The first thing Beck felt was the press of lips against his. 

They were warm, and he was so cold the touch was almost pleasant, if it wasn’t for the fact that his mouth was also filled with blood to the point that it was all he could taste. The bitter, coppery tang filled his lungs and made breathing impossible. He couldn’t imagine the kiss was too pleasant for the other person for that reason either, but the person didn’t pull away. The firm touch stayed there until Beck couldn’t feel anything anymore, and everything just went dark.

His consciousness faded in and out for a while after that. For the short moments he was awake, he could hear whoever was with him talking. His voice was low and pleasant to listen to, but Beck found it hard for him to focus on the actual words he was saying. Every once in a while though, he caught something intelligible.

“Son of a bitch drove off before I could get a license plate number. What kind of piece of shit drives that fast in the pouring rain?”

The second thing Beck felt was pain. It was the first time he’d been able to open his eyes and keep them open for more than a moment. Immediately, he regretted it. Every time he breathed he could feel a sharp pain in his ribs. He tried to sit up, but the minute he tried to push up on his hand, a shooting pain shot up his arm, making him bite his tongue and fall back down. All at once he was tasting blood again, and he was suddenly reminded he wasn’t the only one in the room.

Things came back to him in a flash. Amy, the rain, the flash of lights before something collided into his body and full speed. And a man’s voice, yelling at him in the background.

“Hey, hey! Don’t try and move so suddenly. Take it easy.”

For the first time that night, Beck could put a face to the voice. Though, it wasn’t exactly what he was expecting. He didn’t really know what to expect, but the image in his head certainly did not involve horns. The man knelt down beside him and the first thing Beck’s eyes locked on was a pair of small, nubby, black horns sticking out of his forehead.

Dark. Everything about the man’s appearance was dark. From natural black hair that fell around the pair of small horns, to the dark, drenched suit he wore. Even his eyes were a black so dark that Beck could hardly tell the pupil from the iris. It was like staring into the eyes of an animal. The only contrast in his appearance was his light tan skin and the red stain to his lips.

Beck was frozen in place for a moment. That was his blood. This was the man that helped him-- but what even happened? He tried to convince himself for a moment that the situation wasn’t what it looked like, and that the horns were just a nice FX effect. Yes. Maybe it was a costume.

Then came the tail. A thin, wiry, devil’s tail with an arrow-like head swished behind him. There was no possible way Beck could see that could explain the tail moving all on its own.

Beck had never been a particularly religious person, but he knew enough to know at least that he'd been saved by a devil. 

If Beck were a normal person, he might have had the capacity in him to be scared, but he wasn’t. Maybe it was because he’d heard the man a few times yelling on his behalf, or maybe it was because he just looked harmless. Aside from the tail and horns, the man looked just like him, even looked about his age. There was also the fact that the tail swishing behind him almost reminded Beck of a cat’s, and once that image was in his head there was no getting it out.

Beck had no explanation for what he did next. If asked, he might have blamed it on his tired state. He had just gotten hit by a car after all-- he was delirious. In reality though, aside from some immense pain in his arm and side, he felt fine. Once he was awake, he felt like he had more energy than he had in a long time.

Beck grabbed his horns. One in each hand.

“Oh. They are real.” He blurted out.

The man’s face lit up in shock, then turned red (with anger or with embarrassment though, Beck wasn’t sure). He moved away from Beck in a blink of an eye, backing up all the way until his back hit a set of cabinets across the room.

The room. Beck had been so focused on the man that he never really looked at where he actually was. They appeared to be in an old, run down office of sorts. Papers littered the floor along with a thin layer of dust over everything but the large desk right next to Beck in the back of the room. Judging by the suit, the man looked like an office worker. Was this his then? Did devils have jobs?

Beck had so many questions, but the man was refusing to move. In fact, it almost looked like he was panicking.

“I thought I had my charm out. When did it--” Even though he was looking Beck’s way, it looked like he was talking to himself more than anything. “When I used that fucking spell. It must have drained me too much. I didn’t even think to check my appearance. Shit.” 

Beck blinked at the panicking man. He had no idea what he was talking about, but there was one thing he did know. "You saved my life. I thought I was dead. I-- there as blood in my lungs. I could barely breathe. How did you do that?" 

The man ran a hand through his hair, gripping a handful of it tight. He didn't answer, and Beck thought he might still be in his own little world. Then, the very animal like eyes locked onto him. Beck just blinked and in that short moment, the man had somehow crossed the room and was now over him. He grabbed a fist full of Beck's shirt and suddenly forced him to a sitting position, making the blonde gasp in pain. 

