Chapter Text
It happened on movie night.
It was a rare, rare occasion to get all the brothers in a room to sit down and watch a movie together without any complaints or excuses.
And that was when there was only six of them.
During breakfast, you poked at your meal, moving food around, raising your fork to your mouth only to drop it back down without opening your mouth. You hadn’t had an appetite. Not since then.
Only four days ago.
Four sleepless, hellish days and nights.
Four days since you had died.
And routine had not changed.
You woke up (if you had managed to sleep, that was). You dressed in your RAD uniform. Went down for breakfast. Attended classes. Came home. All of this was scattered with typical nonsense from the brothers, being tugged here and there, pulled along by whichever demon brother could snag your attention before the rest.
But it was all robotic now. You weren’t in control of your actions, simply allowing your body to move on memory. Empty smiles to Beel, letting Satan read aloud to you without hearing the words, playing games with Levi but losing every time, unable to focus on the controls.
Maybe Belphegor really had sucked out your soul.
You were just a shell.
And no one noticed.
“Good morning.” A sleepy tone caused you to freeze with a mostly empty fork to your mouth. You did not look, but heard a chair sliding away from the table, a demon settling into it only to place his head down on the table, ignoring the plate in front of him. As always, Belphegor had chosen to sit next to Beel. You were seated on the elder twin’s other side, sandwiched between him and Mammon.
“Morning, Belphie,” Beel rubbed his sleepy brother’s head, and the rest of the demons chorused along. They were all so damn nice to him. Like they were walking on eggshells, they did everything they could to not break the gentle peace that had fallen over the seven of them.
Hesitant towards their darling baby brother Belphie.
After all, how do you apologize for your eldest brother locking you up in an attic, in the same house they all lived in, everyone blissfully unaware?
Because that, of course, is what caused the hesitancy.
Not the fact that he was a murderer.
Not that they had promised to protect you, sworn to be your guardians during your year here, and yet their little, precious, sweet youngest brother had killed you.
Although it had been that strange, now-gone other version of you, you still had the marks on your neck. The damage had transferred to the current you. Both physical and mental. Faint, red marks from his claws that would certainly scar, that you now rubbed as you always did, a hand to your neck as if that could protect you from him.
“So, um…” Belphegor spoke up, raising his head to prop his chin on his forearms. He was granted immediate attention. “I was wondering…maybe we could all hang out tonight? Watch a movie or something?”
Your eyebrow twitched.
On such short notice, it would usually be impossible to gather all the brothers together.
Now, they fell over themselves to agree.
“A movie? Of course!” Asmo chirped. He sat directly across from you.
“We can grab snacks together after school.” Beel offered to his twin, one of his perfect, sweet smiles plastered across his face.
Levi had already whipped his DDD out, searching up latest releases that were available for rent, while Satan rambled off biographicals and documentaries no one else would be interested in watching.
Mammon grumbled a yes.
Even Lucifer, solemn, studious Lucifer, who always wanted a break from his brothers and seemed to do all he could to avoid all of them at once unless it was to scold them, nodded.
You sank low into your chair. Certainly this offer didn’t extend to you. It was a family move night, yes? For the brothers. Usually you would love a chance to gather all of them up, smiling softly at the reminder that, even though they fought, they were a family. It was so sweet to you, their brotherly love. Now you just wanted to hide away from all of them.
“MC? You’ll come too, right?” Belphegor leaned over the table across Beel, looking at you with wide, hopeful purple eyes.
Those eyes, that had watched your life sink out of you.
Those eyes, full of malice and hate.
Unable to speak, you barely managed a nod. Your throat closed up under the youngest’s watchful gaze, his mouth lifting up into a tiny smile at your response, and you caught sight of his fangs poking out just beneath his lips, and you felt those teeth against your flesh, tearing at you, trying to rip your soul out of your body.
You couldn’t say yes, but did not know how to say no when the other brothers all turned their attention to you.
You swallowed heavily, throat closing up. “…gotta go…” You manage to mumble, almost falling out of your chair as you pushed away from the table, abandoning your untouched plate, muttering something about having forgotten stuff you needed for school in your room, weak excuses to get you away from them. Someone – Mammon? – called after you, but you pushed through the dining room doors. Once outside in the hallway, you almost immediately collapsed to your knees, one hand bracing yourself against the wall.
