#your body and mind being altered and molded against your will by an evil deity. literally shedding your skin. the cannbialism

[danidoesathing]

bitches cant be normal about fic writing they'll watch something silly and not meant to be taken seriously "hmmmm yes but have you thought about the horrific implications of living through such an event" and proceed to write the most fucked up shit you've ever read

[ecotone99]

Life of Lucifer [MF]

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Lucifer and his Demons Explore Hell for the First Time By: u/meinkampfysocks

Bones ached, flesh burned in holy fire. For just a few moments, Earth’s sky had been filled with angels, falling from the sky like birds with clipped wings. Above them, Michael’s white wings were spread, blocking out the golden sun. It was the last time Lucifer and his fallen angels would see the sun.

They had lost the war. God and his Archangels had succeeded in casting out the rebellious; those that opposed God’s rule, they were no longer worthy in the deity’s eyes. Lucifer had always kept his mouth shut in the beginning, smiling and nodding his head, going along with everything that he truly thought was ridiculous. Turns out, he wasn’t the only one.

Now, they were all paying the price for it.

The air was thick and heavy, hotter than the glaring sun on a summer’s day. Smoke plumes danced through the air like playful cherubs, flames thriving off of the air around it. Lucifer wasn’t sure where they had ended up, but he imagined it wasn’t anything like their old playground called Heaven. This was something completely opposite.

The ground was hard, covered in large rocks that were dusted over with black ash. Above them was pure nothingness, a void neither filled with stars nor clouds. Lucifer and his angels were surely trapped in this place. But, Lucifer had always believed to make the best out of a bad situation, no matter how difficult it was. Even now, the angel was sat on the rocks. His robes were singed and torn, his skin covered in newly blossomed bruises and bleeding cuts.

His wings — or what was left of them — were broken and burned beyond recognition. The appendages that were once covered in silky white feathers were broken nubs, with a few black feathers clinging onto whatever skin remained. The man looked on into the fiery depths of this newfound land, his expression almost unreadable — even as his fellow angels did their best to tend to his wings. Each twitch of his expression made everyone around him tense.

“… What are we going to do now, Lucifer?”

“We wait until the others return, Semiazaz.” Lucifer replied smoothly, turning his head towards the angel who tended to him. He reached out to the other man, brushing his calloused fingertips across his jaw, “Do not look so down. We’ll make something out of this place. After all,” He snickered, “Why stop our rebellion now?”

Semiazaz averted his gaze, nodding quietly and bowing his head, returning to his work.

It wasn’t long before the angels in question returned to their leader. They bowed their heads in respect, kneeling before him. Their wings nor bodies had been damaged as badly as Lucifer, it was clear their leader had taken the brunt of the battle they had just lost. Their expressions were forlorn and troubled.

“My Lord,” One of the angels spoke firmly, lifting his head, “We have fully explored this place as you asked.”

“And?” Lucifer arched a brow.

“There are nine levels. Each appears to be unique.” The angel informed, “They are linked together by a power we don’t quite understand. It surely isn’t the work of—“

“We do not utter His name.” Lucifer quickly interrupted, his expression turning into one of mild annoyance. He thinned his lip, furrowed his brow deeply in thought. “Nine levels, you say…?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Lucifer hummed to himself and glanced back at Semiazaz, a small grin tugging at his lips. Although it was quite a devilish smile, the light in his eyes was one of childlike excitement. “Now, what did I tell you? Nine levels… Quite a large place we have here.”

Turning back to his angels, Lucifer nodded his head in self-confirmation, “We will settle here. We will become a refuge for the rebellious. The sinful. We can decide on a name later.” The fallen angel pushed himself up to his feet, being followed quickly by Semiazaz. “Come, let’s have a look for ourselves, shall we?”

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Hell Existed long before Lucifer was damned there… By u/NOT-Bolvar-Fordragon

His father's words tore across the heavens, a voice of once calm and loving became bitter and filled with anger "LUCIFER! Death is too good for a traitor,You are here by an enemy of heaven and no longer my son."

And so he was casted down to the pits of the underworld, where he shall remain for eternity, Lucifer wanted to be above the heavens and see them as servants, now as the Prince Of Darkness he commands his legions that once followed him in heaven now as twisted forms of once proud Angel's they torment the lost souls of the race of man as demons. The hells had no order before he came, his armies were vast, still holding much of their original power they took control of the many spaces of hell, torturing humans in varying ways right down to their most loved sin.

