Hellboy had had the worst night’s sleep that he could remember having ever, and he’d been around for a long time. He’d wandered through the city for a couple of hours after leaving the tunnels, thinking about what he’d seen. When he’d snuck into the BPRD for the remainder of the night, he’d been mildly surprised, and annoyed, to find that no one had missed him.

It was Liz all over again, when he’d wanted her to have a normal life without him, but worse somehow. He’d been hurt when she’d chosen Bellamy over living at the BPRD with him, but seeing John dance with that guy had cut right to the bone. He could see John having a good life with that guy. The cat-man, and he really needed to get the guy’s name next time, was right. Hellboy had an instinct for people’s good or bad natures, and the handsome jerk dancing with John had been a Choir boy, just like John himself, only with some rougher edges.

The problem was that Hellboy didn’t want them to have a life together, good or otherwise. John belonged at the BPRD, with him. Fighting evil, keeping Hellboy out of trouble, looking after the team, all of it. That was what John should be doing with his life, what John wanted to do with his life, the last Hellboy had checked. Of course, the big cat was right about something else, too; a fella couldn’t live on duty alone. And John had somehow decided that he was in love with Hellboy. Why, God only knew.

It doesn’t make any sense, Hellboy thought, tossing on his bed for the hundredth time. I mean, it’s easy to see why anyone would want the kid, even as much of a neat-freak as he is, but what the hell would he want with me? I still don’t get why Liz puts up with me, let alone says she loves me.

Even if, somehow, Hellboy could find his way to admitting that he wanted the kid, there was no way to make it work. Manning would stroke out, if he knew they were screwing around. And knowing Myers, he’d want to tell everyone because it would be dishonest to hide it. Not that Hellboy wouldn’t tell everyone about them. He didn’t care that they were two guys, even if the vaunted FBI did.

Hellboy countered silently, No, that’s not it. There’s that whole anti-discrimination thing going on now. They just don’t want partners getting involved. Which is the stupidest thing on the planet, since partners are already involved. What’s the difference if they get physical?

Turning again, he finally gave up trying to sleep and got dressed. Maybe there was something he could find to kill that would take his mind off of things for a while.

*  *  *  *

John spent the first week just relaxing and healing. People kept bringing him food and snacks, which made him wonder if maybe he’d lost more weight than he’d thought he had. He read a lot of books, had Hope almost permanently attached to his side, when she wasn’t doing lessons, and listened to Catherine read to the children every night. Joe showed up about every other night and, true to his word, didn’t try much of anything else. They had dinner with the rest of the family and whoever else was around and talked for a couple of hours before Joe left to go home.

As vacations went, it was perfect. The change in location was so surreal that he could pretend that his other life didn’t exist, at least for a few hours at a time. Everyone was so nice and kind to him, that he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was so used to having to prove himself, because of his age and slight stature, that the easy acceptance he’d found was difficult to believe. No one insulted him or made him jump through hoops. There was no paperwork and no violence. Life Below was everything that anyone could want.

So why do I feel like I shouldn’t be here? John thought as he wandered aimlessly through the tunnels. Aside from the obvious reason that, well, I shouldn’t be here.

John stopped suddenly as he took in his surroundings, hearing whispers and voices all around him. He faced a wall of arches and stood on a tiled floor in a massive cavern. “What on earth?”

“We call it The Whispering Gallery,” Vincent said from behind.

Turning, John smiled a greeting and replied, “I can see why. It’s amazing.”

Vincent joined him. “I can show you some of the wonders of the lower caverns, if you’re up to it?”

“Definitely,” John agreed eagerly.

There was a crystal cavern, a lake, ruins from some civilization that he didn’t even recognize, murals, and a host of other natural beauties that set John’s head spinning. By the time they returned to the upper levels, John honestly couldn’t remember what had been where and knew that he’d never find them again without help.

