Adult-FanFiction.org : Movies

Lines of Shadow: Sequel to Somewhere Between	By : AceMaxwell Category: G through L > Hellboy Views: 4117 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hellboy or any related character and make no money off this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Prophecies
- 2-Reunion
- 3-Artifact
- 4-Inferno
- 5-Flightless
- 6-Valhalla
- 7-Fate
- 8-Broken
- 9-Seduction
- 10-Unleashed
- 11-Traitor
- 12-Overrun
- 13-Vows
- 14-Escape
- 15-War
- 16-Humanity
- 17-Ragnarok
- 18-Judgment
- 8
- 9
- 10
As always, unbetaed because I'm impatient. If you see any mistakes, let me know and I'll update it. Also, I think my keyboard is running out of batteries and has randomly stopping acknowledging that some keys exist. I type too fast to notice… So watch for that I suppose.

- John

I can't wrap my head around what just happened. One moment HB was kissing me and the next he was sucking some girl's face off. And it wasn't just an accidental kiss, he leaned in with intent. I had to walk away before I killed both of them. It feels as if someone has ripped out my insides and set them on fire. Underneath all of my anger is a kind of sorrow I've never felt before. The thought that I'm not enough for him is eating me alive.

I quickly make my way around the house, wanting to be as far away from the two of them as I can get. My eyes start to sting and I push the heels of my hands into them to keep any tears at bay. I keep stumbling forward even though I can barely see where I'm going. Vaguely, I realize that the sound of the ocean is getting louder and the ground under my feet is becoming rocky and uneven.

I scrub my sleeve across my face and look around. To the left, the beach smooths out to a flat shoreline that runs parallel to the olive orchard. On the right, several short cliffs rise up against the surf, a few feet of rugged shore getting washed by the low tide. I head to the right, knowing it'll be harder to find me. I need to be alone.

The rocks are slimy with algae and I don't have the focus to maneuver them as agilely as I should. My sneaker slides off one of the stones and my skin crashes into the edge as I fall. Pain explodes across my vision in a series of bright white dots. I grit my teeth against my scream and keep moving. Bracing my hand against the cliff for support, I continue to pick my way over the craggy coastline.

Hellboy's actions play in my mind again and again as I try to figure out what would make him do that. Was he just that starved for the touch of a woman? Am I not satisfying anymore? I thought everything was fine… I don't understand what changed.

When I'm out of sight of the house, I collapse onto the largest rock I can find. Water soaks into the back of my jeans, but I really don't give a damn. The rhythmic sound of the surf against the stones is calming. My fury ebbs slowly but nothing replaces it. I'm empty. Hollow. I stare out at the water and wrap my arms across my chest, pushing at the sudden swell of nausea gripping my stomach.

My life has been interwoven with his for so long that I genuinely don't know what I'll do if he leaves. It makes me feel pathetic. I lived alone until I met Red, so why is the idea of being alone now so terrifying?

I draw my knees up to my chest as a swell of water threatens to soak my shoes. Curled in the fetal position, I feel even more pathetic, so I drop my feet as soon as the wave is gone.

"Was he human or demon?"

My head snaps up, adrenaline shooting through my veins. The armor responds to me, spreading across my back, but not extending fully. It's almost as if it wants to remind me that it's there.

The man who spoke is six or seven feet from me, standing knee deep in water. His loose black pants are rolled up just past that, but they've still gotten wet. He doesn't seem all that threatening. He's slim with hair that spills over his shoulders like India ink. It's his face that's the most disarming. A warm, but sad smile dominates his delicate features.

"What?" I croak before I realize how choked up I am from crying. I clear my throat and ask again.

"I know that expression. Someone broke your heart," he practically croons at me. "And since angels only take one partner, you must've taken either a human or a demon."

Tears brim along the edges of my eyes and I blink furiously to disperse them. "Demon," I admit in a broken voice.

His quiet, "Oh," is heavy with remorse and understanding. He wades through the surf and settles onto a smooth green stone next to me. We stare at the ocean together. I still have no idea who he is, but his presence is strangely comforting, like he's someone I've known forever.

He's clearly not human. His facial structure is slightly off, his cheekbones are high, his nose is narrow and tapered in a way that plastic surgeons can only dream of replicating properly, and his jaw is just square enough that it keeps him from being confused for a woman. Unearthly really is the best word for it.

"A demon trying to be monogamous is like a fish trying to fly. They're just not made for it," he says, the sad smile coming back to his face. "But we still fall for them anyway."

"You sound like you speak from experience."

His eyes meet mine and I find myself drowning in them. The old pain in his voice is hard to miss, "We try to learn from past mistakes, but it doesn't mean we don't fall for them. I fell more literally than most… and then he left me." He reaches back between his shoulders, beneath his shirt, and produces a short, black feather.

As he spins the feather between two fingers, it dawns on me exactly what he's trying to tell me. "You left Heaven for him?"

He drops the feather into the water and the tide takes it away. "It wasn't the most misguided thing I've ever done, but it comes close."

