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Alastor's POV, present tense

It all happens very fast.

One second, I am explaining to the group of frivolous demons my motive behind sending (Y/N) to heaven.

A second later, a human figure appears right in front of me, popping out of thin air. They are surrounded by a shimmering cloud of what appears to be glass.

The glass rains down around them, providing a strangely mystical effect that is only strengthened by their flashy, white attire. It's quite beautiful, actually—that is, until they fall flat on their face, quite ungracefully.

All four of us stare at them, transfixed with curiosity. I can see now that it's a female, and...

And...

She has (H/C) hair.

Just like...

Angel Dust scoffs. "Who the fuck is this bitch?"

Second person POV, past tense

Shattering.

Just like your life. Just like your heart. Just like your soul.

As the wall broke away, you were thrown against the ground with the overwhelming momentum of your last punch to the glass. You fell on your chest and arms, unable to hold your hands out in time to break your fall.

There was a sharp sting on your nose, then a hard thrumming in your head. For a moment, you just lied there, awkwardly covered in and surrounded by glass, acknowledging the throbs in your head as if each one was just another second of your life ticking away.

Then there was a voice—one that you recognized all too well. "Who the fuck is this bitch?"

You rolled over onto your back, blinking hard to vanish the pain raking through your skull.

Above head, looming like a great sea of blood, was a red sky.

Relief ran down your spine, calming every muscle in your body.

Your relaxation was short-lived. You quickly remembered what was happening around you—Alastor had just admitted to pretending to be Lilith pretending to be himself, Mary was trying to prove a point and make you stay in heaven, and your body was aching.

Despite the last part of your thought process being true as the sky was red, you bolted to your feet. You were facing Charlie, Vaggie and Angel, who all looked stunned, like they had just seen a ghost. Charlie looked quite pretty; her hair was weightless atop her head—

No. Stay focused.

You whirled around.

Alastor's POV, present tense

Regret. Is that what I feel? I'm not sure, because I've never felt it before.

One of my eyes is half-lidded, damaged from the glass dug into it from my monocle—an act that none other than (Y/N) herself had done—so I see her in a sort of blurry, faded lens. Despite that, the weight of her emotion is clearer than my vision has ever been.

She shoots the most hateful, pain-filled glare I think I have ever seen in my life, which is really saying something, because I've seen some hateful, pain-filled glares in my day.

But this look isn't like any of the others. It's real, so real that I can feel it in my chest, squeezing at my heart in an effort to make it burst.

I know the pain that she's feeling, because I'm the who caused it.

Second person POV, past tense

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