Sitting at the edge of a long drop, his legs dangling into nothing as he leaned against an iron rail and looked out, Vincent said, “You’re restless. You’ll be leaving us soon.”

“I see Hope’s not the only one who can read thoughts,” John observed, sitting beside him.

Vincent shook his head and explained, “Not thoughts, just emotions and that only with people I care about.”

Warmed that he was now included on that list, John smiled. “Thank you.”

“What will you do about Joe?”

John sighed, reluctantly turning his thoughts to the problem at hand, and asked, “I don’t suppose you have any suggestions?”

“What does your heart tell you?” Vincent countered.

“That I’m still in love with Hellboy.”

“So that is his name. It’s…appropriate.”

John chuckled, agreeing, “Very appropriate, trust me.”

“Can you be happy with him, knowing that he does not return your feelings?”

The serious question caused John’s smile to fade and he sighed again, resting his forehead against the cool metal bars. That really was the question of his life. John had idolized Hellboy during his childhood, held himself up to the supposedly-imaginary crime fighter’s standards throughout college and training at Quantico, and then fallen hard for the demon on meeting him in flesh and blood. Somehow, Hellboy had been with him his entire life and there just didn’t seem to be a future without him.

Finally giving Vincent a bittersweet smile, John admitted, “I don’t know if happiness really enters the equation, but I can’t imagine my life without him.”

“Then you know what you need to do,” Vincent replied, putting his arm across John’s shoulder.

John sighed. “Yeah. I’ll talk to Joe tonight when he comes for dinner.”

*  *  *  *

“Red, we need to talk.”

Hellboy nearly groaned when Liz said that, but nodded.

She walked over and hopped up on his bed, sitting cross-legged a couple feet away. One of the cats wandered over and meowed at her, and Liz scooped him up, petting him until he started purring. When he didn’t say anything, she sighed and told him, “I’m not angry with you, you know. I mean, I’m not all that happy at being a kind of pre-rebound thing, but I get it.”

Frowning, Hellboy repeated, “Pre-rebound?”

“Well, this thing with you and Myers,” she started. “It happened a long time after you started chasing me. From what Abe says, you noticed him right away, the second the two of you met, it was like positive meets negative and they latch together to form an atom.”

“You’re talkin’ science to me?”

Giving him an irritated look, Liz said, “What I’m trying to say is that if you and me hadn’t been, well, you and me, then you and John would’ve gotten together a lot sooner than now.”

“Liz, I love you, not…”

Liz had reached across and put her hand over his mouth, smiling sadly. “I know you love me, Red, and I love you, too, but we’re not good for each other, not really. We fight all the time, even when it’s not about Myers. You say the sky is blue and my instinct is to say it’s not. That doesn’t exactly lay the foundation for a good relationship, you know?”

“But we never used to fight,” Hellboy said, taking her hand away.

She snorted and pointed out, “We weren’t sleeping together before, either. I just…I think we make better friends, than lovers. And…I want you to be happy, Red, you deserve to be happy. I think that John will be a lot better for you than I am, so I’m breaking up with you.”

“But…”

“Nope. You don’t get a say in this. The girl always gets to break up with the boy, don’t you know that?”

The gentle teasing didn’t quite hide the hurt in her eyes, but before Hellboy could say anything, she’d set aside the cat and hopped off the bed, walking quickly from the room.

Hellboy scratched his head and muttered, “Great. Now what do I do?”

*  *  *  *

Life got back to normal pretty damn quick, despite Myers’ absence. There were a couple of missions where Hellboy could’ve used him as back-up, but hell would freeze over, or melt, depending on which hell it was, before he admitted it to anyone. It wasn’t until the third week of his leave that they ran into serious trouble. They were tracking a warlock, of all things, which made things even more difficult because the son of a bitch could blend in with the rest of the human population. Abe took the lead on it, simply because he could sense where the warlock was.

