Evenstar fled through the streets, sobbing and clutching his dress to his breast.  Angry words chased him, along with the sound of a whip.  A cat o’ nine tails, he knew.  Satan had been tortured with one recently, he remembered, tripping over his own feet.

Or was it a wall covered by illusion?  he wondered frantically, reaching out before him, and touching only an invisible flatness.  One of the walls that closed him in.

Strange how the streets around him looked so much like the streets near his and his brothers’ home in Oklahoma.  Except that they didn’t have a home there; they’d only ever lived in Hell, where they’d been and forever would be eternally tortured by the White Demon and his golems.  Hadn’t they?

Evenstar!  Abaddon’s voice, gentle Abaddon, surrounded always by treasure he could see and covet but never truly possess.  Just as the White Demon chasing him loomed around the corner, brilliant white-feathered wings spread in fury, whip aflame.

Evenstar cowered in the street, one arm lifted before his face to catch the worst of the blow before it landed, but the blow never came.

The White Demon morphed into Gabriel Raquia, concern etched on his face, reaching out to him.  Evenstar cringed again, curling into a ball.

It’s just a dream, little Evening Star, Satan’s voice, calm and sure, echoed through his mind, and the entire scene wavered a little.  Just a dream; let Abaddon comfort you.  The sentence was half-order.

Evenstar flinched when he felt arms encircle him, but he calmed down when he felt the coldness of gold juxtaposed against warm flesh tough enough to resist dull blades, saw leathery wings come around to wrap his body in a circle of frightened care.

…Abaddon?  he dared to whisper, beginning to shake.

Yes, it’s me, Abaddon’s voice—definitely Abaddon’s and not some illusion designed to further torture him.

A dream…really a dream?  he whispered then, beginning to relax into his brother’s soft embrace.

Abaddon only nodded; Evenstar felt him start rocking to ease both their minds.

Just a dream, he slowly confirmed.  I’m here…it’s all right…neither of us are in Hell…it’s okay…

~~*~~

Evenstar Lucifer

I open my eyes to find myself in an identical position to the one my dream had ended in.  But Satan is nearby, exuding his quiet strength to bolster us both.  I and Abaddon, that is.

No one speaks for long minutes; Abaddon is going to be late for work.  And so am I…

Don’t worry about that, Abaddon tells me firmly, finally letting me out of his wings, though he still holds me by my shoulders and makes me look into his grass-green eyes.  We’re both going to call in sick today.  Now what happened at your work?

Nothing!  I protested, tearing my gaze towards my bedspread.  Deep, crimson red.  Somehow the color calms me.  It’s the only color I can actually sleep well on.

Abaddon gently cups my cheek.  He says nothing, but we both know the lie.  Satan slips in behind me; he also is silent, and neither of them condemn me.  We all know that I do not dream of Hell without a reason.

None of us dream of Hell without a reason.  But they’re content to let the story unwind when I’m ready.

It takes a long, long time.  The sun had risen by the time I woke up, and now it shines through my window, illuminating me perfectly in the shades of the stained-glass window Abaddon made for me.  Both the thought and the light are comforting.  …Annabel’s husband has been visiting the hairdresser’s lately.  He never does anything, just sits in the corner and stares at me.  I can feel Abaddon blink, accepting this.  But…it’s creepy.  Like he knows I’m the reason his wife got fired.  And he thinks that she’s the innocent.  And…he doesn’t just think she’s the innocent.  The things he does to me in his mind… I sob, remembering some of the worst images.  Satan gently lays his hand on my shoulder, giving me the strength to continue.  He always kills me in the end.

Abaddon growls low in his throat on hearing that.  Death and rape, does he think of you?  We’ll see about that!  he snaps, more to himself than to me.  Get your things; you’re still going to work, but I’m coming with you.  And I’m going to keep coming with you until this is all sorted out.  No one thinks that of me Evenstar.

Satan silently agrees.  And if you are not enough of a deterrent, my brother, I am with you.  The husband lacks the strength of will to carry out his thoughts, but we do not.  Should he try anything, anything at all, we will be the bearers of his death.  Consequences be damned to the feet of the Unjust and the White Demon by his side.

I can’t help but smile.  Not at their words, but at the protectiveness behind the words.  The protectiveness of me, for my sake.  Thanks, guys.