Bound

Salt

"Ow! Fuck! What did you-" Bahzae looked at his meatsuit's shirtless chest. A binding symbol. One he couldn't break on his own, much to the demon's chagrin. He struggled in the searing, binding chains on his wrists.

Iron. Rusted with holy water, drenched in salt.

What the fuck kind of bullshit was this?

Bahzae snapped his head around for someone to screech at, and seeing nobody in the basement room made him seethe in rage. Upon closer inspection, well, as close as he could get, judging by the ritual-esque marks on the floor and the lovely...decorations...he determined he had been summoned to purposely become trapped. But why?

The room was searched with deep blue eyes that bled into true blackness with zero light reflection save for the bleak white pupils painted on, and found what was probably the strongest devil's trap there was painted directly below him in blood and drawn over and over in chalk. Chalk packed with salt. Bahzae could tell. He's seen it before. It was effectively an easy way to make salt lines and strengthen devil's traps. The fact that one must count every grain of salt to step over was made even more difficult thanks to the little game of 'is that a dirty salt grain or a bit of chalk' and if they got it wrong, they had to start all over. More fucking impossible than basic salt lines. People have even used it to keep Hellhounds away. This person really wanted him to stay, if the itchy, blistering binds weren't making it clear enough.

Footsteps. He heard footsteps.

Some old hag.

"You're awake. You belong to me now."

"Since when?"

"Since about an hour ago. You're a heavy sleeper. That needs to stop."

The hag was carrying a body over her shoulder to a chair...that had an angel trap under it. She pretty much chucked the body onto the chair like a worthless sack of potatoes, then tied it down. Turns out the body was alive, and started to wake up.

"Nnn...hunh...? Mom...?"

"Shut up."

"What are you doing...? Why are me and Dante tied up?"

"I'm pulling your guardian angel off his high horse. If he wants to protect this family he can serve it too. And that isn't your brother anymore."

Guardian angel? She must be on something. As dumb as those assholes are, there's no way one would come now, not even if she beckoned for them.

Wait, brother?

The hag started a summoning ritual. A ritual for an angel. A Seraphim, specifically. What the fuck.

And it actually came. It even used the meatsuit provided. Damn dumbass giant chickens-

"Why have you..."

The bright blue eyes of the Seraphim's meatsuit widened. They widened and kept widening as it slowly realized the predicament it was in. It saw Bahzae chained down, saw the blood, saw the fact that the hag used her sons as his and its meatsuits. It tried struggling. Tried leaving the meatsuit. Tried screaming. It was slapped when it tried that.

"W-why...?"

The bitch slapped it again. The Seraphim was crying now. Large, shiny, disgusting tears were falling from the meatsuit's eyes. It bowed its head down and started muttering something, but its stolen voice was too whiny and hiccup-y to understand. It was probably praying. Praying for its big magic man in the sky to save it. Yeah, it was definitely fucked.

"Sleep."

Bahzae blacked out, sitting across from the very creature he had been taught to loathe.