It was on the third ritualistic murder that they’d been called in; four young girls between the ages of fourteen and sixteen, virgins of course, from different walks of life and ethnicities. There was nothing to tie them together and the locals were stumped. When the third victim turned up in NJ instead of NY, it officially became a federal matter and was bumped over to the BPRD.

Not that they hadn’t been looking into it on their own since the second murder.

“Still no idea what he’s trying to do?” Hellboy asked, leaning against the wall while Abe ran his hands over everything in the blood-stained bedroom.

Abe didn’t even look at him. “If you’ve nothing useful to contribute…”

Snorting, Hellboy walked over to the window and looked outside. He gazed briefly at the high rises and their lights against the darkness before commenting, “You know, I bet Myers would have an idea of what was going on. The kid’s good for figuring out motives.”

“Myers is very good at ascertaining motive. He is not, however, psychic,” Abe reminded.

“Doesn’t seem to be doing you any good.”

At that, Abe did look at him and said, testy, “If you prefer to wait outside, that could be arranged.”

“Don’t go getting your water-lines in a twist,” Hellboy replied, holding up his hands. “I’m just saying that Myers should get recalled or something. We could use his help.”

“I’m glad that you said ‘we,’” Abe said pointedly.

Liz peeked in and asked, “How’s it going?”

“It’s not,” Hellboy answered. “Blue’s having some trouble locking this guy down.”

Throwing his webbed hands in the air, Abe exclaimed, “For the last time, I am not…”

Hellboy tried to move and discovered, like Abe’s frozen words, that he couldn’t. There was a strange fog in the room all of a sudden and a man walked out of the thickest part of it. He was blond and good-looking, if you didn’t count the completely black eyes.

“I always wondered if you were real,” the warlock said, walking up to Hellboy. “How amazing to find that you are. You wanted to know what I’m doing? All you had to do was ask. I’m building a portal between planes of existence. Unfortunately, the way has to be paved in the blood of the innocents and by following a very specific ritual.”

Watching as the man walked over to Abe, Hellboy wanted nothing more than to rip the man’s hands off for touching the amphib and looking at him like a specimen.

“How interesting,” the man continued. “And that would have to be Liz, wouldn’t it? Does she really set things on fire with just a thought?”

None of them could defend themselves, and they were the best of the lot. This was real magic. This was Rasputin level magic and Hellboy was abruptly grateful that Myers wasn’t anywhere near them to get hurt.

“Speaking of thoughts. That was a very strong one. I wonder what you were thinking about,” the warlock questioned, returning to Hellboy.

Ah crap! Hellboy thought, then purposely blanked his mind.

The black eyes stared at him and the warlock leaned in close. “You’re quite good, but I do believe that this is important.”

Hellboy thought about everything bad. Manning yelling at him. Clay getting shot. Having the crap beaten out of him by multiple demons. Manning in a Speedo. Abe’s rotten eggs. Liz breaking up with him.

“There we go, what was that last?” the warlock murmured, putting his hand over Hellboy’s heart.

Manning in a Speedo. Manning in a Speedo. Manning in a Speedo. Manning in a Speedo.

“John T. Myers. Very interesting. You hold him so close in your heart, for a demon with no soul. You love him so fiercely and deny it just the same. What an interesting contradiction. I doubt that he’s a virgin at his age, but he is pure of heart and that will do quite nicely for the last part of my spell. What shall you do, knowing that it was your love for him that put him in the path of pure evil? But don’t worry, I won’t kill him. He’ll merely be banished to an eternity of suffering in a hell dimension as payment to open the way between worlds.”

Hellboy struggled as hard as he could, but the magic binding him in place was too strong to break through with brute strength. It wasn’t until the warlock had vanished back into the fog and then disappeared that he could move again. He snarled at Abe, “Find a way to stop that freezing thing and tell me over the radio! I’m going for Myers!”

“Red! Wait!”

Hellboy ignored him, jumping through the window to land hard on the pavement three stories down, cracking it with his weight. He sprinted as fast as he could towards the nearest grate which led to the subway, which he could take to get to Myers.