"I'm sorry."

His laugh is soft and pleasant, "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one here trying to console you."

"I'm still sorry," I say again, staring down at the small organisms clutching the sides of the rocks. They're all closed up at low tide, just waiting for the water to come rushing back in so they can continue their lives.

A gentle hand brushes my shoulder and I raise my head. "It was centuries ago," he tells me.

Shouts echo down to us from the house. I can't tell what he's shouting, but I know its Red's voice. He might be looking for me, or he might be screwing the brunette, either way, I'm not going back up there. As the shouts get louder, I get up and start picking my way farther down the beach. The fallen angel walks in the ocean beside me.

"I'm John Myers, by the way," I offer him my hand even though it jeopardizes my footing.

He shakes it, but my shoes slide in the algae before he lets go. I stumble forward and a sharp tug on my hand changes my course. Instead of smacking into the rocks, I fall against the angel. My feet splash into the water and my jeans get heavy as they soak up as much liquid as they can.

"Sorry," I mumble, my face flushing as I regain my balance.

He doesn't release me immediately. Instead, he gives my waist a small squeeze and answers right against my ear, "I'm Saeriel."

Despite myself, his voice sends a thrill through me. Blushing profusely, I pull away from him and keep walking. What the hell is wrong with me? I feel like a hormonal teenager.

"So, are we running from said lover?"

"Not running, per say." The skeptical look he casts at me makes me revise my statement, "Alright, yes. I just can't face him right now."

Saeriel takes my arm and leads me towards the cliffs, "They'll find us out here eventually. Come on."

Before I can really argue or even question him, he waves his hand across the cliff and a portal of some kind opens on the rocks. Beyond it is a beautiful, lush room. Instinct makes me resist. I don't know where this place is, and frankly, I don't know anything about this fallen angel. I shift my weight back a little and plant my feet. He stops partway through the doorway, his hand still firmly wrapped around my arm, and glances back with his brows knit together.

"Something wrong?"

"Where are you taking me?"

His fingers unwind from my bicep and that disarming smile slips back onto his face, "Forgive my horrible manners. I was thinking we could hide from them at my house. This is just the fastest way to get there."

I don't budge, uncertainty warring with my desire to trust him.

"I live in another part of Greece, not far from here. If you want to walk…" he trails off, gesturing in a northwesterly direction.

Above us, Red's voice calls my name. He sounds angry. Heaven forbid I wander off while he's making out with someone else. My decision is easy after that. I walk through the portal after Saeriel.

The room we enter is much darker than it was outside and I have to wait for my eyes to adjust to the gloom. Seems like it should be a lot brighter, but I don't see any windows. The walls are covered with heavy, red velvet curtains that look like they belong in the Elizabethan era. If there were windows hiding beneath all that fabric, I doubt any light would get through.

On the opposite end of the room, there's a bed that could easily hold six people comfortably. The mounds of pillows make my inner child want to leap onto them. I resist the urge. Closer to us, there's a cluster of two large chairs next to bookshelf that goes to the ceiling. The double doors leading out into the rest of the house are big enough to drive an SUV through. I wonder what he does for a living, because there's no way he could have a house this nice working for Athena.

Saeriel goes over to a cabinet and grabs a bottle of wine and two glasses, "Do you prefer wine or something stronger?"

"Wine is okay," I answer while I keep surveying my surroundings. Everywhere I look there are signs of wealth. Elaborate and beautiful paintings of birds adorn several walls and the light fixture hanging from the ceiling is handcrafted metal. The rug on the floor looks like it's worth more than my house.

I take the glass he offers me and sit down in one of the chairs. "Will I get a tour of the rest of your house later?"

"If you want, but I have to tell you that the rest of the house is rather disappointing. I spend all my time in here, so this is all I bothered to spruce up."

I make a noncommittal noise in response, sipping at the wine. It's very good, full bodied and fruity. A take another, deeper sip. The second one rushes to my head, making me a little dizzy. "Strong wine," comes out more breathy than I'd intended.

He smiles around his glass before taking another drink, "Do you want something else?"

"No, it's fine."

Swirling his drink slowly, Saeriel switches gears on me, offering, "I could help you find a new partner, one who would be loyal to you."

My brow creases involuntarily. The idea bothers me more than I'd like to admit. I don't want to start thinking about moving on from Hellboy, since we only just had a falling out. Part of me wants to fix what's broken, but the other part warns against it. I've had cheating boyfriends before… they always say it will never happen again but inevitably I come home early and they're sprawled out on our bed or couch or counter with some other guy.

"No," I finally mutter, knowing he's waiting for an answer. "I'm not even close to being ready for that." The tail end of my statement comes out slurred. I glance down and realize that my glass is almost empty. I can't remember drinking it.

Setting his glass aside, Saeriel gets up and glides over to me in a way that almost seems predatory. His face exudes empathy and understanding, but his movements scream that he's hunting me. The wine is making everything fuzzy and muddled. I know I should be concerned about this change in him, but I can't seem to call up anything but contentment.

