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*purrrrs* IT’S THE LAST PART OOOOOH YEAH!!! ^-^ *cha-cha’s ‘round the room in merriment* And then there are revisions… *sigh* but for everyone who’s concerned on it…this is the last part of AHDDITDOH…it’s been a hell of a ride ne? ~.^

© the charas besides mine aren’t mine…don’t sue me…there ^^;;;;

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
 

 Heero stood on the dunes, the wind pulling through his silken hair. His eyes were nowhere on the mortal plane but somewhere beyond, silently coming to terms with what he was going to have to do, with the many that he was about to kill. His compatriots stood around him, angels, the divine, the righteous, those who were held in God’s warm embrace. They had come to him just when he needed them, just like last time. Flashes of memory burned through his mind from the previous. Everyone was still getting organized and he was remembering tactics, a certain sword-strike, the correct way to move, how to dodge. It was all there at his disposal.

 Fusei stood at his side looking like a war goddess, a sword of her own held between her delicate hands. The look in her eyes suggested no gentle, angelic qualities; the look in her eyes said that she would pay blood with blood, cut for a cut and an eye for an eye. Now was not the time to be merciful, now was the time to win. From the looks on his people’s faces it was apparent to Heero that none of them wanted to loose. They were fighting for their very right for dominance. There would be no peace or attempts made at it. The time was not for speeches or inspirational words. Each of these beings had their own inner drive, now was the time to wait for those of the shadow realms to appear.

 High above the amassed forces of Heero a flight of doves and other white birds soared, their snow-white feathers catching the light and almost made them glow in the moonlight. They were waiting as well.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 Wufei twitched, his shoulders heaving as he tried to breathe normally. Sakura sat next to him, not sure if she wanted to tell him how to stop the pain of being clawed at. If she were to tell him that would mean that she was willing to sentence him to the fate that they –all- had to play out. She knew her desires were beyond selfish, but she didn’t care anymore. The ideals of the choir and heaven were no longer her own. She didn’t care if she was damned, she just wanted to save one Chinese man whom she loved more passionately than she loved her existence. Resting her hands on his shoulders she sighed, finally coming to the adult and rational decision that was her only recourse.

<Wufei…love…listen to me..>

 Wufei stared up at her, his onyx eyes glassy. “What d’you want onn-“ he couldn’t finish the word and instead ground his teeth together, a small hiss escaping his lips.

<It feels like there’s something clawing inside of you, doesn’t it?>

 He nodded slowly, agony washing over his face. He knew that there were things that he –needed- to be doing at the moment which didn’t include talking to his angel and the woman that he loved. There were things that he needed to become that he could not, simply because he didn’t have the knowledge to incite the change nor the strength to try and fail.

“Please..tell me how to stop this horrible feeling.”

 A solitary tear fell unnoticed to hide behind her ebony bangs.  She cupped his face between her hands and sighed. <Let yourself go, don’t clamp it down anymore. Let yourself become. Just let yourself go Wufei…let yourself go…>

 She felt his ridged control over himself slip and he started to change,  the human form he had been wearing distorting to become something long and reptilian that curled over the sands. She heard the words in her mind but she didn’t see his lips move.

“I love you Sakura.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

  Duo stood perkily atop a sand dune, watching the demons around him with mild disinterest.  A particular griffin caught his eye and he meandered over to it slowly.

“You’re the one who was after Quatre weren’t you?”

 His voice was highly amused the long blade he had been carrying since early that evening shining hungrily in the moonlight. The beast nodded, dipping on it’s legs paying the correct homage to the anti-Christ. He smirked.

“Well if you are that person then why, oh why my dear sweet, evil fuzzy thing, are you not doing your job?”

 Somewhere on a deep level the Griffin resented being called a ‘sweet evil fuzzy thing’ however its complaints were not necessary to voice. A single stroke from the blade in the man’s hand would send it straight into the darkest depths of hell where it would no longer be a resident, but a victim. It didn’t want that at all.

<With your leave m’lord, I will do just that. I’ve been aching for the time when I can sink my jaws into the living flesh of the Arabian mage. I’ve been lusting after this moment since the first battle.>

 Duo leaned against his sword, which was standing point-down in the sand. He furled his wings out a bit and looked disinterested.

“By all means go and kill the little fucker. I don’t care what you do as long as you don’t get in my way.”

 The Griffin bowed again and disappeared, a wisp of smoke in the moonlight. Duo laughed quietly.

<<So this is the day that it all ends? What a hell of a day. We had the first battle here and now the Arabian decides that again we will battle here and treat the thirsting sands to more blood. Or perhaps it is rather that the little one wishes to die at home. His motives are not my knowledge and I don’t wish to know them. The only thing that I yearn for right in this moment is to feel the weight of the angel as I push this blade into his innards and to hear the little rushing sigh that will pass his lips as he dies. That is all that I exist for now, outside factors need no more attention. >>

<Deep thoughts Duo-sama.>

 The demon turned to face Alex who stood outlined in the moonlight, her blonde hair straying over her face and into her infinitely deep purple eyes. He could almost swear that he saw a bit of the blood from the old days there, mixed in with the purple, creating an indescribable color. When he looked into her eyes he heard the delicious sounds of people screaming, their melodious pain radiating through his mind. When he felt her mind he felt sadness and betrayal, every dark emotion laid out in a cocktail so tantalizing as to be divine.

<And what business do you have in my thoughts little one?>

 She rested a hand on her hip, standing tall and unafraid of him, an elder demon by all respects, no longer forced to play the subordinate, or be submissive. Her personality changed as often as the human mind did, shifting, adapting, gaining and loosing, all a subtle game of balance.

<I venture wherever I please Duo-sama, Are you ready?>

 A smirk hovered about his lips. <I was always ready for this, from the minute that I realized I was dying in this age. I knew I was ready for this the night that I felt Heero writhing beneath me all those centuries ago, those dark eyes of his, windows to his soul. I’ve always been ready, I’ve been trained and molded to be ready. It’s all that I know.>

 Alex turned, the wind picking up again, the moonlight bathing her in its milky radiance. Her voice was still clear to him even though she was turned away from him.

<If that…is the only reason that you fight Duo-sama, if you are so willing to bend to the whims of divine forces themselves like a slave to its master, selflessly doing as asked, then I hope you die. I honestly do. Good luck Duo-sama.>

 She faded from him, a queer feeling of emptiness following her as she left. For some reason Duo couldn’t understand why the words struck him so hard. He was fighting for himself, he did want this…didn’t he? Had not this desire burned brightly in his heart for centuries silently moving him toward eternities, guiding him through lifetimes, always preparing him for…this? This had to be what he wanted, for if it was not then Alex was right and he’d might as well die.

