They had been together for who knows how long. It had been pure bliss, their love. Dallas had never been happier, and once they realized he wouldn’t be getting any older than 22 nor could he be killed they were ecstatic. Sure they had their fights, like any couple. But their love was pure, beautiful even, so they got through it. The lovely angel of death and his little incubus.
However, Dallas was a demon, and there is always a way to send them to the pit. Someone had found that way, a hunter, and once they found Dallas out for what he was they sent him there. The spell, an exorcism of sorts, dragged him screaming down to Hell in front of his Lover’s eyes. His last memory of Earth was Sam, of reaching out to the angel as the Earth swallowed him whole.
There he remained, his body and soul tortured, tormented for decades. At first he screamed, crying out to a God that hadn’t created him, to Sam, to anyone who could save him from being torn to shreds and mended just to be torn again, someone to get him away from the hallucinogenic mental torture and hellfire that burned eternally, someone to help him, save him, free him.
No one came, and he was silenced.
He languished there in agony for a century. When he returned to Earth it hadn’t changed much, at first glance. Still there was the same steaming pavement of a dark street in a city at night, the same sharp tang of arousal coming from everywhere, a scent mouthwatering to the starved incubus. One of the tortures was being allowed to smell, but not to touch. They had ways of keeping him alive. It seemed to Dallas that he was the one who had changed. He stood taller now, was more muscular. All but one of his old wounds had been healed, but blood stained the dirty and tattered clothes he wore, clothes that still smoldered in several places. His hair brushed his shoulders, stubble coated his lower face thickly, and his eyes, oh his eyes. They were so black it seemed that innocent blue would never be seen again.
Dallas followed the nearest scent trail, two thoughts in his mind. The first was food. The second was Sam. The incubus caught a sexually frustrated man, and Dallas seduced him, coaxing him easily into a dark alleyway, making him press his hands against the wall, taking him quickly. There was no touching, no kissing, no words even exchanged, just quick dirty sex. As the nameless man came down from his orgasm, letting Dallas feed, the incubus took out a knife he had stolen from Hell itself and yanked the man’s hair back, calmly slitting his throat and letting him fall to the ground, gurgling as he died.
“C’mon, Sam. Take this guy.” Dallas whispered, looking around for his angel as he buttoned his pants back up. His voice was gruff from years of screaming, hardly used anymore. “Come and find me.”