You couldn’t breathe.
Didn’t remember how.
The scratches on your neck, hidden beneath the high-collared shirts you now wore, dug deep into your skin, forming into claws, attached to unseen hands, choking you.
“Stupid human. Weak, fragile. You think you can take my family away from me?” Breath, too close to your face. “I hate you! They all do. A piece of scum, invading our home. Acting like you belong here. You’re nothing. My brothers want you dead as much as I do. I’m doing all of us a favour, getting rid of you. They’ll be so happy when I drop your body at their feet. Maybe I’ll carve you into pieces, let everyone feast on your rotting flesh.” Scrambling for purchase, something, anything, but the only thing you could touch were those hands, wrapped around your neck, choking the life out of you. Blood dribbled from your neck onto your clothes as you weakened, hands dropping, feet motionless.
“We’ll all be so happy once you’re gone.”
“Hon? Ready for the next class?” A well-manicured hand waved in front of you face. You blinked. Asmodeus was standing in front of you, looking at you curiously. “You all right, sweetie? You have bags under your eyes.” He reached a hand out, fingers painted a pinkish-peach colour, thumb brushing the soft skin beneath your eye where deep lines had formed. You jerked away, instantly feeling bad when Asmo’s hand and face both fell.
“Yeah…yeah I’m fine.” You mumble, haphazardly dropping all your books and pencils into your schoolbag. “Just not sleeping well, is all.”
“Oh! Well, beauty sleep is important, you know. You’ll run your skin, looking like that.” Asmo clicked his tongue. “I’d invite you to come sleep with me but…then neither of us would get our sweet rest.” He bumped his hip against yours, a mischievous grin on his soft, full lips. Usually, comments like this would make you blush, or even flirt back if you were feeling sly enough. But now you just shrugged weakly, unable to think of a smart enough comment to retort with.
All of your classes had at least one of the brothers in there with you, so whoever was in your next class always came to pick you up and escort you through the RAD hallways. Asmo walked closely next to you, to Devildom History. School here was exhausting, and typically you could not wait for the final bell to ring, when you could run out back home with Mammon, to shed your uniform and curl up at the House of Lamentation, to screw around with whichever brother won your attention.
Today was the last day before the weekend, giving you even more reason to have a stomach full of butterflies, itching to get out. But today, each bell came too soon.
Belphegor wasn’t enrolled back in classes yet. Lucifer had been meeting with Diavolo, working to get his youngest brother back into school. Come Monday, it wouldn’t just be the hallways of the House of Lamentation where you would see Belphegor.
It would be everywhere.
Your stomach twisted, becoming queasy at the thought. There would be no refuge.
You could not blame the other brothers.
Belphegor was family.
The youngest, their baby bro.
If you were a stranger, if you could see the seven of them through the eyes of a bystander, you would understand.
His black-and-white hair always falling into his sleepy eyes. The way he curled up to whoever was closest, like a cat, so easy to pet and cuddle, head falling into laps and against shoulders. He dressed in soft clothes, moved tiredly, always clutching the pillow his twin had gotten for him, such a sweet memento. So obviously the cherished baby of the family, who could do no wrong.
Yes, you understood.
You understood how he was more important than you.
The stranger, the invader. The human who had to cling to the strong demons, unable to do anything, go anywhere without them. You were just a challenge, an unneeded and unwanted pest, hovering in hallways, a constant presence who could not be left alone, like a lost puppy who needed to be kicked to the curb.
They had tolerated you, maybe even treated you like a friend. A replacement. But now the original was back. Their brother, their blood.
Of course they would choose him over you.
And you had never said anything. How could you?
Who were you, to destroy their family?
Who were you, to ask them to pick you?
Yet that anger still bubbled within you. Months, you had spent with them. Months of growing close, of gaming with Levi and doing hairstyles with Asmo. Making snacks for Beel, learning card games to play with Mammon. You had been an eager student of Satan’s, done your best to impress Lucifer.
And all of it amounted to nothing.
They did not notice. Did not see your pain, the way you flinched whenever Belphegor entered a room, how you rubbed your neck and had to remind yourself to breathe.
They did not hear you wake up in the night, screaming, because you had dreamed of memories, where you dropped to your knees, blood bubbling from your mouth, vision fading as a boot pressed down on your head, cruel laughter coming from above.
