour?”

He raised an eyebrow, looking at her questioningly.

“You about to go on your perimeter check?”

“Last one for the night,” he confirmed.

“Can you take Vortex with you?” She asked him hesitantly. “I-”

“Sure.” Blitzø turned without a word and she closed her mouth, pursing her lips.

Stolas tittered in understanding. “He's like that. He doesn't mean to be rude.”

Bee smiled a little awkwardly and nodded. “Lot on his mind.”

Stolas clasped his hands together, gaze drifting towards the inky black trees around them. He felt sick, anxiety thrumming inside his bones. He watched as Blitzø and Vortex trudged off down the track, watched as Striker glowered at the two as they left the camp.

Everything felt like it had been turned on its head.

Bee reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “Hey, we're going to be alright.”

Stolas wanted to believe that, but hours later and doubt was starting to sink in.

“Still not back yet?”

Stolas shook his head, arms folded as he sat outside his tent. Bee was next to him and Striker frowned, worry biting at his features.

“sh*t.”

He moved off, calling Moxxie's name as he went.

It was late.

Camp was alive a lot later than usual as people discussed their future and what the morning would bring. Stolas couldn't tell who was leaving or staying, and he partially didn't want to know. It was hard, knowing their world was being torn apart for a second time.

Vortex and Blitzø had been gone nearly two hours.

It was excessive for a half hour round and Stolas kept kicking himself for thinking that the two had split from them all. Vortex never would – why was he worrying like this?

“Hey, Bee?”

“Mhm?”

“Going to try and get some sleep.”

Bee frowned, looking up from her mug. “You okay?”

Stolas half nodded, half shook his head and gave her a half-hearted smile. “Anxious. Going to spend time with Octavia.”

Bee nodded and sighed, joining him and tucking a stray feather behind his ear. “I better be with Cyril.”

They parted ways and Stolas felt himself shudder in the darkness as he tipped the contents of his mug into the pit, effectively snuffing it out.

It felt eerily quiet and he swore the trees were shifting. Stolas paused, squinting in the poor light.

He blinked rapidly, trying to decipher whether the rustling around him was the wind disturbing the leaves or whether or not it was something else.

The sound got slightly louder and Stolas’ heart slammed against his ribcage as a mass of bodies crawled out of the tangled vegetation around them. The air filled with the stench of rotting flesh and raspy gurgles assaulted his ears, sending his anxiety haywire.

He screamed out, alerting the rest of the camp and snatched at the nylon of his tent, scrambling to wake his daughter with blind fear.

“Daddy!”

“Octavia!”

He tripped over his box of belongings and shoved Octavia forward as sickly hands tore at the blue fabric in a bid to reach her. “Go!”

“Stolas!”

Screams were ripping through the camp above the murmur of the dead and dying. Striker had holed everyone up by the RV, holding what looked to be the garden tools that they'd kept for the one or two Damned that strayed into their vicinity.

“Stolas! Get up!”

“Run!”

Verosika was screaming orders at him.

One minute Stolas was on the floor, the next he was up and dragging his daughter towards the others. Octavia stumbled, unable to keep up and Stolas cursed his lack of physical strength. Something smashed into him and he rolled, losing his daughter’s hand and hearing her shriek.

His back collided into the mass of trees and he crashed to the ground, the snarls of the dead rising around him.

Panic.

Utter panic.

He was going to die here. He would be bit, eaten alive and-

The weight on top of him didn't shift and somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that the body on his was laughing.

It was someone.

“Miss me, bitch?”

“S-Stella?” Stolas choked, every curse word bubbling forth as he grabbed onto the head before him. His talons dug into healthy skin, jaw grinding together as Stolas shoved her off of him, leaving thin, angry lines across the Swan’s face.

How was she here?

Stolas shook his head, wondering if this was a nightmare.

Had he died?

Was this some sordid afterlife for his kind?

He felt hot hands grip his neck and Stolas bucked up, feeling his ex-wife draw close.

“I’ll Damn you with me.”

“No!”

He rolled again, hands scrabbling at the dirt and leaves as he tried to find something, anything to defend himself with.

Anything he could use to bring her down.

Stella spat as she got to her feet. “You will never kill me, you whor*. You think I'd ever just let you leave after all you put me through?!”

Stolas couldn't be here.

Stella was not the nightmare he needed to worry about.

He needed to get back to Octavia.

Stolas didn't wait, he turned on his heels, ignoring the burning as he ran. Something grabbed his tail and he yelped, feeling his body pitch forward violently. He plunged downward, landing awkwardly on a mass of gnarly roots, smacking his head against the solid bark of the tree’s base. He started, feeling a cold, sickly caress as part of his skin brushed against his attacker.

His breath scorched his lungs as he stared into wide, disease-ridden sockets and Stolas screamed, his vocal cords blowing open as he twisted, slamming his foot into the Damned’s face with a sickening crunch.