His hands slide down onto my shoulders, rubbing firmly, "To trust a demon more than once is folly. He'll only end up breaking your heart over and over until you learn to stop going back. I know it's hard for you, but take it from someone who has experience: he'll just hurt you." As he talks, his hands descend on my pectorals. He works the tight muscle in small circles, digging his fingers into the knots I've acquired in the last few days.

I make an unintelligible sound and the wine glass slips from my slack hand. It hits the carpet with a muffled 'thump'. I don't think it breaks.

"Lean forward," is whispered against my earlobe just before the tip of Saeriel's tongue slides over it.

A shudder rips through me and I do as he asks. His hands go to work on my back, kneading and working my tension out. He very carefully dances around the disk between my shoulder blades. My last shred of reason tries to tell me that he knows the armor is there and that means something, I just can't figure out what it means. My body is getting so heavy. I can hardly stay upright. Pleasure crashes over me in waves and my eyelids flutter closed. I focus on his hands, on the feeling of him stripping every ounce of anxiety out of me.

Something softer presses to the skin on the back of my neck, lips I think. He kisses my neck, my shoulder, my spine. He's not kissing me through cloth anymore. My mind strains to figure out when he took my shirt off.

Very quietly, Saeriel asks, "Do you think you could be happy with someone like me?"

I don't answer. I can't answer. I still feel the faint ache in my chest that Hellboy left and there's no way I can make a decision like that when his betrayal is still hovering over me. Saeriel's fingers stop massaging and just slide across my back delicately. He traces the line of my spine, starting at the middle of my back and moving up. The touch pauses at the disk and slides around it. And then the weight of the disk is gone.

My eyes snap open and I turn around in the chair. Saeriel's features twist into a wicked smile that sends a chill through me. It's nothing like the benevolence he radiated before, it's more like the kind of expression you see on a serial killer that just got his way. He flips the disk between his palms just before smashing me across the head with it. White-hot pain slams through my skull and then everything gets dark.

- HB

"I am sure he is around, Red, you just need to look for him and try to explain things. Athena has already informed me that we are not going back because of John."

It's really, really hard not to snap the satellite phone in half. Blue is being too fucking analytical. I need him to be my concerned fucking friend! The sooner I can find John, the sooner I can explain that I was being played and I would never do something like that on my own. Especially not sober. But I can't find John if I don't get some fucking support!

"He's upset, Blue. He doesn't want to see me right now, so I need you to come back here and help me."

"He has every right to be upset. Give him a little time," Blue's voice is too calm, too level. It's the way he always is, but right now it's pissing me off.

I pull the phone away from my ear and shout into the receiver, "What fucking time do we have? Were you paying any attention in that meeting? The world could be ending."

There's a pause on the other end and Blue comes back on with his same level of calm, "If you do not give John some time, any kind of reconciliation you attempt will fall on deaf ears."

I heave a sigh and mutter, "Yeah, thanks," before hanging up on him.

Even if it wasn't my fault, I can't honestly say that I've ever fucked up this bad before. John is usually pretty calm, but if something rubs him the wrong way, he can shut down to the point that he won't even listen. I hate to admit it, but it's something he picked up from me when he was a wolf. I don't think he was ever so stubborn before we slept together.

From the lounger she's perched on, Aphrodite chuckles and gloats, "I've seduced a lot of men, but you had to be one of the easiest. How bad is your sex life?"

I don't know why she hasn't left, but she is REALLY testing my patience. Hitting women is something I avoid (especially woman that aren't large, flesh-eating monsters). I might end up breaking that rule if she doesn't shut the fuck up.

I point my stone finger at her and growl, "Do you just go out of your way to fuck up good relationships?"

"If I can 'fuck things up', as you so eloquently put it, then the relationship wasn't good to begin with," she says nonchalantly while she examines her nails. I hope I broke one when I shoved her.

"Our relationship is FINE!"

"He doesn't trust you."

I freeze at that. Even my tail gets still and it's been thrashing nonstop since all of this started. "How the hell can you know that?"

She flashes her teeth at me in what I think it supposed to be a smile, saying, "I'm the goddess of love, darling. If I can't tell what's going on in someone's relationship, then I'm not doing my job."

"Isn't the goddess of love supposed to bring people together?"

"Not when their relationship is too broken to fix. Trust me, I was doing you a favor."

"I don't believe you," I spit.

My instincts are going nuts. Something very bad is going on, and Aphrodite is an instigator. I'm just not sure how I should get the information from her. Most of my interrogations involve bludgeoning or threats of bludgeoning. I have to get something from her though.

I move towards her quickly, reaching to grab her arm as I snarl, "Tell me where John is." The moment I touch her, she vanishes. Can every fucking god move around like physics don't exist? Rage floods through me and I slam my stone hand into the deck. The wood splinters with a crack loud enough to echo in the fields. The rest of the patio groans under my feet, threatening to give way. I don't move; just stay leaned over the shattered mess of wood.

