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whump-tr0pes · 11 months

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Aqua Sancta

Lux in Tenebris masterlist here

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 of a (no longer little) arc of Dee having a fever

This comes about a month or so into the First Recovery arc.

Author’s note #1: Thank you so much to the kind reader who left a wonderful comment on this fic on AO3 and singlehandedly resurrected this arc after almost two years. People don’t realize how some kind words can inspire someone to write again even when the Juice(TM) isn’t flowing like it used to.

Author’s note #2: This chapter is heavily inspired by a piece written in response to this prompt. I was so sad to discover that the blog has since been deleted, taking with it one of the whump pieces that absolutely got me my start.

Content warning: sickfic, fever, delirium, demon whumpee, past torture, nonsexual nudity, misunderstanding whump, language whump, past religious abuse, religious themes, past burns, ‘it’ as a pronoun, past drowning, manhandling, begging for death

The demon was screaming. Ilya had never heard such a sound in their life. It was as if an animal was being torn apart, horrible broken wails piercing their skull and making their skin crawl. They forced themself not to slap their hands over their ears, forced themself instead to hold their hands out to the demon that was crouched against the bathroom door.

It – he – was naked, bathed in sickly sweat, his eyes wild and fixed on the bathtub filled with water. Gooseflesh rippled over his body as he huddled and twisted away from Ilya. His fangs were descended and bared, but he cowered away, fingernails scrabbling at the door. Dara stood at Ilya’s shoulder. She drew in a deep breath, let it out. The smell of ozone momentarily washed away the smell of sweat and fear in the bathroom.

“Dee, please,” Ilya breathed. “We aren’t going to hurt you. You just… you just need a bath, Dee. You’re sick. We just need to bring your fever down.”

Fevered eyes locked on Ilya’s.

“Non intellego,” Dee sobbed, voice strained and broken. “Non intellego, obsecro ignosce me, obsecro, numquam ego facito iterum, obsecro dice m-mihi quid feci iniuriam, numquam ego facito iterum—”

Ilya glanced at Dara. “What—”

“It’s begging again,” Dara said through her teeth.

Ilya took a hesitant step forward. “Dee, no—”

They were cut off by a heart-rending shriek. “NON. Non facio… Si vis recitare verba tui ordinis, ero… Est…? Pater noster, qui es in cœlis—”

“We don’t need you to recite the goddamn Pater Noster, demon,” Dara said through her teeth. “Is that what they…? Jesus Christ…”

“Wh-what?” Ilya breathed.

“—sanctificetur nomen tuum: Adveniat regnum tuum—”

“Stop,” Dara ordered. The demon’s recitation ceased, but it continued to whimper and sob with every shuddering exhale.

“What is it?” Ilya said, glancing between Dee and Dara. “What is that?”

“It’s the Lord’s Prayer,” Dara said darkly. “It’s part of the catechism. Normal shit for us, but… if demons are around when that stuff is said, it hurts them. And if he was forced to… recite it… Jesus fuck, is there nothing these motherfuckers didn’t do to him…”

“Obsecro,” Dee sobbed. “Miserere, angelus virtute, faciam quod vis, sed obsecro, ni aqua sancta, faciam QUID…”

“Shush,” Dara snapped. She rubbed her temple. “It’s probably almost as painful for him to recite the catechism as it was to be burned by the holy water.”

“Oh, no,” Ilya whispered. They pressed their hands to their mouth. “Dee…”

The demon looked at them blankly, eyes wild, chest heaving. “Obsecro,” he rasped. “Obsecro, virtute.”

Ilya took a shaking breath. “So what do we…?”

“I think we just… do it,” Dara said. Her jaw worked. “It’s not going to understand until it’s actually in the water. Not in its current state of mind.”

“H-his,” Ilya breathed, trembling. They blinked tears away and swallowed hard. “H-he said that they… m-made him drink it, too.”

Dara could have been made of stone beside him – a statue on one side of the room, a snarling creature on the other. An eternity seemed to pass before she shook herself and muttered, “I’m going to slaughter those motherfuckers someday.”

Ilya spared a glance at her. “But—”

“Let’s just handle this right now,” she said with a bite to her voice. “Let’s just… get them… him… feeling better. We need to get this fever down. It might be why he’s acting like this in the first place.” She adjusted her soft leather gloves. Ilya nodded took a step towards the demon.

His slitted pupils blew wide. He snarled and snapped at them.

Ilya gasped and fell a step back. Even though there was still a full step between them, there had been power in the bite.

“D-Dee,” Ilya breathed.

Dara huffed out a breath. “That’s enough,” she grumbled. She strode forward and seized the demon with her gloved hands.

The demon let out a scream that lanced Ilya down to their soul. They could do nothing but watch as Dara took Dee’s wrists in one hand and wrapped her other arm around his chest, holding him tightly against her so that he could not turn his head far enough to bite her. He twisted and writhed in her grip.

“NON,” he shrieked. “NON, OBSECRO!” He snapped uselessly at the air and kicked out at nothing.

“Dee, it’s… it’s okay,” Ilya said weakly, reaching out a hand to comfort him.

“No,” Dara snapped. “He’ll bite.” Ilya drew their hand back. Dara effortlessly carried Dee, screaming and writhing, to the bath.