The brittle skull, exposed and decorated with clumps of dry scalp and hair, split as it cracked into the wooden trunk beside it, sending a frothy mixture spilling over Stolas’ ankles and over the soil around them. The grip loosened for a fraction of a second and the owl kicked himself away, clawing at the trees around him as he desperately tried to find purchase.

There was no-where to go, he didn't even know what direction he was going in.

“Daddy!”

Stolas’ heart lurched, the horror stringing together in his mind as he envisioned his little girl. His feet carried him towards his child's cries, heart thundering behind a fragile ribcage that couldn’t take much more.

The scene was worse than anything his mind had managed to conjure up.

Stolas froze, eyes wide and soul shattering with every second he looked on.

She had her.

Stella held their daughter tightly, bloodied and very clearly having been bitten. She was holding the owlette to her, a spiteful hand around an all-too delicate neck.

Stolas shook his head, silently begging Stella to let their daughter go.

Octavia was quiet, staring at Stolas with so much fear that the Prince felt as though he'd break.

“Let her go.”

Stella laughed mockingly. “I never took orders from you, Stolas. I am not going to start now.” She spat blood from her beak, using her free hand to wipe it away from her lips. “All it takes, is a quick snap to the side.” She grabbed Octavia's feathers, yanking her head and she shrieked in pain, the tears exploding as the owlette started to panic.

Stolas saw red, and he lunged for his ex-wife, shoving himself in front of his daughter, and wrenching her free. He shoved her away, not caring for anything else. Octavia's screeching was piercing, gut wrenching, and Stolas struggled to keep his eyes open, the need to cover his ears before they bled was nearly impossible to fight.

Stella back handed him and he stumbled sideways blindly, the constant ringing in his ears making him feel like he was tumbling upside down. Octavia was screaming for him and the sound snapped back at any other.

That weight was on him again and this time Octavia was there, yelling, shouting, and ripping at Stella's feathers in a bid to get her off of her Father.

There were no words.

Stolas forced himself forward, smashing his forehead into Stella's face and Octavia back peddled away, running into his arms as Stella wailed loudly. Stolas curled around his daughter as Stella towered above them, he squeezed his eyes shut but the hits never came.

There was just a heavy thud and a loud scuffle.

Stolas dared to look up, shielding Octavia's face as the familiar frame of a crossbow clattered to the ground. His lungs lost all ability to hold air as Blitzø pinned Stella onto her back and slammed his fist into the Swan’s face.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

He didn't stop.

Blitzø wasn't going to stop.

Stolas knew he should get up, pull the Imp away, stop him-

Stolas didn't move.

Stolas didn't want Blitzø to stop.

“Don't look,” he gasped out, wrapped his arms around Octavia's body, covering her eyes and hushing her sobs. “Don't look, don’t look.”

The sound was getting wetter, slicker, softer.

Blitzø's ragged breathing was rising above everything else and Stolas couldn't take his eyes off him as the Imp finally shoved himself away from the lifeless body that was once Stella Goetia.

He stood unsteadily, physique silhouetted against the trees and Stolas’ heart was jammed in his throat.

There it was.

The true lethality of the Buckzo’s Youngest Twin.

Chapter 29: Let Go

Chapter Text

Death.

It was Mankind's sin.

The ultimate punishment.

A curse.

A liberation.

Transcendental.

A passage.

A judgement.

Stolas struggled as Octavia pushed at his arms, pushing him away as she scrambled up on shaky legs, sobs wracking her small body as she ran towards Blitzø.

Stolas couldn't comprehend anything.

Stella was dead.

Stella had made it back here.

Blitzø had killed her.

Murder.

Octavia was not scared of him.

Stolas watched, regaining his breath and trying to process his thoughts as Blitzø wrapped his trembling arms around the owlette, falling to his knees with a groan. “I got you, Little Princess.” His voice was hoarse, thick with exhaustion, worry and relief. “I got you.”

He'd saved their lives.

Stolas strained to right himself, crawling towards them and feeling Blitzø's pull him close. The Prince clung to him, not caring that the Imp’s shirt was soaked in blood.

Stolas didn’t care about anything. He kissed those mismatched cheeks, a torrent of thank you's leaving his beak breathlessly as he peppered kisses to Blitzø’s face.

His attention was on Octavia next, giving her the same devoted fuss, wiping her tears away and checking her for injuries.

Octavia was silent, her eyes locked onto Blitzø as he tried to grasp hold of his nerves.

He'd almost lost them.

Blitzø hoisted them up, his hand not leaving the back of Stolas' head as he lifted Octavia with one arm.

Stolas moved quickly, knowing they had little time to linger. He grasped the crossbow from where Blitzø had tossed it aside and held it tightly as the Imp pushed them forward.

Stolas broke through the trees and immediately feared the worst of his friends as bodies lay strewn about.

“Stolas! Oh Stolas!”

