Secret Confessions (Book 1)

Alastor

~ WARNING: This chapter contains blood. This is also short, but is a fluffy cute chapter before I hit you all with the angst! Mwahahaha! Enjoy! :D ~

~~~~~~~~~

I'm jolted awake by a piercing scream that echoes throughout the house and jarrs me to my core. It's coming from down the hall.

Anthony!

Jumping out of bed, I dont even slide on my slippers as I run out of the room, the clicking of my hoofs sounds on the hardwood floor as I thunder down the hallway.

When we arrived home last night, Angel asked if he could sleep in the spare bedroom for now. Ignoring the hurt twisting my gut at the time, I agreed and cleared the room of my stuff with a snap of my fingers. Took hours without Angel in the bed with me, but I had just finally managed to drift off to sleep when I heard the scream.

Lucifer, please let him be okay! I plead in my mind, desperation quickening my steps.

I reach the end of the hall and use a hoof to kick open the room door and summon every ounce of voodoo magic in me to attack the foe, symbols retracting from my body, but stop dead in my tracks.

Angel sits up in the bed, white comforter pooling at his hips. His arms curl around himself, as if in protection, and tears stream down his face.

"S-Sorry fer wakin' ya Smiles." He hiccups and attempts to give a weak smile.

"What the blazes happened?" I ask, cautiously walking forward, still on high alert for any possible enemy that may appear.

"It's fine. I'm fine." His voice shakes and he glances down at the bedspread as if it's the most interesting thing in the world.

"Anthony." My tone holds a tone of warning. A warning that I will not tolerate lying or evasiveness.

"I-I need ya to tell me that I'm a good person." Angel bursts out suddenly. "I know I can be selfish and self destructive, but underneath all that, deep down... I'm a good person. Please, I need ya ta tell me that I'm good. Please, Albert."

Body shaking with sobs, he presses his hands to his eyes to cover his face.

"Shhh. Calm yourself, my love." I whisper as I walk over and sit on the bed to gather him in my arms. "Dearest Angel, you are a good person. Against all odds, you took a man that hates the world, a man that despises anything sexual and wholesome, and opened his eyes to an entirely new world. You've made me see everything in new light and it's glorious. You, Anthony, are glorious. We do things that make us who we are, nothing can change that. It doesn't mean that we're not good in our own way."

"So... I'm good?" He whimpers and I hold him closer still to ease his pain.

"Yes, my dear. You may do questionable things, but I know you are good. Everything will be alright."

"A deal?" Angel squeaks, hand fisting the front of my silk pajamas.

"A promise, darling. A promise." I coo, using a hand to brush wild strands of pale white hair that sticks to his wet cheeks.

"Thank ya, Albert." He murmurs, nuzzling my neck in affection. "Will ya stay with me until I fall asleep?"

Warmth spreads in my chest at the small motion. He is comfortable enough to ask me to stay and sleep next to him. I know he wanted to be on his own in the spare bedroom, but I'll stay if it means I get to hold Anthony.

"Always." Getting comfortable, I open my arms and Angel lays on my chest.

To think, not that long ago, our positions were reversed. Where I woke from a nightmare, crying out and Angel offered to hold me.

The only thing that would make this perfect, is if I could hear my Anthony tell me those three words. Cement the bond between us into something solid. Something real and unbreakable.

~~~~~~~~~

Five Hours Later...

Pouring pancake batter into a frying pan, I set aside a stack for Angel and stroll over to the fridge for the only ingredient that helps me stomach the sickeningly sweet batter.

Demon Blood.

The clear crystal glass jar of delectable gooey black substance was percured during the fight with Vox and his goons. During the fight, I sent one of my shadows to find a container and fill it to the brim with blood from the nearest deceased victim.

A sharply dressed fellow that lost his head after an encounter with my claws. His bitter blood balances out the sweet pancake batter perfectly.

Last we had pancakes, Angel had asked why I didn't use regular syrup like him and what kind of liquid is on my pancakes. I merely told him that it's one of those things he doesn't really wish to know.

When we were alive, Anthony knew that when I give that answer, it has to do with body parts or bodily fluids. Angel simply nodded and went back to eating.

Because Angel loves pancakes alive and in death, I make them as often as I can for breakfast and make do with what I can to tolerate the not so bitter dish.

For him.

Flipping the pancake in the pan with a spatula, I drizzle blood on my stack, sticking a finger under the substance for a moment to coat the digit and pop it into my mouth with a pleased hum.

Bitter with a hint of sour. Just the way I like it. Ears twitching, I pick up the faint sound of footsteps descending the stairs and I place the freshly done pancake on top of Angel's stack and turn the oven off with a snap of my fingers.

Carrying both plates, I waltz into the dining room to greet a tired Angel sitting at the table.

"Ah, darling. I take it you slept well?"

"I was sleepin' good until ya left." He grumbles and my traitorous heart skips a beat at the simple fact that he sleeps better with me there.

"Apologies, my dear. But I wanted to rise with the dawn to cook you breakfast."

"Ya know I could jus' as easily cook ya breakfast too." Angel quips.

"If you rise before me one morning, you can absolutely do that." I chuckle, knowing full well that he's not a morning person.

Cutting a slice from my stack, I slide the fluffy bite into my mouth and wince. Not enough blood. I can still taste unbearable amounts of sweet batter.

"So, I was wonderin' if I could ask ya a favor..." Angel says and I return my attention to him, thankful for the reprieve of having to eat my pancakes.

"Ask away, my darling."

"I was textin' Molly yesterday and she wants ta come ova' today with Madilene. Have us meet her daughter." He says hesitantly, gauging my reaction.

"How old is the little dear?" I ask.

"Four." Angel replies sheepishly.

Oh dear. Too young to be wandering around my house with fragile antiques and glass.

But...

The way he pouts at me, I don't seem to have the strength to tell him no. Not with this anyways. "If it is important to you that I meet her little one, then she is allowed to bring her daughter."

"Really? Thanks babe!" Angel squeals and starts shoveling pancakes into his mouth in hurried excitement.

"Slow down." A laughing soundtrack plays as I fight the urge to go over and squish his adorable flushed cheeks. "You may call your sister and I will do my best at moving things around to make it more... safe for her daughter. Remember, the rules apply to every visitor that enters this house. Including the little one."

"Don't worry babe. We'll steer clear." He assures and I watch him hum happily while eating.

Covering my mouth with a hand to hide the sappy smile curling my lips, I just watch him eat with my once dead heart, overflowing with love.