Chapter Text
Abaddon had been captured before, many times in fact. He had been made a prisoner time and time again but never by someone who was so calm and collected. Never by someone who had purposely had Abaddon hunted and brought to him. Never by someone who knew what he was and knew how to deal with demons. People who had lived in this place before heard what Abaddon was, some believed it, some didn’t. Those who believed it or weren’t sure left rosaries around to deter Abaddon from getting close. He didn’t like the things but they didn’t keep him out like salt would. Those who didn’t called authorities on him or tried to take him in while using a heavy hand to deal with his ‘behavioral issues’.
People had captured him and kept him in prisons, asylums, left him chained in the attic, locked in the subbasement, and shipped away, but he already knew this was different. It was the charms the man wore on his body, the careful steps he took around Abaddon as he circled the demon, intense bright eyes scanning his helpless body.
Abaddon struggled against his bonds, straining every muscle he could and desperately searching for an exit. His hands were tied tight behind his back, legs bound together, and his mouth was filled with cloth preventing him from cursing at the man even though there was little he could do besides hurl threats and spit. This was it. The man was going to destroy him. It wouldn’t be an exorcism sending Abaddon back to hell, the way the man looked at him, he knew how to kill a demon just like the priest had.
This time there wasn’t a way out, Abaddon couldn’t play on this man’s sympathies like he could with the priest, this body meant nothing to the man. Whether he cared about vanquishing a demon or freeing a child, it didn’t make a difference, it would end in Abaddon’s death. He struggled hard, feeling his skin rub away at his wrists as he fought even though he knew he couldn’t get away. He couldn’t throw this man from a cliff and run, it was over and it was all Abaddon could do to keep anger on his expression and not give way to panic. He wouldn’t give this man the satisfaction of seeing him scared. Abaddon would hold his head high until the last moment.
Even though there were four men in total in the room, all looking at Abaddon, the man, Abaddon was sure he had heard someone call Philip, was the only one Abaddon could focus on even when he was out of sight. His footsteps were calm and measured, each one paced the same time apart and making the same amount of noise. His dark hair was combed neatly so it stayed in place and framed his strong features well, pale skin free of any blemishes of facial hair, his suit well tailored to his tall, strong body. If Abaddon had a second choice of a vessel, if he had known that he would be trapped in one body, he would have chosen a vessel like Philip. Of course the body would be far superior to the little boy’s, grown, strong, imposing, well kept, and worthy of a demon like Abaddon, but he would enjoy trapping this man’s soul in his own body. He already knew he hated this man and he wished to make Philip suffer. The only thought that gave Abaddon a semblance of comfort was that when Philip died, he would find himself in Hell. Maybe if word got to Hell of what Philip had done, at least Abaddon would be avenged, his brethren would take extra care in making this man suffer.
Eventually, Philip knelt in front of Abaddon and unceremoniously rolled him from his side onto his back, Abaddon’s hand trapped at an uncomfortable angle under him and he growled as best he could through the cloth. Abaddon wouldn’t allow this man to know how weak and scared he was.
“Is this the real thing?” Philip asked, running his hand over Abaddon’s body like he was checking the physique of an animal for sale, eyes scanning over him intently.
“Yes, feel free to test if you like. I have made poor choices in my life but scamming a man such as yourself about something like this won’t be one of them.” The man who captured Abaddon said calmly.
“They said you were a smart man, Dicky, I hope I can trust you for dealings in the future.” Philip said, pulling a vial out of his pocket, placing a drop on his finger, and ran it across Abaddon’s cheek.
“Thank you, Philip, I look forward to it.” Dicky replied, smiling slightly.
Abaddon flinched violently away from the touch but couldn’t get far as he felt his skin burn. Holy water, it was really nasty stuff. It was technically possible to kill a demon with it but it was incredibly inefficient. It would be hours of holding Abaddon under a tub of holy water as his body burned and healed until it finally couldn’t stay together any longer and the holy water reached his essence. Abaddon hoped that wasn’t how Philip chose to dispose of him, it would be hours of unending agony. If he died that way, Abaddon was sure it would kill the boy as holy water killed a demon by completely dissolving them, vessel and essence in one.
“Oh, yes, he’s perfect.” Philip said, holding Abaddon’s face in both of his hands. “You are going to be my prize.” Philip lifted Abaddon’s head off of the ground and pulled it towards his own face. Abaddon could smell the slight scent of expensive cologne and the proximity and he decided he hated it. “I am going to make you completely mine.
All Abaddon could do was glare at the man and wish he could at least spit at the man or try to bite him. Then, a sinking sense of horror began to sit in his stomach. This man had no intentions of freeing the boy Abaddon possessed or vanquishing a demon, he wanted to keep Abaddon as his own. He tried to push the worry from his mind. He had escaped captors before, even if Philip was more meticulous than anyone else Abaddon had encountered, he would escape no matter how long it took. Even if he needed to wait this out, he would escape. Philip was only mortal and he would grow old and die. No matter what, Abaddon would get out of this. He would have the final stand and this man would one day be nothing but an unpleasant memory that would eventually fade from Abaddon’s immortal mind. Philip would be nothing and Abaddon would stand victorious.
“You said he was bound to this body?” Philip asked Dicky even as he focused on turning Abaddon’s head in his hands, checking it from all angles like the man was inspecting an item for flaws.
“Yes. My best guess was that the bond was made with a cross brand made from blessed iron and heated in fire that was started with anointing oil, likely prayed over by a holy man as he was branded. The demon is immortal, his vessel will heal quickly and from any injury no matter how severe, but he doesn’t have any demonic magic in this state. He can perform black magic but so long as you keep him away from anything he can use his mostly harmless. He has slightly greater strength than a normal boy of his age, but nothing inhuman, and he has sharper teeth and a stronger jaw. Keep any part of your body you value away from his mouth. I’m sure he could bite through the bone of your finger if he got the right grip or at the very least break it.” Dicky explained every failing of Abaddon’s body like it was nothing, just facts about him.