Freya's shared visions come rushing to my head. The one that sticks is me standing over the ruins of New York, the voices of millions of people rising up from the fire and carnage. I need John, and not just because he keeps me sane. No, I don't just need him to keep me from becoming Anung un Rama. I need him because he fills a void in me that no one else could fill. I need him because I love him.

I have to find him.

As I lift my head, I come eye to eye with a trio of dogs. They're massive and jet-black and… wait. It isn't three dogs, its one dog with three heads. All three heads growl in tandem, their black lips pulling back from very sharp-lookin' yellow teeth.

"Make my day you ugly fuck," I growl back, curling my stone hand into a fist.

Two bare feet step beside the dog and the wood underneath them starts growing. Moss springs up all along the surface, vines and flowers sprouting up around and between the toes of the human feet as well as the dog's. I let my gaze travel up the bare leg, past a billowy green skirt and top, to the woman's face. She regards me like running across a massive demon is an everyday occurrence.

"Are you companion to a brown-haired angel?" she asks me in a voice that's a weird mix between sweet and dead.

I scramble to my feet, startling the dog in the process. The three heads snap at me. None of them actually bite me, but the sharp click of their teeth makes me yank my flesh hand out of reach. "John? Yes, you saw him?"

She nods, her face completely blank. She reminds me of a puppet, like there's nobody home but somebody's helping her do the walking and the talking. I wonder vaguely if the dog is responsible, but I'm pretty sure he's a guardian of some kind. Cerberus always protected the gates of the underworld and he bears a pretty striking resemblance. The only difference is that this mutt has a bobbed tail and it was always rumored that Cerberus's tail was a snake.

"Your companion is in danger. We must go to him now."

"How the hell?" Of course he's in danger, he's been out of my sight for more than a half an hour. 'Scout is a fucking magnet for trouble. "Will you take me? Please?"

She turns and steps off the porch. The direction she came from is covered in tall, green grass that comes up to my waist. Speckled in the grass are a huge variety of flowers. I kinda' feel bad stepping on them, but I guess she makes them wherever she goes. Her pace is a lot brisker than I would've given her credit for, I actually have to power walk to keep up with her. The dog runs ahead, two of the heads down close to the dirt like he's following a trail and the other pointed straight forward. I guess he's the lookout.

I ask, "What's your name," even though I'm not expecting much of an answer. Considering how devoid of emotion this chick is, she could be part of a trap, but I'll barrel into it if it means finding John. Besides, very few traps can hold me.

As we walk, the grass starts getting taller. It grows rapidly, coming up to my chest and then my shoulders. I can barely see the dog anymore.

"I'm Persephone."

Wait, I know that one. "You're married to Hades. Daughter of Demeter, the goddess of the harvest."

Persephone slows and turns those very empty eyes onto me, "I would prefer if we didn't talk about my late husband."

"Fair enough."

The grass finally envelops our heads and I realize that it's not actually grass, it's wheat. Once it's as tall as I am, it shifts from green to gold. As Persephone moves, the wheat parts for her, but I have to beat it back with my hands.

When I start to lose sight of her, I break our silence, "Hey, where are we going?"

I don't hear anything in response. Another few seconds of literally wading through the weeds and I do lose track of her. I keep moving forward, hoping I'll spot her. "Hey! Persephone?"

I finally break out of the wheat to find that I'm in a really different part of Greece. There are walls of rock on either side of me, tall enough that they block out the sun. I think I'm in a mountain range maybe. A dozen yards ahead of me, Persephone is standing beside a narrow crack in the rock face. It's wide enough for her to walk into, but I'm going to have to turn sideways if we're going in there.

"Would you people please start warning me when you're going to transport me somewhere new?" I gripe, partially at her, partially because I just want to bitch.

"I'm sorry. I was under the impression that we were in a hurry to get to your friend before Lucifer has his way with him."

That catches my attention. "WHAT? Why the hell didn't you mention that earlier?"

I don't wait for her. I plunge into the tiny crevice head first, scraping my tail and elbows along the edges of the wall in my hurry. Pretty sure I'm not bleeding, so I'm not stopping. I'm extremely grateful when the tunnel widens and I can take it at a sprint. The farther I get from the entrance, the darker it gets. I'm beginning to wonder if I really did just fall for a fucking trap when I spot a torch. It marks the beginning of a spiraling set of stairs.

Taking the stairs two at a time should've gotten me down pretty quickly, but the stairs just keep going. I feel like I'm descending for ten, twenty, maybe thirty minutes. Every two dozen steps, there's another torch to light the way. I'm going fast enough that the sharp curve of the stairwell is starting to make me dizzy. I stop for a moment, bracing my hands on my knees as I peer down the staircase. It goes on for fuckin' ever.

Behind me, a loud clicking, panting noise is gaining strength. The three-headed dog comes barreling around the corner. He shoves past me, nearly knocking me over, and continues down the endless staircase.

"What are you, a marathon runner?" I shout after him.