 Looking out over the sands he shuddered as he saw Justice and an angel. A long, sinuous dragon  coiled out over the sands, its breath shimmering in the cool night air, its ruby eyes glittering with righteous fire as it stared at the innumerable opponents that faced it.

“ The just…are always the minority…too many are not willing to let the truth and justice be served for it does not serve them, or their interests. That is simply the way that people are.”

 With that he turned away from the sight of the dragon and the small voice of the moral minority. He wanted to let himself slip back into the slightly psychotic and battle-ready frame of mind that he had been so comfortably in just moments before but was denied. For some reason his guardian’s words haunted his mind and what was left of his heart, giving him no calm acceptance or anticipative peace. Rather a troubled feeling of guilt and doubt that left him uncertain rang through his mind and heart.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 Dorthy smiled out at the angels, the demons, the prophets, the vampires, the children, the sprites, holy, and the unholy, the light and the dark. How fitting it seemed that she would be there to witness and take a part in the end of the world, to relish in the glory of the battle of all battles. How ironic it seemed to her that she would be fighting to guard the person that she most loved and most hated, Quatre. Why was it that she was so frightened? Her sensibility answered that question readily for her.  She was frightened because she was mortal,  she was frightened because she had something to loose and everything to gain by winning. She was frightened because adrenaline was a mixed cocktail, an elixir of fear, hope, despair, and the raw need to survive. She WANTED.…no wanted was not the right word at all, she NEEDED to survive this, to prove that she could and that she had.

 The sword felt heavy in her padded hands, her heart thudded dully in her chest, her pulse thudding in a cold rhythm in her throat, through her mind, in her ears. Curious and quaint was the thought that she could only hear her heartbeat at such an important time, and yet it was all that was left to her. Somewhere she realized that she did not want to hear the growls and the moans and the whispering of wings and tentacles alike shifted. She didn’t want to hear the gentle cooing of the doves anymore than she wanted to hear the mocking voices of the ravens and the crows that flew high above Duo and his forces.
 Trowa stood next to her, impassive as always. He finally turned and there was nothing on his face, his eyes were empty save of one thing. She knew what was on his mind without asking or prying into it. He was thinking of their lord and master; Quatre filled his heart and mind, blinding him to adversity, taking away the stinging fear that was supposed to haunt all mortal minds and giving him invincibility and the comforting blankness of those to be sacrificed.  Her voice pierced through the heavy silence that lay between them, her lips moving without her mind’s consent.

“So…are you sure now Mr. Barton?”

 He flicked the dagger upward, catching it and throwing it again toward the troubled skies, his face still somber and quiet, a perfect mask as always.

“Yes, I’m quite sure.”

 She couldn’t believe that it was her voice faltering, that she allowed herself to show the weakness that she did, but she couldn’t hide the fear in her voice.

“Then tell me…please…why?”

 The singularly visible eye closed and a smirk haunted his lips.

“For Quatre. Always…for Quatre.”

_ _ _ __  _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 Fusei shook as it started, there was no warning, no large dramatic lead up to the large and climactic battle of the story. The angel and the demon, no longer could she, or would she call them Heero Yuy and Duo Maxwell; walked up to each other nodded silently and Heero took the first slice.

 In the thin silence that held just before their blades made contact with a ringing clang it seemed as if nothing moved, as if nobody breathed. The silence seemed to ask if this could all be averted and if everyone would just go home and avoid the unpleasantness. The silence wanted to know if they would be willing to say, let us not, and just say we did? With the first high, clear note of metal impacting rudely against metal it was clear to the silence and all of the listeners that no, that could not be said. Directly after that first clear note rang through the desert air, the night exploded. It seemed as if a million angry voices mixed and mingled together to create the introduction to the chaotic symphony of life and death.

 Doves and ravens flew at each other, sharp talons and beaks ripping and rending at the form of the opponent, showers of light and dark feathers falling down onto the field. The divine and the demonic alike whirled together in a flurry of angry motion, weapons, teeth and claws flying. Angry and anguished voices added to the symphony, making it seem richer than the last time, adding in elements that were forgotten the last time that the symphony had been preformed.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _   _

 Stephanie’s bright blue eyes were narrowed in anger as she bounced an animalistic human off of a psychic barrier. An almost cruel smile hovered about her lips as she kept people away from the family member that she held dearest to her eternal heart.

<<You puny, immoral and dark things really think that you can penetrate that which is my soul? Funny you should think so, that you would assume I would be so weak as to let you win.>>

 Off to her left behind the pale and black-clad form of a vampire from sometime back in the dark ages Stephanie spotted Trowa, he was hacking away at a were-creature who was poised on her hind legs. They matched each other slowly, slice for slice, a thrust of cold steel for a swipe of the claw. It was her duty to protect both him and Quatre; that was the gift and the burden that Brynn had bestowed upon her before she died. At the thought of her small companion the angel’s jaw clenched and a muscle jumped in her cheek. It had not been fair at all, the little angel had given up her very being for Quatre and still the damnable dark thing had escaped and lived on. Belying the fact that the dragon of justice was stomping around and indiscriminately taking out the divine and demonic alike, Stephanie could not see that there was any justice in the world.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 Sakura laughed loud as she dodged an attack and then her eyes narrowed, her pale skin shining in her love’s fires and the radiant moonlight.

<You think you would hurt justice and honor itself? HA! Nothing mortal can touch that which is eternal!>

 A particular water-demon smiled, her luminescent and shimmering blue eyes glittering.

<You hold entirely too much faith in that which you think to be eternal. Nothing lasts forever, justice is merely a figment of imagination and the hope for some sort of order that the humans have made. Don’t make me laugh with your talk of eternity. Nothing is eternal, everything dies except the creators of eternity themselves who in turn had creators and then one must pose the question what started it? That is the fault and the limitation of the mortal mind. Nothing endures as it is, change will always move forward. >

 For a moment the raven-haired and red-eyed angel was forced to accept the truth and depth of the demon’s words. What the woman spoke of was indeed true, but not something to be pondered at the time. Shortly after she had concluded that train of thought the creature’s purpose became apparent. Wufei’s hissing squeal of pain from a water attack was all that she needed to move out of her contemplation.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _

 Back and forth, back and forth, parry then thrust, guard your back, look to your side, see your opponent and know what move they will make next. Counter it, pose one of your own.