Bee's hysterical cries broke the silence and the owl barely managed to catch his friend before Bee had thrown her arms around him, sobbing in relief and holding him so tightly Stolas lost his breath. “I thought- oh f*ck, Stolas.”

Stolas held her on instinct, and as soon as Bee released him, she was embracing Octavia and Blitzø just as tightly.

He looked towards the RV where the others were stood, looking horrified and in shock.

“I nod off for a couple hours and camp goes to sh*t, little bro.”

Blitzø dropped Octavia and shot forward, Stolas' heart hammering in his chest as Octavia took off after him.

Barbie appeared, looking worse for wear but alive and somewhat dazed as Blitzø flung his arms around her. “You f*cking asshole.”

Barbie laughed, patting him on the back as she leaned into Blitzø's shoulder. He sniffled, eyes glassy and chest tight as he pulled away just in time for Octavia, tears everywhere who was reaching up to him. Blitzø stepped back, wiping his eyes as he lifted Octavia so she could wrap her arms around his sister’s neck.

Barbie hushed her, taking the owlette with her good arm.

The others watched and Stolas finally let himself break down.

His family were alright, but he'd nearly lost them all.

He collapsed into the dirt, arms around his knees and face buried in them. Bee fell beside him, trying to comfort him but Stolas didn't look up.

Blitzø hooked his arms under the owl’s and pulled him to his feet, letting him fall against a bloodstained chest. He nodded to Bee who reached for a bottle of water and the rest of the camp huddled round them.

“Is he okay?”

“Is Daddy okay?”

Blitzø held the Prince tightly, letting him cry.

Striker glanced at his hands and Blitzø hid his frown. His knuckles were bloody and it was obvious he'd done something drastic.

Stolas finally managed to compose himself, letting the Imp guide him down into a chair. Vortex was by his side, Cyril following him aimlessly as Octavia held his hand in hers.

“Not all of these were Damned,” Striker announced, his voice trembling. “These were Infected and mortal alike, some demons too.”

“We need to get out of here!” Aquyna cried out.

Voices rose in panic and Striker held his hands up to calm them.

“There are no guarantees either way. I know that.” He looked to Vortex, eyes boring into the hellhound’s with an unspoken emotion. “I've known this demon a long f*ckin’ time. I trust his instincts. The most important thing is that we stay together.” He inhaled sharply. “Those of you who plan to leave, we go first thing.”

Vortex took Bee by the hand and the others nodded in agreement. “We need to burn the corpses.”

“I'll get my truck,” Blitzø spoke up, sauntering off.

Striker watched him leave and Stolas followed him slowly.

“Blitzø-”

“It's alright,” Blitzø turned, cupping Stolas’ cheek softly. The owl stuttered as a thumb swept across his skin, feeling fluttery from the touch alone.

“I-” Stolas stammered upon seeing Striker watching them and he swallowed hard. “They mustn't know you killed Stella. Striker won't let you stay if he knows,” he whispered desperately. “They mustn't find her body.”

Blitzø stared at him blankly before nodding. “They'll line up the bodies before burning them anyway. Always smash in the heads. They won't be looking for her. Doubt she's got much of a face left anyway,” he murmured, stepping into his truck.

Stolas managed a weak smile. “Was an improvement,” he managed.

Blitzø smirked slightly at that, nodding for the owl to move back as he started the engine.

“Everything okay?”

Stolas flinched as Striker's voice reached him and he turned. The Snake-Imp was looking at the Prince cautiously, and Stolas nodded, wiping his eyes. “I nearly lost Octavia,” he whispered, forcing a watery smile. “Blitzø saved our lives.”

A pause.

“That all he do?”

Stolas looked at him as he walked past, giving Striker a look.

“What more could he do?”

Stolas walked away, holding his head high though it didn’t last.

It couldn’t, not in a world like this.

They'd lost one.

There were no words to express the sorrow when they found what was left of him.

“Oh, Zoath.”

Aquyna was sobbing into Odrega's arms, those that were close to the young demon milling about as Striker and Vortex covered his body for burial.

Stolas watched with a heavy heart, wishing that he had been more strong, more brave. Everyone seemed to be doing something but him. He was just sat there, tears still streaming down his face and shirt still bloody and dirtied.

The sound of skulls being hacked into was making him nauseous and he glanced to his right, seeing Blitzø swing the pickaxe for the umpteenth time. Stolas paused when the Imp turned to a familiar body and the Prince swallowed the lump in his throat, moving to stop him.

“I'll do it,” Stolas told him, voice thick from crying. “She was my nightmare.”

Blitzø looked at him wearily and offered him the pickaxe, unsure whether or not the owl would be able to handle it. He stepped back as Stolas took it, raising it above him and Stolas almost shied away from the beaten and half eaten corpse before them.

This woman had brought him to ruin.

Stolas squeezed his eyes shut, letting his arm propel the tool down.

