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You went to bed with a stone-cold feeling of absolute dread in your chest.

Not wanting to be dramatic about the matter, you tried to just go to sleep in the guest bedroom and let Alastor's words leave no effect on you. But he still said them and they still had meaning. Each sentence, each description of how pure you were left a scarring imprint in your heart like the serrated blade of a knife.

This feeling left you lying on your back and staring up at the ceiling, unable to find rest.

Could you really go to heaven, if you wanted to? Would that be best thing to do? Would heaven be peaceful, with less drama and confusion?

Or what if Alastor and Rosie had just read you wrong? What if, in reality, you were not pure, but instead lived as a being full of sin just like everyone else down here?

These thoughts twisted and turned in your mind, and so did you over the covers. You were wide awake, and the temperature of the air seemed to instantly switch between too hot and too cold, preventing you from finding comfort.

So you decided to take a shower. The cold rush of the water over your skin eased your mind and helped you realize just how tired you were.

When you left the bathroom, you stole a glance at the clock and saw that it was already 1:46 in the morning.

When you woke up, it was almost noon.

You quickly got dressed and shuffled down the grand oak staircase. The air was quiet and contained the faint smell of baked goods—like one you would find in a bakery, only less strong—but it still didn't overpower the ever-present stench of blood. Your stomach audibly growled as you walked into the kitchen, the tiled floor cold against your bare feet.

Alastor was making food, as you had assumed. His back was turned your way, and you noticed that he was wearing a tee shirt instead of a suit. Maybe he wasn't planning on going anywhere today. The thought filled your heart with an odd swell of happiness.

"Good morning," Alastor said before you had the chance to speak. Yet again, he surprised you with his ability to hear you coming, even when your footsteps were nearly silent.

"Morning." You walked over to him and peeked around his arm, which was scrapping something off of an iron skillet. "Pancakes? For me?"

"Precisely!"

"You're too good for me."

Alastor laughed. It was a very light laugh, like a quick exhale or a content sigh. "No, quite the opposite is true, my dear. After all, you're the one who's too good for hell itself!" He placed the pancake on a china plate sitting on the counter. There was a little glass bottle full of maple syrup positioned next to it.

"Yeah, I guess so..." You folded your hands in front of you and tried to focus on breathing. The mere idea of Rosie and the many conversations that had occurred over the course of yesterday about your purity brought a clenching feeling inside of your ribs, like the firm grip of a kidnapper that refused to let go.

Alastor gave you a peculiar frown as he absentmindedly turned the stove flame off. He placed the last fluffy, sugary smelling pancake on top of the premade stack. "How are you feeling?"

"Weird."

"Everyone always feels weird. Give me a real answer."

You shrugged and looked at the pancakes, your appetite suddenly turning sour. Claws with razor edges groped at the inside of your throat, fighting to get out, begging for you to vomit as if doing so might make you feel better. You knew that it wouldn't, so you swallowed the feeling down and blinked slowly. "I'm confused," you admitted. "I just want things to be normal. Straightforward. Do you know what I mean?"

Alastor nodded, smiling in what seemed to be a sympathetic way. "Yes. I do, actually."

His words and his smile quickly soothed your nerves.

Your arms wrapped around the thin part of your waist as you focused your gaze down at the floor. "What if I don't want to go to heaven?"

Alastor's touch was sudden, but subtle and gentle like always. His hands found a spot to rest on the nape of your neck, one of his fingers reaching out to twirl around in a thin strand of your hair. "Then you don't have to," he said. "But we must make sure that neither Lucifer nor any of his associates find out. In that case, you will be just fine."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as ever, my love."

"What would happen if they did find out?"

"Why, they would send you up above the clouds, of course," Alastor said, as if it meant nothing. He picked up the plate of pancakes and the syrup bottle and began to walk towards the dining table. You silently followed.

"Rosie wishes to meet with me again tomorrow," he added.

You sat down, but didn't even so much as look at the food on the table. You wanted to eat because you knew that you had to, but something in your stomach was screaming exactly the opposite. "Without me, I assume?"

