At Your Service

Chapter 32- Darkling

 Early the next morning, the nurses didn't know what to do when they saw Carlisle in his master's hospital room when they went to check on the witch's vitals. The patient had a hand resting on top of the butler's head, their fingers curled into his thick black hair as if they had been in the process of combing through it when they fell still in sleep. Carlisle's head and hands rested on Ansel's thigh. They both looked so peaceful that the two nurses decided not to question or disturb them, as they knew Ansel needed as much peaceful rest as was possible to receive.

Shortly after they woke up, Ansel exchanged his temporary prosthetics for the permanent version. They had the same look as before, but they were now better fitting to the shape of the ends of his legs and more comfortable. Ansel explained that they hadn't been able to see a physical therapist due to everything happening. Dr. Cleghorn, the doctor for their legs from right after their amputations, understood and was pleased to hear that things were going well with Dr. Filetti.

Afterwards, Dr. Hahn, Ansel's gynecologist, came to check on Ansel's incision before being taken for a bath. He took the blankets off of the witch and shifted their gown to the side, as it was left untied in the back, to see the bandaged incision, vertical and stretching from just below the navel to just above the pubic bone, where the sigil used to be. The surrounding skin was orange from the iodine and bruised. "Everything looks good." He smiled down at his patient. "The majority of the orange will come off when you get cleaned up." Ansel smiled back, excited. "After you get bathed, we'll change the bandage and see how the incision is doing, all right?"

"Sounds good," Ansel responded, eyes sparkling with anticipation. Carlisle grinned softly as he sat to the side in the chair to Ansel's left.

Dr. Hahn smiled. "There will be some bleeding and discharge for a little while; otherwise, are you excited about having no more periods?"

Ansel's eyes went wide and his expression went slack; the thought clearly hadn't occurred to him until that moment. "No more periods," he whispered, staring into space.

Carlisle grinned wide, eyes twinkling. "We can give all those pads to Marjorie... or something."

Ansel smiled serenely and looked at Carlisle. "No more periods," he murmured.

Carlisle affectionately ran a few fingers through their hair, still blood-stained in several spots. "I suppose the anesthesia still hasn't worn off entirely?" It was a question for Dr. Hahn.

"He was in surgery for far longer than anticipated, so we had to give him more anesthesia than normal... it's already bad enough that witches require more than humans... their minds and bodies are more resistant to human medicine. The amount we gave Ansel would possibly kill a human in the right circumstances."

Carlisle's eyes narrowed in distaste. "Fine, then."

That afternoon, Ansel was discharged from the hospital, allowing Carlisle to take his master home. It was a silent trip. Carlisle was alone in the front of the truck while Ansel laid across the backseat. The demon looked back at the witch in the rearview mirror. His black felt trench coat was lain across Ansel like a blanket. His head rested against the side door. His hair was tied back in a tiny braid, now clear of blood.

Carlisle's mind lingered on thoughts about the blood contract. Whenever he served, the possibility for an eternity of service that often came if he failed always seemed so daunting to him: one of the reasons he made sure he never failed. Though nothing in the Vandiver contract mentioned eternal servitude, especially under the condition that he fails but remains under contract, Carlisle felt as though he wouldn't mind eternity with his current master.

"Carlisle?" the witch suddenly croaked.

The demon was shocked, having thought Ansel had fallen asleep. He looked back in the mirror again; the witch's eyes were still closed. "Yes, master?"

"Did you have something to do with my incision?" Upon removing the tape to check on the incision after Ansel's bath, Dr. Hahn was astounded at the abnormally quick healing of the scar; it already appeared to be a couple weeks healed. He decided that Ansel's heightened power from their bloodline allowed an even speedier recovery; the same occurred with their legs. Ansel knew, however, that this was freaky fast. The swelling had gone down considerably, the bruising was gone, and the stitches had dissolved. Ansel opened their eyes when they heard the demon chuckle.

"Do you really think that I would've taken off the bandages, licked the incision to a satisfactory state of healing, then put on new bandages so meticulously that it appeared as though the original ones were still on and in such a gentle manner that you wouldn't feel it in your sleep?" Carlisle posed, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Surely, I am not capable of such precision."

Ansel turned their head to look at the demon in the front seat, wearing a tiny grin as they saw the sarcasm in his smirk. "Of course... how silly of me to ever think you could or would do such a thing," they mumbled, closing their eyes again.

Carlisle chuckled softly. "I love you, my darkling." His voice was a soft and adoring purr.

Ansel scowled, cracking one eye open. "Darkling?"
Carlisle smiled and chuckled again, this time with a little more volume. "My apologies. It's like 'darling,' but a gender neutral term of endearment that demons and reapers both use, both being creatures of darkness."

The witch smiled wide, his heart feeling warmer as it beat a little faster. It was comforting to know that those creatures, those like Carlisle, were not entirely without language of love. "I like that a lot, actually." He closed his eyes again.

"I'm glad to hear so," the butler contently sighed with a slow nod of his head as silence fell over them. Ansel opened his eyes every once in a while, so the demon knew he wasn't asleep. "I will put an ad in tomorrow's newspaper so potential clients know you're back in business."

Ansel nodded slowly. "Thank you."

Carlisle scowled when he heard the tremble in the witch's voice followed by a soft sniffle. He looked back to see Ansel wiping their eyes. His shoulders slumped, his expression and mood dropping into the floor, but he didn't know what to say. He knew the witch was in a considerable amount of pain, grieving for the loss of organs they may or may not have planned on keeping, frustrated about the angel continuing to take advantage of them, hurting their butler, and everything else happening in their life. He knew it was too much for them to handle, especially when everything before all of this was overwhelming enough. He knew nothing he could say would have a significant, positive impact on the witch's emotions or thoughts. He couldn't imagine what he would say if he tried to comfort them with words.

Ansel opened their eyes and stopped crying a little when they felt the truck make a U-turn. "Where are we going?" they whispered.

"I forgot: we have an errand to run before returning to the house, my Lord," Carlisle answered, a soft grin on his face and his russet eyes glimmering with excitement. He looked back to see Ansel nod and relax.