demonbelthazor | Halls of Fandom High, Friday Night

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Halls of Fandom High, Friday Night

Bel wandered aimlessly through the halls, avoiding...everyone. Phoebe wanted her grandmother and oldest sister to meet him this weekend, and he still wasn't so sure about that. And he really didn't want to see all the happy reunions of parents and children that other people were having. Jealousy, he knew. After all, he didn't have a loving mother or father who wanted to see him. His father was dead, his mother was (thankfully) dead now, and the rest of the Underworld thought he was dead.

He sighed, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his head down as he rounded a random corner.

[ooc: for those who know who they are. If you have a desire to jump in, please to be pinging me on AIM first.]

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Wilson shared a quick look with Phale, then reached to put a steadying ~~omg!not dirty~~ hand on Bel's elbow.

"Bel, come back to the apartment for tonight. Crash in the spare room. We'll fix up the damage so it's not such a shock for Phoebe tomorrow and you're guarunteed a safe night's rest."

"That's an excellent idea, James love," Aziraphale quickly agreed. "Belthazor, you know the shields on the apartment are open to you, so anytime you need a safe place to rest..."

He wasn't about to say 'a safe place to hide', because it was doubtful Belthazor would ever choose to even hide from things he probably should avoid."

Bel nodded shakily. He was still dizzy from his earlier impact with the wall. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," he said. "I don't want her to see me...like this. Especially not with her family here."

Setting a supportive hand against the small of Bel's back, Wilson gave his young friend an understanding smile.

"Come on, let's get you back to the apartment."

As he started to take a step forward, Wilson stopped and looked back at Phale.

Err...angelic taxi service?

Aziraphale's lips twitched into a smile at the obvious request in Wilson's expression.

"Really, my dear," he replied dryly. "I ought to start charging for this. If you feel up to it, Belthazor?"

He held out a hand toward the young man.

"Yeah, okay," Bel said, reaching for Phale's hand.

This was going to be different. But he was still a little too shaken up to shimmer by himself yet.

"Wing preen." Wilson promised softly and steadied his hand around Bel's elbow for the trip.

Raising an eyebrow in a pleased sort of way at the offered bribe, Aziraphale nodded. Getting a good grip on Bel's hand, and wrapping the other arm around Wilson's waist, he took them quickly back to the apartment.

As soon as they were inside, the wards were activated. Just in case people got ideas about hunting Bel down while he was recovering.

"I'll make us some tea," he said, in the time-honored tradition of all Brits.

Bel sank down wearily on the couch. "The school sent him an invite to Parents Weekend," he said. "I didn't realize it...."

Ducking into the hall closet, Wilson withdrew his medical bag and walked over to the couch. Pulling the coffee table up close, he sat down on it, facing Bel and then began to dig into the bag for guaze and antiseptic.

"That was...unfortunate." He said about the invite. "Err...I was right, that...wasn't your biological father? That was your...handler?"

Aziraphale was back in very short order with tea all around, although he had half a mind to spike it with a bit of brandy, figuring they could all use it.

In fact, he did just exactly that.

"I have to say, the school really ought to reconsider such a blanket policy on issuing invitations. We can assume, then, that you weren't expecting him?"

"He was still on record as my guardian," Bel said. "It's my fault -- I never told the school to change it. Raynor -- he's my foster father. He's the leader of the Brotherhood of the Thorn, the elite servants of the Source. My mother gave me over to him when she brought me to the Underworld. He raised me...protected me from the other Brotherhood trainees. Mostly."

Uh boy.

These were the sort of psychological bonds and threads that could be even more damaging than openly abusive relationships because there was always the struggle of if I'd been better then he wouldn't have...or would have.

Sharing a quick look with Phale, Wilson began to clean up the worst of the damage on Bel's face. He couldn't do anything about the bruises but at least the bleeding cuts would be minimized.

"How much trouble, is this likely to cause you, Bel?" He asked quietly, pleased when the scent of warm brandy hit his nostrils along with the tea.

Taking a seat nearby, Aziraphale watched Wilson doctor up Bel's injuries. He didn't have anything against demons as a general rule, but it wasn't the being a demon that angered him about Raynor. It was the manipulation, and the way he obviously only cared about Bel for what the young man could do for him and his cause, whatever that might be.

"You know we'll be right there beside you, to help if there is trouble," he added quietly, to Wilson's question.

Bel flinched at the sting of the antiseptic as Wilson dabbed at his face. "I don't know," he said. "Raynor will tell the Source I'm alive. Either they'll want me back or they'll want me dead. They could send bounty hunters after me."

"Definitely should have killed him." Wilson said softly, even though he knew that would have only delayed the inevitable.

Not that he was necessarily the bloodthirsty type, but Aziraphale found himself still agreeing with that assessment. "I know that it's not what you want to hear, but...perhaps, in a way, that might be the best thing. For them to send someone after you. I mean, I certainly don't want anything to happen to you, but now that we know, and can be prepared and keep our eyes open, perhaps a bit of a confrontation to prove that you won't be taken back and that you are capable of standing up to them, is what's needed."

Bel looked down at his hands. "If they want me back, I don't know if we can stop them," he said. "All my life Raynor...made me do things I didn't want to. Any time I disobeyed he or one of the others made me regret it."

Finished with the cleaning of the wounds, Wilson did reach for a butterfly bandaid for one cut.

"Bel, is Phoebe worth those regrets?" He asked softly.

"I don't know for certain that we can stop them either, my dear," Aziraphale said firmly. "But I do know that I'm willing to try. And I'll bet so are quite a few others."

"I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me," Bel said. He looked at Wilson. "Especially Phoebe. She's got a big enough target on her back on her own. I'm adding to it."

Wilson took a breath then stopped himself and sat back.

"No sudden decisions tonight. Let's just get some tea and some sleep and we'll talk about it in the morning."

Pausing, Wilson reached for his tea.

"Anyone want to watch Iron Sushi? The original? With the bad sub job?"

Agreeing whole-heartedly about not making sudden decisions, Aziraphale smiled and reached for the remote. "I think that sounds like a lovely idea," he said, turning on the television. "There's a bed all made up for you, Belthazor, in the study. For whenever you feel you want some sleep."

"I'm pretty worn out," Bel admitted, rubbing the back of his head. "I hit the wall pretty hard. I should probably get some rest."

Wilson looked at Bel and then nodded, giving Bel a warm smile.

"Rest well, Bel and don't hesitate to make yourself at home. There are extra towels in the linen closet. Also Don't mind me if I pop in to bug you a couple of times in the night. It's a doctor instinct, want to make sure you don't slip into a coma."

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