Marcus spent the entire flight from Terrence's house wondering why Stella would need Mila to die. Any way he thought of it, it still never made sense. It seemed as if the small human needed Mila around more than anything else. As he descended towards Mila's apartment, he briefly considered he could just get the answer out of her, but he'd overheard the fight with her brother and was aptly aware the fight only started because of his presence in a place Mila told him to stay out of. Mila was on the end of an angry scolding that she didn't deserve and for that reason, he stuffed his curiosity away and resolved not to bother her about more things tonight.

They landed in Mila's apartment with a soft thud and Marcus found himself missing the contact when Mila separated from him and made her way to the kitchen, mumbling a quiet 'thanks for the ride' as she pulled out a glass and filled it with water.

Marcus stood there awkwardly while she downed the water and filled it again. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and cursed himself for being terrible at apologies. "Your brother yelled a lot."

"Yeah, I know, I was there," she said, sending him a dirty look. "And I thought you weren't."

"I only came in when I heard yelling," Marcus defended.

"Is yelling an invitation for you nosing into people's lives in hell?"

"No," Marcus muttered, darting his eyes away. The truth was, when he heard the yelling, a strange protectiveness came over him. It was clear there was some rift between Mila and her brother and he didn't know enough about the brother to trust him. When the yelling started, the protectiveness took over and he found himself in the house, watching carefully to make sure Terrence kept his distance. "I'm... I'm sorry."

"What?" Mila asked, setting her glass down and crossing her arms.

"I'm sorry," Marcus repeated. "The fight wouldn't have started if it weren't for me."

"Yeah, no kidding. That's why I told you to stay out of the house," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"Yes, I... I see that now," he said, raising his eyes to hers. "I'm sorry, Mila."

Mila sighed, her expression softening as her arms fell to her side. She picked up her glass again and leaned over the counter as she sipped on the water. "Apology accepted, just don't do it again. Anything to do with my baby sister is... It's tense and tender and delicate," she said, staring at the wall and sipping her water. "So just don't do it again and we're fine."

"Just like that?" Marcus frowned. Considering how feisty she was with everything, he expected the anger to last much longer.

"Look man, I've got too much going on in my life to put energy into being mad at you," she said, giving him a side-glance. "So as long as you promise not to do it again, we're cool."

"I won't," Marcus mumbled quietly, surprised at her answer.

"Then we're cool."

Marcus nodded slowly, unsure what to say.

"We're cool about that at least," Mila added. "Still pissed you won't strangle me but whatever."

Marcus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. He watched Mila standing there and wondered if any living being had ever confounded him as much as she did.

"You a popcorn person?" Mila asked, opening her cabinet and pulling out a box of microwavable popcorn. Marcus shrugged and nodded, still feeling unsure how to proceed as Mila opened the microwave and threw a bag in before closing it up and starting the microwave. "So how do you become a demon anyway? Seems like a pretty sweet deal," she said, leaning back against the counter. "You get cool horns, you get to disappear and freak people out, you get to torture assholes, you get to fly. It sounds like a great job, honestly, but is hell just really terrible?"

Marcus's brows drew together. He'd never considered it a good thing but she made it sound like it was. "There's several ways to become a demon and hell is... Not my favorite place but it's where my home is. The part I live in isn't bad, it's not as if I'm crawling through caves amongst all the screaming. Those are on a different level."

"If there are levels does that mean Dante's Inferno had it right?" Mila asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not exactly," Marcus said, shaking his head. "It was a decent guess but, no... It doesn't look like that. It's much more complex."

"Huh," Mila said, nodding slowly and bringing her hand to her necklace, running the pendant back and forth along the chain. "So there's different ways to become a demon," she said. Marcus nodded. "So not every soul that goes to hell becomes a demon?"

"No, they can't, the truly evil souls would be unmanageable as demons," Marcus explained. "The last thing evil souls need is power."

"Fair enough," Mila shrugged. "So then who decides who becomes a demon? Satan?"

"Lucifer decides some, yes," Marcus nodded. "But Lilith is more often part of the process and nothing happens without angel approval."

"I see. So how'd you become a demon?"