“OBSECRO, OBSECRO, NECA ME, EGO MORTI DE MANIBUS LIBENTER, OBSECRO VIRTUTE, OBSECRO.” Ilya’s head was throbbing with Dee’s screams. Dara lowered Dee over the bath. He drew his legs up to his chest, suddenly trying to cling to her. He sobbed his heart out and tried to bury his face against her shoulder. She held him out away from her, avoiding his teeth.

“Dammit,” she breathed.

“Just do it,” Ilya said flatly. Their chest ached, but they forced themself to look at Dee. For a brief moment, he locked eyes with them over Dara’s shoulder.

“Ilya,” he croaked. “Help me.”

Ilya bit their lip and looked away. Dara held the demon out away from her and quickly lowered him into the lukewarm bath.

The demon convulsed with a scream when he hit the water. Bathwater spilled over the side and onto the tiles. Dara kept a firm grip on his wrists and on the back of his neck as he scrambled to escape the bath.

Ilya rushed forward and fell to their knees beside the tub, no longer caring about the risk of Dee’s fangs. Dee’s hands were balled into terrified fists in Dara’s grip, but Ilya covered his hands with their own.

“Dee,” they said urgently. “Dee, look at me. Feel the water. Is it burning you?”

Dee whimpered and found Ilya’s eyes, confused and frightened out of his mind. He shivered under Dara’s hands and froze. Ilya could tell that her grip on the back of his neck would leave bruises.

“Careful, Ilya,” Dara said through her teeth.

“I am being careful,” they said back, quelling their anxiety, the anger that flared when they saw how tightly Dara was still holding Dee even though he was no longer fighting her. They reached out a shaking hand and stroked it through Dee’s hair. It was soaked with sweat and splashed bathwater. “Dee,” they murmured. “It’s okay. We would never, never hurt you.”

Dee’s throat worked. He blinked, his chest still heaving. Slowly, slowly, he pushed his head against Ilya’s hand. The same rumbling sound Ilya had heard before filled the small room.

Dara blew out a breath. Dee turned away from it and blinked as if she had breathed cigarette smoke in his face in the close quarters. As slowly as Dee had moved towards Ilya, Dara released his wrists and neck. There were bruises where her fingers had been. Ilya swallowed hard and tried not to look.

All at once, Dee slumped against the side of the bath. Dara’s hand shot and seized his hair as if she was about to restrain him again. Ilya shot her a glare, and she returned the look. Ilya quailed and shifted their eyes away. Dara released Dee’s hair and stood.

“I’m staying in here,” she said firmly. “In case he… gets frightened again.”

“That’s fair,” Ilya said. They gave her a grudging nod. “I get it.”

“Eva is changing the sheets right now,” Dara said. “And after we get him back in bed, we can feed him. I think that will help a bit.”

“Yeah,” Ilya said distractedly as they drew their fingers through Dee’s tangled and sweaty hair.

“Ilya,” Dara said, and Ilya looked back up at her. Her brow was furrowed. “It… it is dangerous. You know that.”

“He,” Ilya said as they set their jaw. They looked back down at Dee. He was shivering violently, but he seemed so exhausted that he could barely hold onto the side of the tub.

“He,” Dara corrected. “Sorry. Old habits. But my point still stands.”

Ilya nodded. “I know,” they whispered, and the admission burned their tongue like guilt. “But he’s dangerous because he’s scared. And I…” Finally, they raised their gaze to Dara again. “If I can, if it’s… possible, for him, I want to show him he’s safe. And that he doesn’t have to be scared anymore.”

The demon under Ilya’s hands moaned softly and heaved a wracking cough.

Translation of the Latin lines here:

“I don’t understand,” Dee sobbed, voice strained and broken. “I don’t understand, please forgive me, please, I will never do it again, please tell m-me what I did wrong, I will never do it again—”

…

They were cut off by a heart-rending shriek. “NO. I don’t… If you want me to recite the words of your order, I will… Is that…? Our Father, who art in Heaven—”

…

“—hallowed by Thy Name: Thy Kingdom come—”

…

“Please,” Dee sobbed. “Have mercy, virtue, I’ll do whatever you want, but please, not the holy water, I’ll do ANYTHING…”

…

The demon looked at them blankly, eyes wild, chest heaving. “Please,” he rasped. “Please, virtue.”

…

“NO,” he shrieked. “NO, PLEASE!” He snapped uselessly at the air and kicked out at nothing.

…

“PLEASE, PLEASE, KILL ME, I’LL DIE AT YOUR HAND GLADLY, PLEASE VIRTUE, PLEASE.” Ilya’s head was throbbing with Dee’s screams. Dara lowered Dee over the bath. He drew his legs up to his chest, suddenly trying to cling to her. He sobbed his heart out and tried to bury his face against her shoulder. She held him out away from her, avoiding his teeth.

Continued here

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#lux in tenebris #whump #sickfic #fever #delirium #demon whumpee #past torture #nonsexual nudity #misunderstanding whump #whumpees misunderstanding the caretaker and thinking they're going to be tortured again is like... my thing #language whump #past religious abuse #religious themes #past burns #'it' as a pronoun #past drowning #manhandling #begging for death #bathtime for the demon boy

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