A few deep breaths later, and I'm hot on his tail. I was closer to the end than I thought. We reach a landing within another minute. I yank my gun out of the holster as I hit the ground, looking around for something to shoot at.

I'm not sure what Hell is supposed to look like, but the room we've come into looks like a woman's bedroom. There are sprigs of dried flowers hanging upside down on the walls, practically covering every available surface. The only place where there aren't dried flowers is the space above the bed. That has a portrait of an extremely pale couple. The woman is Persephone, so the man must be Hades. They're standing on a boat with a skeleton… Not really a traditional family photo.

Even though I was running the entire way down, Persephone emerges only seconds later at a casual saunter. She extends one arm to point at the door to the bedroom. I go to it.

"You will take a right and go down to the end of the hall. The most elaborate door you see will be his," Persephone tells me.

"Thank you."

For the first time since I met her, her eyes flare to life. The one emotion there is hatred. "The only thanks I require is Lucifer's head on a pike. Kill him, son of the Witch King."

For a half a second, I hesitate. It's the prophecy the Banshee was shouting about. If I attack Lucifer, one of us is going to die and I have no intention of letting it be me. If I don't attack him, I lose 'Scout. No way is that going to happen.

I yank open the door and run down the hall. Her directions are perfect. At the end of the lengthy hallway, there's a pair of double doors that looks like they're carved from a single tree. I slam my stone fist into the center of the lock and it gives way with a powerful crack.

A tiny man with dark hair looks up at me as I come barging in. He regards me coolly, swirling some wine around in the glass he's holding. John is on the floor near his feet. His hair is dark and matted with blood and the armor is missing from his back. It only takes me a second to realize that the man is holding the disk in his other hand.

"I honestly wasn't expecting to see you, Anung un Rama, especially not this early in the game," he says with a smirk that I'm dying to punch off his face.

I may doubt that a man this unimposing is Lucifer, but I've found that evil can come in a lot of prosaic packages. The attitude I would expect is all there. As the stories go, Lucifer was the most beautiful angel in Heaven before he took a dive. I'm inclined to believe that.

'Scout shifts a little, reaching up to touch the side of his head gingerly. Relief floods through me. He'll live through a bump to the head. I was a little worried that damage had been done that I couldn't see. No gonna' lie, I'm also grateful that he's still wearing his pants.

I circle around Lucifer and into the center of the room. He walks after me slowly, putting some distance between Boyscout and us. Good, that's what I was hoping he'd do. "You took someone who belongs to me," I quip, half joking, half serious.

Lucifer tosses the disk behind him and it reaches out with long bands of metal to latch onto his back. As the armor snaps around him, black crawls across the bright gold. Where there were smooth lines and intricate decorations on John, there are sharp edges and spines on Lucifer. I can't be sure whether the armor molds itself to the bearer, or if he's corrupting it.

The helm clanks into place over his pleased grin, growing horns of metal out the front as he hisses, "Well you weren't playing with him. Seems to me that you were busy with Aphrodite."

"You planted her so you could get to John," I growl as the realization hits me.

He shakes his head, examining the clawed gauntlets. "Your father wasn't very bright either. Pity."

Lucifer walks across the room and rips one of the curtains down. Behind it, there's a wicked lookin' broadsword hanging on the wall. The metal itself is black and glossy, the edge flaring out into a series of points that don't look like they serve much of a purpose beyond intimidation. Veins of metal run down the length of the blade, converging between the points into a bizarre bulge. As I study it, the metal bulge opens and looks at me. There's a bloodshot eye set into the sword like a gemstone.

Lucifer grabs the weird-ass sword and lifts it out of its cradle, "I wasn't after your lover, by the way, just the armor that he had no idea how to use."

I attack while his back is turned, hoping to catch him off guard. He whips around and slings the sword through the air. I throw my arm up just in time to block it. Sparks fly. The hit reverberates through my arm and it actually hurts. I back up, rolling my stone hand to try and shake the pain.

He cackles and does some acrobatic bullshit, slinging the sword around his body and spinning it. "Is that really it? After all the prophets got done building up the tale of the great Anung un Rama, slayer of Satan, I was almost frightened. The moment has passed."

Smart-ass bastard.

I set my eyes on a heavy end table and I slowly circle towards it. He seems like the type to gloat. I'm not disappointed.

"I suppose all their visions didn't take Michael's armor into account. You lover was so willing to give it up to me, in every filthy way you could imagine."

I can hear the smile in his smug voice and push at my rising anger. As much as I want to just throw myself at him and pummel him until he stops breathing, I'm going to need a different tactic. Whatever that sword is made out of is a match for my stone and I doubt that bullets are going to do anything to the armor.

My fingers brush the edge of the table. I curl them around a leg and chunk the table at him, running at him. He shatters it with a single swing, but I'm on him before he can recover. My punch lands in the center of his chest, denting the armor slightly. He stumbles back a few steps. I sling my right hand at him again. Dodging back, Lucifer spins the sword into position and lunges. The point catches my side. I clamp my hand around the blade and yank him to me, head butting him hard enough to break one of his metal horns.