His grip faltered for a moment as he saw Beck's look of pain, but he didn't let go. His eyes narrowed into a glare. "It doesn't matter how I did what I did. You can see what I really look like, and I'm sure you're not a complete idiot, right? I'm a demon. Which means, if you're really so thankful to have your life back, then you should leave and never come back. Or else I'll change my mind." 

Beck couldn't respond for a moment. He was too focused on the sharp pain in his ribs, making it hard to breathe again. He must have broken a rib or two in the crash. His arm couldn't have been too better, but he was lucky to feel anything at all. 

"Why?" He finally managed to croak out. 

"Why what?" 

Beck put his hands over the man's, trying to encourage him to let go. "Why should I be scared of you?" 

The man stared at him like he was deranged. Maybe he was. Beck felt inexplicably calm. The only thing he was concerned about really was whether or not he'd be able to walk out of the office without help or not. 

"You really are an idiot." The man sighed irritably before letting go of Beck's shirt. "Of course you're an idiot. You walk around in the middle of the street in pouring rain. What part of devil do you not get?"  

The man stood up and glanced around the room. "Here. Something to help you understand." 

He raised his hands as if he were giving praise, and then all hell broke loose. A wind kicked up out of nowhere and the office became a torrent of papers and stray debris. The lights in the office dimmed and brightened chaotically. The windows shook violently, and around the man's hand was a burning, red fire. It spread to the torrent of papers without him even needing to touch them. 

Everything died all at once and a layer of ash settled to the floor. 

Beck had his good hand out in front of him for protection that he quickly realized, he didn't need. It was just a show of power. A warning. 

A warning that was quickly ignored. 

"Why would you want to dirty the room more?" Beck frowned. All that ash was going to be hard to clean...

The demon just blinked at the boy, mouth slightly agape. Once again, he was over the boy in a blink of an eye. It wasn't speed, Beck realized. He really had just blinked and appeared in front of him. The man was knelt over him, glaring down at him with an intensity that almost gave Beck the fear he probably should have had to begin with. 

"Listen. We demons have strict rules we live by." His voice was low and harsh as he spoke, making Beck's heart pick up just a bit. This sounded more devil like than the man he'd heard just moments ago. "There's a reason why we're just legends. Just like there's a reason priests try to warn people about us. There's a balance in place that allows people like you and people like me to live their lives peacefully. You see though, it's a very, thin line." 

As he said this, he snapped his fingers and a small flame appeared between them. In the dim light of the office, it lit up his features in a strange, orange glow. 

"All it takes is one person to mess it up. One stupid kid to open his mouth and say there's a demon living there to screw things up for people. The minute people actually start believing us is the minute the real Rapture begins. War between species. A disaster of biblical proportions." 

He pressed his fingers together and the flame was reduced to smoke. 

"Do you understand now?" He asked. 

A part of Beck felt bad. The man had tried to help him, and yet, he'd caused him a lot of trouble in doing so. Still, he couldn't help questioning why the whole ordeal had happened in the first place. Why save him at all? What was his luck that someone like that had been there in time to save him? And what did it all mean? 

It was stupid, wishful thinking, but he wanted it to mean something. 

"I'm sorry..." Beck looked down, his voice quiet. "I won't talk. I...don't even have anyone to tell it to, if I'm being honest." 

Beck forced himself to a standing position. He gripped the end of the desk hard, his knuckle turning white as he did. It was painful, but he could manage it. "I know you've risked a lot to help me, but I'm still in a lot of pain. I need to go to the hospital, but I don't have any means of getting their on my own." 

The man sighed. He looked Beck up and down in his bloody, broken state. Then, he reached for his discarded coat and tossed it Beck's way. 

"Demons aren't made for healing. What I did was very illegal. But we're not talking about that either, are we?" He didn't take a moment to look back at Beck. He simple straightened his wet tie and headed for the door. 

Beck stood there for a moment, baffled. In all honesty, he hadn't expected that to work. He wouldn't have blamed the man for a second if he had chosen to leave him behind. Although, the walk home would've been very difficult, given he had no idea where he was. He didn't think to ask him what exactly it was that he had done to him, because already the man was almost out the door. As quick as he could, he threw the coat over his shoulders and tried to cover his bloody clothes as best as possible before trotting off after the man. 

"You haven't told me your name yet!" Beck shouted after him, and then realized that he hadn't said his either. "I'm Beckett-- just Beck though." 

The man stopped in the middle of the doorway, seemingly thinking about his actions again. Whether it was a mistake or not, he told him anyways. Glancing back at him, he extended his tail out to him, like he were offering a handshake. 

"My name is Mal."