This land was not of his father's creation, Lucifer had this suspicion from the day he came there, the underwold felt wrong to him, disconnected from the reality he once knew, where once he walked upon Earth he could see heaven in the skies now he saw nothing. Rocks flew in the air freely without falling, waterfalls ran with no start or end, this world was created with no reason or logic. Lucifer began to construct large rings to filter souls into areas as that to torment them more efficiently, his demons grew in numbers and size but the nagging in his mind persisted he knew this place was being watched and molded around him, he had power to create there but not alter the lands and neither could he escape.

In need of answers he set out to find where the land parted to sea, the sun never rose nore did it set, he traveled for a time before the land beneath him gave way to nothing, an edge, with Lucifer finding no answers he jumped attempting to fly he started to see a large glowing chain that tightly gripped his land, he followed it closely down and down deeper than he thought the lands would take him.

A voice wearily sputtered out into the void "finally come to finish me, usurper?" Lucifer shocked at what he heard lost concentration crashing his body against the chain falling to the floor.

The being hunched down towering over Lucifer "What are you? You are not of my creation.. what has he done?"

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Satan and his Son By: u/RamHarder

They sat down together.

Satan recited, "Matthew 25:41 Then he, Jesus, will say to those on his left, 'Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.'"

The son was not surprised that his father would recite verses from the Bible. His father knew the Bible better than anyone else he had ever met and had famously even tried to tempt Jesus with Scripture in Matthew 4:6.

Satan continued, "Revelations 20:10 and 20:14: And the devil - that is me son - who had deceived them was thrown into the lake of fire and sulfur, into which the beast and the false prophet had already been thrown. There they will be tormented day and night forever and ever. Then Death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. This is the second death—the lake of fire."

The son turned away his face. He did not like hearing anything from the book of Revelations because it prophesied his father's fate and demise. Even as a child he had skimmed over it.

"And lastly," Satan said, "Matthew 7:9-11: Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him."

They sat together for a moment in silence.

Satan said to him, "Do you understand, my son? It is too late for me. I have already lost the war and anyone who follows me will be thrown into the lake of fire. The greatest gift I could ever give you was to train you up in the way you should go, and knowing my Father, He will have mercy on you and your siblings, though you are my offspring."

"Then He will have mercy on you, too!" His son cried out.

But Satan shook his head and chuckled bitterly. "I have too much pride. That has always been my problem. I wanted to be like God and now I refuse to ask for repentance, even knowing the end it will lead to."

The son gnashed his teeth, and spat, "Damn Him!"

But Satan rested a hand on his shoulder and said, "Do not, for He gave me free will, and this is what I chose. Like we all must choose. Like you must choose - whether you are going to obey me and live, or follow me and die."

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Satan and his Daughter By: u/uell23

“Dad, why did you do so much for us growing up?” Lilith asked her father. Satan sighed heavily, he was proud of Lilith, she had always been the most astute of his children. It did not surprise him at all that she was here asking this question now. Afterall, anyone would be curious about why the Prince of Darkness would expend so much energy ensuring his children lead rich and fulfilling lives.

“That is a simple question, with a complex answer” he stated blankly as he took a long drink from his glass of iced coffee. “Come on daddy it can’t be that bad” she said pouting and folding her arms across her chest. “You are three thousand years old; don’t you think you are little too old to be pouting?” he asked. “I stick with what I know” she said smirking at her father across the table. “Very well” he stated, “Just don’t hate me too much after this.”

“You are my children, and any father, even me wants to see his children happy and successful” Satan said seriously. “However, there is a far less altruistic reason as well” he stated looking off to the side and inhaling the smell of early afternoon brimstone. “Dad you’re starting to worry me, it can’t be that bad can it?” Depends on who you ask”? He smiled. “The real reason I raise you kids right, is to spite your grandfather and his stupid pet monkeys” he said almost triumphantly. Lilith burst out laughing, “You’re not serious” she said incredulously.