"Not something I disclose," Marcus said, narrowing his eyes.

"Aw, come on," Mila whined, turning to open the microwave and pulling out the popcorn.

"Not happening, Mila."

Mila huffed and carried the popcorn with her over to the couch. She plopped down and winced when stabbed with a loose coil but just sighed and adjusted before opening up the popcorn bag.

"Why does this not bother you?" Marcus asked, gesturing to the couch.

"You know, when you're around enough serious stuff, little shit like this just doesn't seem important," Mila shrugged.

"Right," Marcus said, crossing his arms. "Who trashed it anyway? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"The trying to get me to give you a different name thing is getting old," Mila said honestly, tossing a piece of popcorn in her mouth.

"I wasn't asking because of that, I'm honestly wondering what the hell happened in here."

"Are you allowed to use your home as a curse word?" Mila asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What happened, Mila?" Marcus said, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I got upset," she shrugged.

Marcus frowned, glancing around the apartment at all the broken things. His gaze eventually circled back to her and he was again, left unsure what to say. She had that affect on him a lot.

"You got upset?" He repeated.

"Yep."

"So... You trashed your own apartment."

"Yep," Mila said, swallowing back popcorn and reaching in her bag for more. "Don't you ever get angry enough you just need to break shit? Sometimes I just need to break shit. In this case... I was a little reckless but you know, assuming you eventually learn how to be a demon and kill me, I don't have to worry about getting my security deposit back because I'll be dead," she shrugged. "I didn't anticipate still living at all or I would've just broken shit in the alley or something."

"But that day your brother came over, he seemed pretty sure that someone would've come in and trashed your place," Marcus pointed out. "Why would he think that?"

"'Cause the illegal shit I do. He's always worried I'm going to get hurt which is silly because I haven't gotten hurt, but, whatever," she said, rolling her eyes. "Big brothers are overprotective, what can you do?"

Marcus nodded slowly but his frown deepened. "Your relationship with your brother is confusing."

"Ha," Mila scoffed, digging into her bag for more popcorn. "Tell me about it."

"I can't because I don't know what the fuck is going on with you two," Marcus said. "Did something happen?"

"I like how I can't ask you personal stuff like how you became a demon but you can just go into my brother's house without asking, eavesdrop on conversations like a creep, and then still think I owe you more explanations."

Marcus frowned. She had a point. He did still feel badly for the two of them in getting a fight because of him. Eventually he sighed and shrugged. "I'll make you a deal."

"If I tell you what happened with my brother, you'll kill me?" She asked, perking up.

"No," Marcus said, narrowing his eyes. "I meant more like exchange of information in our pasts. I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he said, a smirk tugging on his lips.

Mila smiled up at him and shrugged. "You've seen mine, devil-boy," she said, winking. "Your turn."

Marcus could do nothing to stop the smile and it only made Mila's bigger. "Fine, I'll go first."

Mila gestured for him to sit and he sighed, sinking down on the couch. "The short story is that I exchanged my soul for a miracle."

"Wait, you can do that?" Mila asked, her eyes going wide.

"No," Marcus said quickly, not liking how excited she looked. The truth was, she could sacrifice her soul but he wasn't sure he wanted her to know that given she was already set on dying. Her soul showed too much purity to be reduced to becoming a demon. His soul deserved it but hers didn't. "Not anymore. It's something that happened frequently centuries ago but the angels put an end to it."

"Damn," Mila frowned in disappointment. "Wait... You were human once?"

"A very long time ago," Marcus nodded.

"How long ago?"

"I'm four hundred and twenty-seven."

"That's not too bad," Mila shrugged. "So you have to live in hell because you wanted a miracle? That seems... Backwards."

"No, I would've been in hell anyway," Marcus said, clasping his hands together. "It wasn't anything I didn't deserve. I deserve worse than what I got."

"Were you that bad?"

"I was a monster," Marcus admitted. "The exchange I made was a last attempt to do something good in a world I'd only done evil in."

"You gotta know these elusive answers are only making me more curious," Mila said, raising an eyebrow.