He choked as it embedded itself into an unrecognisable face, splitting the skull entirely and reducing it to a mangle of cracked bone and tissue. He held back a gag and struggled to wrench it out.

This woman had reduced him to nothing.

Stolas swung a second time, sobs starting to break out as the weight of Stella’s torture crushed his soul.

This woman represented the cruelty that was the Ars Goetia.

Stolas swung again.

This woman had hurt his little girl.

Again.

She had come back.

She wouldn't be coming back this time.

Stolas swung one last time, the impact sending droplets of bloodied tissue over the dirt as the blood seeped into the soil under them. Stolas turned away, eyes closed and arms heavy from the weight of his burdens.

That woman was gone.

Stolas felt Blitzø take the pick-axe from him, and he wiped her eyes slowly, not opening them as he ran his hands down his feathered arm, across his wrist and finally pulled of the wedding band he'd never thought to remove.

He flung it at the mess of a demon he'd been tied to, hearing it land amongst what was left of her.

“Till death do we part,” he rasped out, stepping back and finally walking away to wash his face and change his clothes.

“How we doing this?”

“Barbie, you aren’t driving on the damn f*cking bike. You're staying in the RV with Octavia.”

“I’ve been locked up in that sh*thole for days! Do we have to do this?”

Blitzø threw his sister a withering look. “I haven’t got time for this. We aren’t staying behind.”

“I’m not f*cking asking you to!”

“No bike,” Blitzø finalised, slamming the back of his truck shut, Barbie's bike nestled safely within his trailer.

Barbie scowled darkly and marched off, cursing all the way with her tail lashing wildly.

“Sister trouble?”

Blitzø paused and looked round at Bee who was holding a box of Stolas' things.

“We're going to take Stolas and Octavia's belongings, we have room for yours too if you need it.”

“I got room,” he told her, motioning to the passenger seat.

Bee pursed her lips at him. “That's Stolas' seat.”

Blitzø rolled his eyes and huffed. “Course it is,” he muttered, pushing the door open with his foot. “Here.” He handed her a single box and she grinned before glancing at his knuckles. “I'll send Stolas to patch that up before we go.”

He clenched his jaw and nodded.

He didn't care.

He wasn't going to.

He'd done what he had to do.

Why did he feel like he should be guilty?

Blitzø was just wiping down his dusty dashboard when Stolas tapped his back lightly.

“Come on, I have to see to you.”

Blitzø huffed and tossed the rag back in the glove compartment, following the owl into what was left of the tent they once called home. The back had been torn open and the cots were in disarray. Stolas hummed thoughtfully before looking to him and pushing him to sit on the lesser bent framework.

“You okay?” he asked, catching the Prince’s gaze.

Stolas smiled beside himself. “Are you worried?”

“I dunno,” Blitzø licked his lips cautiously. “Crazy Laundry Loon turned into Psycho Axe Loon.”

Stolas snorted and took the Imp’s hand. “I wouldn't worry unless I'm chasing after you in the woods.”

Blitzø smirked, which didn't last long when a wet towel was pressed to his knuckles. “f*ck, that stings like a bitch.”

Stolas' smile faded and he looked up at Blitzø with sincere concern. “Are you okay?”

Blitzø frowned and looked at him witheringly. “Should I not be?”

Stolas faltered before continuing. “I want you to be,” he whispered, cerise-rose hues glazing over. “I want you to be because I didn't want you to stop. I could have stopped you, I chose not to.” His gaze locked onto vivid scarlet. “I let you kill her.”

Blitzø held eye-contact before grimacing as the towelling was once again presses to his sore hand. “Then... we're good.”

Stolas nodded, still eyeing him.

“What?”

“Thank you isn't enough for what you did,” Stolas murmured, shaking his head. “I nearly died…”

Blitzø was starting to get creeped out by the four-eyed owlish stare and he frowned. “Don't have to thank me. I said I'd look after you. You aren’t f*cking pegging it on my watch.”

Stolas’ gaze flashed vermillion in annoyance and he swiped the towel over the Imp’s injury, making him suck in air through his teeth. “Ow what the f*ck-”

Obsidian hands grabbed his face and the Prince glared at him sternly. “If you die at any point in this, I will never forgive you.”

Blitzø's heart caught in his throat and he looked at Stolas with a sense of longing. “You’re f*cking pissed because you don’t know how to thank me.”

Stolas softened his hold and rest his temple against Blitzø’s heart-like insignia.

Blitzø winced at the stinging of his knuckles and gripped the towel tightly as Stolas pushed a little closer. The tent was becoming hot again despite the chill and Blitzø lost his ability to think.

Stolas was so close, but not close enough.

He tried to find his voice and leant forward-

“Gimme that third kiss.”

Blitzø couldn't believe he'd said it, but he didn't care. He only cared that Stolas fluffed up and leant in, doing exactly as requested.