“I am very serious” he said proudly. “I asked him a few simple questions seven thousand years ago about giving ape men sentience, and it was liked I slapped him in the face” he said bitterly, clearly still not over this. “ It grinds his gears to know that not only was I right to question giving monkeys free thought, I mean look at that fucking mess of a planet” he stated smugly” “ Monkeys, ruining what used to be a perfectly functional garden” Satan shouted standing up and accidently knocking his coffee over. “He thought he was so clever giving intelligence to his stupid pets, and they just wrecked the place”. Meanwhile, my perfect children are living full lives, and contributing to the wellbeing of the universe” Satan roared smacking his hand down on the table.

“You and grandpa should try this thing his monkeys invited called family counseling” Lilith stated sarcastically, trying to contain her laughter. I can’t wait to tell B, he’s gonna die of laughter” Lilith stated losing her self-control and laughing hysterically. “He’s a narcissist, picking his stupid pets over me, I am going to rub my awesomeness in his face for eternity” Satan bellowed. Lilith sighed and sat back down; this had not gone at all the way she had hoped. She just wanted to thank him for being a good dad, but of course he started on one of his rants like always.

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Satan's Best Friend By : u/XRubico

The eyes were what appealed to him most, rather than the full, thick coat of bright brown fur or the wagging tail. There was no hate in those soulful eyes, no malice, not even a shred of guilt or pain. They were a welcome reprieve from the general day to day and doom and gloom of his work, but it didn't stop him from worrying what this all meant.

"Why are you down here, little one?" Satan asked the young dog.

"I do not know," it replied. The dog's voice did not come from its mouth, which was open and panting, but instead from the air around it. God had not seen fit for their form to speak, but their souls had always been able to lay themselves bare. You need only have looked hard enough.

"Normally, your kind is not under my jurisdiction, as it were, and you have Mr. Bluth to thank for that," Satan continued, "So I must say I am a bit shocked to see you here."

The dog curled its tail slowly and defensively, "Who are you?"

"You probably do not know of me, young one, and I cannot fault you for that. In my understanding, you are one of the lesser souls who pass on, thus unlikely to come to terms with all things human. And since you are not human, the humans probably have very little use for you."

"They had use of me. They loved me."

"I am sure they said that all the time, but how do you know?" Satan asked pointedly.

"They were there for me when it went black. They were always there for me, and they said they always would be."

By now, the dog had curled away in the corner of the room, hiding its underbelly from the strange man before it. Satan regarded the small thing and felt a pang of envy strike his heart. Since the final days of the Garden, the dogs had been by the humans' side and every passing soul had tales of the brave and loyal beasts and their adventures. But never once did one of them come down to him, to his side. Even the most wicked of humans had a loyal companion, and who was to say he could not have one of his own? Though it was not in His plan for the Fallen to be accompanied by a beast, to not even have the simplest of relationships. But now one was before him, against all the stipulations and rules. What was he to do?

"It is written that I must ask any soul that passes me by some particular questions. I trust you will answer to the best of your abilities?" he asked, peering over the open file. It wasn't a long life in the pages in his hands, but it was a full one, one of warmth and fulfillment. Unfortunately, it was one of heartbreak and betrayal as well.

The dog huffed. Satan read that as a sign to continue.

"In your experience, can you say that you lived your life to its fullest potential, having bettered the world with your presence and leaving behind a kinder, warmer place?" he asked.

"They loved me. I loved them. What more could I have done?" the dog countered.

"Let me put it another way. Were you a good boy?"

"They said as much."

Satan checked a box on the paper in front of him. He'd done this process for so many that it had long lost its potency as a validating task and now verged on being mind-numbingly monotonous. Perhaps the new circumstances caused for a more unique approach. He shuffled the pages and set them aside.

"Why did you love them, if I might ask?" he said, leaning forward.

"They loved me as much as I did them. They protected me and I protected them," said the dog, relaxing a little.

"Yes, but why?"

"Because I could. And they needed it."

"Hm."

Satan paused and thought a moment. "Do you know how you passed, how you came to me?"

"I remember them beside me when I felt the sharp pain. They were there for me when I needed them. I can only hope I was there when they needed me." The dog held its head low, not meeting Satan's eyes. Its tail wasn't between its legs but it was far from comfortable.

"Do you remember doing anything bad, something worth the trip here?"

"No."