Marcus sighed and adjusted on the couch, keeping his eyes ahead because looking at her while he said it would be too hard. "I killed people. A lot of people. I was part of a war. My father was a leader in the battles and I followed in his footsteps, a successful general that was responsible for more deaths than I even know. A lot of..." Marcus paused, swallowing hard. "Innocent deaths. My soul was damned long before I exchanged my soul, I just decided to try to at least do one good thing before I started that journey."

His answer surprised Mila and she sat there silently. Eventually, she looked over at him, frowning slightly. "So... What? You had a change of heart all the sudden? Did something happen?"

"I suppose... In a twisted way, I grew up believing that the people we were killing were beneath us in some way," Marcus admitted. "That they were an evil that needed to eradicated. It's what my father believed and it was what I believed for a long time. It wasn't until a young boy was caught in the crossfire that I started to realize how awful it all was, but it was too late to start challenging or asking questions. I'd already dug myself into a bloody hole I deserved to stay in. So instead, I made a deal. I would spend eternity in hell paying for my sins as I should, and torturing evil shits as bad as me, and in return, the battle my father was planning would fail and he would die with his venomous ideology, and the people we were hurting would be victorious and free. I was allowed to live for seven years after to help rebuild what I destroyed and after that, the demon I sold my soul to came to claim it."

"Damn, so you stopped a battle and got your father killed all at once? And then tried to rebuild?" Mila asked. Marcus nodded. "That's some heavy shit, dude."

"And here you thought I was bad at being a demon," Marcus said.

"Oh, you are," Mila said with a decisive nod. "But let me ask you this... Did anyone other than your father ever teach you anything?"

"No." Marcus shook his head. "It was always only him and I."

"So... He kind of conditioned you to believe what he wanted you to," she said. "Was that something you really stood a chance of getting past until you were old enough to decide on your own?"

"I still hurt people," Marcus frowned.

"I know, and it was wrong, I'm not saying it wasn't," Mila said. "I'm just saying... When did your dad start teaching you his shitty ways?"

"I can't remember a time it wasn't hammered in my head."

"And how old were you when you started realizing he was wrong? When did you sell your soul?"

"I was seventeen," Marcus answered. "Then I was taken at twenty-four and the form I left the mortal world in is the form you see now."

"So... You were kind of manipulated," Mila pointed out.

"I killed people," Marcus argued. "Manipulation or not, I ended innocent lives for far too long."

"You're right, that's awful, I just wonder if things would have been different if you had a different father. Preferably not a psychotic bloodthirsty one. You were pretty young, dude. Seventeen is still young."

"I find it very odd you're trying to see a nice side of my being a murderer," Marcus said.

"There is no nice side to that, I just don't think it's as cut and dry as you make it sound like," she shrugged. "My dad taught me to ride a bike, your dad taught you to slice people in half. I feel like I might've ended up different if that's what my dad was teaching me. I'd be at least half as fucked up as you," she said with a teasing smile.

"I'm glad you're amused," Marcus said, narrowing his eyes. "Your turn."

Mila sighed and got up, making her way to the kitchen and tossing her empty popcorn bag in the trash. She grabbed two glasses and brought down a bottle of whiskey from the shelf above the stove before making her way back to the couch.

"I can't discuss this without drinking," Mila said, setting the glasses down on the damaged couch and pouring out a shot for both her and Marcus. She lifted hers in cheers and Marcus took his, knocking his glass against hers. "Cheers," she said, tipping her head back and taking the shot all at once. She made a face as it burned down her throat but shook it off and set the glass down. "The short story is, my brother and dad had me admitted to a psychiatric hospital against my will after I shared something private with Terry he had no right to go blabbing to our dad about. Haven't trusted my brother since. With me, at least. I know he loves Stella and takes good care of her but... I'll never trust him with me again."

Marcus raised his eyebrows and reached over, taking the bottle from Mila and pouring two more shots. "I'm going to need the long story."

She laughed and they clinked glasses again before taking the shots. Mila made another face and set the glass down. She tucked her feet under her legs and leaned against the back of the couch, fiddling with her necklace. Mila stayed silent a long while then eventually brought her eyes to Marcus, a timid smile on her face.

"I died when I was eight."