Scorching.

Pounding.

Scraping painfully down his throat.

Diego didn't have time to take a breath. His throat closed immediately as he fell to the table, mug slipping from his grasp and tumbling to the floor, shattering piercingly. His fists began to clench together involuntarily, tremors hitting him hard. His eyes widened in shock.

Maybe people were looking, he didn't know. He was trying his hardest to say something, anything. He didn't know if he was; he could only hear the mug crashing, breaking, smashing deafeningly in his ears though the sound had died long ago. It was all too soon being replaced by echoes he could never recall properly, only describe one aspect of.

They represented panic; pure terror.

His mind throbbed painfully, all thoughts scattering away as tiny daggers impaled it over and over. Shaking more violently, he tried to push himself upwards to no avail. Now he could hear the strangled noises coming from his mouth, noises that weren't human.

His body ached. His spine was twisting, or so it seemed.

What the hell was happening to him?

He felt something warm trickle down his chin.

Falling back, everything hit him full force. The noise, the agony, the tremors that couldn't be calmed. The pain of his knuckles scraping against the ground as he fell was forgotten in the fire that spread through the rest of him, charring his insides. He'd stumbled in his frantic attempt to run from it. Pathetic. He desperately wanted to breathe, to see, to escape. Why couldn't he breathe?

He was sprawled on the ground. The tremors stopped; the pain did not. He needed air.

Diego wasn't sure if he had seen anything at all prior, but everything around him began to dim regardless.

No, it couldn't fade. That meant it was over. It was far too soon.

His eyes swept the room urgently, searching for somebody through the chaos. He didn't know who he was looking for. What difference would it make to the darkness plaguing his body, slowly dragging him down to the fiery depths of Hell? But he needed to search, needed to find.

At last, through the heat, he saw her. Despite the physical pain, he felt something worse tear inside him, ripping everything apart. He could hear her laugh, her taunting, her sweet words mocking him for falling into her trap.

He'd known she was fake. She'd still defeated him. It sent an anger more powerful than any pain through him.

And as all his other senses slipped away, his brown eyes were left starting directly at the devil disguised as an angel, a small smile gracing her perfect lips, before they too gave out, no longer serving their purpose. In that instant, Diego Armando was gone.

But he would return.

Dahlia, necklace covered by her pale hands delicately as she sought for somebody who would accept it, never thought Hell to have an opening out.


A/N: Er... happy Diego Day, as some are calling it on tumblr? I wanted to join the many other people who were offering up some sort of tribute to him. That awkward moment when I realise I probably have more respect for characters than real life people when it comes to showing my sympathy. That's a new one.

Yeah. This day, the 27th of August 2012, was the day Diego Armando was sent to Hell, returning long after as Godot. The AA timeline is joined to our own. A moment of silence please.

I hope you enjoyed the piece.