"And as far as I can see, you are correct," Satan said, looking over the papers again. "You were, by all accounts, a good boy through and through."

"Are they okay?" the dog asked morosely.

Arching an eyebrow, Satan replied, "Most who come down here do not think too much of the fate of others. You might not be the kind of material we are used to."

"But are they okay?" repeated the dog.

"Your masters are alive and well. They are heartbroken but safe. Unfortunately, I do not think you will be seeing them again."

"Why not?" the dog whined.

"Because the people who loved you are destined to be somewhere else when their time comes. That is just how it goes," responded Satan, plainly.

"Will they be safe?"

"They will be when the time comes."

"Then that is okay."

The two sat in silence for a moment, wary of each other's presence. Above all, Satan was curious as to how the dog came around his way and was determined to find out why. Clearly, the small creature was not beholden to Hell, and something had to be done about it.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" Satan asked, forcing a pleasant tone into his voice.

The dog perked up immediately and began wagging its tail side to side. Drool fell from its mouth in its wide smile.

"Yes! Yes!" it yelled.

And so the two left the confines of the small room, side by side. Mankind had always had a way with the beasts, soothing them throughout the ages to hold back the monsters, so maybe it was time the monsters had a little beast to call their own.

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Satan and the Elderly By: u /WrittenThought

A young man with sleek black hair and a nametag that read "Bub" was unpacking the contents of his shopping bag when a crowd of elderly men and women surrounded the table.

'Good to see you,' A man, with more liver spots than hairs, said.

'Likewise Vincent.' Bub said.

The table soon filled with cartons of apple juice, rolls of biscuits and boxes of Twining tea. Bub turned to the crowd and did a headcount.

'We have a new member?' Bub asked.

A woman wobbled on the spot, her hand shook against her wooden stick, and her glazed eyes fixed on the handsome young man.

'She doesn't speak,' Vincent said.

'I see,' Bub said with a smile that could kill. 'Well firstly, welcome to the Seven Oaks retirement home. Secondly, allow me to introduce myself.' Bub moved through the crowd and offered a hand.

The woman took a step back.

'I mean you no harm,' Bub turned back, collected a box of tea and brought it to the woman. 'I am merely here to detox from the stresses and worries of my life. I find being around old souls... comforting,' Bub lifted the lid, revealing not tea, but cigarette packets. 'I come bearing gifts.'

The woman shook her head.

'If tea is not your style, then perhaps some apple juice?' Bub winked. 'Single malt of course.'

The woman turned from the crowd and hobbled over to one of the many armchairs that faced floor-to-ceiling windows. She nestled into a comfortable position, resting her stick and stared out of the window.

'Help yourselves,' Bub said and followed the woman.

The crowd swarmed on the table of contraband and muttered their thanks.

Bub crouched next to the woman. The window showed a plane of greenery, acres of ground that the Seven Oaks population were encouraged to explore, but rarely did.

'I don't want to appear rude,' Bub said. 'Although that may be too late. But, I wondered if I could help you in any way?'

'I know who you are,' The woman whispered.

Bub glanced at his nametag and laughed it off. 'My name is Bub.'

'Which is short for?'

Bub's face went dark, and he narrowed his eyes. 'It's not short for anything.'

'You always enjoyed your games,' The woman said without looking from the window. 'Hiding in plain sight.'

'I think you are mistaken.'

The woman let out a hoarse laugh. 'It's incredible how fate works. How, like magnets, we are pulled together.'

'Magnets?' Bub asked.

The woman dropped her voice to a whisper. 'A fallen-angel and an angel.'

'I hate to use the word, but you're crazy.'

'You go by many names, and I go by one. I am Azrael,' The woman said. 'Father will be interested to hear that you have been perusing such a place,' The woman gestured to the bustling elders.

'I am doing nothing wrong.'

'Apple juice,' The woman winked. 'But, for you, that would be considered a very minor infraction.'

'How long are you here for?' Bub asked.

'This one isn't far off,' The woman said nodding. 'She has been here longer than intended.'

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Satan and the Blind By: u/nerdicorgi

Margery had known her home like the back of her hand. If shaking hands were to allow, she could draw a map down to the smallest detail. Blindness had come gradually and combined with years upon years of ritual, she knew every square inch. For a blind octogenarian, avoiding the coffee table wasn't enough. She knew exactly where she always rested her coffee spoon, just as she knew exactly where she kept the glass of water on her night stand. She had known it so well that she never really felt blind even after the novelty of turning the lights on as she entered a room faded away.

