As if this were a totally normal housecall, Raziel rang the doorbell.

On the other hand, Cyrus's fight-or-flight instincts were kicking in. The day had dragged on and the only place he wanted to be was a bed, preferably at least a few miles away from Tuesday's aunt. And what was the point of trying this anyhow? It seemed like a longshot.

Before Cyrus could think of a way to convince Raziel they should turn back, the door opened. In less than a second, the bright expectant expression on the woman's face morphed into shock, and then anger. "You're not welcome here," she said, pointing a finger at Cyrus like it could double as a knife. Turning to the demon beside him, her expression only grew more agitated.

"Oh, Jesus," she whispered.

"Not even close," Raziel said, no hint of concern on his own face. He nudged the door open and in her shock, she let him past. Cyrus had no choice but to follow him inside, although he tried to shoot her his most apologetic look. "Truly sorry to barge in like this, but we've got a cosmic level problem on our hands here and I think you're just the person we need to help--" he cut off with raised eyebrows.

She gave Raziel a malice-filled glare, and Cyrus noticed her hand twitching down into the pocket of her apron. He tensed, fearing the worst, but this only caused Raziel to laugh.

"Aw, c'mon, doll. That's a myth, salt isn't going to hurt me--why don't you save yourself some dignity and just humor me here?"

"My soul cannot be tainted without my permission," she retorted, crossing her arms, "and I refuse to consort with the likes of you."

Raziel clucked his tongue. "You're really only dragging this out. I'm not leaving until we have a proper discussion." Hearing Cyrus's concern of what she might do in retaliation, Raziel half-turned his head towards him and added, "Nah kid, she may be a witch but it doesn't make her any less human."

"That's derogatory," the woman hissed.

"Maybe if we were on a first name basis this could be a whole lot friendlier."

Looking between the two of her uninvited visitors, she exhaled sharply. "Alright, my name is Mary--but don't bother telling me yours. I don't need or want to know." She wrung her hands together, and Cyrus had a feeling if she had her way, they'd be around his neck. "What is it exactly you think I can do?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be quite agreeable to it--you seem to have a similar aversion to his, ah, 'bad karma'."

"Gods help me," she whispered bitterly. This only earned yet another laugh from Raziel, and Mary looked back to him sharply. "Your beliefs do not cancel my own."

Raziel simply folded his own arms across his chest, awaiting an answer. Cyrus stood off to the side, still fighting the urge to bolt; it was like being in the middle of a stand-off between lions.

"Would you rather this little rascal continue being his dark and twisted self?" Raziel murmured, all humor leaving his tone. "I know you've noticed that niece of yours isn't totally normal either, and believe it or not I'm trying to keep her from going down a similar path."

The mention of Tuesday brought an even harsher bite to Mary's tone. "I don't want him anywhere near my home or niece."

"She makes him more human, and besides, you can't keep them separated for long." Raziel's voice dropped, lacking any emotion as if he were commenting on the weather or something else equally trivial. "This kind of thing...it always comes back."

That seemed to crack a bit of Mary's resolve and she wavered, unspeaking for a moment before her expression hardened again. "So, what I'm hearing is, Tuesday helps him--but what is he doing for her?"

Raziel's response came quickly and calmly. "Oh, darkens her up just enough to deal with that pesky little conscience that would otherwise eat her alive." He paused, letting that sink in. "Look. You're not the only thing that can sense his darkness--except those other things are starving for it."

That was the final nail in the coffin. Mary sighed, dropping her defensive position and glancing back to Cyrus for just a moment. Shuddering, she looked back to Raziel. "This won't work if he doesn't want it to."

"He does," Raziel responded firmly.

"As much as I'd love to take your word for it, I want to hear it from him. I'm not wasting my time on a lost cause."

All eyes fell on Cyrus. The memory of winning Delilah over came back then, so out of place in his new reality that it temporarily took away his ability to speak or even breathe. That was Old Him. This new one--he didn't know what to do, what to say.

"Give him a minute," Raziel faux-whispered behind one hand. "He chokes up sometimes, I think it's a medical thing."

