Chapter Text
Later, you would come to realize that most demons' descent into hell was a painful or even traumatizing event, but you only remember feeling rather cold. Falling into a void after your newfound master cast your consciousness from your form for the last time. A sickle smile burned into your mind, as that cold seeped into your being. If any nerves had existed then you would have been shivering and shaking, but after what felt like a few minutes: warmth returned. The calming heat hung around your nonexistent form, and lulled your mind into apathy. Allowing thoughts and feelings to be melted by the welcoming temperature.
How long your existence consisted of loving nothingness is dubious at best. It could have been minutes or years, but as all bliss does, it came to an end rather abruptly. Out of nowhere you were given form. Another smile glinting as your limbs took shape. Slowly, your usual senses were returned to you. Something soft enveloped you, and kept your body warmer than your face. Air passed through the usual pipes and was then absorbed by your lungs. The sound of silence began to exist out of nowhere, and was just as quickly replaced with the sound of a warm humming voice. Acknowledging the back of your eyelids was the final straw, your brain surrounded in a heavy fog. It was time to wake up.
There’s a reason sensory deprivation chambers are used for stress relief, because that lack of information reduces stress on your brain. Describing the invasion of all that new information as stressful would be accurate. Your new vision was blurry for several minutes, until several blinks brought a white ceiling into focus. The sudden creation of sensation bent your mind with newfound strain, all the while cruel seconds ticked ever onward. Slow and steady breaths aid in normalizing the ache in your head. After what you conclude is several more minutes, you can only now deal with the reality that you are truly awake and conscious.
The white ceiling is bordered by maroon colored walls. You recognize that your body is wrapped in a warm bright red blanket, and you're settled upon the softest bed you’ve ever known. The dimensions of the room around you are small. Just enough space to fit the small dresser between the bed and the far wall, where a sliding closet door sits open. The bed is nestled perfectly into an outcove in the otherwise rectangular space, and the only other object of note is the large dark wooden door.
Sitting up had your muscles shooting and spasming in agony. They quickly quieted down after remembering that their purpose is for movement. Shifting forward, a strange weight adorned your head, and almost sent you falling right back down in a momentary loss of balance. The sense of dizzying nausea settling after a few seconds, and shifting into curiosity as your memories rooted themselves into your consciousness.
You were a demon now.
A wave of pins and needles ran up your leg, as you moved to fully stand in the room. A blood red nightgown adorned your form, with black lace creating modest straps and neckline. Noticing the bare skin of your arms, you bring a hand up to your face and spin it slowly. Your skin tone was barely reminiscent of your human bodys. It was almost like someone had mixed cinder block grey paint in with a few drops of your old color: the new hue wasn’t awful. Looking at the strange new skin was just unnerving.
A quick swivel of your head doesn’t turn up any mirrors in the room, so you move to the door. You hover in the small space. You're certain you know the voice humming on the other side, and wonder if these minutes are the last bit of peace you will ever have. But this wasn’t the time to hesitate, you had your chance to walk away when you were alive. For all you knew, he was already aware that you were awake.
Much to your relief, the sight that met you was another door, open to a bathroom. Without any thought you stepped across the hall into another small room. You shut the door behind you, and grope at the wall until you find a light switch.
As the light flickers on you’re met with what, at the moment, you would describe as the worst possible outcome. While some features are still yours, the creature starting back at you reminds you of Alastor. You start to find some solace in the parts that differ. The sclera of your eyes was a normal color, though your irises matched his. Maybe they were a bit bigger though? The black tips of your hair weren't separated from the red by a straight line. It faded in with the different layers and lengths of your hair: giving it the usual dyed appearance. Your hair dropped down around your shoulders with bangs hanging off to one side.. Thank god that the hair wasn’t as fluffy as Alastor's. The biggest difference was the ears. You suspected that the man had deer ears, but yours were clearly black tipped rabbit ears. They had a more defined look, and you had horns?
Leaning closer to the mirror and bringing your hand up to touch them, you were gifted with more knowledge on your body. The bright bathroom light had your pupils dilated into predatory slits. The lids of your eyes were tainted a maroon color, but luckily it didn’t go all the way to your eyebrows like Alastor’s. Also those horns were just really small antlers. They each had one small branch coming off the center column.
Rabbit ears and antlers meant you were a jackalope? A long sigh exits your throat as you take in your new appearance. If Alastor was as famous as he touted himself to be, then anyone would see the similarity. You were much smaller and probably weaker, but still clearly resembled him. Hell deciding it would suit you perfectly to look so much like your murderer.
Is it murder if you ask for death?