*  *  *  *

“So many pure of heart down here,” the unknown voice continued, mocking. “But you would do anything to protect them, wouldn’t you, John T. Myers?”

Every muscle was locked, had been since the mist first appeared, so John couldn’t say yes or no, but he thought ‘yes!’ as hard as he could.

A warm, almost inviting chuckle filled the air. “I thought that would be your answer. You may move now, but be aware that I control their very hearts. Do you come with me willingly, John T. Myers?”

Stumbling forward once his body was released, John almost ran into a frozen Vincent. He saw the fury in those pale eyes and turned away from them to find the man behind the spell; a handsome, blond man who looked utterly unassuming, save for his black eyes. Glaring at the magician, John demanded, “Will you leave them alone? Not harm any of them in any way, or kill any of them?”

You had to be very specific when making a deal with evil, after all.

“If you come with me now of your own free will, then yes. No one who lives here will be harmed in any way, or killed.”

John shook his head. “No one down here, period, no matter where they reside.”

For the first time, the man showed something other than serene power; his lips twitched, perhaps with impatience. “Yes. Agreed.”

John looked back at Vincent and asked softly, “Tell Hellboy that I love him?” before walking over to the magician. The hand that gripped the back of his neck was ice cold and John shuddered in revulsion, but didn’t attempt to break free.

*  *  *  *

Vincent roared in fury the moment the spell lifted and he could move again. John and the intruder were nowhere to be seen and deep breaths only gave him the lingering scent from this hall, not from wherever they had gone. It was like they’d just vanished and, given the things Vincent had come across over the years, that wasn’t entirely impossible.

“Vincent!” Catherine shouted, coming into the hall at a dead run. “Vincent!?”

He caught her in his arms and held her fast, more relieved than words could say that she was safe. He kissed her, hard and fast, then breathed, “Thank God. The children?”

“They’re fine,” she assured him. “What happened?

“It was...an intruder. Somehow he cast a spell, immobilizing everyone. John went with him to save us all,” Vincent explained.

Holding fast to his hand, Catherine asked, “Do you know which way they went?”

He had to shake his head, the anger rising once more, and replied, “No. I  can’t sense or smell either of them.”

“But I can,” a familiar voice snapped.

That was when Vincent noticed the wild staccato of pipe tappings, warning of a wall being breached. Catherine gasped, her eyes widening as she moved closer to him, the sight of Hellboy stalking towards them frightening her. The others in the hall had similar reactions, jumping out of the creature’s way. Vincent’s arm went around her, reassuring. “It’s all right. This is John’s friend, Hellboy.”

“Didn’t catch your name the last time we met,” Hellboy said, stopping right in front of them.

“Vincent.”

“Well, Vincent, what say you and I go kill us a warlock before he brings these walls down around you and your people?”

Killing was something to be done only as a last resort, but Vincent had the feeling they were there already. John’s life, at the least, was in danger. Nodding, he agreed, “I’ll help, but I have no sense of them, I can’t track them.”

Hellboy held up a small device that glowed blue and gave a fearsome grin. “But I can. Come on, cat-man, let’s get us a warlock.”

“Vincent, be careful,” Catherine cautioned, knowing better than to tell him not to go.

Kissing her gently, he replied, “I will, my love.”

Hellboy looked impatient enough to start without him, so Vincent moved to join him quickly. “Where are we heading?”

“Down.”

Vincent nodded, almost expecting that, and gestured for the other to take the lead.

*  *  *  *

Of all the times he’d been kidnapped, and he could count four now with the original apocalypse, this was definitely the most hopeless. He didn’t have his locator on him. Hellboy and the others didn’t even know he was missing. Vincent couldn’t follow him and John wouldn’t want him to, anyhow. There was too much chance that the gentle man would be hurt or killed. He wouldn’t risk those children growing up without a father, or leaving Catherine a widow.