 Heero’s thought processes were fairly simple as he danced the dance of death with Duo. ‘The Demon’  as the angel had mentally labeled him fought like a wild thing, and yet did not possess the same instinctual style. Every move he made seemed to be calculated to a precise measure. When he made the slightest mark on the angel’s flawless skin there was no rejoicing in his eyes, the pace and fervor with which he attacked and alternately defended never changed. Somewhere in the back of Heero’s mind realization hit him.

//He’s just playing with me, testing me, seeing what I can do and how I do it…I won’t let him win, I can’t//

 The angel struck back again, the queerest look burning bright in his blue eyes. It wasn’t a killer instinct, it wasn’t the bloodlust that filled the faces and the motions of some of the other creatures on the field, far from it, and the look on the angel’s face was almost serene. The longer the conflict dragged on the more relaxed and fluid his motions became. It was quite obvious that it irritated the demon who scored a couple of retributive marks.  Yet neither side could lay claim to be soon the victor.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 Slowly, carefully the Griffen slunk through the crowds. The screams of the dying filled it’s ears and filled it with the kinetic energy of the desperate. Moving energy was all around him, the energy of those fighting for their lives. Indescriminantly he stepped over fellow and foe alike, his claws digging into the open eyes of a demon while his hind leg found a place in the middle of the perfect face of an angel, one of his wings ripped off, and lying several feet from him. The occasional dove would fall out of the sky to be matched by a raven or a crow and the sky seemed to be crying crimson tears, avian blood falling down from the heights to mix with that already mixing into the golden dunes.

 The beast had one purpose in mind a singular target. When he had first been called for his mark had been set for him and he intended to find it. He needed to find the young master Quatre Reberba.  Jumping through the white blanket of someone’s hair and ribbing a chunk out of their back as it passed the Griffin staled onward. Blood saturated its coat, the metallic scent the predominant one of the field. There was the mark, flanked by the frightening woman with the broadsword and the Arab’s fucktoy. A slow, predatory growl worked its way out it the creature’s throat to mix and mingle with the sound of the apocalyptic symphony being preformed.

 Muscles in its back and hindquarters bunched and tensed as it readied itself to run. Then it did, in one terrifying rush. Its paws flew over the sand, sinking into the shifting and trembling surface as it wove in and out of those locked in mortal combat and intent on only one thing.

<I’m coming Quatre…>

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 <<Murmur the spell, keep the seal, hope they don’t die, let them win, let them loose, let it end.>>

 Quatre’s mind was a blur. Red blood traced slowly down the contours of his face leaving a warm, wet, sticky feeling to join the rest of the sensations that bombarded his mind. Sand flew around, stirred up by the frenzied motion of the mob that surrounded and encased him. The chill air that had flowed over everything earlier was gone and the stifling heat of bodies pressed together and the repugnant smell of just about everything one could imagine all combined to assault the small mage’s senses.
 
 More often than not he would bring his large and very ornate staff up to defend his person against an attack of one sort or another. He was getting so tired of being out on these sands, he didn’t want to be the one standing witness to those dying around him, he didn’t want to smell the blood that saturated everything. He didn’t want  to see the crimson light reflected as the red liquid flew into the air to join the falling rain of the same that eventually fell to earth in droplets that shattered on contact to the ground.

 Trowa was pressed next to him, calm, collected and full of purpose. The mage could see that the boy was completely focused, every movement he made was calculated all toward one end. Trowa was there to protect him. It brought a small amount of hope into the dark nightmare that was reality. Scanning out through the sea of moving bodies Quatre caught sight of Dorthy.

 Like a whimsical dancer she flowed through the masses, cutting demon and angel alike. She didn’t care whose blood she spilled or how many died under her slender hands. She too moved with a purpose that had been etched into her soul in burning letters by the fates themselves. She was also fighting for him, as long as either of them stood, no harm would come to him. They would fight and die for him, regardless of their personal feelings or safety. That kind of blind loyalty was inspiring and frightening all at once.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

<KISSSSSSAMA!>

 A rage-filled roar filled the air, making the very ground that they stood on  tremble. For a moment the din of fighting dimmed in comparison to the deep, throaty and completely enraged voice. The hissing enunciation to the S was not intentional but only a product of the change of form that the boy who had been Cheng Wufei had gone through. With a growling snarl and a short burst of flame from his burning throat the dragon lashed out, diamond-hard talons scoring deep in mortal flesh.

 He was indignant and angry. How DARE these lower beings, these mortal fools, try to kill him. He WAS justice… he was Nataku’s chosen; the blessed, the cursed. He was there to fight indescriminantly, and to stop the unfairness that was present in this conflict. It wasn’t fair to many people all together. The entire war was fraught with opinions and  alternating points of view. For once no one was clearly in the right and for that reason EVERYONE had to die.

 His scales shone bright in the moonlight, polished by time and burnished bright by the moonlight. Graceful whiskers trailed down his face to follow the sleek and flowing lines of his body. He was an oriental dragon, gorgeous, powerful, the stuff of legends personified right along with the rest of the things that rent and tore at each other on the sands. With an easy motion something was clamped in his jaws and with the barest of pressures the metallic taste of blood flowed once again down his throat.

 Off to the left his angel fought with him. Wufei, the person lurking somewhere deep in the beast’s subconscious stared at her alone, using her as an anchoring point for his sanity. None of this could be right, none of it could be true. If it really were happening and they really were in the midst of a spiritual war then at very least he ought to be out there fighting with them all, sword in hand with a little bit of dignity. He was denied even that, just as he had been denied many other things in his life. He was frightened and exhilarated all at once by the raw power and grace that he beast inside of him possessed.

 The pain of training himself and the curious feeling of being incomplete were all clear to him now, he knew why things had been so, why he had been driven to act as he did. The amount of clairvoyance that had fallen onto his mind and heart was amazing, yet in the same time he was terrified, not just frightened but terrified, a soul-rending, body chilling fear that prowled through his conscious mind freely, sinking icy claws in deep.

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ __ _ _ _ _ _ _

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU ANGEL?! WHY—WON’T—YOU FIGHT?!”