Stolas didn't have to think twice. Blitzø had asked for it, and he’d responded in kind. The Imp’s skin was slightly damp, his lips ever so soft and to the Prince, that was perfect.

“Daddy!”

Stolas pulled away, tittering as Blitzø blushed and ducked his head, Octavia calling to Stolas from outside the tent.

“In here, Starfire!”

Octavia padded in, holding a wad of bandages. “Auntie Bee says to give you these,” she said quietly, pushing them into her Father’s hand.

Stolas took them silently and wound the thin dressing around scarred knuckles and an equally scarred palm.

“We're leaving... together?” Octavia asked, hovering in an unsure manner.

“Of course!” Stolas reassured, glancing up at her. “Blitzø-”

“Dad,” Octavia corrected sternly, stamping her foot.

Stolas pursed his beak. “Octavia, you do not cut me off like tha-” He paused as Blitzø brushed against an arm, and the owl turned to him.

He was giving Stolas a pleading look, and it made him shut his mouth, hard. Octavia had just seen her biological Mother get beaten to death.

She had been attacked by her.

Blitzø's touch brought Stolas nearly to tears and he sniffled, nodding his head. “Your Dad isn't going to leave us,” he amended tightly.

Blitzø smiled weakly and squeezed Stolas’ hand. “Eighths, why don't you get Auntie Barbie into the RV for me, yeah?” She nodded, giving her Father a weary look and Blitzø nudged her with his foot. “Go on, atta girl.”

Stolas turned away, dropping Blitzø’s hand and sitting down opposite him. Blitzø frowned guiltily. “I-”

“Don't.” Stolas glanced up at him. “Don't apologise. I mustn't get angry at her- Bee was right, she needs this. Needs you. Thank you for stopping me.”

He nodded numbly as the Prince wiped his eyes.

“You need a new shirt. We'll be going soon. We best... get the last of everything together.”

“Alright.”

Stolas gave him a watery smile and kissed his cheek, letting him know that there was no upset between them.

He just couldn't tell the Imp that he needed him, too.

Stolas watched as the RV pulled away, Odrega at the wheel and Moxxie next to him.

The large Camper hadn't moved since the day it arrived, and Stolas’ heart ached to see it leave its post.

Just ahead, already making its way down the dirt track was Striker in his a Jeep. Verosika was sat next to him, blonde hair almost glowing in the sunlight.

Behind the RV was the Cherokee that Andrealphus had found- wherever he may be. Stolas had a feeling the Peaco*ck was either dead, or had abandoned his sister shortly after she had gotten bit. It wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility for Andrealphus to have thrown her out, or even used her as a means to escape a treacherous situation himself.

Whatever the case, Stolas had given the car to Vortex and Bee, for their family to drive in.

Stolas didn't care for anything of Stella’s or Andrealphus’ anymore. He wanted nothing to do with it and was relieved to see the car passed on.

Last but not least there was Thyone in a Dodge, Pria sat next to him looking absentminded.

Stolas leant back into the rough material of Blitzø's pickup truck. It was so... Blitzø. The owl glanced at the bike in the back and raised an eyebrow. “I never assumed you to be a biker boy,” he said, trying to calm his nerves.

Blitzø frowned as he turned the ignition key, the rumble of the engine making the owl jump. “I'm not.”

Stolas bit his lip, trying to picture him in leather gear. “Can we change that?”

“No.”

“Maybe I had it all wrong, you know?” Stolas teased, looking at him with a weak grin. “Maybe it's not me who should be in leather, whips and chains in tow.”

“f*ck off.”

Stolas wanted to laugh, but couldn't find it in himself to do so.

The sight of their once-home blurring in the truck’s wing mirrors was bringing tears to his eyes and he didn't want to cry over what he had lost.

It was far from what he hadn't, and it felt trivial in comparison to cry over such a thing.

The torn nylon of the damaged tents were billowing in the wind, empty pots rolled with the gusts and Stolas’ empty laundry lines bounced with the sway of the trees that held them.

He couldn't take his eyes off the laundry table that stood steadfast as they pulled away, ignoring the cacophony around it as he had done so many times himself.

The table stood for so much more than his menial task of Laundry Man.

It had been the starting point of the most unexpected and important friendship he'd ever made, the pinnacle of his suffering journey and the goodbye to so many past nightmares of finding excuses and distractions just to be away from Stella.

Stolas closed his eyes as the camp vanished from view, curling into the door and leaning his head against the cooling glass. This was the start of something new, something unknown.

A hand brushed against his and Stolas lifted his lashes, catching Blitzø's questioning glance. Stolas took the Imp’s palm, sitting up and holding it tightly.

He needed to be strong.

He didn't know what awaited them, he didn't know how they would survive.

All he knew was that in the moment that had mattered the most, he hadn't been alone.

Chapter 30: Bottle & a Gun - Part I

Chapter Text

“This might have been, your dumbest f*ckin’ move yet.”