Cyrus averted his eyes, trying to calm himself. Deep breath in--Lord, that stung--deep breath out. Nothing particularly charming or heart-wrenching came to mind. He was left to beg. "I don't want to be like this anymore," he finally said, though each word fell heavy as lead from his mouth and made his throat ache. "Please help me."

Giving Cyrus one last suspicious stare, Mary held up one finger and pulled out her phone. After a quick, sharp demand that Tuesday come home, the call was over and her attention was once again set on Cyrus. "Sit down," she said, gesturing to one of the dining table chairs. Snapping her fingers at Raziel, she said to him, "I need to get my supplies, and you--you're coming with me. I am not leaving you alone."

With a warm chuckle, Raziel obliged, following her down the hallway and out of sight.

While they were gone, Cyrus drummed his fingers on the table and continued to work on steadying his breathing. He didn't know what had come over him. As he tried to make sense of it, two headlight beams swerved across the kitchen wall, shining through the kitchen window. Now another jolt of adrenaline rushed through him, for an entirely different reason--but still part of his fight-or-flight response. And another thing was rushing through his veins now, competing with the adrenaline--anticipation.

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The front door opened and Tuesday rounded the corner, eyes widening upon seeing Cyrus. He didn't stand to greet her, afraid his legs would give out beneath him.

"Um, wow, what are you doing here?"

But Cyrus was fresh out of people skills, and could not get himself to speak again. Tuesday came over to his side, cocking her head and looking him over. She placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"You okay?"

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, followed moments later by Raziel and Mary's re-entrance into the kitchen. At the sight of the demon, Tuesday shrank back a bit, hand dropping back to her side.

"Hello again," Raziel purred with a smirk, waving one hand.

"Oh, great, so she knows you too," Mary muttered, setting a bundle of sage tied together with white twine onto the table along with a tall, purple candle. "Interesting company you keep. That's not how I would have raised you."

"Well, you didn't," Tuesday responded, voice unexpectedly sharp. Cyrus tried to meet her eyes, but she refused to look at anyone--especially Mary, who was pinning her down with a death-stare.

After a long, tense silence, Raziel gave a low whistle. "Alright everyone, let's play nice, hmm?" Seemingly eager to change subjects, he continued, "So, I get what the sage is for, but what about the candle?"

"To get rid of his--odor," Mary muttered, lighting it. The room, almost immediately, began to fill with the scent of lavender. "Jesus, it's like the kid's been living on the streets."

No one knew quite what to say to that.

Mary instructed Cyrus to lay flat on the floor, and when she saw the blush spreading across his face, her lips turned down disapprovingly. "You need to have faith in this, and by default, me. Think you can do that?"

He quickly nodded.

Mary stooped down to join him, holding a lighter to one end of the sage bundle. She let the flame flicker for several seconds before blowing it out and dispersing a large cloud of pungent, faintly minty smoke. She directed Tuesday to open the kitchen window, who obeyed silently.

"Sage symbolizes new beginnings," Mary said, holding the stick above Cyrus's feet. She let it hover there for several seconds before making her way slowly up the rest of his body. "It has its fair share of cleansing properties--"

"And that's gonna fix his mojo?" Raziel interjected, the hint of uncertainty now entering his voice.

Mary shot him a warning glare that implied if he kept talking, the hot bundle of herbs she was holding was going to end up someplace far less pleasant. "Not on its own. He has to do some of the heavy-lifting as well. I doubt this will last long..." she trailed off, returning to her work. "But it should help."

Looking down at Cyrus, Mary said, "I want you to envision all that negativity leaving your body--imagine yourself bathed in a bright, blue light--"

"Isn't it supposed to be white?" Raziel muttered.

Cyrus caught Tuesday's eye and they both smiled; Cyrus hurried to cover his own before Mary could see. He shut his eyes and tried to obey Mary's request. It was hard at first, to take it seriously, but then all the memories came flooding back--both his own and the ones the demon power had brought him. Blood, bodies, carnage, destruction, all the terrible things Cyrus had left in his wake...

"I said imagine it leaving you," Mary prompted. He could feel the heat coming from the smudge stick now above his chest.

He screwed his eyes shut tighter and focused, unsure at first how to do what she wanted--but then figured it probably wasn't far off from forgiving himself.

