Chapter Text
With an empty feeling in his chest, Nathan trudged through the woods, leaves crackling underfoot, branches snapping back to scratch his face. He told himself a walk might clear his head. In hindsight, wandering aimlessly through the shadowed forest behind the hotel was hardly comforting, but he really just needs a change of scenery. Anything to keep him from thinking about how long it’d been since his family called. Anything to help him forget about his ex. Anything to distract him from the creeping sense that his life is going down the drain.
All he really had was the hotel. Half empty, haunted, barely scraping by. Even surrounded by restless spirits, he’s never felt more alone.
Lost in thought, Nathan barely noticed the ground dip until his foot slid on loose soil. He caught himself at the edge of a deep pit. At the bottom, a small boy sat calmly, tossing a small stone.
Nathan had heard rumors of a young boy from the many ghosts that inhabited the hotel. He'd only heard things in passing. Apparently said boy was a demon. When asking any of the ghosts about him, they'd said it'd been decades since they'd last seen him. Surely that wasn’t the case. Did ghosts even have a sense of time? For all he knew, a few decades could’ve just been a few days. Nathan imagined that time didn’t really matter much, if you were dead.
Was this him?
The boy’s skin was sickly pale, dark rings shadowing beneath his eyes. His clothes, torn and grimy, looked centuries out of place. At first, all Nathan could assume was the boy was yet another ghost. With clothing like that, it would make perfect sense. To die so young was a sad thought, and Nathan’s heart sank. If he had to guess, the child couldn’t have been more than eight.
“Hey, bud,” Nathan said, extending a hand into the pit. The boy glanced up, a faint smile on his face before melting back into an apathetic frown. Without a word, cold fingers clasped Nathan’s outstretched hand.
To Nathan’s surprise, the hand didn’t pass through him. It was solid. Relief crashed over him, but it brought a new wave of concern. If this boy wasn’t a ghost, then he was a real, living child. A child with a family, probably worried sick. A child who must have been terrified.
The child scrambled over the rim of the pit, loosening his grip on Nathan’s hands once his small feet were on stable ground. Nathan tried his best not to chuckle at his strange buckled shoes. Really, his whole outfit was ridiculous, but Nathan didn’t want to judge a lonely child that’s probably scared out of his mind.
The boy didn’t speak, instead he glared at the older man.
“I’m Nathan,” He spoke calmly, crouching down to meet his height. “Do you know where your parents are? They must be worried sick!”
“Nathan…” The boy echoed his name under his breath. “Nathan, you have freed me from an eternal prison. I am indebted to you.” the boy spoke, and Nathan flinched. That voice certainly didn’t fit the small, frail body of the young boy that stood before him. He was much too tiny to have hit puberty, Nathan noted.
“Eternal prison, huh?” Nathan asked, brushing the dirt from his palms onto his sweater. “You’ve got quite the imagination!”
The boy huffed, his brow furrowing.
“You’d be wise not to speak to Abaddon, High Prince of the Black Realm in such a condescending manner! I have tormented many-”
Nathan reached out and ruffled the boy’s hair, cutting the tangent short as he laughed at the boy's strange vocabulary. He regretted the physical contact almost immediately as grease and grime stuck to his hand. He wiped it on his sweater again. This kid definitely needed a bath.
So. Abaddon. A strange name for a strange boy. Biblical, maybe.
“Sooo,” Nathan said, drawing the word out, “how long were you stuck down there… Abaddon?”
“I began digging that hole about a decade ago,” the boy replied flatly. “It was meant as a trap for squirrels. But I… fell in.” The last words were barely audible, but Nathan caught them.
“Do you know where your parents are, bud?” Nathan asked, his brow furrowing in concern.
“Oh,” Abaddon said simply. “I do not have parents.”
Nathan blinked. “No parents?” Orphan, then. Poor kid. He’d call the sheriff in the morning. For now, he’d bring him back to the Undervale, get him fed, cleaned up. A haunted hotel wasn’t exactly ideal for a child, but it beat leaving him in the woods.
