One month later

Silence.

Dazed again, it would seem. This time he found himself in Heaven, or at least the little he remembered of it. It had been months and Azazel hadn’t gotten used to the eerie feeling of this place.

He walked along faded marble, slowly on an endless passageway.

"Is anyone there?" He asked, knowing perfectly no one would reply back. It's always been him and the feeling of dread, unfathomable and noiseless going on and on…

Since explaining his situation to Raphael, the angel had been searching for ways to get rid of the curse but hadn’t found any fast solutions, so about a week ago he proposed experimenting with human methods to see if they would help temporarily.

Meditation, Breathing exercises, Full dark rooms with no sound, Warm baths, Music Therapy, Aromatherapy, Hell! Even hypnosis.

They didn’t.

White and cold, unlike a holiday filled winter and neither a harsh one in the solemn woods. Just a sterile bright white room, lacking any sort of life.

Azazel felt lightheaded and tired. How long had he been walking for? No matter, he needed to keep going less he got smitten. 

The contrast between his dark clothes and the pure celestial white… It was becoming estranged. He was acutely aware he shouldn't be here, he didn’t deserve to be here, a demon should never be here, a failure, an outcast, the filth. Filth. He was filthy, dirty, tainted, unworthy and undeserving of anything. Nothing at all. He was the muck, the grime only good to step on. What good was he, he…

You don't deserve him.

The demon gasped as he sat up in a fright. 

"I'm here, I'm here" Raphael was by his side, massaging his arm trying to ground him "We're in my apartment, breath." 

Azazel inhaled and exhaled until it evened out as he started to calm down.

"I suppose this was another failed attempt…"

Raphael said sadly with a forced smile.

"And the last." Azazel’s tone left no room to negotiate. 

"Of course, love.”

Raphael rested his husband's head on his shoulder and, with a hand on his hair, held him.