Cross arrived at the goopy skeleton’s castle sooner than he would’ve liked; if not only just because Cross had wished to hold their hand for a little longer.

A small skeleton came barreling out of the castle to greet Nightmare. They were a bit taller than Cross, with a peculiarly circle-shaped soul that resembled a target hovering just over his sternum and sported black, tar-like, goop that dripped from his empty eyesockets that very much resembled the goop the goopy skeleton had seemingly endlessly dripping off of him.

“What’cha got there, Nightmare?” The skeleton asked in an innocent tone, although their razor-sharp smile gave away the true malice hidden in the question. “A sinner to play with? A sinner to eat?”

The goopy skeleton - Nightmare - sighed. “No, Killer. This isn’t a sinner. It seems Dream has sent a pure soul down here yet again, and now we have to deal with his mistake.”

Cross winced at the harsh words, slumping a little in on himself. He didn’t want to inconvenience anyone. Cross was also trying to ignore the fact that Killer had made it very clear that both of them could, and maybe would, eat him.

“Oh, Odd-soul, don’t worry, I’m not mad at you at all. I’m more mad at my brother than anything, he managed to screw up so badly that you have been in the soul-system for hundreds of years, and despite that, still ended up in the wrong place,” Nightmare reassured him, giving Cross a small smile.

“O-oh.”

“You need to learn a better reply than just ‘Oh’ to things, Odd-soul.”

Cross nodded, not trusting another ‘Oh’ to not slip past his teeth.

Killer squinted at Cross, as if trying to figure him out by staring right through him. Sadly, Cross was pretty sure that it was scientifically proven at some point that you could not just stare at a being and automatically know everything about them.

“How good are you in bed?” Killer suddenly blurted. Now everything was awkward again. Great.

“Um… I don’t know?” Cross responded, although it was more of a question to everyone listening than an answer. “I don’t think I’ve, uh, actually ever done anything like that with a partner.”

Killer smiled wickedly. “I could help you get a little ‘hands-on’ experience, or anything else you desire. Only for the cheap, cheap, price of your soul!”

“That… doesn’t sound that cheap?”

Killer laughed, “Good, it shouldn’t.”

“Oh.”

This earned Cross another laugh from Killer.

Weird thing about maybe eating Cross aside, Killer was nice.

Now, Cross had two hands to hold entering the castle.

Please don’t make him let go. Please let him stay. He promises to be good if you just keep holding on.

“Cross, is there something you would like to tell me?” Nightmare asked, seemingly out of the blue.

“No?”

“Ah, ok.”

And it was left at that.

Nightmare kept holding Cross’s hand, even as Killer let go to go look for ‘H’, ‘Dust-bunny’ and ‘Ruru’.

Nightmare held Cross’s hand for the rest of the night.

Nightmare held Cross’s hand until Cross could barely stay awake.

If Nightmare left a certain something with his magic and soothing intent around Cross’s neck, that was no one’s business but his and Cross’s.

~*~

It was somewhat jarring to live among demons that were thought to be such absolutely brutal murderers and see them doing such normal things.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Horror, or as Killer liked to call him, H, was almost always cooking or baking something in the kitchen. If he wasn’t he was either, out at work or practically swaddling someone in blankets. Cross thought Horror was pretty much the equivalent of a big, cuddly, teddy bear underneath that big, scary, exterior.

Speaking of blankets, or just cuddly things in general, Error, also known as Ruru, had made quite the hobby of knitting and sewing various soft things for the various inhabitants of the castle. Practically everything made of fabric in the castle, from hats to blankets, had Error involved in it’s making in some way. Cross, more often than not, would be caught snuggling into a pile of the various blankets and pillows made by Error, the loving intent in them helping him relax. It was still embarrassing whenever Error caught him snuggling into one thing or the other, even if Error didn’t mind at all.

Killer seemed to enjoy embarrassing everyone and anyone that inhabited the castle. Cross would even go so far as to say that that was the goopy-eyed skeleton’s one and only hobby if he hadn’t known better from the week he spent among the inhabitants of the castle. Killer also had the hobby of carving, and sometimes, Cross would find small wooden figurines of himself hidden among Killer’s various other carvings.