“Well, I'm going to take you back to the hotel for the night, okay? It's just over there!” He pointed, the hotel visible through all the trees. “I'll warn you now, though, there's lots of, uh, interesting characters there.”
“I know.” Is all Abaddon said.
“I mean. Ghosts.”
“I said I know.”
Something about the way he said it made Nathan’s skin prickle. Still, he offered his hand again. Strange kid or not, he couldn’t leave him out here.
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Back at the Undervale, Nathan ushered Abaddon inside.
“Alright, buddy,” he said, motioning toward the armchair. “Why don’t you sit and watch TV while I make something to eat? That armchair's quite comfy!”
Abaddon eyed the chair suspiciously. “I see a chair. But where are the arms?”
“Just… sit down. I’ll be right back.”
From the corner of his eye, Nathan saw him squat stiffly on the cushion like a nesting bird. Shaking his head, he retreated to the kitchen. His cupboards were depressingly bare: instant ramen, canned beans, and, thank God, pasta. Kids loved spaghetti, right? Well, Nathan was the exception.
Ten minutes later, he returned with steaming bowls. Only to find the chair empty.
“Abaddon?”
“Abaddon!” He called out.
No answer.
His heart began to race. What the hell was he thinking, leaving a child completely unattended in a place like this? It was easy to get lost in this hotel. Nathan had been here for a few months and was still discovering new passages and rooms he'd never seen before.
And so, Nathan began a wild goose chase around the huge hotel, trying to locate the young boy. He'd checked every room, every nook and cranny. He'd asked every ghost he came across if they'd seen the boy. Nothing. The more Nathan searched and failed to find anything, the more he began to worry. What if he got seriously hurt? What if he left the hotel and returned to the woods?
After an hour, there was still no sign of Abaddon. Nathan returned to the lobby, throwing himself into the same chair he'd last seen the boy. He buried his face into his hands. Nathan could barely take care of himself. He was so stupid to believe he had the ability to take care of someone so young and fragile.
“Innkeeper!”
Nathan nearly jumped out of his skin. Abaddon stood before him, smug as a cat. Relief flooded Nathan so fast he didn’t think as he pulled the boy into a hug.
“There you are!”
“What the- Unhand me, foolish mortal!” Abaddon squirmed like a wild animal. “You cannot kill me in this manner! Or any manner, for that fact!”
“Kill you? I was- Ow!” Nathan yelped as sharp teeth sank into his arm. The kid bit like a pit bull. He pried him off, rubbing the bite mark through his sweater. “That was a hug! A show of affection! You had me so-”
“Afraid?” Abaddon’s grin sharpened.
“—worried!”
Abaddon’s grin faltered
“I thought something really bad had happened to you!” Nathan reached to put a hand on the boy's shoulder, but he flinched and took a step back. “This place is huge. I didn't want you to get lost or stuck anywhere. Where were you that entire time?”
The boy climbed the back of the chair like a gargoyle, crouching with eerie balance. His eyes narrowed. “You don’t fear me?”
“Well…” Nathan started. Scared wasn't exactly the word he'd use. If anything, he found him weirdly cute, but he was sure Abaddon wouldn't appreciate hearing that. “I think you're a little odd, but-”
“Good enough.” Abaddon swung upside down, arms crossed. “This is the start of a worthwhile alliance.”
“…Sure, bud.”
Abaddon slid down again, standing stiffly. After a moment, he mumbled, “I want to try that ‘hug’ thing again.”
Nathan’s heart squeezed. He scooped the boy up and squeezed him tight.
“My people hugged so tightly our victim’s heads would explode,” Abaddon muttered against his shoulder. “It was always a fun method.”
Nathan froze. Then, very carefully, set him down.
“To show affection, we’d bring the severed heads of our loved ones’ enemies.”
Like cats with dead mice, Nathan thought faintly. Something was very wrong with this kid’s idea of family, but he decided to let it slide. Kids had wild imaginations.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s get you fed. Hope you like spaghetti.”
“Spaghetti,” Abaddon echoed thoughtfully. “I’ve never had it. For the last decade I have survived only on squirrels and birds.”
Nathan winced. Definitely a conversation for later.