In her mind, she saw everything the way it was the last time her eyes had graced her vision. She could still tell you what color the walls were, and what direction the creases in Roger's chair ran. Poor Roger, rest his soul. He had known his time was close. He could feel it in his bones. He passed away some years ago, peacefully in his sleep, 'watching' a baseball game from his favorite chair.

Roger was gone, and now so too was the house. The mastery and grace with which she once navigated her home had been replaced by months of feeling around in the dark, unfamiliar layout of the 'independent living facility' her children had put her in. Over spilled milk, of all things. Damn those shaking hands. She had known where the wash cloth was. She simply failed to clean it all and slipped, breaking her hip in the process. It'd been almost a full two days of uncertainty on the kitchen floor before her neighbor came to see if she was okay. Since losing her sight completely, Margery's morning ritual had included a trek to the mailbox, a brief listen to the birds, and then tossing whatever had been delivered into the trashcan.

Originally, Margery had been thankful for having a neighbor nosy enough to notice the change from her norm. Hearing him knock and then excuse himself as he entered her home to check on her helped ease the fears that she would die on the floor of her kitchen unable to so much as get a drink of water. In recent months, however, she had come to feel that might have been the better option.

What started as one concerned neighbor entering her home to check on her ended with a parade of young people pretending to care and a slew of middle aged nurses who'd given up the act years ago all entering her 'apartment' at random times of the day and night. The facility was massive and spread itself around a central lake, or so she'd been told. They didn't allow her to walk on her own feet outside for fear she might fall and she had obviously never seen the lake. She had tried accepting an offer once to be wheeled outside so she could listen to the birds. The aide, however, didn't seem to understand she was not interested in small talk with someone who had no life experiences to talk about and, despite her best efforts, she couldn't hear the birds over the chatter.

She hated this place, but knew she was stuck. Whoever designed Azalea Trace had a twisted sense of humor. The lake was like a clock face towards one's own mortality and as you progressed clockwise your situation got progressively more bleak. Independent Living. Assisted Living. Hospice. Pine box. ...It was as if an untalented poet had been forced by his father to get a real job in civic engineering and this was how he played with symbolism.

So these days she simply knitted.

Roger's team had had a single star as their logo and that seemed simple enough, even for a blind woman. She had to take the aide's word that the yarn she was provided were the colors she requested, a notion which simultaneously irritated her and yet filled her with the thought "It's not like I'm stuck looking at it". The colors weren't right however. The aide had taken her money but, knowing that her children never visited, simply bought bulk sale yarn.

Margery had never been a devoutly religious woman, nor prone to superstition. At the same time however, she was the last person you'd expect to quietly sit and knit a pentagram while listening whatever vaguely jazz-like music the weather program on TV played in the background before the voice announced the local weather every quarter hour. Without her home and her routines, this had become her means of time keeping. Every quarter hour, the robotic voice would blearily report the time, the local weather, and four or five headlines that she had no means of getting more information on.

The aides who came and went from her apartment had seen her work as it progressed but chosen merely to grin or chuckle under their breath at the growing black and red satanic symbolism coming forth from the frail white haired woman. It was better than commenting and risking making her upset.

It had taken weeks, but she eventually finished her blanket. She had taken it on faith that the spools of yarn in this basket had all been gray, and those in that basket had all been blue; so in good faith she'd counted every step of the way to do her best job making the emblem. But what she held in her hands could have been solid purple for all she knew. She'd sought something to have that would remind her of him, but she had no way of knowing if she'd succeeded.

She wrapped herself in the blanket as she headed from the chair by the window where the yard was kept to the one under the air vent where she went when she was cold. She was miserable. More miserable than she'd allowed herself to remember. When she felt like this at home she could at least sit in Rogers chair and feel a little less alone, but here she sat in some doubtlessly hideous probably-floral chair in a small apartment on watchface towards death, wrapped in something she could only hope would make Roger smile if he were still alive to see it.

She hadn't even felt her eyes watering until the tear ran down her cheek and fell onto the blanket.