Taking a glance around yourself at the surprisingly lavish bathroom, you begin to wonder if this is actually hell. So far your appearance is the only part that sucks. Particularly enthused by the clawfoot tub, surrounded by a maroon shower curtain, at the back of the room. Everything in the space had obviously been sized for Alastor, so you almost felt miniature. Barely able to reach middle shelves, much less get close to the top ones.
One of your new large appendages twitched as a sizzling sound joined the humming coming from the other room. A subconscious movement that awakens the empty feeling in your gut. Another sigh hangs in the air as hands open the door back out into the hall, where you find yourself peeking out each way.
Two unopened doors adorned the walls in one direction, and an opening to a kitchen being occupied by a large figure was in the other. Said figure was facing a stove, still humming some unnamed tune all the while. Silently, you slip into the open space.
Cherry stained wooden cupboards and cabinets, topped with pristine white countertops, nestled along one wall and into the corner of the room. A small matching dining table placed into another corner, and beyond it a window looking into a sunroom. A glance in the other direction reveals a hutch filled with jars along with an archway leading into, what you guess, is a living room.
“Ah, finally awake are we?” A warm familiar voice fills your ears and sends your head whipping toward its origin. Before eyes focus on the source of sound, you’re spun, the hem of your nightgown rising in the motion. Only to be abruptly stopped as you come face to face with Alastor.
“Good morning.” You greet, unable to think of anything else to say. Every previous dynamic you had with the overlord had been as a free creature. Now, you are his possession and assume that comes with new expectations.
He clicks his tongue looking down at you. “Wrong, I’m afraid. It’s early evening now, my pet. The light is waning, not rising.”
Pet? That's a new nickname.
Time to make a good first impression. You bow briefly before returning eye contact. “Whatever it is you want me to do: I’ll do it.” Determination is filling your voice, or at least you hope it is.
A contemplating hum is the first response. Your mind is left to ponder the ever increasing likelihood that unpleasant tasks are about to be delivered to you. Pool of endless nightmares, here I come.
Alastor motions to the cabinets. “Will you be a dear and set the table for dinner. I’ll have to add a little more to the meal, since I wasn’t expecting you to wake tonight.” He must have noticed your confusion, because he quickly added. “No need for anything fancy, just plates, silverware, and a couple mugs.”
Blinking owlishly, you react in the only way you know how. “Okay.” Just going with the flow.
Alastor is quick to return to his previous task of preparing dinner, and you are quick to start searching through cabinets. Finding the tools for your task without tremendous effort, and bringing them over to the dining table. The task was easily completed.
Right as you squared everything away, he turned and brought over several serving dishes. Each with pads placed under them to keep the heat from hurting the table. Herb stuffed tomatoes, thickly sliced meat that resembled ham, and freshly baked rolls all tempted you. He must have observed the look of absolute gluttony on your face, because he started chuckling.
Part of you was still prepared for torture. Certain that he would eat the whole meal without letting you have a single bite, but Alastor was quick to fill your plate with heaping helpings of the food. Losing all self control, you dig in. Certainly it tasted amazing, but you shove it all down so fast that taste is hardly a factor.
The satisfaction hardly lasts. With your immediate bodily needs sated, worries and hard memories wade into your immediate thoughts. Questions about your brother swirl about your consciousness along with plenty of worry.
“Ask away.” A voice called from the other side of the table. He must have noticed the change in your demeanor.
Making eye contact with your new owner, you don’t even hesitate. “How’s Henry? How, did he die?”
Alastor looked at you with a surprisingly bored look. A closed lipped smile with calm apathetic lidded eyes. “I assure you, that brother of yours is quite alright.” He almost seemed annoyed, but before you could further inspect the expression it shifted to a more amused one. “He did give a brief tale of his final days, and while I find it rather suiting, you may not. Are you sure that you wish to hear it?”
“If you would leave out any particularly gruesome details for the moment, I’d be grateful.” Not knowing didn't seem like an option, but you were aware this would be a sore subject for you.
He hummed in, what you assume is, acknowledgement of your request. “Your parents apparently threatened him with a firearm the first night after they left. He was able to obtain said weapon while they slept, and promptly ended their pathetic miserable lives.” He hung on those last few words with some amount of obvious pride for your brother's actions. “Once his retribution was complete, he realized the gravity of the deed. Coming to the conclusion that ending his own life would put less of a burden on you, he did just that. After securing your demonic form.” He gestures to your new body: smile growing all the while. “I did go looking for the disgusting sinners who harmed you, but they had already found themselves in trouble with another overlord. I assure you that they won’t get any semblance of happiness with the deal they took.”