 The demon drove angrily against the being with the white wings and the maddeningly calm eyes. All around them the cacophony of life and death rang at its loudest. Nothing seemed to shake his opponent, nothing moved him to fight any more or any less than he had been for the past several hours. They were both tired, they both ached, and blood trickled down leather and silk alike. Long ago the demon’s hair had come free from the braid that had once confined it. The angel’s bangs occasionally hid his eyes from view, their sweat-soaked strands clinging to his face. Blood was flying, people were dying and yet nothing seemed to move the pair from their trance-like state. Stroke was matched with measured stroke, when one took flight the other followed, to join the masses that fought in the sky. The singing sounds of metal meeting metal rang clear in the air like malicious bells. Just about everything else was flying through the night air as well as steel and metal and it was loud.

 The night seemed as if it would never end, resigned to keeping the same setting for the combatants and let them have a feeling of timelessness as they gave and took their lives on the sands.

“I’LL KILL YOU!! I’LL KILL YOU, YOU DISGUSTING THING! YOUR PRESENCE OFFENDS ME!”

 The angel didn’t reply, calmly blocking a strike to his neck with speed that he ought-not possess. His eyes bored into the demon’s and made Hell’s angel feel cold.

“YOU HAVE NOT THE RIGHT TO LOOK AT ME WITH SUCH EYES. STOP IT!”

 The angel looked into the burning orbs that were his opponents eyes and felt; nothing,.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 Quatre heard something just before the actual sound reached his ears. It was the sound of paws hitting the sand, something had been hunting him, the same thing that had been hunting him for months previously. In this strange-before-time he heard a whining sigh escape his lover’s throat as it was cut by razor-sharp claws, just as effective as any machete before or after them. He heard the scream out of his own throat before he ever made it, and knew that there was nothing that he could do to stop the chain of events that were just about to start. Hell they were already in motion, started the moment that the beast had started to run and dodge, hiding, seeking him, playing a single-minded game of cat and mouse.

 The mage spun wildly, determined to stop what he could not. He looked for Trowa but the boy was lost in the throng of people and things. Dorthy was currently at his side, keeping anything from getting too close to him. Stephanie was not in sight and the mage took comfort in that fact. If she were not at his side then she was likely to be with Trowa and that was where he wanted her to be. The little angel was originally Trowa’s, and she would make sure that he was safe. He noted Dorthy looking at him even before he really registered what was happening.

<<Why do you look at me with such strange eyes? Surely you have something in mind do you not?>> He comprehended the blonde had something on her mind as her hand lashed out to strike him…in the neck, and then, the world went black.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 Dorthy sighed, feeling her heartbeat still thudding dully in her ears, reminding her that she was still alive, for all of it. Quatre’s limp and bloodied form was slumped against her, his tangled golden hair blood splattered.

<<I’m sorry sweet little one, but this is the best for you, I had to keep you safe and when you were awake I wasn’t doing my job.>>

 Leaning down she gently lifted a fallen angel’s wing, tucking the small mage beneath it. The angel, was still alive. She felt rather bad when she discovered it. Falling down into a squatting position she looked into his remaining eye compassionately.

<I’m sorry friend, I thought you were already gone.>

 The angel blinked slowly, blood impairing his vision. <Perfectly all right, I’ll be gone soon anyway.>

 Dorthy frowned in spite of herself, sad for the passing of another life. She had spared herself the grief that the killer always feels by justifying herself in her role of protector. When she actually talked to one of those that she very well may have sliced that justification seemed puny and wrong.

<I’m sorry about that.>

 His smile, she could tell that it was male now, even though from what she had observed, aside from guardians angels seemed to have no definite gender; was gentle.

<I’ll protect your little master until I am no longer conscious to do so. He was under the wings of one of my kin not too long ago and I am happy to fill in, in her stead. Go now, there is more of this damnable war to be fought, he will come to no harm in my hands.>

 She smiled gratefully at him, hissing quietly as she was nicked by something sharp and airborne, (around that point she had ceased identifying what it was that hit her, sometimes it was best not to ask).

<Thank you my friend.>

 The angel didn’t answer her, closing his eye and wrapping his one remaining wing around the child-like Quatre.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

 Trowa faced the Griffin and could feel anticipation and anger working their way through his mind together, each chasing the other. His heart told him that he ought to be afraid and that his own twilight was approaching and yet still he managed to feel no fear. The beast was stalking quietly in circles with him and they stood on an arena of the fallen. Dead bodies littered the ground and made the sand beneath invisible. The creature’s claws dug into the dead beneath it and his heels did the same.

 It was almost poetic in the way that they both sprung, the same glint in their eyes. Trowa understood perfectly what the beast was and what it’s intentions were it was there to kill his lover and he would not let it. In the same token the beast understood that he was fighting the mage’s lover who was driven by the strange and compulsive ‘feelings’ that seemed to plague the entire species. The beast understood that they would do impossible things to meet the demands of those ‘feelings’. He had seen them pine for emotions, love, friendship acceptance, as they rotted away him hell. He had seen the way that those same emotions had driven them in life and it had to admit that the power of human emotion was curious and horrible power indeed.

 It was that human emotion that moved the opponent that faced him. The human moved faster, seemed stronger than any of the opponents that it had faced up to that point. It wouldn’t allow itself to loose to such things as love and honor. It would prove that there were things stronger than human emotions, power, skill, strength, stamina and cool cunning. Those things would win against the numbing and rushing thing called ‘love’.

 Trowa’s eyes narrowed and in a detached way he realized that all he could hear was the sound of his own breathing, panting gasps ripping their way in and out of his raw and bleeding throat. He had stopped screaming long ago and he no longer had the option. Blood and sweat poured out of his skin and down to the ground of bodies indescriminantly, his blood mixing with that of others. He didn’t feel the burning fatigue that clawed at him so much as realized it ought to be there after the estimated time that they had been out performing the symphony of death. He didn’t feel the pain, or the exhaustion, he didn’t need to breathe, to stop, to feel, his world revolved around one thing, to keep his little one safe. The small man that had showed him what it was like to have a soul and to believe in things. Quatre was his driving force and with that  he would be invincible. Nothing could touch him when he had what he did. With a malicious flick of his wrist Trowa sent a dagger flying at the griffin. A cold little smile visited his lips as it scored it’s mark and the animal squealed in pain and distress. His smile grew wider as he rushed at it, his feet falling in a perfect rhythm his balance completely right as he navigated the floor of dead limbs.