Somethin' warm runs down my forehead. Not hard to assume that it's blood. I wipe it off before it can get to my eyes. Lucifer desperately yanks at the helm. The metal is crushed in so the eye slit is almost closed.

My, "Oops," drips sarcasm.

Before he can get the helmet off, I slam my fist into the side of his head. He falls back against the wall. Instead of laying there so I can get another good hit in, he's swallowed by the shadows. Great, just fucking great. Now he could come out in any damn shadow in the room, and this room doesn't have much in the way of lighting. It's more like a dungeon, actually.

I study the walls carefully, not even sure what I'm looking for. I take a second to glance over at 'Scout. His eyes are open, but they're glazed, almost like he's drugged. He's definitely not coherent yet.

Pain explodes through my shoulder. I whip around to return the attack, but Lucifer steps back into the darkness. He could've gone for a killing blow easily. He thinks he's toying with me. He's going to regret that.

"Come out and fight me, you back-stabbin', Heaven reject."

His voice comes from every shadow at once. "There are a lot of things I didn't like about that sentence," he purrs.

"Then get your ass out here where I can see you," I'm trying to play it cool, but I'm sweating a little. I don't like fighting something I can't find. "Unless you decided that the prophets were right."

"You might as well save your breath, lesser. You can't goad me."

I hear the thick sound of flesh separating before I feel the fiery sting race across my back. I swing wildly, trying to hit something, but he's already gone. A roar rips out of my throat. This is getting old. I wish I had a fucking spotlight so I could find him.

A groggy, "Red?" makes me look down at 'Scout. He's sitting up, still rubbing his head. The last thing I need right now is him trying to 'help' in this state. He'll try too.

"Stay down!"

I might as well be talking to a wall. John climbs to his feet, but he's shaky, barely standing. He must've taken quite a blow. Too many more concussions and the kid might have to start worrying about brain damage.

Lucifer rams me while I'm not paying attention. For a guy so tiny, he packs a punch. I stumble into the wall and the shadows come to life. They wrap around my arms, my legs, pinning me to the wall. Yanking at them doesn't do any good.

"Fuck," I hiss between my teeth as I strain against the shadows.

Lucifer finally slips out into the light. The eyeball in his blade is rolling around like crazy, all the veins leading to it are bright red with my blood. It's feeding. When I kill this son of a bitch, that sword is the first thing I'm going to destroy. I've seen a lot of evil objects over the years, but that one takes the fuckin' cake.

The twisted mess I turned his helm into has reshaped itself. Even the damn horn grew back. I really want to go back to the days when a sword was a sword and armor was armor and none of this shit was alive! His helmet folds away from his head and I have to smirk at the big bruise I left on the side of his face. He flips his hand over on the hilt of the sword, his other wrapping around the rest of the grip, and my smile disappears. He's going to impale me on the goddamn wall!

As I struggle, Lucifer raises the sword over his head. His expression is euphoric. "To the end of a prophecy."

John screams and there's this bright flash of white. I'm loose. I can't see very well, but I'm loose. I launch my right hand forward and it connects with a body with a loud clang of metal. Glad I got the correct target. I move forward awkwardly, blinking to try and get my sight to come back. My foot bumps into something metal. The sword. I grab it.

Lucifer takes a swing at me with those clawed gauntlets, but I block it with the blade. The tips of the metal sheer right off. With a furious yell, Lucifer unfolds his massive, black wings from his back. As they flex and move, I can see shards of sharp bone peering from between the feathers. He lashes one forward faster than I can blink, ripping into my chest.

"What is it with you people and takin' chunks out of me with your wings?"

I raise the sword for the next strike and he pulls the wing back just before it touches the blade. It was a fake out. The other wing comes in low, connecting with the side of my knee. I go down hard. I swing the sword at him wildly so he'll back off.

Lucifer paces just out of reach of the sword like a caged animal. He pauses and looks down at his arms and I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. 'Scout made a weapon out of the armor itself. I think he just figured it out. Two lengths of metal crawl across his fingers on both hands, forming short swords.

"Crap," I mutter.

Flapping his wings once, Lucifer launches into the air and comes down on me with both blades. I manage to block him, but he's really fucking fast with the lighter weapons. They come in fast and at all angles. I turn the sword every way I can to keep the blades from finding their mark. He hits my left bicep, the edge of my ribcage, the corner of my jaw. Blood runs hot on my skin.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see 'Scout on the move. I want to tell him to sit still and stay out of the way, but my attention is pretty well focused on staying alive. John's voice rises above the sharp twang of metal on metal. He's speaking the language I don't know, his voice separating into many, like an echo right on the heels of an echo. He sounds like Michael.

As John's words get louder, Lucifer gets slower. I manage to shove him off me and watch as he kneels on the rug with a chorus of furious words, the armor peeling away from his neck. I don't know what the hell is going on, but I'm not wasting the opportunity. I flip the sword in my hands, take a step forward, and thrust it into the back of Lucifer's neck.

