𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐍, ineffable husbands

chance at redemption

After around an eon of suffering in one of the hottest places in hell, Crowley was surprised to open his eyes to an obnoxiously bright room. It wasn't every day a demon was offered a chance at redemption, after all.

It was a quaint oxymoron, to see a jet black, shadowy figure with neon red horns and tattered clothing standing in the middle of endless white light from all directions. He was told heaven would be comforting, but the sheer light alone was giving him a headache. The only lights in hell were slightly red and at the brightest, a dim yellow. Those lights were rare.

It was unclear who put him here and who was going to meet him, so he wordlessly stood and waited, glancing in different directions. There was no object in sight, there was no sign he was even in the right place. Most people would be amazed at the power of the holiness in this room, but Crowley wasn't a person. He was a demon, and he felt annoyed. This wasn't where he belonged.

No one had even given him a heads up, or a warning, or anything to tell him where in God's name he was. However, he figured he was in the stupid redemption area reserved for human turned demons. Why else would he be here?

The brightness of the "walls" were burning into his eyes, so he just stared at the "floor" like an idiot, even though it wasn't much dimmer than the endless shade of white. He stared at the crumbling flesh of his feet, worn down from wandering the heights and depths of hell. There wasn't much to do there but suffer anyway, so all he did was walk along the endless borders. He couldn't remember the last time he had the chance to lie down.

There was something to his left. Upon instinct, he straightened back up and raised his fist. It came swinging down and was covered by a different hand. It was smoother and softer than his. He focused his vision and was staring down at someone with pale skin and snow white hair covered in cream robes. At least they weren't as bright as his new hell.

"Easy there, No one's gonna hurt you. Heaven's not about that," the most likely angel spoke. Surprisingly, his voice wasn't too deep and holier than thou. If anything, it was bright and bubbly. And very, very, annoying.

He kept his fist up, still covered, but he closed his serpent eyes. The light was really starting to bother him. "Mind telling me where I am? You and your stupid God can't communicate for the world." His eyebrows were carved into a permanent glare on his scarred, shadowy face, and he didn't relax. A gullible demon was a stupid demon; he couldn't take the chance that this was all fake. Hell was tricky.

"I'll just ignore that last part. You're in the redemption center, and I'm your mentor for around ten years or so. Mind walking with me?" His voice was really starting to egg him on. He was so used to deep, gravelly voices; it's been centuries since he's heard a relatively normal voice. It was so high pitched to his ears. He could now see the endless light through his shallow eyelids. This may be the longest he's ever closed his eyes in a while. The hell hounds were more likely to destroy you when you were asleep.

His fist was lowered to his side, but he wasn't the one lowering it. He didn't unclench it. "If I have to open my eyes, I may throw up. Heaven is too bright for me." He probably looked really stupid just standing there with his eyes closed, but he may go crazy if they opened again.

There was laughter, but it was obvious the angel wasn't mocking him. "A once in a lifetime trip to heaven, and you complain about the lighting?" Was murder justifiable if someone's voice was too obnoxious? "Here, let me hold your wrist and guide you. I didn't bring sunglasses or anything."

With that, he yanked his arm away before he could grab it. It rested in the air. "You're not holding my wrist. I can handle myself." It was practically suicide to let anyone touch you for too long. There was still no proof this place was actually heaven.