Trying to respond in measured emotion, you take a few breaths. The action is enough to keep you from curling into a ball and sobbing, but you still want to scream in rage. Knowing that they will suffer isn’t enough. You want to watch them suffer, cause the pain. You had been so preoccupied with keeping Henry safe that the anger was left to fester under your skin. If the demon sitting across from you saw any of the sadistic thoughts filling your brain, he would have been ecstatic.
“So, how is this going to work?” You inquire. Only slightly hiding your brewing heated emotions, while motioning your hand between him and yourself.
“I’m so glad you asked.” A cheshire grin revealing his previously hidden mouth of fangs. “Considering your most marvelous form, I’ve decided to make you my assistant. You’re quite on brand, my pet.”
Of course he would like how you look, the narcissist. Despite knowing that’s why he deemed you worthy of the complement, the heart in your chest skipped a beat. Damn thing should really get the memo on how bad Alastor is for you.
Squinting your eyes in both confusion and displeasure, you start asking questions. “What would you need an assistant for in hell? Why do you keep calling me pet? Also, can I see my brother? Would it be possible for me to maim my parents at any point, despite them being involved with another overlord?” You're certain these questions must be annoying the shit out of your master, but you need answers.
He must have been expecting your assault, because he remained frozen until the last question. Even then his smile just grew. “I have various businesses and associates I interact with as an overlord. I also find most of them quite dry, so having someone around to pay attention to their drivel would be quite useful. I’m calling you my pet, because that’s what you are. Best to get in the mindset.” His voice dropped in tone for that last sentence, as though to ward you against any argument. You had no issues playing a loyal mutt though, so his warning was pointless. Certainly better than the lake of endless nightmares you were expecting.
He continued. “At some point, I may allow you to see your brother, but for now we’re going to keep that on hold. You’re going to need a lot of training.” He stood and strolled over to your side of the table. Placing a claw on your chin, he forces your eyes to meet his as he towers over you. “Your parents may be out of reach for now, but if I get my hands on them, you will be the first to get a swing in.” He winks at you before moving on. “As long as I get to watch you tear them apart.”
His expression held a fondness of the idea. You weren’t expecting the close proximity, and found yourself admiring his features. While alive you’d only experienced his voice most of the time. You’d actually assumed that the filter, on his voice, was applied by the radio equipment in the studio, until you met him physically. This close your large ears buzzed with the crackling of static, and were forced to realize how impressively predatory he was. You felt so small, weak, and helpless. It was amazingly intimate to feel so controlled by another. The feeling stoked some invisible fire in your core.
You could only describe the feeling as the need to be his. There was no action desired to fuel the flame, as he already owned you. Briefly you wondered if those feelings were truly romantic interest or mere infatuation. The burning growing desire to be used or commanded by the superior demon was clearly unhealthy, and was something you had no intention of telling him.
Alastor abruptly straightened out and ruffled your hair. “We should give you a new name.” He chirped before snapping his fingers. Your eyes had been locked on him, so you didn’t immediately notice all the dishes on the table disappear. The action left you wondering why he asked you to set the table in the first place.
You followed him as he walked into the living room. The space had a similar aesthetic to your room: maroon walls with bright red furniture and dark wooden accents. A large fireplace came to life as he passed the archway and the walls were lined with various bizarre taxidermy. If alive you would have waved it off as wildlife, but considering you had animal parts, they could have been demons’ heads.
“Why do I need a new name?” The question stumbled out in apathy. Deciding this inquiry was more appropriate than the several million that were now dancing round your head.
Your master settled into a plush chair by the fire before answering. "Many sinners pick new names upon manifesting in hell. I also wish to keep your real name to myself." He had been gazing into the fire, but you notice him eyeing you before his last statement. "Could call yourself Jackie."
Your lips part as your mouth hangs open, and you narrow your eyes at him. Jackie the jackalope. He had to be joking, right? No way was that happening. "No way am I calling myself that." You sounded more outraged than you'd intended.
His turn to narrow his eyes at you now. The look seemed threatening, but the way his smile curled indicated that he was amused. "Very well, but your new name must start with a 'J'."
How ridiculous could this guy get? You ponder on a name before deciding to follow his stupid rule. "Jane then." You barked back, not bothering to hide any annoyance in your tone.
He only hummed in response before returning his gaze to the flames. It was odd seeing him relaxed. You both spend hours, long into the night, discussing the state of hell, and what your role would be in his life.
Needless to say hell was a weird chaotic place, but this was still better than an ocean of endless nightmares.