 He looked up and met the beast’s eye slowly and in that moment, he realized that he was going to die.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 Alex sat quietly on top of a growing pile of bodies. She refused to fight, they couldn’t make her. The beings that rent and tore at each other had bigger things in mind than herself. For hours now she had been sitting here, huddled in the sanctuary of her own wings, watching the bloody drama unfold. Always, no matter where she seemed to turn she could always see the two fighting, matching each other stroke to stroke, completely matched. It wasn’t a contest of strength anymore than it was a contest of will. She didn’t want to be in this brouhaha but she had no choice. Slowly the mobs were beginning to thin out, the survivors showing themselves plainly above those that would be dead by the end of the night. She’d had to kill a few, that fact didn’t bother her.

 Looking out onto the tableau she could see those that she cherished. Fusei was at Heero’s back, always guarding him, the perfect guardian to the end. She had no desire to be near the shell that once was Duo Maxwell, she hoped that he died, so he could be free. Wufei and Sakura still stood strong, watching each other’s backs, guarding each other’s backs. Scanning the remaining area produced her with an image of Dorthy, fighting along and solitary a quiet sort of dignity in her eyes.

 Alex brought her hands up to find wetness staining her cheeks and she wondered what it was that had moved her to cry. For as long as she could remember back, and that was a long time indeed, nothing had ever moved her to tears before. The absence of a couple of people echoed through her mind even as the scenes of how they had died flashed through her mind, ugly and brutal.

 She closed her eyes and tried not to see how the beast had ripped at Trowa’s throat; taking a large bite out of his jugular vein and exposing his spinal cord to the world just before licking its chops and bounding off to find its actual victim; the man whom Trowa had died to protect. She tried not to see as Stephanie was transfixed by swords from all sides, her ethereal body straight from the ridged metal that pierced her and held her upright. When no ghastly image of Quatre bombarded her mind Alex sighed to herself, happy and sad at the same time. If there was no image that meant that the little blonde had not died yet or was not dying. She watched with dull eyes as Dorthy’s head fell to the ground, blonde hair whispering as it pooled about her solitary head, her body rent apart by beasts. More tears splashed down her porcelain cheeks but no emotion moved her any further than that, she was crying tears for them, but letting herself feel the emotion behind those tears would accomplish nothing, absolutely nothing at all.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 Trowa laid there, bathing in a pool of his and other’s blood. He had come to terms with the fact that his mortal existence would very soon end and yet for some reason he was neither happy nor sad, unafraid or angry. The state of mind that he retained was one of amused indifference and he could not shake it. The sounds of the battlefield had long ago died away to be replaced with the fancy of his dying mind. He wanted to hear Quatre playing the piano. He remembered vividly one day earlier in the war that he had come upon the child sitting at the piano, his fingers dancing with quiet grace over the ivory keys of the instrument and his eyes almost surreally sad. A haunted and almost wistful look had been painted onto his gentle face as the last haunting notes of the song had died away in the still air that filled the room the piano stood in. Without turning the little Arab had smiled, knowing he was in the doorway the whole time and spoke, his voice soft.

“That piece, it’s one of my favorites. It’s entitled…Sad Destiny.”

 At that point, when Quatre had looked at him, the glorious sun shining down upon his shoulders and giving him a halo of light; that was the moment that Trowa had decided that he loved Quatre. That was the point that he subconsciously understood who he wanted his life’s partner to be.

 Now he lay out here just another body to add to the many that time and fate had stacked haphazardly on the sands. He took small comfort from the fact that he was not dying slowly and in retrospect he was dying well, not slowly bleeding to death as he baked under the hot sun, the smell of blood and entrails choking him as he breathed it in. Instead he sat in a pleasantly numb state, staring up at the stars, their light filling his eyes. He honestly didn’t want to die but he couldn’t bring himself to care about it all that much. He just wanted Quatre, and the boy was no where near, as he had fallen he’d had a clear look at those around him and the little blonde had not been one of them. He was sad in the fact that his lover would not be sharing his journey into the great beyond and yet in the same moment that fact made him rejoice.

 His thoughts meandered  quietly to Shakespeare, which Quatre was forever reading and a particular line came to mind as he lay there basking in starlight.

<<…and so awake when I am gone…for I must now, to Oberon.>>

 Trowa closed his eyes, and was still.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 He was tiring, the angel could see it in the demon’s eyes. Slowly but surely all of the continuous and strenuous motion was wearing the other boy down. It had to be, nothing at all was immortal, and even if some of these beings were supposed to be it would have been unentertaining to the powers that be if a little blood was not spilled. After what seemed like an eternity stuck in a dance of blades the angel was slowly tiring. The cramped muscles all over his body protested to the rough treatment, even though he was used to almost inhuman amounts of activity. When he looked at the small and haggard form of the demon’s corporeal body he understood that he was suffering just as much. The vessel that had been chosen for him was a strong person with a strong body, but disease had wasted away much of the muscle and hidden strength that the boy had possessed and now all that drove him were the powers that had been granted. In order to match that deficiency the angel realized that he suffered from a lack of conviction; he didn’t particularly want to fight. In as much they were matched. With a harrowed sigh he fought onward, the warm breath of the body he inhabited rushing past numb lips.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 Wufei stared out quietly at the burning area that surrounded him, all was still at the moment, for nothing had the gumption (or lack of brain cells) to attack him at the moment. His entire form felt sore in an unearthly way. The winding tunnel of bones that made up his ribcage was fractured and in small pieces. He wasn’t sure if he could move or not, he would have to if he were to defend himself. Small bursts of flame came forth from his nostrils at uneven intervals as he breathed slowly, resting. Sakura was at his side, leaning on her weapon, panting softly. Her face was flushed and her mouth set into a hard line of determination. There would be no loss for her, for how could a creature such as herself loose at anything at all?

 She looked up to the great beast and gave him a challenging smile.

<Truly, you are as formidable as I thought you would be. All that training did your lazy bones some good.>

 A small huff of fire escaped the dragon’s lips as it laid down gingerly, resting. Off in the distance others fought, but none were as brash as to attack the duo, the angel and the dragon who fought as one.

<How much longer do you suppose that this is going to go on?>

 She looked up at the dark beast contemplatively. His query was not posed out of cowardice, nor fear, she couldn’t understand what it was that drove him to ask.

<Honestly, I’m not all that sure…can you take your normal form again? I want to see just how much control you have yourself.>

 The dragon snorted again, managing to look amused with a toothy smile.

<You just want me as a man onna.>

 Sakura looked at him levelly, the burning hot air of his fires wafting past her face, stirring her hair and making her look surreal, like a siren out of a dream. Her crimson eyes glittered with the light of the flames.

