THE DEMON CHRONICLES

Disclaimer: I am absolutely not making profit off of this fanfic—any infringement is not intended and never will be.
Rating: PG-13 / T
Genre/s: Adventure, Action, Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Horror
Currently Listening To: "Undenied" by Portishead
Description: Beelzemon just wants to forget.

The Demon Chronicles
Session 12
.
Gluttony.

Splllsssshhhh

He was covered in gore.

His teeth were bloodstained.

His claws were bathed in red.

He was

Beelzemon...?

He was in a half-stupor between dramatically drunk and deliriously depressed, one arm pressed against the armpit of an Ogremon as the other began to tear the screaming Ogremon's appendage from its socket. Beelzemon lowly chuckled at the green digimon's cries, globs of red slathered around his lips. He'd taken a few bites out of Ogremon's side, ripping at his ribs, until the Ogremon was paralyzed by pain.

Beelzemon's prey could only moan and shriek. Beelzemon jerked his arm back, yanking Ogremon's arm halfway out its socket. Another agonized scream escaped its lips.

"Awww, this should teach ya to cheat me, ya freakin' fugly ingrate!" Beelzemon shouted in the Ogremon's ear. One more shout of pain, this time from the volume of his voice. Beelzemon chuckled and wavered as he tossed Ogremon into a wall. Everything was getting a bit hazy – he figured it must have been the alcohol. "Baaaaah. Friggin' A. Is that all the meat you're gonna let me have? I'm sooo hungry, Ogremon."

The champion-level digimon cried out in half-defiance half-pain, pinning himself against the wall in an attempt to make himself as small as possible. However, Beelzemon was one hell of a lot smaller than Ogremon in the first place, and even had smaller fangs! Even so, he was a lot stronger, and Ogremon could sense that overriding dark energy pulsating from the mega-level digimon. He hadn't dared truly fight him, though he supposed his fate would be the same either way.

He violently shook his head, fear flashing across his eyes, as Beelzemon threw his head back in roaring, mocking laughter.

"Is that all ya' got, ya' green pus—"

He was interrupted by a low, bubbly gurgle in the bottom of his stomach. Both Beelzemon and Ogremon briefly paused to blink and glance down, semi-awkwardly, before Beelzemon huffed and grunted. Tilting his head uncaringly to the side, Beelzemon wiped the blood off his lips ruggedly with his black leather sleeve, eyes narrowing into slits.

"Yggdrasil... I just... am... starving..." Beelzemon's stare deepened. Ogremon backed up further, his spine pressing against the cool, moist surface of the dark cave's wall. Perspiration drizzled from the top, drenching Beelzemon and Ogremon in its chilly grip. Yes, that was how Beelzemon had met his "dear friend" Ogremon, they'd both been traveling in the wild snowstorm outside and happened to try to find shelter in the same cave. The only bad part was that Beelzemon was never the best person to accompany when he was depressed, and even less so when he was both depressed and drunk. What lessened Ogremon's chances was that Beelzemon was also the Great Demon Lord of Gluttony (although Beelzemon hadn't realized it at the time). "I need more power, Ogremon... it seems I got all this power, you see? I can explode a fruckling full floundering UNIVERSE, Goddamit! But you know what I can't stop? Answer me, ya Etemon-wannabe! WHAT AM I POWERLESS ABOUT?!"

"Nothing!" Ogremon shouted in desperation.

CRNK

Five hand-sized chinks exploded from the wall behind Ogremon as Beelzemon simply flicked his wrist and destroyed them in seconds. Ogremon flinched, grabbing his head, body crippling into shivers and violent tremors that consumed his every waking muscle. Seeing Ogremon crumple into a fetus position in all his disgusting fear, Beelzemon couldn't help but let out a low, seething chuckle.

It was quiet at first.

Then it slowly swelled.

Grew.

Crescendoed into a snarling cacophony of roaring bellows that shook his whole chest and shoulders and body. The laughter ignited every flash of drunken mirth inside the demon's eyes, exploding in a swathe of fiery, melancholy joy. Somehow a pool of anger, and sadness, and absolute bliss, Beelzemon's laughter soon faded into jagged hiccups, half-sobs that never turned to tears, half-sniffles that never fully made it out of him.

As the noise shortened into decreased bursts of odd emotion, Ogremon peeked up at the Demon Lord, eyes wide, but he didn't move from his spot.

"I can't—" Beelzemon choked, laughed, cried. "I can't stop death. All this power. And they're still—still dead. Gone."