John struggled against the chains on his wrists and ankles, both sets coming out of the stone floor itself, but there was definitely no moving them. He couldn’t even wiggle out of them like the first time, they were much too tight. He wasn’t sure where he was, but it was still somewhere Below. So far Below, that he couldn’t hear the tapping on the pipes, though, which made it well outside Vincent’s home.

Thank God.

“Do you want to know why you’re here?” the magician asked.

John shrugged, resigned. “You’re not going to tell me anyhow.”

Unexpectedly, that got him a smile, though none could be seen in the black eyes. “Very true. Down to business then, shall we?”

“Sure. Why not?” John muttered, struggling against the chains again.

Kneeling beside him, the man pulled out a dagger and cut open John’s shirt, leaving his chest exposed. The blade cut into him, tracing a runic design into his skin, and he yelled in pain. It seemed to go on forever, three small characters carved neatly despite his struggles. There was more pain than there should be, and he knew without being told that something about the runes bestowed pain. It felt like his bones were on fire and he no longer had the energy to even cry out any more, tears leaking silently from his eyes.

Something flew through the air and he gasped in belated surprise as his captor went down in a tangle of limbs with someone. A lion’s roar told him exactly who it was, and then Vincent went flying through the air to slam against a wall.

As Vincent staggered to his feet, John gathered his remaining energy to shout, “Vincent, Vincent get out of here!”

Vincent’s expression was feral as he faced the magician, fangs bared, blue eyes registering nothing but violence as he again jumped for his prey. This time, he didn’t even make it there. With an upsweep wave of the hand, the kidnapper sent him flying into the ceiling and then crashing to the ground.

“No! Damn you!” the magician hissed, reaching for his own throat as he scanned the tunnel from which Vincent had come.

John nearly passed out in relief when Hellboy sauntered out, crumbled bits of something falling from his stone fist.

“Missing something?” Hellboy taunted. “That should keep the rest of us moving around on ya.”

The magician pulled a short sword from his cloak and twirled it expertly.

“Oh good. You want to fight,” Hellboy said, pulling out The Samaritan.

Sword against Gun wouldn’t have seemed much of a competition, except that the magician deflected each bullet with an inhumanly fast move of his blade.

Scowling, Hellboy lowered the gun and asked, “A little help here, Blue? He’s got some kind of super sword deflecting the bullets.”

“Sorry, HB, I don’t see anything about a sword,” Abe’s voice replied, ghosting faintly over the radio.

“Course not,” Hellboy muttered.

The magician laughed softly and said, “You’ll have to do more than fight me with modern weapons, Demon. They have no affect on me and I cannot be killed by them.”

John could only watch helplessly as Hellboy was put on the defensive, the sword blocked only by the stone arm time and again. It got past him a few times, cutting into flesh and sending Hellboy jumping back out of reach. But the man didn’t hold all the cards. Hellboy managed to grab hold of the sword more than once and slammed the hilt back into the man’s face, breaking the nose from the sound of it, possibly a cheekbone as well.

And then Vincent grabbed him from behind, immobilizing the man long enough for Hellboy to grab the sword and shove it into the magician’s heart.

“That old-fashioned enough for ya?” Hellboy spat.

Vincent took the man’s head between his large hands and snapped it violently to the side, the neck cracking echoed loudly through the small cavern.

Hellboy was already on his way to John by the time the body dropped to the ground. The demon crouched beside him with a worried look. “Hey, Squirt, let’s get you free.”

The pain was still present, though faded, and John felt like he was back at square one from the last beating he’d taken. Thankfully, the cuffs were no longer spelled shut and it took very little for them to get him free. Hellboy lifted him carefully, but John still groaned as the movement jostled his new wounds.

“John? Are you with us?” Vincent asked softly, blood matting the fur on his face.

Blinking slowly, John almost shook his head in the negative, but nodded at the last minute and whispered, “Always.”