Philip finally placed Abaddon’s head back on the ground and began to unbutton Abaddon’s shirt and all he could do was try to growl, struggle, and squirm without much success. When Philip got to the undershirt, he pulled out a knife and cut through the cloth, the knife digging into the skin in Abaddon’s lower abdomen.
“He’s trapped just like this?” Philip asked, resting a hand on the brand, pressing down hard when Abaddon tried to squirm away; it felt like the man’s hand was burning him as it rested on the raised scar tissue that trapped him on Earth in this pathetic body.
“Yes, I don’t know of any ways to remove a bonded demon from a vessel but I would suggest not experimenting with unknown spells on him.” Dicky responded.
“Oh, my pet, you are everything I could have asked for and more.” Philip smiled as he spoke, eyes meeting Abaddon’s with an intensity he had never seen in a human before, not even in the priest. Abaddon clearly remembered that even though the priest’s movements had been careful and calm, there was terror and pain in his eyes as he looked at Abaddon, at his son’s body, not this calloused glee.
“Do you have the implant?” Philip asked, turning to look at Dicky. “And you’re sure it works.”
“Yes. My reputation is my livelihood.” Dicky replied, pulling something out of his pocket and handing it to Philip, Abaddon couldn’t get a good look at it but he caught the silvery shine. “Remember, if he gets out he can still hurt you or escape even with this. It’s weak enough to allow him to continue to heal from any injury and he can still move, strong enough to keep him weak, slow healing, and even though mundane things can’t kill him, after extended use he may need food and rest to keep any amount of strength up but not nearly as much as a human.”
Abaddon didn’t understand what that was supposed to mean, he had only slept a few times since he was bound when his body had been completely torn apart or when he wanted to avoid everything for a few years. He didn’t need to eat, but it helped him keep his strength up. Whatever this was wouldn’t do anything to him.
“You, come here.” Philip barked at one of the men who stood on the side of the room before he flipped Abaddon onto his stomach. “Put this here like I showed you and sew him up.” Abaddon felt a finger press against his back.
As soon as the finger was removed, the back of his shirt was cut and a knife dug into his skin and he felt metal shoved into the wound where it sat uncomfortably against his spine in between his shoulder blades, he was thankful that at least it wasn’t iron. He struggled but could do nothing even as he felt the wound get stitched up. He was pathetic. He was completely helpless. He wanted to scream.
“How long until it takes full effect?” Philip asked.
“Hm, should be one week, but go for two just to be safe.” Dicky replied calmly, Abaddon hating the sounds of these men's voices more and more with every passing moment. “It will sap his strength slowly and he’ll find it much harder to even get to that baseline depending on how you keep him.”
“That should be perfect. I’ll show him off then. If you’re still in town you should come, I’m sure you’ll meet other interested individuals there.” Philip offered, the calmness of his tone getting to Abaddon more than anything like nothing was odd here.
“I would be honored. I am very appreciative of doing business with you.”
“You two!” Philip’s voice came again. “Take him to the attic. Make sure he is secure and finish the salt circle if you value your lives. Throw his shirt away.”
Abaddon was lifted off the ground and held in the arms of the man who had cut him and he tried to struggle but to no avail. They entered the attic, a place Abaddon was familiar with and had been kept before. He had escaped before, he would escape again.
To his dismay, Abaddon was not simply chained to the wall by his wrists but when his legs were untied he was brought to his knees, his calves forced into cuffs that were embedded directly into the wooden floor. Abaddon fought as hard as he could but the two men were stronger than him and closed the shackles around his legs. As soon as they pressed against his skin, even though his breeches, Abaddon could feel the familiar and painful burn of iron. The rope around his arms and the rags of his shirt were removed and the ropes were quickly replaced with iron shackles that burned his bare arms.
He wanted to scream, cry, beg, fight, do anything but he just kept his body still and his face hard, refusing to react to the pain even though he was sure an involuntary shudder passed through his body. Around him there was a thick line of salt and only a small portion was open and then men closed it, putting something down on the floor before adding salt to it. It was likely something to prevent the salt line from breaking due to air or pest disturbance. It was small, so small that Abaddon wondered what the point of the chains were. He wouldn’t even be able to sit cross legged in this space even if he were free to move. His only positions would be kneeling, sitting with his knees to his chest, or standing.
The two men looked at each other for a moment until one of them slowly reached his hand forward, grabbed a corner of the rag in Abaddon’s mouth and pulled it out quickly.
Abaddon ran his dry tongue over his teeth and flexed his jaw, the movement feeling good after spending hours gagged. He wanted to yell, to curse, to spit but he came up empty as terror began to settle in him about his situation. He couldn’t move. His arms were bound too tightly behind his back to even allow for an inch of movement in any direction, he couldn’t shuffle around with his legs shackled to the floor, and he couldn’t lean more than two inches forward before he would come in contact with the salt barrier. He didn’t know how he would get out of this.
The man who had taken the gag from Abaddon’s mouth slowly reached a hand forward towards him and Abaddon drew back as much as he could and growled at the man. Even though he wasn’t that intimidating, the man withdrew his hand. “I am sorry, little one.” The man said softly before the two of them left the attic and closed the door, leaving Abaddon in the dark.
Once he was alone. Abaddon felt his entire body start to tremble violently as the terror began to seep into every part of his body, sure that everything was about to get so much worse.