Stolas frowned and tried to ignore the way Striker was getting in Blitzø's face.

They'd had to pull over, the RV's tendency to blow radiator hoses being the bane of everyone's current existence. Somewhere in all the mechanical jargon, Vortex had admitted that the reason for his and Blitzø's absence the previous evening had been quite nefarious.

It turned out the two had diverted from their original duty in order to embark on their own covert mission to retrieve the guns that Vortex had bagged and dropped on his initial entry into the City.

Stolas wasn't going to lie, he was pretty pissed about that but his reaction was not to belittle Blitzø for it.

“Hey, hey!” Vortex stepped between them, pushing Striker back with his arm.

“Back off, man! It was my idea. I was gonna go whether he came or not- he backed me up!”

Striker shoved the Hellhound back. “If you'd have been there, less would have f*ckin’ died!”

“If we hadn't have gone off and got those guns, more would have!”

“Will you two f*cking quit it!” Bee was suddenly between them, looking like she wanted to snap further. “What's done, is done.” She glanced at Vortex warningly. “For the record, I am not happy with you either, but we need to stop fighting. Now.”

Blitzø huffed as the two watched her storm off, leaning back against the side of his Ford. He looked up at Stolas who perched on the passenger seat, leaning out the window to trail obsidian talons between the Imp’s horns. “You mad at me too?”

“You did what you had to. I get it. Might not like it, but I get it.”

“I wish Bee saw it like that,” Vortex spoke up, having heard the owl’s response. He came to stand next to Blitzø as Moxxie and Odrega repaired the RV. “I'm glad I didn't get you in trouble.”

Blitzø scoffed and Stolas grinned, not retracting his hand.

“He gets into trouble just fine on his own.” Stolas pulled his hand back and looked to Vortex with a kind smile. “She'll come around. You two dodged putting the whole group at risk over the bag.” They both seemed surprised at Stolas’ understanding and he hopped down as the door to the RV swung open. “Like I said, I get it.”

“I am not staying in there one more f*cking damn minute!”

Blitzø groaned as Barbie's voice bellowed out from the RV and he pushed himself off his truck door. “That asshole woke up too f*cking early.”

Stolas pouted at him, pursing his beak together through a grin. “Don't be so moody. I know exactly how she feels. It gets too harassing in there after a while.” Stolas patted him on the shoulder. “You're her brother, go cheer her up.”

Blitzø scowled but did as suggested, though his stride told Stolas there was more chance of him lecturing his sister till she shut up.

Vortex watched him go thoughtfully. “I never thought I'd see the day those two would stop falling into the same pitfalls their father kept digging for them.” He turned to Stolas, crimson gaze searching. “I hoped it, never thought I'd see it happen.” He shook his head in Blitzø's direction. “How'd you do it?”

Stolas shrugged a little awkwardly, tugging at his sleeves. “Just... gave them a chance.”

Vortex studied the Prince’s face and nodded as Octavia came charging towards them.

“Octavia! Starfire, you're not supposed to leave the RV!” Stolas chastised, placing his arms around his daughter’s shoulders.

“Dad told me to stretch my legs, otherwise I will remain short like you.”

Vortex laughed and Stolas frowned. “Did he now.”

“He also said two bad words.”

That caused some chuckles and Stolas rolled his eyes. “I think we're just going to have to establish that your Dad is going to say many bad words, Octavia.”

It came out too easily. Too naturally. Stolas may have agreed to it, acknowledged that Octavia needed it, but it still felt wrong in the most right of ways.

“Alright, looks like Odrega got the RV fixed. Come on, lets get you back with your Auntie.”

Stolas watched as Vortex walked the owlette back towards the vehicle Barbie was still complaining in. Upon seeing Octavia, her voice quietened a fraction and whatever she said made the little girl laugh. Blitzø hopped out, walking back towards Stolas as the owl shimmied up into the passenger seat.

Vortex high-fived Blitzø as he passed, who seemed to have raised his hand on instinct then looked confused as to why he had done so. He was still perturbed as he slid into the drivers seat, looking at his hand as he closed the door.

“Barbie’s gonna drive them lot nuts.”

“She's fine. Octavia will look after her.” Stolas tucked his feet up onto the seat and leant against the door. “I just want to get there.”

“Yeah...”

The rumble of the RV's engine set off the other cars like dominoes and once again the owl fought the urge to cling to the feelings of anxiety. He wanted to get there, but at the same time he was terrified of what they would find. He wanted to ask Blitzø about his father, Cash Buckzo, but didn't have a good gauge on the Imp’s mood. Blitzø was tense, his sleeveless shirt fraying from where he'd ripped the material that would be covering his arms clean off.

Stolas frowned.

The shirt was actually rather nice, a pale tan with what appeared to be a faint burnt orange and yellow plaid pattern. “You ruin some really nice shirts doing that.”