Dust was more closed off when it came to his hobbies. However, the large booms that came from Dust’s room at 1:00 in the morning weren’t subtle at all, and neither was Cross’s panic when said booms came from Dust’s room at 1:00 in the morning. Dust had made sure to apologize profusely to Cross, as well as let the frazzled skeleton stay the night in his room, just in case. The sheer amount of books and various beakers full of chemicals in the room gave both of Dust’s hobbies away, which ended up being reading and alchemy. It was actually rather fun to do alchemy with Dust, when it wasn’t 1:00 in the morning.

Like Dust, Nightmare loved reading. However, unlike Dust, Nightmare also loved writing. In fact, all things literary were things Nightmare seemed to absolutely love, whether it be a crossword or fanfiction from some obscure fandom. Sometimes, Nightmare would rope Cross into helping him solve a word search, or a crossword, and make a day out of it. It was honestly quite fun to help Nightmare with the puzzles, and they kept Cross thoroughly entertained until the end of the day as well.

To think that in his old life Cross would’ve thought that these demons tortured innocent souls for fun.

They would never do that.

Right?

Cross’s newfound friends just simply weren’t the type to do such things.

~*~

Cross sat on the floor of his closet, struggling to get the almost uncomfortably warm air in and out of his nonexistant lungs.

There had been screaming. Horrible, blood-curdling, screams. Screams that begged for mercy. Screams that told someone, or something, to stay away.

It had been a truly horrible thing to wake up to.

And Cross, Ever-So-Stupid Cross, had thought someone was having a nightmare. Dust had told him that he got particularly nasty and vivid nightmares from time to time.

So, Cross had followed the sound of the sounds of those horrible screams, hoping to calm the one screaming.

He arrived just in time to see Nightmare turning a person inside-out, their organs splattering on the dining table and blood spraying absolutly everywhere. Nightmare simply smiled maniacally as the warm, red, iron-smelling, liquid was splashed on his face and dripped down his torso.

He didn’t stop there either.

Nightmare ripped every last limb from the corpse, and when all that was left was the body and the head, Nightmare took a bite out of the skull with a sickening crunch.

Brain stuck to the corner of Nightmare’s mouth, and blood dribbled down his chin. He looked absolutely blissed out in the middle of this horrific scene, as if… as if…

Nightmare was a demon.

How could Cross forgotten what demons did the most?

Demons hurt people.

And Nightmare was the king of demons, of suffering.

Bile rose in Cross’s pseudo throat, and fighting to keep it down did nothing.

Cross threw up.

And then, Cross ran.

Even after Nightmare called after him.

Away from a concerned Killer.

Away.

Now, Cross was trapped in a building with demons, cornered in a closet.

Tears streamed down Cross’s cheeks, how could he have been so foolish? So trusting?

These… things wanted to murder him, that was all.

Angels above, Killer had made it so clear on his first day here that they didn’t see people as people, but things.

Three taps on the closet door startled Cross out of his thoughts.

They had found him.

Were they going to kill him?

“Cross..?” Horror’s hesitant voice filtered through the door. “Can I… come in?”

Cross somehow managed to do something more stupid than trust the king of demons.

Cross whimpered.

A sob quickly followed that whimper.

The tears just wouldn’t stop.

Horror slowly opened the sliding door, peering into the closet with that gigantic eyelight of his.

“Oh… Crossy…”

“Don’t call me that!” Cross snapped. “I’m not your Crossy, especially if you… you do that to people!”

“They… They’re not people… Cross.”

“Then what are they?”

“Sinners.”

“They’re still people!”

“You’d hate them… just as much as we do… if you knew what they did.”

“Then what do they do?”

“...”

“What do they do that makes them deserve… that!?”

“They hurt… people that can’t fight back. They… violate people they consider… weaker than… them. They kill the innocent and feel no remorse. They… might get away with that in the… living world… but down here… no sins go unpunished.”

Cross’s breath stuttered, his eyelights shrinking into pinpricks as Horror’s voice got unbelievably cold. So cold that Cross shivered in the corner of the previously hot, stuffy, closet.

“Down here… they burn.”

Horror moved to sit by Cross, pulling the smaller skeleton into his lap and rocking him back and forth in a soothing motion.

“Down here… we’re gonna make sure that… pure souls… like you never have to hurt because of things like them."