"Margery." A soft male voice greeted. She quickly wiped her face with the blanket. She hated this place and everyone in it. She had no desire to let them catch her crying just because they'd snuck in without her hearing.

"You're new," She stifled a sniffle, "not many men work here."

The man said nothing for a little bit. This wasn't uncommon as many of the aides would simply come in, "tidy up" (which Margery had suspected was often code for "put stuff where you can't find it"), check the AC filters, etc.

"What can I do for you?" The man asked gently.

"I'm fine," She replied, hoping he'd finish his business and leave her to her misery. "Thank you."

"I don't think you are, Margery. What can I get for you? Anything you want, nothing's off the table."

"You're an overachiever, dear." She was getting frustrated, "You can have a long career in a place like this doing the bare minimum."

"I don't work here, Margery. You've called me here today. Who stands before you now is Lucifer. Failed usurper to the throne. Would you... Like to see me?"

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Satan and Santa Clause By: u/NumberMuncher

Klaus had prepared for this as he had done for millennia. It never got any easier.

Email. Spell check. Maybe one day I won't have to come back here? he mused.

A minor complaint. What was one day in hell compared to an eternity?

The demons were as voracious as ever. The minor ones, like horned and winged snakes, crashed into the sled's ice wards and vaporized. The larger ones, niphilum, the minotaurs, goat men, and even succubi, crumbled beneath the hooves of the reindeer. The occasional demon confronted Klaus, but was felled by his lethal cane. The ancient white ash cane was spiraled with the Holy blood and was a match for any demon.

Checking the mail is messy work. Good thing I wore my red coat.

The letters. At last, there they were. Bound in leather, they sat upon a rock in a river of molten magma. Klaus steered the sleigh towards the rock. He left the safety of the sleigh and walked toward the boon.

The earth shook as two giant hooves appeared on either side of the letters. Lucifer himself appeared in all his glory. He was twice the height of Klaus, heavily muscled, and fiery hot.

"Klaus, how many centuries has it been, old friend?" Lucifer asked in a guttural smokey tone.

No! Why had he come? Why now?

"Lucifer, we have not been friends for some time," spat back Klaus.

"Klaus, you used to be so much fun. You were cast out of Paradise just like me. We could have been gods of the Earth. Your guilt got the better of you and you repented. Now as Saint Niklaus you are bound to the Earth to serve children. You've chosen a different sort of hell for what? A chance at Paradise?."

"That's not who I am anymore. Santa, St. Nick, Ded Moroz, Father Christmas. Satan, Lucifer, Baphomet, the Devil. We are many names to many people. For the children who wrote those letters, I am Hope."

"A hope that I shall crush," Lucifer challenged as a fiery trident appeared in his hands.

Cane and trident collided in a crash of fire and snow for the first time in centuries.

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Satan and his Brother By: u/Protowriter469

A sinister red haze pervaded every inch of the demonic caverns. The wails and cries of unrighteous souls echoed through the winding mazes of the Underworld, where the spirits of the dead wandered in search of an exit that did not exist. For millions of years this place has served as a receptacle for God's rejected children, to be overseen by God's first rejected son.

But the divine family tree is wider than mortals imagine, and a reunion has taken place in the pit of Hades, as Satan confronts his distant brother for the last time. For a war approached that would pit Heaven against Hell; brother against brother. Not one soul would be spared. Not one measure of mercy would be dispensed.

A cloaked figure landed a fist on the iron doors of the Satanic Keep--a massive structure of stone and sulfur, adorned by millions of skulls which glowed red in the Hellfire.

The door opened slowly, creaking on its ancient hinges as it moved.

"Satan?" The voice asked in a low tone.

"Jerry?" Satan responded, opening the door with a quickness. "I'll be damned!"

"Ah!" Jerry said, catching the pun and throwing a finger gun.

"Well come here, you son of a gun!" Satan wrapped his arms around the cloaked man. "Come in, come in, Brenda's got a roast going!"

The hooded man, guided by Satan's claps on his back, entered the Sanctuary of Sin, the Temple of Temptation, the 200,000 square foot lava-front property acquired during the 2008 recession, for pennies on the dollar.

Two tiny demons rushed into the foyer, both chanting in their demonic tongues: "Un-cle-Jer-ry, Un-cle-Jer-ry!"