Could he do that?

Cyrus tried to think about his redeeming qualities. He had always made a point of only taking what was necessary--at least, until near the end when his emotions had gotten the better of him. The burning boy, the Second Advent woman's heart attack...those had been something totally different.

One kill for a demented elder's approval. One kill for, well, that one had nobler intentions, right?

It didn't matter, Cyrus reminded himself, it was said and done and now all he could do was try and be better. Not even dying would cleanse him of his sins. Living and atoning for them, well, he had a better shot there.

"Alright," Mary sighed. "How do you feel?"

Cyrus opened his eyes to see everyone staring at him, varying degrees of hope in their expressions. He unclenched his fists and took his time taking in and releasing one deep breath, focusing on how it felt leaving his body.

He had to admit, he felt pretty relaxed despite the circumstances, and he seemed to be alone in his head for the time being. Still, Cyrus was on edge, waiting for the moment the façade would crumble and reveal the chaos he knew was still lurking in him.

"One day at a time," Raziel sighed, turning to Mary. "Might not hold long, you're right about that, but it's a hell of a lot better--can you tell?"

She nodded, raking speculative eyes over Cyrus.

"Now, as for our more long term options...what do you know about exorcisms?"

Cyrus's eyes went to Raziel in utter shock, unable to decide if he was joking--he'd never heard of such a thing, but then again, what demon would tell him such a surefire way of destroying them?

Mary snorted, seemingly just as astounded by the concept. "Well, if you're referring to those things the Catholic Church performs, that's all very hush-hush and not likely to be too helpful in this scenario."

"Yes, I know," Raziel snapped. "Of course I didn't mean it in the typical sense of the word, you and I both know the absurdity behind those things--but can you find any information to, yaknow, fulfill a similar purpose?"

Not appearing convinced, Mary said, "I'll see what I can do." Turning once more to Cyrus, she said, "Try to come to terms with the fact that this may very well be something you'll just have to learn to live with."

He looked down, chewing on his lip until it bled.

"Alright, I think it's time you get out of my house," Mary sighed, rubbing her forehead.

As Raziel and Cyrus filed out, Tuesday caught the door before it could shut and slipped outside along with them. Shooting the house a quick glance, she said, "Cyrus? Can we talk for a sec?"

Raziel looked back at the two of them, lips quirking as he produced a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He walked a few paces away, turning his back as he lit up.

That was about as much privacy as they could hope for. Knowing this, Tuesday continued, "Soo, does this mean I'll be seeing more of you?"

Cyrus didn't want to acknowledge the probability that, yes, he would need to come back and repeat this little experiment. He gave a slight nod, fidgeting with his hands until he could think of something else to say.

"I've been thinking," he said slowly, "of what you said..." Remembering her words about friendship being a two-way street. "What can I do for you? What do you...need from me?"

After a moment of tense silence, Tuesday's lips split into a grin. "Oh, Cy. There's actually something coming up, it would mean a lot to me if you were there..." She trailed off, expression slipping into a brief frown. "It might be, y'know, weird, but...I turn eighteen in a week and I'm having some friends over to celebrate. Will you be here?"

His first reaction was shock—just now turning eighteen? According to Raziel's earlier comment, they'd been born close together, which meant Cyrus's assumption of his age had been a little off.

And then came his next thought. Friends--normal friends, likely, friends who didn't have the urge to tear her apart like a chew toy sometimes. Cyrus clenched his hands, hiding them in his pockets, but he couldn't bear to let her down.

Not again.

So he nodded and revelled in the smile that came back to life in response. Tuesday leapt forward, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his neck.

It seemed he hadn't lost his charm after all.

After a moment, they both seemed to realize how different this felt now. She stiffened and pulled away, smile sort of slipping. Nodding at Cyrus, she whispered, "See you then," before retreating back into the house.

"Lord, is it a mess in there," Raziel suddenly said, now facing Cyrus and staring pointedly at his forehead. "Counting my blessings I'll never have to experience what it's like to be a teenage boy."

"Shut up," Cyrus muttered, not loud enough for Raziel to hear, and followed him back to his apartment.