His blood hisses as it hits the ground, evaporating almost the moment it pools. Acrid smoke fills the room. I cough and wave it away from my face. When the body falls forward, the armor snaps into the disk shape and turns gold.

"What the hell…" I start to ask, but am not really sure what out of that slew of weirdness I wanted to ask about.

In one, quiet voice, John answers me, "I reminded the armor who it belonged to."

"Couldn't you have done that a little earlier?"

He rolls his eyes and rubs the back of his neck, "I didn't realize I could until it came to me."

We both stand there in silence, watching the last of Lucifer's blood dry up. The carpet underneath is scorched. I know this is my opportunity to fix things, but I want to make sure I approach it the right way. I turn some ideas over in my head, trying to figure out what's best. 'Scout picks up his shirt and yanks it over his head, fiddling with the hem once it's on.

I start with, "You okay?"

"Yeah." He hesitates, throwing a timid look in my direction. "How about you? Seemed like you were getting your ass handed to you."

"Yeah, well I'll be-"

"Sore in the morning, I know."

I press my lips together and nod, tossing the creepy sword to the floor. "Look, Boyscout-"

"It's John."

Ouch… would someone kindly take the knife out of my chest? Fuck. He hasn't said that to me in over fifty years. I take a step forward, which he mirrors in the opposite direction. That hurts as much as him telling me to call him by his name.

I grit my teeth and tell myself to be patient. "John, I'm sorry about what happened out-"

"Don't," the one word is so sharp and angry that I have to look up at him.

His whole body is rigid, his arms crossed over his chest. Despite the resentment his posture is radiating, his eyes are pained. It makes me want to reach out and pull him to me, to hold him until everything else disappears, but there's no way he's going to put up with that. I owe him an explanation.

"If you'll just listen-"

"I don't want to listen to any excuses. I've been through this before and I'm not going to do it again."

"What?" That catches me off guard. I've never been unfaithful, not completely, so this has got to be something else.

He uncrosses his arms and points a finger accusingly at the ground, probably thinking about whoever had cheated on him before. "People who are two-timing you always apologize and try to make things better and say that it'll never happen again and you believe them, but then it happens in six months, and then again in four months, and then they come home smelling like a different person every week!" He takes in a sharp breath, glaring at me with teary eyes. "And you aren't going to be any different. You're a demon and demons can't be monogamous."

My lip twitches at his accusation. That's it. I'm not going to stand here and listen to this. I stride towards him, my furious expression enough to make a flash of confusion and fear cross his face. I lean down and press my shoulder into his stomach. John yelps as I scoop him up.

"What are you doing?"

I don't care to answer that. Instead, I throw him onto the bed and pin both of his wrists in my right hand, crawling on top of him. The tiny bit of fear he had is gone now, replaced by anger that almost matches mine. He bucks underneath me, shouting for me to get off him.

"Shut up and listen to me," I growl.

He stops thrashing long enough to stick me with a glare that could've rivaled Liz's fire. Thankfully, he gets quiet. I don't think me clamping my hand over his mouth would've helped the situation any.

"I'm sick of people telling me what I'm going to do, or be, or kill. I make my own fucking decisions and I decided a long time ago that you're the one I want to be with. So if you're going to let some succubus bitch that works for Lucifer get between us, then you're a fucking idiot."

For a half a second, it seems like my words are sinking in, then the accusations keep coming, "And all the serving girls in Valhalla work for Lucifer too? I'm never going to be enough for you and I'm not going to stick around waiting for you to find something better!"

I open my mouth to shout and close it as I think better of it. If we both keep screaming at each other, nothing is going to get solved. "And who told you that? Him? You know he's got a nickname, right?"

That manages to confuse him. Good, it's time for him to be off center now. "Nickname?"

"Prince of Lies." I bring my left hand up to cup his face, rubbing my thumb across his cheek. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened in Valhalla. I was stupid, but I never would've cheated on you."

"But what if I'm not enough for you?" he whispers fearfully.

I don't have a good way to convince him that I'll never get bored of him. The only thing I can think of is to remind him how well our bodies react to one another. I press a hard kiss against his mouth. John's response is perfect. His body arches off the bed, one leg curling around my hip. I growl hungrily and tongue his lips, my growl quieting into a thrum as he opens his mouth for me. Fire races down my body.

God, he's so addicting. It hits me every time I touch him or kiss him. I always want more. My tongue slides against his as I release his hands. They tangle into the hair at the base of my head, yanking me closer. His groan travels straight to my dick. The wet sounds of our kiss are interrupted only by our deep, gasping breaths in the brief moments we're apart.

John tilts his hips up into mine. His leg slides slowly off its perch on my back as he grinds our crotches together. I'm already getting too hard for my pants, so I reach down and jerk my belt and fly open. 'Scout hands fumble against my shoulders, sliding down to my chest. A tiny bolt of pain twines with my lust when his fingers brush against the open wound. My involuntary grunt is all I can offer in response.