"Yes, my love. I hope that's alright with you?"

Shrugging one shoulder, you stared down at the table top, your gaze refusing to meet his. "I thought she was going to take care of the situation by herself," you said pointedly, not really meaning to sound so bitchy.

"She was planning to, but then she realized that Jack has intense security measures set up all around his home. He's had them since the blossoming of his affair with Dexie. It is such high tech security that it would be extremely difficult—if not impossible—for a single person to get through. Jack is a smart man, that much I know." Alastor crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair, making his cotton shirt crinkle up in certain muscular places that caught your attention. "He must have known that Azathoth would go nuts if he knew of his wife's affair, and now that he does know, Jack is in for it. He is doing all that he can to protect himself. In a way, I pity the poor man."

"Well, if you're going, then I am too."

Alastor looked at you, his teeth parting slightly as if to display shock.

Meanwhile, your hunger got the better of you and you began to pour syrup over the stack of pancakes Alastor made.

"(Y/N), I thought I just told you that she wanted to meet with me alone," Alastor replied. The trace of firmness in his tone was quite detectable. You were a bit taken aback.

"Yeah, but... this is, like, a real job for you. You know? I want to come because it would be so cool to see what you really do," you explained, finding it difficult to form and speak the correct words to convey your thoughts.

You really hoped that Alastor would understand. It wasn't that you were uncomfortable with being in his massive house alone, or with the fact that Alastor would be out having fun (if you could call killing a man for money 'fun') with another woman. It was that you wanted to know Alastor better. He was a hitman, and you wanted to fully grasp this new concept with outstretched arms and an open mind. You wanted to not only find out what he did for work, but why he did it.

Alastor sighed and looked at the ceiling as if he was frustrated, but his smile was still there. His red hair hung all around his head in straight, fluffy tendrils. You craved the feeling of the soft strands sifting between your fingertips, but you were sure that it wasn't the time to start touching him or his hair.

"We are not going to actually kill him tomorrow," Alastor said casually. "We're just going to meet up and discuss the matter at hand. I will ask her how she feels about taking you, and I will try my best to convince her that you will be an asset to our team. How does that sound, my love?"

"Better than nothing." You took a big bite of pancake and savored the maple flavor on your tongue. Your appetite returned, just as suddenly as it had left in the first place.

When you were finishing up your food, Alastor's mood began to obviously change. He went from flustered, to thoughtful, then finally relaxed and... apologetic.

"I'm sorry, my love. I don't mean to be rude at all. I just don't desire Rosie's dramatic side at the moment. She may overreact about your involvement and end up doing something that will hurt all of us in the end."

You didn't know exactly what he meant by that, so you looked over at him and frowned skeptically. "Overreact? Hurt us?"

Alastor's smile widened. His left hand reached over to grab your empty one, lacing his bare fingers between yours. The contact immediately released most of the tension that was building up in your chest, leaving nothing but the faint feeling that something very big, and very bad, was about to happen.

"Details don't matter," he said softly. "Come my dear, let's go for a walk. I wish to hear the silence of the forest with your presence by my side."

You giggled at his formal language and pointed it out to him, which made him roll his eyes.

Hand in hand, the two of you left the rustic wooden house and ventured into the woods.

With the trees forming a sort of wall all around you, the feeling in your gut that was once nothing but a light wisp turned into a gut wrenching discomfort.

You tried to ignore the feeling, but you couldn't ignore instinct.

And your instinct was telling you to leave.

[ Hey guys. Sorry for taking so long to write this chapter. Life hit me like a ton of bricks the other week and I'm still "recovering", if that's what you could call it. I'll try my best to update more throughout this weekend and following week. Since summer is starting soon and I'm grounded, I'll have a lot of free time to stay at home and write.
Also, after this chapter is published, I want to go back and edit some of the previous chapters, just to make sure everything is as nice and put together as possible. ]

[ Thanks for being such amazing readers, love you all :) ]

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