Blitzø paused, looking at the owl with a bored expression. “Crazy Laundry Loon don't catch a f*cking break does he.” He returned to biting his thumbnail as Stolas glared at him softly.

“I can be Psycho Axe Loon for a second time if you want.”

Blitzø snorted. “I call truce. We're turning into the city now. You best keep your head down.”

Stolas turned to him, eyes half lidded with a wicked grin etched across his face. “Are you trying to start something here, Buckzo?”

“Not me.” He pointed to the tops of the buildings as they slowed to an almost creep upon nearing the City. “Other assholes might be out here. Don't want any trou-” he paused, having finally glanced at the Prince. “What?”

Stolas had dropped the grin and was now giving him an exasperated look. “You didn't get that?”

“Get what?”

“You know. Keep your head low, in a car... with you, being a sexy guy... following along at all... no? Nope. No good,” he huffed at the missed opportunity to tease. “How is it, you have a sister like Barbie and yet you have the mind of a nun?”

Blitzø shrugged. “Barbie weren't around all that much. I don't even pay attention to half of what she says when she goes off on one.”

“Oh.”

Stolas glanced at him again and he exhaled heavily.

“What is it now.”

“So when you see... let’s say, two plums and a banana between them, you don't think of...?”

Blitzø threw him the most weirdest look he'd ever pulled. “Fruit. I'd see damn fruit, Crazy Loon. What else am I supposed to f*cking see?”

“Hmm…” Stolas looked at him skeptically and he shook his head. The owl opened his beak to say more when he caught sight of a meandering individual, followed by another, then another. “Blitzø.”

He glanced at Stolas then in the direction the owl was looking in. “sh*t. Don't panic.”

“Blitzø the others aren't stopping.” His voice was getting caught in his rapidly quickening breaths.

“Stay. Calm.” He shoved Stolas slightly off the chair, forcing him to huddle in the tiny space before it. “Stay down.”

Stolas breathed in and out, a practice he seemed to never fully escape from having to rely on.

Stolas hated small spaces.

“Vortex is onto it,” he muttered, turning the wheel a little quickly and jerking the car to the left. Stolas felt a bump and looked at him, glaring flatly. “Sorry. Haven’t got time to grab my crossbow.”

Stolas squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ignore the next few 'bumps in the road'.

They came to a complete stop and Blitzø hissed in agitation. “Wait here.” He opened the car door and slammed it shut before Stolas could even reach for him.

“Vortex!”

“We gotta make a dash for it. There's a hoard coming this way,” Vortex's voice was quiet, but it echoed in Stolas’ skull like he'd yelled.

“What's going on?”

That was Barbie.

“Barbs, get your ass back in that RV.”

Blitzø. Only he would ever greet his sister in such a way.

“sh*t- sh*t!”

Stolas gasped as he scrambled up at hearing their voices raise and he peeked over the dashboard to see a group of Damned - en masse coming up one of the streets. Barbie snatched the gun from Vortex and bolted from the group, making them gasp, and Blitzø stumble after her.

“Barbie!”

The older Buckzo swung round and shoved her baby brother back so hard Blitzø actually tripped over his own feet.

“Get your ass back there, Blitzina! I'll meet up with ya!”

Stolas shook his head even though he knew she couldn't see him.

“Barbie! You crazy ass slu*t of a bitch!” Blitzø sounded completely unhinged. “Get back here!”

“I'll find you! I'll draw them away, and I'll find you!”

She was gone and Blitzø was torn between running after his own flesh and blood, and returning to the truck that Stolas was trapped in. Stolas sank back down, not knowing what to do. He didn't expect Barbie to pull such an insane move- though she'd done so before and lost a whole hand.

The door to the truck flew open and it slammed shut so hard that Stolas expected the glass to shatter. He didn't say a word, hands in front of his beak as he stared at Blitzø who rest his head against the steering wheel. His un-bandaged knuckles were pale and Stolas could hear the agony as Blitzø struggled with the decision.

“Go.”

He looked up then, looking at Stolas like the Prince had told him to behead himself.

“It's okay, she's your sister, go. I’ll run to Bee,” his voice wobbled, he was petrified of the implications to his words but Blitzø only stared in disbelief.

He shook his head violently. “Not f*cking losing you, too.”

Stolas didn't dare say that he was relieved, but as the distant yelling and sound of gunfire pulled the Damned in the opposite direction, he knew with every fibre of his being that he would have let Blitzø go in a heartbeat, just to lift the pain from his face as he left his sister behind.

The light was dwindling as they pulled up to the CDC.

Stolas swallowed hard and felt his stomach drop at the sight of the place.

Blitzø parked and Stolas tried to meet the Imp’s gaze, but he wasn't allowing Stolas the luxury of reading him. He'd been silent since Barbie had taken off in her valiant decoy attempt – which no-one could argue, she'd pulled off expertly.

They had arrived, but Stolas was terrified that Barbie’s efforts had been for naught.