Ogremon glanced down to the chunk of his own flesh caught between Beelzemon's teeth. Beelzemon could tell that the digimon was trying to decide between using this moment to get away or to maybe try to make peace with his newfound bunkee (after all, if he tried to escape, he was dead either way – the snowstorm outside was enough to give any digimon like them hypothermia). In the end, he decided to stay exactly where he was. Beelzemon was glad for that. He was never fond of people trying to comfort him, he'd always lashed out at Renamon whenever she tried to, which was often, especially after the deaths of Ai and Mako.

It was Juri's death that led him in his drunkenness to that cave.

He knew he shouldn't have attacked Ogremon.

He didn't intend to kill him in the first place. Hell, he hadn't even meant to eat a part of him. It was just Beelzemon's natural instincts, to consume other digimon (or at least their data) in order to get stronger. After the deaths of the Tamers, he didn't know what else to do – he'd lost his purpose in life, now he was only here, alone, in this cave, staring his victim in the eye as he realized everything in his inner-world was fading.

Ai's love...

Mako's laughter...

Juri's smile...

Combine his misery and his feeling of loss with a few too many swigs of tequila and vodka, and he found himself barreling through a snowstorm to catch up with someone he thought looked like Takato, but was only his imagination. He was lost now. He was in pain now. He was a blur now. And Ogremon... Ogremon looked so good... so delicious... who would be there to tell him no? Beelzemon just wanted a taste.

He was hungry. Starved!

And Ogremon would be able to strengthen him just the slightest bit.

"What do ya think, Ogremon?" Beelzemon was back to deeply laughing. His eyes darkened. His body stiffened. His choked laughter came out in scraggly, hacking coughs of amusement. "Maybe if I absorb enough digimon... I can conquer Death... and get them back... Hahah... hahahah. What do ya say, buddy? Badda bing, badda boom... I swallow you... and then it's over! And we'll all walk away happy, except you. Hahahah."

.+.

Beelzemon woke up the next day with a screaming headache, covered in blood, pink-hued bones scattered around his frayed body. He bolted upright and immediately began coughing and hacking, realizing just what the hell happened last night.

His eyes bulged.

"I..." He grabbed his mouth, eyes slowly – carefully, tiredly – narrowing. "No. No, no, no. I promised to stop doing this. I promised them."

That was when he heard the voice.

(I can make you forget, Beelzemon...)

Beelzemon's gaze shot up, peering at the cave ceiling where he swore he could hear the disembodied voice echo from. His bloodied teeth clenched into a hiss before he ruggedly growled, "Who the hell are you? Get the frick outta' here, I hate voices in my head. They usually mean ya've gone crazy, and I've had a bad enough night without that!"

(My name... is GranDracmon... and I can numb it all...)

Numb it all...?

Maybe there was still some alcohol left in his system or maybe he was just that depressed over the deaths of his friends and the regression into absorbing/eating other digimon, but Beelzemon found himself slightly intrigued. He never relied on other digimon for power, it usually always came with a price – he quickly learned that around seventy years ago as a young, naïve Impmon.

But he was having one hell of a hangover, and seeing as he really had no one left, he was beginning not to care much what happened to him. He just didn't want to feel that pain anymore. The last time something had hurt so much, it was when he realized he was so weak as an Impmon – and then again, when his hunger for power led to Juri's own pain that seeped much further and deeper than Impmon's had before. He'd caused wounds to rip open and bleed until only he and Takato could heal them.

Now all those who meant most to him were dead.

And he could feel it again.

The creeping, crawling hollowness.

The black hole in his chest.

The hunger for more power.

This time, power to destroy Death itself, and resurrect those who Death had stolen from him.

"I'm listening," Beelzemon grunted. "But make it snappy. I got people to do, things to see. Yadda, yadda, yadda..."

The "Voice" had its own variety of interest.

(You're a bloodthirsty demon, Beelzemon... that's why I've chosen you... and if I have to numb you to have you, then that is what I'll do. Are you sure there's no one you care to remember?)

Beelzemon realized it too late that he wanted to remember them all. But in his haste to forget his pain, to forget all the faces who'd perished in the past few years, he agreed. Anything to stop the hurt, to fill the hollows, to hide the holes, to satiate his hunger. Anything that could lead to finding his lost loved ones, though he didn't realize at the time that it was those loved ones he would forget about.