<What you say is not a lie but it is not my only motive. Now change you stupid pig of a male!>

 Slowly the change began and once wrought she stood fascinated, staring at the sight of the slight Chinese boy standing before her, his dark and deep eyes boring into her own as he stood amidst the heat of the flames.

<A truly commendable job Wufei. The last time you tried that you ended up buck naked lying in the sand at a funny angle.>

 A smile hovered but did not completely fall onto the Chinese youth’s lips. <I learned from past experience..of course…m’lady…>

 She involuntarily took a step back, her wings flexing outward to show her surprise. <Why the sudden change in attitude?!>

 That same, small, indefinable wisp of a smile was still haunting his lips.

<Just thought I ought to be civil to you at least once. I’m sensing something.>

 A silent and solitary tear snuck down one of her pale cheeks to fall and shatter in one of the few patches of unmarred sand, it’s crystalline pieces shining in the dark as they were absorbed into the tiny bits of sand that were once mountains standing high.

<Please, if you do actually sense something, don’t speak like that. I won’t tolerate it!>

 The enigmatic smile fell completely onto his lips, his eyes still glittering like pieces of the night sky with spots of fire pasted into it.

<Of course.>

 With a strangled sound he found his way back into a serpentine form, long gashes and small hurts now fully apparent in the full firelight. At some point a spear had been shoved into the great-beast’s side, pushed in an indeterminable amount.  It was still standing, ready and willing to be triumphant. She saw the glitter in the beast’s eyes and knew that not anymore this time than the last, could she stop the inevitable. But she would be damned if she would let him go quietly, when the next wave came she burned from head to toe with a new resolve.

<I WON’T LET YOU KILL HIM!>

 With those words she launched herself up into the air with a powerful downbeat of her large and beautiful wings, a shower of white feathers raining down onto the sands. A burst of fire accompanied her up and charred those who dared to step too close for the great beast’s liking.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

<WHY DON’T YOU JUST GIVE IN YOU WINGED KISAMA!!!>

 The demon’s violet eyes shone brightly in the darkness, his teeth clenched and anger plain on his face. He couldn’t understand or accept the fact that he could not seem to win. They were evenly matched, the angel suffered from apathy, he suffered from actual weakness, and the cosmic scales seemed to have balanced them to an exact point to guarantee that neither had the advantage.

<Don’t you want to see this end you worthless pile of bones? I don’t want to fight you any more than you want to fight me so why in THAT DAMMNABLE THING UP IN HEAVEN’S NAME WILL YOU NOT GIVE IN?!!>

 The angel’s calm face stared back into his own, his eyes infinitely gentle and his expression blank.

<Why won’t you give in?>

 Duo’s face twisted.

<Because I need to put on a show for the man downstairs, why else do you think that I’m wasting my time here?>

 In a quick downbeat of his large and leathery wings the braided demon launched himself toward the angel fast, only to be blocked by living metal his hair fanning out behind him as he was suddenly stopped. The angel’s eyes were still set unerringly into his, asking a silent question. He looked away marginally to avoid giving those questioning eyes an answer. He didn’t want to give the divine being an answer any more than he wanted to yield When he felt himself trapped in a warm and crushing hold he growled, when he looked around all he could see was white wing-feathers and those damnable angel eyes. He pushed violently backward, far enough to strike and before he had a chance the angel had moved, changing the angle the demon would require to hit his mark.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 Quatre woke slowly, trying to comprehend and understand all that had happened to him. He had been fighting and then Dorthy had come at him and the world had gone black. Currently he was secure and warm wrapped up beneath….a blanket? No, he was not under a blanket, for when he looked up he saw white feather. His gentle cage was an angel wing, blanketing him from the rest of the world. With a whispered thanks to the now dead owner of the wing Quatre pushed himself out to find a massacre of the most bizarre circumstances. Limbs, bodies, wings, blood, you name it and it was there, thrown out upon the sands, fires blazed and ice sparkled in the moonlight amongst the corpses. Quatre’s eyes glittered uncertainly as he looked around, searching for his dear ones. When he looked atop a pillar of ice his breath caught in his throat at the sheer horror and beauty of the sight that he beheld.

 Locked in ice was an angel, (her, presumably) long hair was floating around her, her wings spread out to their fullest span, making it seem as if she were soaring. From almost every angle swords, spears, pikes and other objects were stuck into her, holding her erect and straight, the tattered material of her clothing down around her ankles and flowing out.  Blood and sparkling tears alike had been transfixed in the ice pillar along with their owner. The ice was of a magical origin otherwise the dead angel should have faded away by then. With morbid curiosity he stepped closer to the figure who was held in shadow from fires burning behind her and making the ice shine with dancing light. His ever studious mind came to several conclusions as he stepped toward the angel. The first was that she was one of the few angels he had met that owned a definite gender, the second was that a magical battle had been fought around the time that she died. He had deduced the fact from the residual energies burning around him and her littered feathers. They held a particular pattern, and from that fact he guessed her to be someone’s guardian. Something was eerily familiar about the little pattern on some of the primary feathers that he saw but he ignored the fact, figuring he must have been a tad bit out of his head from being knocked unconscious.  As he stepped closer the blue ribbons that were tied around the angel’s waist caught his eyes and a stinging fear started to burn in his heart. His footsteps sped into running strides and by the time he was up to the pillar his mind had stopped working as it ought to. There was his sister, stranded in ice and soul-killed, never to join the cycle of death and rebirth again. A ghastly beauty surrounded his ethereal sibling as he stared into her cold face.

“Sh- - sh- - she d – di –died in great pain...”

 His voice was the shuddering voice of a child that has just come upon a great shock or sadness. His eyes, already childlike in every respect glistened with tears.

“They hurt her so badly…and then locked her away…she’s stuck…like that…in one last moment of searing anguish…who did this? Who did this?”

 Tears fell gracefully down his porcelain face, his features distorted as rage and sorrow wound through him, playing a game of hide and seek in his limbs and mind. He felt numb and burning at the same time. His golden eyebrows knitted together further, his gentle crystalline blue eyes narrowing into the  hateful eyes of a vengeful soul. Their sky-blue depths seemed to be transformed into cold ice, unforgiving and deep.

“WHO IS THE COWARD THAT DID THIS?!”