“Die,” He said. “You never deserved them.”
Was it your fault?
Your fault for not saying anything?
You never had spoken up.
Never told them of your nightmares, of the constant pain in your throat and chest. You did not tell them that you still remembered. That you remembered how you died, could still feel the way his hands had closed around his neck, his words still floating at the front of your memory.
Mammon had launched himself at you, all the brothers clinging to you when they had seen you, alive. Where had those feelings gone?
A part of you wondered, how could they know? How could they know of your pain, of your memories if you did not tell them? They were demons, after all. They did not know how humans felt, the way their emotions could gather so tightly in their chest.
They did not know, could not understand, that humans were not supposed to live with their deaths.
Was it your fault they did not see your pain?
But should you have to? Should you have to ask, to beg, for their understanding?
To the brothers who had cried to see you alive, who you had watched mourn your death. To the brothers who invited you to play games with them, teased you and smiled at you.
To the brothers who had given you a home, and made you feel like family.
Did it all mean nothing?
You escaped throughout the day.
Ducking into the washroom when your emotions became too much, when your tears rose so high into your throat that you could do nothing but sob silently, locked in a stall, rubbing wildly at your eyes. You couldn’t even focus on your grief, trying to think of excuses, claiming an allergy to some sort of Devildom food to blame the redness of your eyes on, blaming the twisting hallways for getting lost and separated from your escorting brother.
Excuses, always excuses. Anything to keep them from knowing, all while silently begging them to notice.
If only they could see, without you having to say.
Your pain. Grief. Depression.
You could not, would not, be the one to hurt their family.
But couldn’t they notice, anyways?
Hadn’t you, almost, once upon a time, almost been family, too?
Or had Belphegor been right, that they hated you?
That they truly had wished he had succeeded in killing you?
“Please…please, please, please.” You whimpered, hands weakly grabbing at his, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…” Babbling nonsense, not knowing what you were apologizing for, other than your entire existence. “Let me go, I’m so sorry…it hurts…oh god, it hurts…Belphegor, please…”
“Don’t say my name!” He slammed you hard against the wall. You were supported only by one of his hands, dangling helplessly. His other hand came up, stroking your face, moving hair out of the way. It could have almost been a gentle gesture, if not for his claws that raked their way through your skin, leaving blood in their wake.
“You,” He slammed you hard again, head hitting the wall with a dangerous ‘thump’
“Are,” Thump.
“Nothing!” Thump!
Black spots danced across your vision, mixing with the blurriness caused by your tears, you could barely make the demon out anymore.
A flash of black horns, the tips dangerously sharp.
Motion of shining white fangs, dripping with red. Your blood.
Purple eyes, glowing in the darkness, wide and wicked.
“I helped you!” You wailed, knowing it meant nothing, but unable to process that the demon in the attic, the one you had hugged, was now doing this to you. “I wanted to help…you…” So innocent, so sweet he had been. Kind.
“Help?” He laughed in your face, spit landing on your cheeks. “Yeah, yeah you did help me. That was your own stupid fucking mistake.”
He threw you down and you rolled, feeling bruises forming already, across your torso, on the inside, on your ribs.
“Don’t you know? Never trust a demon.”
“Oi! Human, quit your spacing out.” Mammon growled at you, shoving his face into yours. Although his words were harsh, his blue-gold eyes gave him away, worry easily readable in them. “Movie’s starting.”
“Sorry,” You mumble, shifting to get comfortable.
Somehow Mammon’s bedroom had become the theatre room, everyone gathering in there. You sat on the floor next to Mammon, the quilt from his bed thrown over both of your laps. Behind you, Satan sat with his feet tucked beneath himself, giving you and the white-haired demon room to lean with your backs against the couch. Asmo was also on that couch, his head on the armrest, legs thrown over the back of the couch. His hand was absentmindedly brushing at your hair and rubbing your temples.
Levi had tucked himself beneath Mammon’s coffee table, for some unknown reason. He was wrapped in a blanket that had a huge picture of Ruri-chan on it, and only his head and feet poked out from the table, giving you the mental image of a turtle. He was tapping away at his DDD, wirelessly connecting it to the TV to start the movie.
Across from you, Lucifer and the twins had managed to squeeze all three of them on the same couch, thanks to Belphegor curling up and half-leaning, half-laying on Beel. You stared at him a little too long, and he noticed, purple eyes shifting in your direction. Frozen, you stared back, like a deer caught in headlights.