And then blissful darkness took hold and washed away the pain.

*  *  *  *

Even for the people of Below, Abe and Hellboy caused a stir. There were no angry or scared mobs to deal with, but definitely fascinated and curious adults and children kept peeking into the room where John had been taken. Hellboy ignored the looks and whispers in favor of keeping an eye on a too-feverish Myers and glaring at Abe. When John began to shiver despite the blankets on him, Hellboy growled, “Would you hurry it up, Blue?”

Abe held up a webbed finger, not looking up from one of the massive books that Liz had brought down to search through. “I doubt you would want me to administer the wrong cure.”

“I just want you to administer one, already,” Hellboy snapped.

Liz rubbed his shoulder and said, “He’s doing the best he can, Red.”

Scowling, Red didn’t answer, instead looking back down at Myers’ blotchy, sweaty face. It was so different from the pale, cool one he was used to and made him really damn nervous. The kid’s temperature was climbing, he didn’t need a thermometer to know that, and it would be reaching dangerous levels fast.

“Hellboy?”

Myers’ faint call of his name surprised him; he hadn’t known the kid was even conscious. Hellboy sat carefully on the big bed and answered, “Yeah, Myers?”

“Stop yelling at Abe, he’s working as fast as he can,” Myers whispered, his eyes fluttering open.

There was way too much pain in the dark blue eyes looking back at him, but it was still Myers, essentially scolding him for being too impatient, so Hellboy grinned. “You know you’re not getting any more vacations after this, right?”

Myers smiled back at him tiredly and said, “Should’ve known you’d find a way to get back at me for cutting yours short.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Hellboy agreed, unable to stop himself from stroking John’s hair from his sweaty forehead. Such a strange sight, the big red fingers against the pale, pink skin. “You’re gonna be okay, Boy Scout. Abe’s gonna fix you up real good and then we’re going home. And then, you and me are gonna talk.”

A worried look entered John’s eyes and he asked, “Are you mad? I’m sorry, Red, I didn’t mean to let it slip out, didn’t want you to know.”

Stroking his finger down John’s cheek, Hellboy was all set to kiss him then and there to show him just how not mad he was, but Abe interrupted, “I wouldn’t do that, Red. Whatever’s in him will just go into you and then we’d really have a problem.”

“Do what?” John asked, confused.

Hellboy cleared his throat and avoided the question by asking one of his own. “So what’s in him and how do we kill it?”

Joining them, Abe answered, “We can’t kill it, as it’s not corporeal at this time. And it’s a Vrashalahg demon, which is a being that can cross between planes of existence. The three runes carved into John’s chest were the opening spell, a welcome, if you will.”

“So let’s uninvite the thing,” Hellboy ordered impatiently.

“Unfortunately, it’s not that simple,” Abe told him. “We actually need to complete the first part of the ritual so that the Vrashalahg becomes a physical being which you can then kill.”

Glaring at him, Hellboy snapped, “If it means cutting into Myers like he’s the Christmas turkey, forget it!”

John’s hand took his and he said, “It’s okay, Red. If that’s the only way to kill this thing, then we have to do it.”

“I’ve looked for any alternative, but cannot find one,” Abe stated quietly.

John shifted to be able to see Abe and offered him a weak smile. “I know, Abe, and it’s okay. Do what you need to do. Just, make sure Red can kill it when it gets free. There’s too many people around to risk. I won’t have any of them hurt.”

“Well the killing part’s easy at least. We’ll just need to use the sword that killed the warlock.”

“I’ll get it,” Vincent offered, leaving the room instantly.

Abe continued, “When the demon takes shape, and it’ll be big, pierce it through the heart and that will do it.”

Hellboy nodded and observed, “Sounds a little too easy.”

“Well, I did say that it was big. The book suggests that it can grow to approximately thirty feet in height. If you don’t kill it within minutes after it’s, well, born, then you can forget about killing it at all. It grows a natural armor. Once it’s completely formed, it will open a gate and take John back with it into a hell dimension.”