 As he turned, challenging the world a strange shadow caught his attention, and as he looked up the world went silent. Wind blew by his cheeks and played with his hair, his feet moved but he did not control their direction. Slowly he walked up to the pike atop the sand-dune, it’s oak shaft coated in the slick crimson of human blood. The strange shadow toyed across his front, looking like moving spider-webs in the moonlight. Dumbly he stared into the dead eyes of another one of his trio of angels. Dorthy stared at him quietly, her mouth formed into a silent O of surprise and dismay. The cut to her neck was a clean one and the thing that had made it was possessed of an inhuman strength. Dully, as he stared he noted it to be an axe cut, a large battle axe that had cleaved her head from her body. Her silky hair, much the same color as his own blew in the breeze, casting an eerie shadow as it fell against itself and formed many little patterns before reforming itself to something new.

 He could remember a few months back as she brushed it out while sitting at his bedside when he had been feeling a bit ill. It had fallen around her shoulders like a curtain of shining gold woven into strands. Little things about his odd companion flashed to his conscious mind in a ripping tidal wave. Her smile, her laugh,  her strange obsession with battle and war. Every quirk, desire, oddity and personality trait flashed through his mind as he remembered each and every encounter that he had ever had with the lady. It seemed as if someone had hit the fast-forward button and gone through all of his memories for clips of her, and the way she was; the person that she was.

 His unfeeling fingers reached up and stroked over a deathly-pale cheek.

“You too…my sweet Dorthy…will be avenged. I swear you will be…if I have to take God himself…you will be avenged, as will my sister. I just pray that my beloved has not fallen pray to the same fate as yours…a selfish wish…’tis true…but a sincere wish…at that. Sleep well m’lady…soon all of this won’t matter anymore.”

 With a courteous bow Quatre left the ghastly presence of Dorthy’s head, feeling chilled from the pitying look that he had seen echoed in her eyes as he had spoken to her.

“I just pray…that Trowa….is still with me.”
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _

 Alex sat quietly on her pile of bodies, her ripped and torn clothing moved by the night breezes even as her hair moved playfully over her face and her eyes. Her eyes dry, no more unannounced tears had arrived to her. No one else was dead…yet. She sighed silently, waiting for the next victim to realize their fate. She envied Quatre and the others nothing in their trials and tribulations. She wished nothing more than for all to be set to rights again with them so they could go on with the almost-normal lives they had been leading. However, such lives were not theirs for the taking, even if she wished it to be so. Woefully she watched the sky, observing the angel with the crimson eyes fighting with justice, guarding a pure force set into a mortal frame. Another sigh escaped her lips and she was still.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 Sakura was tired, but tired was not the word for it. Sakura was bone-weary and exhausted, almost unwilling to move for much longer. Still Wufei stood and took the abuse that he was being given. Her feathers, his scales, creature’s blood… it all fell to the hungry sand to add to the mix of ingredients that already laid on the ground. How much more fighting she could endure she was not sure, but it seemed as if she were trapped within an endless nightmare where the night never ended and the calming rays of sunlight were never there to greet the dreamer.

 Her love coiled about her protectively for a moment, shielding her from a fire blast that had no effect on his fire-elemental hide. With a snort he uncurled and slid once again through the air with the ease of the great treasure-dragons of legend. In fact there was a divine air-serpent up their with them, curling and coiling angrily, hissing a challenge to justice itself. Sakura recognized the being as one of those from heaven, guarding the riches of sleeping kings. It was a haughty beast, proud of its shimmering white scales and oh-so-important duty.  She knew that her serpentine lover could take the thing easily if he tried.

 She turned to see the two great snakes collide in a clash of flashing teeth and razor-sharp claws. Loud bellows of anger echoed throughout the air and drowned out the sound of the fighting bellow. The two beasts coiled around each other, squeezing, biting, and clawing, angry and bleeding. Wufei let a gush of fire fly into the other dragon’s face and the great worm let out a high pitched screaming squeal. A quick surface scan of her lover’s mind showed no remorse to the fool’s pain, he who had dared to challenge a god.  The dragon of justice stared victoriously into the burnt and blistering visage of his opponent, and then the treasure-dragon’s golden and liquid eyes flashed open. With a swift movement the other beast clamped his jaw into Wufei’s neck, teeth ripping through the thin mesh of scales at a crucial point. Sakura wasn’t aware that she screamed, or how fast she flew, all she knew was that just as suddenly as she had brought the blade up to slice the horrid beasts neck she was drenched in crimson dragon blood. It showered down from the combination of wounds from both beasts. An angry paw came up and batted at her. Something hit her but she had no time for pain nor sensation. Her protectorate was all that she cared about. He was why she was there, the very definition of her existence.

<WUFEI!!! PLEASE… FORM YOURSELF BACK INTO A HUMAN AGAIN!!>

 She saw lucid black eyes clear slightly in acceptance of her decision and his form shrunk until it was once again that of a tiny, ragged human clad in black. He fell through the air as gracefully as an angel, his pale face upturned toward the sky. With strength of mind and body that she never had known she possessed the angel flew to him, catching him. All of her was soaked in crimson and only a few tiny spots remained untarnished by the shower of blood that she had been bathing in for the past few hours. She couldn’t tell what fluid was her own to that of a foe. Wufei stared at her calmly, unable to speak and not-possessed of the mental clarity to communicate that way either. His eyes told her all that she needed to know, all that he wanted to tell her. A tiny smile rested on her cherry-red lips as they slowly fell to the sand, her wings folded them together, his body pressed against hers, his hair tickling their faces and rushing upwards along with hers as air tugged at them. The air whistled and screamed at them speaking of the great mystery that was their life as they fell together. They hit the sand in a tangle of limbs and wings, he pushed up against her, held in a protective embrace. But even as he was held, he too held onto her, his arms wrapped around her slim waist with his remaining strength.

 Everything was silent. The treasure-dragon had landed before them a heap of limbs and scales, quite dead. All of the furious animation that had moved his form was gone. Sakura stared up at the sky, finally aware of what it was that had hit her moments before. The treasure-dragon had raked a claw across her midsection, ripping it open. That was the reason that she felt the sensation of blood flowing freely down her front and over her body. The night sky was as expansive as it was eternal. She stared up at the skies quietly, in awe of what she saw and offered up a single, selfish prayer, using her voice for the first and the last time that she roamed the mortal plane.