The first thing that assaulted him was the thick, sickly aroma of the dead. It was rancid, making him choke and the rest of group shared his reaction as Moxxie gagged. The buzzing of flies was nauseating and Stolas covered his ears even as Bee pulled him close to them, Octavia mimicking her Father’s pose.

Blitzø, Striker and Vortex were skirting their group, armed and ready as they moved through towards the gates of the compound. Moxxie held a hand out, his gun tipping down as he took in the sight before them.

No-one dared speak.

Bodies.

They were strewn across everywhere. Demons, Damned, and those who died human were mingled in the carnage. Blitzø dropped back to the rear just as Vortex jogged up to him, shoving a bundle into his hands.

Stolas spotted the red and yellow flash of fletching and felt relief course through him, even as he huddled Octavia to him and tried to protect him from the massacre around them.

“What-“

“Barbie said to give these to you,” Vortex said with hushed urgency, and Blitzø's shoulders tensed as he gripped the bolts tightly. He didn't have time to get emotional, he had a job to do. “Said she had your back.”

Blitzø nodded and immediately tore off the plastic bind, discarding it and swiftly inserting them into the crossbows under-quiver.

Striker waved them forward. “Alright everyone. Keep movin’. Go on,” he whispered, desperately trying to keep them together. “Stay quiet.”

The bodies kept increasing as they walked, passing signs splattered with blood and organs, particles that Stolas didn’t want to see. Moxxie gagged again, his arms over his face as he followed Vortex's lead.

They neared the main building and Vortex immediately tried to contain them as the others began to verbalise their fears. “Move together. Stay together.”

“Shh!”

Striker was looking at them sternly and Bee lost sight of her best friend.

“Stolas!”

“Shh!”

Bee glared at him, even as Moxxie groaned for the umpteenth time. Blitzø glanced at Stolas and Octavia, choosing to skip slightly closer so he never left their vicinity.

They reached the shutters and Vortex scrabbled at them as Striker looked at him.

“Nothing?”

They strained to lift them and Thyone stepped up, pounding on the door.

“There's nobody here.”

“Then why are these shutters down?!”

Blitzø glanced behind him and immediately turned on his heel. “Damned!” He announced urgently, backing up and shrouding Stolas towards the group.

Bee released a shriek and pulled Cyril to her side. The children wailed, frightened, and Stolas grasped onto Bee's arm as Blitzø released a bolt.

“You lead us into a f*cking graveyard!” He yelled angrily, shoving himself forward into Vortex's face.

Stolas turned away.

Now was not the time for Blitzø to lose his cool but Stolas couldn't step in, not this time.

“He made a call!” Odrega tried to soothe, holding out a hand.

“It was the wrong damn call!”

Striker shoved him back. “Shut up! You hear me, shut up! Shut the f*ck up!” He turned to Vortex, face pale. “Vortex, this is a dead end.”

“Where are we going to go?!” Stolas found himself asking, holding Octavia close.

Striker hurried to Vortex's side. “Do you hear me? No blame. There’s no f*ckin’ blame.”

“Stolas is right,” Bee pleaded frantically as Stolas felt his world cracking once again. “We can't be this close to the city after dark.”

“Fort Benning, Vortex. It's still an option.”

“On what?” Verosika suddenly demanded, throwing Stolas and Octavia worried looks. “No food, no fuel. That's a hundred miles!”

“One hundred and twenty five, I checked the map,” Moxxie corrected as Bee rejected the notion.

Blitzø co*cked his gun and moved behind them, the sound making Stolas flinch.

“Forget Fort Benning we need answers tonight, now!”

Vortex was panicking, Stolas could see it. Everyone was panicking and the light was getting dimmer and dimmer. “We'll think of something.”

Moxxie ushered them away. “Come on, let’s go.”

Stolas turned, pulling Octavia with him as Bee pushed him forward. He felt his body falter as Vortex stated something- he couldn't tell what, for the next thing the Hellhound was nearly fighting with Striker.

“Vortex, there's nobody here!” Bee screamed at him, and Stolas felt the world shift, for Vortex was yelling at the doors like a mad man.

“Get back to the cars!” Striker shouted at them and Stolas turned away again, unable to process what was going on.

Bee tore from his side and ran back, desperately trying to push Vortex away from the shutters. Stolas held his daughter closer than ever, blinded by the mass of death and screaming around them.

“You're killing us!”

His universe was crumbling again.

“You're killing us!”

The world was torn apart by the sound of metal screeching against metal and the shutter door rose, a white, blinding light flooding their senses and burning their eyes.

Stolas gasped, shielding his daughter’s face and followed with baited breath as they all filed in, desperate for safety.

“Quickly! Quickly!”

The vast windows towered above them, the shiny floor immaculate and untouched. Wooden panels gleamed in the low light and Stolas didn’t know how to react to any of it.

It felt like he’d stepped into an entirely different dimension all over again.