Chapter Text
When Alastor was four, the old, off-brand afterlight in his bathroom finally burnt out. His father replaced it with the real deal. A genuine Afterlight® bulb. Guaranteed high fidelity views into the afterlife, or your money back.
He never regretted the investment. Like father like son, Alastor’s reaction was exactly the same as his. The first time he’d seen it—Heaven in all its splendor—his eyes had flown open in awe as a grin spread across his face. Relief then joy then relief again, but deeper the second time, more permanent. Every fiber of his being sighed in assurance that he was on the right path.
The chance to give that to his son was a blessing. Never mind the prudes who said it was dangerous, that seeing Hell at such a delicate age would corrupt a child’s heart. Maybe their children, but he knew his boy. His little angel. There was nowhere Alastor could possibly end up but Heaven, nothing else he’d possibly see.
But when Alastor looked into the mirror, there were no clouds or sunshine or winged angels, only a red-eyed demon who turned to him and smiled.
Ten was a compromise. Most families had afterlights at home, but ten was set as the age when they could be used officially.
Any younger and children wouldn’t understand. There was no controlling what they saw in their afterlives beyond the obvious of whether it was Heaven or Hell. The Heaven-bound had nothing to fear, but views into Hell could be violent, sexual, or just plain disturbing. Without proper guidance, the sight could send young, impressionable minds spiraling deeper into sin like a self-fulfilling prophecy.
It was for the hellions’ own good, or so everyone said. They all wanted nothing more than to save those poor children from themselves. It was a tragedy that such young souls were already close to Hell, and they would do anything to correct that wrong.
Behind closed doors they changed their tune. Never mind the sinners’ souls, what about their own sweet little angels’? It’d be too great a risk to let hellions go undiscovered and unsupervised, like bad apples just waiting to spoil the bunch. Better they be damned than left to run free. What if they stabbed someone or dealt drugs on the playground? What if they started talking about sex?
And of course it was always the other children. Their own were clearly Heaven-bound, products of good heritage and proper parenting. The tests even proved it!
Never mind that by the age of ten everyone knew, no matter what you saw when they took you in, you drew glowing people with halos and wings.
The test was administered in the school’s office. Alastor sat at a desk with paper and crayons, happily kicking his feet as he watched his reflection in the full-length mirror. Then the lights went out, the afterlight came on, his reflection vanished, and his demon looked at him and raised a brow. Alastor had caught him in the middle of a meal again, but his demon grinned and raised a bloodied finger to his lips.
Alastor smiled back and reached for the blue.
Only Alastor’s mother knew the truth, but that was fine. She was already his secret. She could know another. Better her than anyone else.
And someone else would have surely found out if not for her.
“Ma? How come you’re not looking back?” he’d asked her, and her hands fell still on her sketchpad.
“What do you mean?” she said.
Alastor pointed to the sketch. “Father took me to a gallery last month. All the afterlight drawings were looking away.”
Her brows furrowed in confusion. “They look away because they can’t see us, dear,” she said, only to see her confusion mirrored. The two stared at each other in silence until her expression went carefully calm. “Your pa’s been treating you good Al, right?”
“Mm-hm!” Alastor eagerly nodded his head.
“And you’re happy?”
He nodded again.
“And in the afterlight? Are you happy there?”
“All the time! I’m always smiling!”
Then she let out a deep sigh. “There’s people out there who say the Bible’s wrong. That Hell ain’t such a bad place. I don’t know. I’ve seen the pictures and some of ‘em . . .”
She trailed off, her eyes wandering to the ceiling then down to Alastor’s face, where a horrified realization was dawning. Her eyes went wide, her sketchpad flew from her lap, and her arms wrapped tight around her son.
“No, no, babe! It’s okay! Don’t worry! You can tell me anything. You’ll always be my angel, babe, no matter where you are.” She didn’t move until Alastor relaxed and hugged her back, and then she didn’t let go until she passed on a warning. “In Heaven there’s no worldly ties. God’s power is in everything, and there ain't no power but God’s. That’s why they can’t see us. But in the other place, well there’s all kinds of stories. All kinds of powers . . . You just make sure no matter where you end up, you’re happy and you’re safe, alright hon?”
“Alright,” he mumbled into her shoulder.
For a second she hugged him tight enough to hurt, then she let go, climbed off the couch, and shot him a grin. “Now how’s about we get dinner started?”
That evening they made his favorite jambalaya, and they never spoke of afterlight again.
The afterlight flicked on, and Alastor’s demon looked up from his cup of coffee and shot Alastor the usual toothy grin.
Perfect. It was time to be sure. Alastor kept careful eye contact as he raised one hand for a slow, deliberate wave.
And his demon’s smile stretched wide, wider than any human could manage, as if he’d been waiting all this time for Alastor to finally reach out to him. He turned in his chair, gave Alastor a short wave, then held a hand out in front of him.
The meaning was clear, even if Alastor did feel silly reaching out to grab nothing but air. His hand bobbed up and down once, twice, and his demon’s eyes squeezed shut in a soundless laugh. When they opened his smile was smaller, but full of pride and promises.
Oh, we are going to have so much fun together, it said.