“So much for easy,” Hellboy muttered.

*  *  *  *

In order to keep John still enough for Abe to finish carving the runes into his chest, they had to tie him down. They brought him to a little-used part of the cavern systems, though not the one where he’d been before, and set up a make-shift frame that was sturdy enough to keep him in place. The tunnels were evacuated, just in case Hellboy wasn’t able to kill off the demon, and Vincent had been ordered out with the rest of them. It had only taken a short conversation with the words ‘widow,’ and ‘fatherless children,’ to convince him to leave the fight to professionals.

Liz stood beside Hellboy, ready to use her fire to distract the demon while Hellboy plunged the sword into its heart. Abe would drag John away just as soon as the Vrashalahg was gone from him. Assuming that everything went according to plan, which it never did, everything would be over in a matter of minutes.

He watched as Abe started cutting into Myers, knowing that it was inflicting more pain than just a regular knife would. It was one thing to get hurt in a fight, but to deliberately withstand someone cutting magic runes into flesh that sent fiery lashes of agony through the whole body…that took real guts. Hellboy’s admiration for the slight man grew exponentially as Myers bit down hard on the rough mouth guard of a piece of wood to keep from crying out. Vincent had offered it, explaining that the women used it sometimes for labor.

Hellboy hated irony.

Standing at the ready as John’s chest began to glow, Hellboy roared in fury when the kid’s flesh pulled apart, starting at the runes. Blood gushed from the holes that appeared, life fleeing from the too-fragile body. There was no way that Myers would be able to survive this, he knew that now, and that knowledge sliced through his heart as surely as any dagger. John’s face was a silent rictus of agony, but he wasn’t moving, held there both through the ropes around his limbs and whatever will he had left not to disturb Abe’s work.

The last one was finally done and there was an explosion that sent all of them flying through the air except for Myers, still tied down as he was. Hellboy dropped the sword when he crashed into the jagged stone wall and grunted as he hit the floor. Rolling to his feet, he swept up the blade and ran back to where a glow still encompassed Myers and a big, grayish, humanoid stood over the fallen agent.

When the creature turned, Hellboy stopped short on seeing Myer’s face on the thing’s body, only cast in a pasty mold, without any color or animation. It threw him only for a moment and then a rage took him, that some soulless creature would dare to take Myer’s features. In those few seconds, the being had grown about three feet, reminding Hellboy of Abe’s warning about the armor. Shouting his wrath, Hellboy closed the distance and ruthlessly cut into the demon’s chest, slicing right through where the heart would be.

There was another explosion, accompanied by a hair-raising howl of pain and denial as the creature dropped to its knees and then fell forward, dead.

Silence reigned, the only sound to mar it Hellboy’s harsh breathing and Liz’s quiet sobs. He dropped the sword, its clatter unnaturally loud, and closed the distance to where Myer lay, still as the stone upon which he rested. His body was in ruins, his chest a gaping hole, and his face evidence that his passing had been anything but peaceful. Unable to bear the sight, Hellboy fell to his knees and covered it with his hand, gently smoothing out the features before they could freeze like that in the rigor of a true death.

Fighting against the soul-numbing pain that threatened, Hellboy leaned forward and pressed his lips to John’s mouth, the way he’d wanted to before, a single tear escaping to fall on Myers’ cheek and then slide down the still face. Sitting back, Hellboy allowed Abe to rest his hand on his shoulder in a useless gesture of comfort.

“He’s not…I can’t get him back,” Hellboy said at last. “He’s really gone.”

“Liz had a body to return to,” Abe agreed softly, sorrowfully.

Sniffling as she joined them, Liz whispered, “Let’s take him home.”

Carefully closing up John’s shirt to hide the massive wound, Hellboy scooped up the too-light body and got to his feet, feeling every single one of his sixty-one years in a way he never had before.