𝟐𝟎» ᴛʜᴇ sᴏɴɢ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴs ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ

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"I thought that I was dreamin' when you said you love me

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"I thought that I was dreamin' when you said you love me."

~Ivy//Frank Ocean

~Ivy//Frank Ocean

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Serena.

Serena.

The echo of my name slithered through the air like the hiss of a serpent. There was no sky overhead, rather a pitch-dark emptiness that stretched on forever. Not a silver of light either, except whatever little the dim, flickering coal oil lamps could provide.

The raw, unrelenting agony of the damned remained. They were screaming and all I could think about was the cold. That terrible, insufferable cold my pajamas were unequipped to keep out.

I'd been here once before. What had he brought me here again?

"Hello, Darling," Crowley's voice lacked its usual humor. Resting against the rooftop railing, he absentmindedly tapped his cigarette on an ornate flower motif.

The ash drifted away with the wind, settling at my feet. "I didn't know you smoked," I said, leaning beside him.

"I don't," he took a long drag of the rolled piece, then released it with a puff of smoke. "Thought I'd try it, see what all the fuss is about. Ineffective, really. I can still feel my head pounding,"

My eyes drifted to the collar of his white shirt. Red splatters were scattered on its expanse, their edges only beginning to dry. It was fresh blood; I chose not to question.

There were some rules to our mutually beneficial arrangement. I wouldn't try to get into his head. He wouldn't get into mine. This was the first time he had broken his word.

As if he knew what I was thinking — of course, he knew, you idiot — A smile cracked on his face. "You seem to know me well, little huntress. Now if you'd look at your 6 o'clock, you might get your answer."

I followed his line of sight.

Down below looked like what post-apocalyptic downtown Manhattan would look like. Only less crowded. Headless and gutted bodies ran through the long alleyway separating the buildings. And suddenly, it was hot. Like borderline, hellfire hot.

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