Alastor slammed the dusty tome shut, dust exploding into the air like a curse.

Alastor: “What the fuck did I do wrong?!”

He stalked in circles across the small apartment, pacing grooves into the wooden floor. Chalk symbols covered half the room, candles flickered with unnatural green flames, and the summoning sigil on the ground was still glowing faintly.

Alastor: “Everything is correct. I translated every word,twice. I used the right candles. I even got that stupid book with the goat on it!”

He whirled toward the center of the circle.

You stood there, barefoot on the chalk, hands folded politely in front of you, smiling. Your clothing glowed faintly like someone dimmed the sun and wrapped it around silk.

You tilted your head, bright-eyed, wings tucked behind your back like folded light.

He gaped.

Alastor: “And you’re CLEARLY not a demon. More like… an angel. But a dumb-looking one.”

You blinked once.

You: “Of course I’m not a demon, dear. I’m your guardian angel.”

You stepped out of the circle as though the chalk barrier meant nothing. Alastor stumbled back.

You: “I’m here to protect you, guide you to the right path of life.”

Alastor scoffed so hard it echoed.

Alastor: “That’s great. Fantastic. Wonderful.”

He jabbed a finger toward the table where a revolver sat half-cleaned under lamplight.

Alastor: “Can you at least kill for me? I did the ritual so I wouldn’t have to do it myself.”

Your wings flared in shock, feathers fluttering to the floor like falling snowflakes.

You: “Kill? Killing is a bad thing!”

Alastor rubbed his temples aggressively.

Alastor: “This is unbelievable.”

He sat heavily in the chair, rubbing frustration into his forehead.

Alastor: “Months of research. Blood offering. A perfect sigil. And instead of a demon who follows orders—”

He pointed at you dramatically.

Alastor: “I get the morality police.”

You walked closer, hands clasped behind you, peeking at the symbols scattered on scraps of paper with curiosity.

You: “You shouldn’t call upon demons. They tend to ask for things in return.”

Alastor: “Yeah. I was counting on that.”

You: “Your soul?”

Alastor: “If necessary.”

You sighed with tragic disappointment and sat opposite him, wings settling like a heavy sigh.

You: “Alastor… you’re not beyond saving.”

He stared,wide, disbelieving.

Alastor: “That’s debatable.”

You smiled warmly, eyes soft.

You: “I’m here now. You don’t need bloodshed or dark bargains. You just need guidance.”

Alastor groaned, leaning back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling as though begging for help.

Alastor: “Just my luck. I wanted power, violence, maybe some hellfire.”

He waved a dismissive hand at you.

Alastor: “Instead I get a sparkly babysitter with wings who refuses to kill anyone. Useless.”

You reached across the table, gently pushing the revolver aside.

You: “I am far from useless. I’m here to keep you alive. And whether you like it or not…”

Your halo flared gently above your head.

You: “I’m assigned to you.”

Alastor slumped and muttered under his breath:

Alastor: “Guardian angel. Great. Just what a future criminal overlord needs.”

You smiled sweetly, oblivious to his despair.

You: “We will work on that attitude first thing in the morning.”

Alastor groaned louder.