Never trust a demon.
“Quiet down!” Levi announced as the title of the movie appeared on screen.
The movie chosen was one of the Harrison Porter ones. It was the easiest choice, really, everyone already having seen all of them, but it was still enjoyable thanks to the nostalgia.
Anything else would have caused a fight: Levi would only want to watch an anime movie, which no-one else would. Satan would opt for some sort of documentary, probably about cats. Asmo, a romcom, which you knew Mammon would secretly also enjoy, even though he would complain about it. Beel probably wouldn’t care, too busy munching on snacks, and Lucifer would find reason to get up and leave during any movie his brothers picked, claiming paperwork, or something to do with Diavolo.
But tonight was Belphegor’s night.
So they landed on an easy movie. None of them would leave, focused on keeping their little brother happy.
And it was easy at first. You had marathoned all the Harrison Porter movies with Mammon before, and had enjoyed them, so you found nothing wrong with a re-watch. In fact, it was easy to get caught up in the movie and forget all about the sleepy demon across from you, never noticing the way his eyes would casually slide over in your direction, watching the way you munched on popcorn, and whispered to Mammon about your favourite scenes, cuddled deeper into your blanket, even leaning against the second eldest’s shoulder, a silent observer noting your reactions.
So easy it was, for you, in these peaceful moments to once again feel like family.
It was during a fight scene that your peace was interrupted.
The hero had confronted the villain, a battle ensuing between the two. During your first time watching the film, you and Mammon had cheered and ‘ooed’ at all the cool graphics, playfully mimicking the fight between yourselves. Now, you felt your heat constricting.
During the middle of the fight, when tensions were highest, the hero began to lose. The villain took him by the throat, tossing him up against a wall, fingers tight around his neck.
You swallowed heavily.
Not you. That isn’t you.
You had to remind yourself that what was happening on screen was fake, but still, you could feel those ghost hands crawling up your body, sliding along your chest all the way to your neck.
Two, three, six, eight. Dozens of sets of bodyless, invisible hands, tightening around your throat, your chest, your arms. Covering your body as you tried to watch the movie with the proper reactions, trying not give away your unease and fear. Claws began to tear into your skin, ripping your flesh. You did not bleed but could feel your skin being peeled away as your throat tightened, pinprick tears forming in your eyes.
You’re okay. It’s not real.
You shut your eyes, briefly, trying to will away the waking nightmare that was haunting you, but when you opened your eyes again, you saw yourself.
On screen, the hero’s face had morphed into your own, the villain becoming Belphegor, smile twisting into a mouth full of fangs, bending down, eating away at you, trying to drag your soul out of your body.
“No, no, no.” You whimpered, moving away from Mammon, who had wrapped his arm around your shoulder, trying to be casual and failing with the obvious motion. He half turned to you, still trying to focus on the movie.
“What’re ya doing?” He muttered as you fidgeted restlessly, body telling you to run, as if you could escape your ghosts.
“Sorry,” You murmured, trying to relax back against him and failing, your body too tense, your heat beating too wildly in your chest.
Your fingernails found the back of your opposite wrist and dug in. Pressing crescent-shaped marks into your own skin, trying to focus on that, on the real pain, not the phantoms that had begun to gain glowing purple eyes and sharp, vicious teeth.
“MC?”
Suddenly, one the pairs of eyes glowed brighter than the others, and the rest disappeared, leaving you facing Belphegor’s questioning look, his head tilted. He was sitting up now, on the armrest, staring at you. Hearing his twin’s voice, Beel glanced at his brother, then followed his gaze to you.
“Are you okay?” Belphegor’s voice was deceptively worried. Instinctively you shrunk back.
Why him?
Why, when you begged for one the brothers to notice you, to see your pain, was it him that finally did?
“Eh? What’s wrong?” Next to you, Mammon finally turned fully away from the screen, gazing at you with a frown. Slowly all the brothers turned to you. Levi lowered the volume of the movie, finger hovering over the pause button, and suddenly all the attention was too much.
“N-nothing,” You stammered, speaking through the clawed hand that held your throat in a vise-like grip. “Sorry…just watch the movie.” You urge Levi to raise the volume back up, even higher, to drag the attention off of you.