“Please….just don’t let me fade away…that’s all I ask…all I want….not to…fade……away.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 Quatre ran over the dunes, frightened, hopeful, fearful, a million emotions hammering through his mind and his heart. Trowa had to be alive, he just had to be. He was somewhere, possibly wounded, more than likely to be serious and lying amongst the bodies. He had to be out here and alive and waiting for help. He had lost too many people already to loose the one person that loved him.

“TROWAAA!”

 With careless ease he banished a malicious shadow creature with a single flash of light, he didn’t’ have time for these small, trite creatures that tried to block his path. He needed to find his lover. Trowa was his heart and mind at that moment and he didn’t care if the world ended. He would stop time and space and freeze everyone into an eternal state of animation if he could only find his lover alive and in a quasi-safe condition. Each step he took seemed to bring down his spirit, each breath to confirm that his resolve was completely worthless and that he was wrong to even look. He knew that he was bringing sorrow upon himself with every panting breath. It had all been written out in his own neat handwriting. He had written out their fates all those years ago for he had known in those days just as well as he did in the frantic moment the actuality of what was going to happen.

“OH PLEASE, PLEASE TROWA!!!”

 His own sorrowful, mournfully pleading voice echoed through the still night air, for all of the bodies to hear. There were no more living things, all that he could see was bodies, an ocean of dead bodies over which cascaded tides of spilt blood. He tripped, he fell into the dead and cold embrace of a wolfish creature, her face ripped away and a half-snarl still on her jaws. He launched himself up and onward once again, the grisly thought of Dorthy’s head on a pike still fresh in his mind.
“You have to be alive, you have to be alive!”

 His words were like a mantra, if he repeated it enough and with enough will behind it then his wishes would come true and his lover would be alive. Then he saw the boy, draped over a pile of bodies, the Griffin sitting beside him, still cased in the swirling mists of darkness it had always walked in. It’s tail swished leisurely back and forth and its mouth was saturated with blood. Quatre’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, that blood...it radiated a familiarity that he could not deny, any more than he could deny the sight of the body that laid at a helter-skelter angle on the dunes. His eyes, already ice, turned glacial and his accusing, angry voice rang clearly over the sands.

“YOU!”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 The angel parried again, noting how much more room he seemed to have now that everyone was dead. His formerly light clothing was soaked in blood, all of the whites a deep crimson red that would be slowly blackening were it not for the constant supply of red liquid that seemed to be coming from him or falling onto him. It seemed to be raining blood, the sky shedding crimson tears for the atrocities that it was witnessing. Fusei was in the background, lying in an unnatural position, quite dead from the hit she had taken for him, and Duo’s little demon…she was sitting atop a pile of bodies watching it all as impassively as a spectator at a faire might watch the events.

 Another block, another parry, how tiresome this game grew, he simply wanted to end it but his playmate hadn’t understood the reality of his fate just yet and hadn’t been able to accept it. The angel sighed, seeing one of his own blood-soaked feathers go flying by; and as he fought he mused on the truth of dreams.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 Quatre stalked away from the bloody mess that was once a hellspawn. His face was cold, uncharacteristically solemn and a madness glinted in his eye that was supported by the grisly trophy that he bore with him. The still-beating heart of his foe, dribbling blood from between his fingertips. There was complete silence on the battle-field now and no movement save for that of Heero and Duo, still fighting on the sands. He had cried for Stephanie, he had cried for Brynn, he had cried for Dorthy and all of the others that had suffered, but when confronted with the sight of his dead beau he had been impassive, not a trace of emotion to be found on his face. There was nothing there save cold acceptance of a hard fate dealt. Somewhere inside of him a child sat on a swing, motionless and quite aware of the fact that he was alone in the world and would have no one to come to pick him up this day.

 As he came nearer and nearer to the fighters he could hear their panting breaths, feel the aching in their limbs as they moved and see the desperate fear of oblivion that haunted their faces. But he did not care about that. All he felt was anger, all he felt was cold. His love had worked just as hard, against insurmountable odds in order to protect him and all it had gained was his death.

 Once the little Arab was close enough to be heard he let his temper fly, his mouth speaking what his heart was screaming.

“KILL EACH OTHER!! SOMONE SLICE THE OTHER!!! END THIS NOW!!!!!”

 They didn’t look to him but the fear on their faces was palpable. They had something worked between them. Perhaps they were going to fight in the eternal night for the rest of eternity. He wouldn’t let that kind of an injustice go uncommented upon.

“ARE YOU AFRAID NOW?! YOU WHO ARE THE CHOSEN WHO HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR?! WHY WON’T YOU FINISH IT?!”

 He fell silent, his voice gone and his heart aching. He was asking his best friends in the world to kill themselves. The injustice of it all sunk in and he fell down to his knees, quietly asking for an end to it all.

 The angel looked at the demon, the demon looked at the angel. Something was there that had not been there earlier that evening. They had been playing, testing each other, knowing each other as only warriors may know their foe, an intimate bond of the victor and the looser. Neither wanted to be the looser and neither could be the victor. Long ago their voices had faded from screaming in pain and anger and they moved sluggishly in comparison to the way that they had. Their wings were tattered, the demon’s ripped into  bloody shreds, the angel’s missing primary feathers and flight feathers alike. Their clothes were tattered, they bled like any mortal souls. Their eyes were sad, and resigned, they didn’t want to fight any more than any of the others that had died on the golden sands that night. Quatre watched quietly, as always the witness to the end of the world.

 They moved in perfect synchronization, each mirroring the other’s movement as they brought their blades back for a charge, each lined up perfectly. They were close enough to touch, close enough to whisper but they did not reach out and no words passed their lips. Quatre watched as the moon shone of their bloodstained and amorous blades, ornately made and suited to their station.

  The demon whispered something, the angel nodded, his sad eyes glittering and holding the starlight. They struck together at the same moment and the Arab went wide-eyed as he felt twin blades pierce two hearts as one. They folded in toward each other, bloody blades sticking out from between their wings as they fell into each other’s arms. A kiss passed fleetingly between them before they fell to the sands, exhausted and dead.

 Tears worked their way slowly and silently down Quatre’s face and he hid his eyes in his hands, his tiny shoulders shaking. From where she sat atop the mountain of bodies Alex sighed, resting her chin on the palm of her hand, a single, bloody tear falling down her face as a mewling whimper escaped her throat. After that, all was silent save the voice of the wind whispering over the dunes. Slowly…ever so slowly, the moon sank.

And it was dark.

~Owari~

Kuri comments: And you want to know what inspired this whole mess of a story? I just wanted to find a plausible way to give Heero a pair of angel wings… ~.^