Demon and Angel Co-Parent

There was never a boy who lived in a situation like Jeremiah. Every kid since the dawn of time had been taken care of by another human at some point in their lives. Most were blessed enough to have at least one loving person in their life. Jeremiah was fortunate enough to have two guardians who loved him very much. What made his situation unique was they weren't humans at all. 

Natural enemies, angels and demons fight over the souls of the humans on earth, but none so much over one particular soul. Jeremiah. What was so special about him, few could say. To Anavon and Destern, he was their world. 

Their first mission was to protect him. What each other's master's had in store for the little boy was a mystery, but both were tasked with his survival regardless. Anavon took the mission seriously, but no one told her to protect his parents too. When the boy was a year old, a drunk driver struck the car. Destern had known about this event and was specifically told to take possession of the drunk man so Jeremiah's parents could live a long life and slowly corrupt the boy.

The problem was Destern got distracted by a housewife across the street who was flirting with the neighbor's pool boy. He gave that woman the extra push she needed to ruin her marriage, but forgot the more important task. Satan did not take too kindly to his failure, despite gaining two souls and a strong foothold in two more. To make amends, Destern was tasked with raising the boy. No better bad influence than the one who raises you for eighteen years. 

God was unsurprised by this and thus why he told Anavon to only protect the boy. Her task was to raise the boy alongside Destern. Continue to protect the boy and teach him right from wrong. It was a job she took with glee, growing fond of her little "child."

In the beginning, it was easy for Anavon to care for the boy. Destern rarely stopped by for more than an hour a day, far too busy cultivating a neighborhood he wanted to live in. He never saw the point in trying to influence a child who can't even speak, nor did he want to get attached to him. Over time though, that changed. Destern started to enjoy seeing the smiling little boy, even if that meant spending time in an angel's presence. It made him squirm at first, feeling all kinds of love and kindness radiating from her. After a while though, he became accustomed to it.

As the years went on and the boy could start speaking, Anavon's trials began. Destern would try to teach him naughty words and act in unbecoming ways. Anavon had to be sneaky and convince the demon that if Jeremiah acted like him from an early age, he could never live up to his potential. Jeremiah was the key to many souls, not just his own. Destern knew that and conceded, taking a more measured approach to deviance.

Soon enough, the boy had started going to school. Most parents would be relieved to not have to deal with their kid for a few hours, but work didn't stop for these two. Although not in physical form, they still hung around his school everyday. The problem became Jeremiah could see them, regardless of form they were in. It became a distraction that they both agreed had to stop. Instead, they did normal parent things, like shop for clothes, get food, take care of the house, and talk with the neighbors. For the most part, they stayed out of Jeremiah's life at school.

Both the angel and demon were satisfied with their jobs so far, each believing they were on the right track until something happened that angered both of them. Jeremiah came home one day crying with bruises all over his arms. He admitted to them he was being bullied at school by a bunch of older kids. Anavon held him on the couch, wrapping her wings around him for an extra layer of comfort. Destern, on the other hand, was pacing on the carpet, mumbling a furry of curses.

"It's okay, Jeremiah. I'm here for you," Anavon said in a soothing voice.

"My arms hurt."

Destern's rage flared at Jeremiah's omission of pain. He marched over to the two, determined to know more about his "son's" predicament. "Let me see your arms."

Jeremiah sheepishly revealed his arms out from Anavon's winged protection. His forearm bruises might as well have been sleeve tattoos, deep in color and all consuming. Destern roared and turned away, unable to look at him. 

"Tell me who did this," Destern said.

"Destern, No," Anavon said. She glared at him, but he was far too preoccupied with getting his coat in the closet. 

"Did you not see what they did to our boy? I will have their souls!"

Anavon turned Jeremiah to face her. "You don't have to tell us. All that matters is you are home. You go run upstairs and soak those arms in the tub. I'll be up soon."

Jeremiah nodded and jumped out of her embrace and scurried off to the bathroom upstairs. Destern was going to follow him, but Anavon outstretched her wing to block his path. 

"Get those feathers out of my face." Destern swatted at her.

"We need to talk."

"The only talking I need to do is with my son. There will be vengeance."

"Not by you. Not like this."

Destern crossed his arms. "How then?"

Anavon retracted her wing and motioned him to join her on the couch. He sat down reluctantly, but he knew he would get an answer if he complied. She was always good at awarding any concession he gave. 

"Why are you so mad about this? You're the one who wants to see our boy burn in hell."

"How are you not angry? Did you not see his arms? He could've been killed!"

"I never said I wasn't angry…" Anavon sighed, trying to stave off the urge to raise her voice. "...but I don't want our boy to see that the only response to violence is more violence,"

"Oh, so we are just supposed to turn the other cheek on this one? That's not how that works where I come from!"

"I know it isn't. But Jeremiah can do more good if he isn't in a jail cell by eighteen."

Destern hated hearing the word "good," but she was right. Jeremiah was far too valuable to be locked away in a jail cell. The boy brought far more joy in his life than he cared to admit. Dare he even say love. It was dangerous for him to feel and think in such ways, less his master found out. Destern had to squash this feeling and stood up from the couch.

"Fine, you win this one. I'm going to take all this pent up energy out on Steven instead."

"Why Steven? What did he do to you?"

Destern shrugged. "Nothing. That's why I hate that guy so much. He does absolutely nothing but sleep all day."

"He's in a coma," Anavon said, rolling her eyes.

"Not tonight he isn't. Tonight, he is Chad Bundy, Master of Pussy! I'm going to see how many venereal diseases I can get him in a night."

"You are so gross, you know that." Anavon got up from the couch and walked toward the stairs to check on Jeremiah.

"What? I could have been talking about cats. They have diseases too."

Anavon dismissively waved to him without turning around. Destern bit his lip, watching her naturally seductive hips and carefree wave. Something about her being unattainable made it wrong in the most right way for him. He shook his mind from the thought, knowing his lust would be satisfied tonight and maybe his vengeance too. Women of the night work in a dangerous profession, especially when a demon is on the prowl with no one to take out his rage on.

Destern went back into the closet and pulled out a raincoat. "Steven might be needing this."

His deeds would for sure be on the morning news the next day, but a small victory for hell was a far cry from victory in the ongoing war. Jeremiah was still alive, being cared for by his guardian angel. He was destined to guide more souls to salvation than would ever be lost by Destern's vile ways. All Anavon had to do was stay loyal to her master. The war would end one day and when it did, she wanted her family to be on the winning side. On the side of righteousness and good.

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