Change Me || Septiplier

Prologue.

Mark's knuckles cracked as he pushed them against the palm of his other hand, the pops almost as loud as the gravel crunching under his shiny dress-shoes. He was growing closer to his destination — his next job — and was becoming eager. But he knew better than to jump into things. It was better to take time, to appreciate the little things and big things in life. Tilting his neck till it popped, he let out a content sigh as tension settled in his body.

His body didn't technically feel tension, though, but the action made him content. Mark Fischbach wasn't human; he wasn't someone you'd bump into on the street or catch relaxing at a coffee shop. In fact, he wasn't someone a person would see in general solely because he was a Demon — one who ruled Hell with his father and all of his siblings. He was cruel, twisted, demonic. Killing for the thrill and to collect debts, admittedly giving him a heavy form of satisfaction. That was the only thing he knew for the hundreds of years he had the misfortune of roaming Earth.

As Mark continued down the road, a casual smile hidden behind his lips as he tried no calm himself. Outside was dark as midnight crept in, the moon bright in the starry black sky. There was a faint wind sweeping around him as he walked, and he appreciated the cooling sensation it gave his body. Demons skin was hot — searing hot, in fact. If a human were to touch his skin, the tips of their fingers would sizzle and burns would embed. To them — and Angels — though, it was nothing out of the norm. Angels had cold skin, but not cold enough to hurt a human. Demons and Angels feel one another's skin without temperature, so it wasn't odd.

Mark was used to it, of course. He had been born a Demon rather than turned to one, so he had never felt what humans or Angels did. Ones who had turned to Demons typically struggle with the heating of their skin due to it feeling as if their organs were being boiled while inside of them. Far from pleasant. Like Mark, though, being born a Demon meant the only change he could experience is the one of becoming an Angel. But he never had any desire to even think of such a thing.

He was a Demon for a reason and he loved being one. To him, they were superior; they couldn't do anything wrong and they were more powerful. Why give up such a thing? Plus, the process of being an Angel was torturous, especially when being born a Demon. The process takes ages and it's physically painful as much as it is mentally painful. Too, it was sometimes impossible. If Mark ever had the misfortune of wanting to change, his process would be an arduous one; being a Demon for centuries meant he had centuries of sins to atone for.

A content breath left Mark as a farm house came into view. All the lights were off and the house was silent as a family of almost five slept peacefully. The peace was about to be destroyed, however, as the father's deal with a Demon had finally met its end. Maybe sorrow should be what Mark was feeling rather than eagerness, but, yet again, the man shouldn't of sold his soul to find love. A silly game he played.

The steps to the front porch creaked below him, opening the door with ease. Inside, the house was more silent than the outdoors. Looking around, inhaling the aroma of the Lake family's house, his eyes settled on the stairs. A satisfied smile finally fell onto his lips and he ascended the stairs. 

>>>>>>

Sean's eyes looked through the ajar hospital door, peering down at a sleeping four year old. Their grey beanie was snug over their head, a size too large so it completely covered where their eyebrows would be. Under their IV-laced-arm was their favorite stuffed animal: a whale. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, feet padding lighting against the laminate floor.

Being an Angel wasn't as easy as it seemed. Helping the sick and wounded, the broken and damaged, the forgotten and the weak — it seemed simple enough until it got down to actually doing it. Sean was known in Heaven for his bubbly attitude and caring personality; it was his trademark. Even the emotionless Archangels would smile when he was around. But what others didn't know about him was his inner challenge of becoming attached to those in need and never forgetting them even if they've passed.

Sean sat at the foot of the bed and looked up at the child. They were half the size of the bed, if not smaller. He had been watching over them for going on three years now, seeing the painful struggles of them fighting their cancer. How proud he was of them, going through every step like a champion. But as badly as Sean wanted the child to live, he didn't know if he would. That thought alone pulled at Sean's heartstrings.

He shut his eyes and grabbed the child's hand, gifting it a gentle brush with his thumb. What was once a simple task had become the highlight of Sean's day; he was assigned to them when the child's parents first prayed and every day since, he visited. Some times he's visit more than once. It was much more than an assignment to him now.

Though, he never viewed his assignments as that — assignments. They were always much more to him and he'd spend ever free second finding new ones. Sean didn't spend a lot of time in Heaven due to that. His schedule was as cram packed as he could make it. It's something he loved; being helpful and answering prayers. That's what Angels were for, weren't they?

Some Angels weren't fit to be Angels, in the same way some Demons weren't fit to be Demons. Angels that brought death and destruction were either locked away in Heaven's own form of prison, where the wrath of God kept them from ever stepping foot into God's Earth, while others were banished to Hell to become a Demon. It was the same with Demons, where the good could conquer through the life they were destined to live and come to Heaven.

Sean had many Angels friends that were once Demons. Many Angels — that were created as Angels rather than turned — viewed the Turned as lesser than them. Sean, simply, didn't care who they were. An Angel was an Angel, and an Angel was a friend. Lord, he even had some Demon friends because he was just Sean. He was loved by all and all was loved by him.

The child turned in their sleep, causing Sean's eyes to open. In that moment of solitude, Sean pictured everything: the child's fifth, tenth, twentieth birthday; their first day of elementary, middle, and high school; their prom, their graduation, their first day at work. Sean wanted nothing more than this child to grow up and live their life. He always felt pity for sick children and teens because he, himself, never got past that stage.

On his seventeenth birthday, Sean's parents took him to a car dealership. Sean payed for most of it but accepted some of his parents money only due to it being his birthday — he never liked accepting money from others. The car itself was rundown, often called junk by his old friends and other family members, but, God, did he love that car. It had so much potential — he always saw potential in everything and everyone. But the car would be his demise when one night he was driving home and another car hit him head on.

Sean awoke as an Angel, the greeting Angels explaining it all to him. He adjusted quite quickly. The man who killed him had been wandering in Purgatory and Sean paid him a visit, forgiving the man and wishing him to find peace in his troubled mind. Days, weeks, were spent with other Angels to learn their ways, and he took to tasks quickly.

The hardest part of it all was having to see his parents. He visited them every day, his heart breaking the first few times he visited them. They couldn't see him, but he always made sure they were aware of his presence. When his parents were outside, he'd always bring a blue butterfly to sit on their lap or on their hand. The joy it brought them was enough to patch his broken heart.

The child moved once more, and Sean slipped his hand away. Standing from the bed, he planted a gentle kiss atop the grey beanie before exiting the room. He shut the door, giving the child a farewell until later that day, and headed off to his next visit.