"Come here you little scoundrels!" Jerry said bending down with open arms. They ran into him as he lifted them both up, turning them around and kissing them on their faces. "Muah, muah, muah, and another one for you, Persephone, MUAH!"

"Ew, ew," protested the demons as they giggled. "Do you want to see my dental fillings collection?" One of the demons asked. "No! Look at my pentagram," the other one demanded with a crude symbol drawn on a piece of paper in her hand.

"Now, now, kids. Uncle Jerry's just getting in. Let's give him some breathing room," Satan said, removing Jerry's cloak and hanging it on a coat holder.

"I'll catch up with you scamps later!" Jerry said, tossing the little demons' hair.

"Is that Jerry Christ I hear?" A voice came from around the corner. Brenda turned the corner, dressed in her apron and holding a spatula. "Well come on over here and give your sister-in-law a hug!"

Jerry walked over and gave Brenda a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.

"How's Bill doing? We didn't get y'all's Halloween letter this year." She asked.

"Oh. Well, we've split up, actually," Jerry said.

Brenda gasped. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry to hear that! What happened?"

"Well, she found our brother, and you know how that goes," Jerry explained. Satan sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Ugh! Your family! Always fighting; I don't know what to do with you!"

Jerry shrugged. "It wasn't meant to be. But I learned a lot, and when my heart is healed, I'll find someone who loves me for me. Like a Buddhist maybe, I don't know."

"Well, let me get you a drink. Beer? Wine?" Brenda offered.

"A beer sounds lovely," Jerry answered.

"Okay, you boys head to the garage. I'll bring your drinks out to you in a little bit."

Several hours later, Satan and Jerry were in the garage, smoking cigarettes and sipping warm, flat beer from bottles.

"You have a lovely home, Satan," Jerry said.

"Thanks man. I'd be lying if I didn't say I taken it for granted sometimes." Satan leaned forward. "Remember the good old days? When we would take over the bodies of humans and just go nuts?"

Jerry chuckled. "Like the time we we ran for President of the United States?"

"Which time?!" Satan and Jerry said in unison, following a loud chuckle.

"By the way, is Richie down here?" Jerry asked.

"Oh yeah," Satan said. "Surprised you even need to ask."

When the laughter settled, the two of them sat in the comfortable silence that can only exist between siblings. It's like a frequency that is uniquely shared among a select number of people. It's a comfort that comes with knowing that you won't be rejected or abandoned; it's a security of love, with or without friendship, that persists in the very DNA of those that shared parents.

"Thank you for having me over tonight Satan," Jerry broke the silence. "I really needed this."

"I'm just sorry I didn't have you over sooner. I should have invited y--"

"No! The drive is so long, and we're so busy nowadays, it's nothing. You didn't have to invite me over at all, and you did. Which is more than I can say about Jay," Jerry interjected.

"Regardless of what kind of brother Jay was, I should have been better. I'm sorry it's taken so many years to tell you that."

For the first time Jerry heard the age in Satan's voice. It was the sound of regret and recall of time wasted. Jerry now saw the grey in Satan's pitch black hair, and the crow's feet that had sprung up beside his eyes.

"You were the best brother I had," Jerry said, tapping Satan's knee.

"That's really sad," Satan laughed through tears and a tightening throat.

"It is what it is. None of us chose what happened to us as kids. None of us think its fair that dad's will only listed his favorite kid. But we had--and still have--each other," Jerry said.

The quiet returned. Jerry's hand was on Satan's knee, and Satan's hand was on Jerry's hand, squeezing his knuckles with what started as a brotherly assurance and ended as a grip meant to hold this moment forever.

"I hope when this is all said and done--this thing between you and Jay--you'll drive up to my place? I have a pull out for the kids and some extra space opened up recently when Bill left," Jerry said.

Satan sniffed. "Yeah! Yeah, definitely. I'll talk to Brenda about it and we'll pencil it in our calendars." But he wouldn't, and he knew it. There would be no drive up, because very soon, none of this would exist anymore. It wasn't fair that Jerry wanted to talk about future plans, but that's who Jerry is: a dreamer and an optimist. Jerry was everything Satan wasn't, and it was only now, nearly too late, to love him for it.

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