He also realized too late that, most of all, there was one face in particular he always wanted to remember. He thought her eyes – brilliantly blue, leaving a velvet print on any mind who stared in their depths too long – would vacate themselves forever in his memory, regardless of whatever he did or wherever he went. She stuck by him through everything he'd ever done, and was there for him even when he'd fallen into the darkest pits of pain. She'd loved him, despite all his flaws, and he had loved her, despite all her coldness. They considered each other frail in different ways, and strengthened each other in the ways they were weak.

However, her face, along with the faces of Juri, Ai, and Mako, all faded as well, and he was soon sucked into the pit of the Digital World once again in another dimension. Just as before, he was a pawn, who did not remember his past but had to fight to regain any sort of memory.

He should not have agreed to give up the pain.

Because through pain... one grows stronger than they thought they could ever grow.

Even Beelzemon.

.+.

It was many years later that Beelzemon would realize who Juri, Ai, Mako, and Renamon were. He wouldn't remember them, but he would realize, and it would be Sakuyamon who informed him, and Sakuyamon who he was most grateful for. There was a saying that goes, "Don't sleep with the enemy" – which, unfortunately, Sakuyamon would be, because she was part of a group known as the "Heavenly Ladies". The Heavenly Ladies were an elite crew of powerful digimon under the thumb of the Royal Knights, designed to take on and affect each member of the Demon Lords.

Members of the Heavenly Ladies included Sakuyamon, Lilithmon's daughter and Lucemon's old "friend" AngeWomon, Belphemon's ex-partner Babamon, Barbamon's dear crazy Simone Junior, and sometimes Yagami Hikari (when she wasn't busy being, you know, kidnapped by GranDracmon or Leviamon – or when she wasn't dead, depending on the universe). The Royal Knights tried to find a feminine connection to Demon, but when they considered how he looked behind the hood and how coldly he treated everyone around him (Beelzemon innerly snickered), they didn't find it surprising when there wasn't one.

The Heavenly Ladies had the goal of infiltrating and trying to either eliminate or convert the Demon Lords. However, despite their influence, none of the Demon Lords were willing to stop their goal of finding and destroying GranDracmon. The Royal Knights and Heavenly Ladies desired to destroy GranDracmon, as well, though they were not yet aware of just how much of a gravitational pull the vampire king had on the world, especially with those who had more than the usual amount of darkness in their hearts.

They were the easiest to manipulate.

However, Beelzemon just couldn't help but to "sleep with the enemy". It wasn't like Sakuyamon possessed the strength to kill him, and he got weak in the knees like a pathetic schoolboy every single time he saw her. The likelihood of them truly turning on each other was zilch.

So, as he lied beside her in their private suite, he watched her sleep silently. Her helmet was thrown across the room, boots and leather clothing and golden armor splayed in random spots like the bed corner or draped over a lampshade. They'd been like this for hours now, not moving from their spots, threatening to kill the other if they even tried to put one article of clothing back on.

His gaze flickered from the rose of her cheeks to the curve of her bare hip, where his hand rested. Her skin was warm to the touch. He placed his hand and gently raked it toward her midsection, the sleeping Sakuyamon groaned and groggily stretched. She blinked her big beautiful blue-iris black-sclera eyes at him. She smiled.

He somehow smiled back.

Then he remembered another saying. "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer". Well, that certainly fit, and he liked it, too. He just couldn't get enough of it; her smell, her taste, her voice or body or snarky personality. He liked it when she was close, especially really close. He somehow felt safer with her there. He was doubly sure it was the same for her, like they could accomplish anything if they worked together. Even so, they didn't dare show each other off to the opposite team.

"I should report back to headquarters," Sakuyamon mumbled, sitting up from the bed. She reached for a nearby boot, but instead Beelzemon clasped her wrist and swung her back onto the bed. She lightly chuckled and arched an eyebrow. "We have work to do."

"Work can wait another round."

"Again?"

"I've been waiting centuries for this, toots," he whispered in her ear. She lightly grinned and, while stiffening as she considered, she then loosened herself and allowed him to hold her tighter. Resting his chin against the top of her head, he mused the thought of how this all began.

He had no idea why the hell he'd accepted GranDracmon's request to forget his past, or even if he'd consented. He had no idea of the pain he'd felt when he agreed to feel numb. He didn't really want to know why. All he knew was that he wanted to remember those who meant the most to him, and he wanted to remember Sakuyamon before that fateful day in the woods.

Blood still stained his hands.

He had a lot to atone for.

But for now, that would have to wait.