I work my mouth across his jaw to latch onto his racing pulse, leaving a gleaming trail down the column of his throat. I rip his shirt off because it's in my way. My flesh hand kneads the skin on his chest while my stone one curls around his ass to pull his hips tighter against mine. Even through the cloth, the friction is fucking phenomenal.

I wish I could express this NEED to him, I wish I could put it into words. If I could explain how much my body aches for his, he'd never doubt me again.

'Scout pulls at my shirt, barely managing a whimpered, "Off," as I torment his navel.

He sits up as I lean back onto my knees. While I strip my shirt over my head, he pushes my pants down my thighs. I twist my tail free, but don't bother getting out of the leather completely. I don't have the patience for it right now. 'Scout drops back onto the bed with a drunken grin, his lips swollen and red from my assault on them. He reaches back to twist his hands in the sheets, spreading his body out for me.

Once I strip his jeans off, I sit up again. A content rumble comes from my chest as I study him. I don't know why he would think I would ever get tired of this. Stretched out beneath me, John is all quivering muscle and lusty anticipation. Just because I know every square inch of him doesn't mean that I don't want to taste his perfect nipples, or run my hand over his thighs, or listen to him scream my name as he comes. Hell, it probably just means that I appreciate those things even more.

As I slide three of my flesh fingers into my mouth, John spreads his thighs wordlessly. My dick jumps at the sight. I don't know how much foreplay I'll be able to stand. I need to get inside him. Covering his body with mine, I devour his mouth as I find his entrance with two fingers and push. He makes a tiny noise akin to a mewl, but takes both fingers without any trouble. I know it's a little faster than we normally go, so I twist them around to find his prostate quickly. His pained whine instantly melts into a moan.

I pull out of our kiss as I add the last finger, working him open quickly. His expression is intoxicating. His eyes are squeezed shut, his brow titled upward, and his perfect mouth hanging open as he pants. I growl and shove my fingers in deeper, wringing a shout from him.

"God John, why would you ever think I would get tired of you," I breathe against his ear.

He releases the sheets and slips his arms around my neck, whimpering softly as I press against his prostate in a rhythmic motion. "I… I don't… Ah! Come on, Red!"

Guess that means he's ready. Although, I didn't need him to say anything, I could tell just by the pitch of his voice. I draw my fingers out of his heat and spit in my hand, slicking my cock for good measure. He's still very tight, so I push in slowly, biting down on my need to pound into him. His legs come up around my waist, squeezing hard enough that his heels dig into the base of my spine.

John's fingernails bite into my shoulders as his teeth find my ear. Even around his mouthful, I can still hear him muttering my name over and over. He occasionally mixes it with a curse word or a sharp gasp. I snap my hips forward so I'm fully seated in him and the mantra becomes a drawn out moan. His body tightens around me almost like he's trying to hold me in.

I start a brutal pace because it's what we both seem to need. We slide up the bed. I reposition my feet once to get more leverage and then plant my stone hand in the bed just above John's shoulder. He's going to have a bruise from running into it, but he's not complaining now. I keep my thrusts tight and fast, the entire length of my body rubbing against his. His dick is trapped between our stomachs and I know he's getting plenty of stimulation. His cries get louder and higher with each thrust.

My body is burning from the inside, heat radiating through my skin. Low in my stomach, I can feel my orgasm building. As I get closer, I stop making sense. I join John in muttering gibberish. Pretty sure I say his name a few times too. His mouth leaves my ear, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw line. Eventually his lips find mine and I thrust my tongue into his mouth, muffling his moans.

The fire of my orgasm flares up and I know it won't be long. I slide my hand between our bodies, the sweat making it a little easier, and grab his cock. John arches back into the pillows, twisting his fingers back into the sheets. His shouts are ragged. I twist my hand on his length and press my thumb against the crown and John goes off. I have to grab the headboard as his body spasms around me. I manage another two thrusts before my orgasm rips through me and I roar my release.

I have to blink spots out of my eyes as I come down. Beneath me, 'Scout is trying to catch his breath, his hands leisurely stroking across my chest. I let go of the headboard and collapse on top of him. When I bury my face in the crook of his neck, he trails his fingers up my back and starts running them through my hair. I guess it came undone at some point.

"I believe you," he says almost so softly I don't hear him. If I wasn't lying on top of him, I probably wouldn't have even known he'd spoken.

I chuckle and wrap an arm around him, "I would hope so, especially after all that."

His breathing changes when he finally goes to sleep. I was thinking that I wasn't going to be able to drift off myself, but listening to John's steady heartbeat, I eventually join him.

- TBC

This chapter was SOOO much longer than I wanted it to be. I actually had to cut off the tail end of it and that'll become the beginning of the next chapter. I know y'all have been anxiously awaiting make up sex and there it is! Yay!
- 8
- 9
- 10
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Lines of Shadow: Sequel to Somewhere Between