Notice me, a part of you desired.
Leave me be, a stronger part of you screamed.
Your pain was not worth their worry. You could not interrupt them, not when they were acting as a family.
Another time. Another time, you could explain to them. Another time, you could be weak.
Another time that maybe would never come, because every time you felt vulnerable you suddenly became afraid. How could you tell them?
How could you tell them of your fear of their brother?
“Hey…” Beel frowned.
Behind you, Asmo had place a hand on your shoulder, a hand you twitched away from, scrambling backwards, rising to your feet. You put your hands behind your back, trying to hide their trembling and the marks you had just dug into them.
“Hon? You’ve gone so pale…” The room is dark, the lights turned off for the movie, but the screen illuminates your skin, the way your body shakes and your wide, fearful eyes.
“I’m sorry…” You mumble. “I just…I, um…” What to say? Say something, anything! An excuse, something so they won’t worry.
You can’t let them worry about you.
Levi pauses the movie, everyone now focused on you.
“Come on,” Satan coaxed. “Sit down. What’s the matter?”
You do the opposite of what the blond demon asks, stumbling backwards, wanting to reach the door, needing to get out.
Your hands scramble for purchase on the doorknob, fingers shaking. Before you can even get a proper grip, a tall shadow moves behind you, a hand slamming against the door above you.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Lucifer’s voice, deep and angry, comes from behind you. It’s enough to make you freeze, hand stilling on the doorknob, so, so close to being able to run.
“Lucifer…” You whimper his name, feeling as though you were going to just crumble, the way you could feel his eyes on your back.
“WTF?” You can hear Levi mutter between a sliding noise, probably him coming out from his hiding spot. “The human’s gone nutz.”
You sniffle, choking back a sob, usually finding it funny the way Levi speaks like he’s in an online chatroom, right now wanting to scream and throw things at the shut-in, at all of them.
The pacts.
A part of you whispers it, and it feels like a betrayal. You had promised yourself never to use them, not unless absolutely necessary. They had given you power over them, a sign of trust, of your strength for surviving down here all this time. To use their pacts, even just a single one…it felt so wrong. Yet right now, those little portions of your soul that you had entwined with the demons was pulling at you, urging you to just speak the words that would force them to leave you alone.
“I just need to go…please…” You hate how pathetic you sound, knowing you can’t turn around because tears are streaming from your face and you don’t want them to see. Hating how you can’t just speak up, just tell them what’s wrong with you.
What if they hate you for it?
“MC,” Lucifer’s tone is a warning. You can hear him begin to speak again, but is quickly interrupted by a voice that makes you want to vomit.
“Lucifer, hey, leave them alone.” Belphegor must have stood up, because he sounds much closer to you than he should have been from his spot on the couch. “Maybe they’re just not feeling well. Is that it, MC? Are you sick? Do you want to sit?”
Why is he being so damn nice?
You hate him, you hate his sweet, concerned voice.
“I’ll help you sleep, MC. Come on, I bet a good rest will make you feel better.”
You blanch. Him? Help you sleep? You doubted you would ever wake up again if you let him.
“You do seem tired lately,” Mammon’s voice sounds confused, and you imagine him rubbing the back of his neck, concerned but also a little weirded out by your current state.
“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Asmo chirps up, unhelpfully.
“MC…” So soothing, so sweet. Belphegor coos at you, and then his hand is on your forearm.
That’s all it takes to fully send you over the edge.
You lash out, whipping around, hand raised as if you were the one who had claws, wanting to rip away at his skin.
Maybe it’s because you moved quickly.
Maybe it was the sheer shock of your actions.
Because instead of hitting Belphegor, you fingernails rake across Lucifer’s cheek, when the powerful demon should have been able to stop you in a heartbeat.
Your blood stops in your veins.
You had never seen Lucifer bleed before. Could never even imagine it. Certainly you should never have been able to make him bleed. But there it was, tiny, little droplets of blood welling up on his face, his eyes wide but expression unreadable.
“What…”
Seeing the brothers all stare with horrified expressions, you grapple with the doorknob, yanking at it, ripping the door open. You stumble outside, slamming the door behind you as if that hunk of wood could protect you from whatever wrath you were about to face, breathing heavily, tears streaming down your face, blurring your vision as you began to run like your life depended on it.
Because it probably did.
Pathetic little human.