Death

Little Dove

The Nephilim angrily pulled free Harvester, fingers nimbly twirling the weapon in a circle before he spun it apart, slamming it into base of the angel's sword that stood across from him. Almost immediately there was a shout of fright and the angel ducked as his sword was pulled free from his hands. Now very disappointed, Death rumbled with a growl as he simply reached out, barely touching the angel's forehead before he fell backwards, screaming bloody murder. War, who had allowed his hood to fall back to reveal his strong countenance, chuckled.

"This is hopeless!" Death roared. "Who's idea was this anyway? Teaching the damned librarians to fight like actual warriors! Stupid!"

Ferago and Arazel exchanged glances with each other before the much older angel coughed, covering it up by taking his chin in his hand as Death shot him a glare. The idea had been that the Horsemen would take any able angel within the White City and teach them the fundamentals to fight in a battle. After some serious talking, the once demon and Arazel had gathered up a small clique of librarians who stayed in the Library -the Library, mind you- all of their life. It wasn't working out. Already they had tried for three hours straight. Death felt as if he was wasting his time doing this. Librarians becoming warriors? Why did you even agree to this insane act? War had only agreed because Death had grabbed his collar and hauled him away from Melody after a few threats. There were some children in the mix of about thirty angels that they had managed to rally together, ranging between the human appearances of ten to eighteen before they were considered adults. With a child of his own and one on his way, Death was very unsettled about these kids. One in particular.

She was a little child, maybe about the age of eleven. Her size made her look much younger and then her white bangs, which had been cut to frame her heart-shaped face, did no such luck making her look older. Every time that Death saw her, easily moving a sword in her hands like it was a pencil or water, he only felt fright. Her eyes were a deadly light pink, and that really only confirmed Death's suspicions. She was tough -she had gone against some of the older boys in play fights and won- but Death still felt like she should not be there. If she died? Death simply would not be allowed to deal with himself.

"I think that maybe if we divided themselves into different talents that they have," War suggested with a shrug.

"Oh? Like who can read faster?" Death snapped angrily at his youngest brother.

Shrugging his board shoulders, War acted as if he had not heard his brother's smart ass comment as he gave him a small smile. "Perhaps. If they can read such small writing, perhaps they can aim with a bow and arrow."

Ferago blanched. "What of me? I cannot see a target."

"You used to be a great warrior," Death growled, face-palming as he rubbed at his temples. "I did not think that you would need our-"

"Look, sorry to tell you Horseman," Ferago interrupted as he waved a hand into the air, making some golden light to spark at his fingers like firecrackers. "I did not mean to upset you. I just do not trust my fighting abilities anymore. I fell in love with a peaceful human, who showed me the ways of God and then accepted the fact that she loved me despite my being of a demon. Not that I can't drive a sword through my brothers or sister's gut, I would just like to choose to forgive them."

Agreement was exclaimed throughout the crowd of angels and many went quiet when Death began to clearly fume. "Then why the hell did any of you come here if you want to attack demons with peaceful words?"

Sighing, Arazel tried not to favor the Horseman's question as he stepped forward, opening his large wings to gain the others attention. "What the Horseman says is true. If you do not wish to fight, then please leave. We are wasting the Horsemen's precious time unless we do it for a cause."

Slowly the crowd began to peel away. Soon, all that was standing before the two Horsemen and two Librarians was one elder angel with a scarred right cheek, three adult males, one female, several teenage males of varying age and then the little angel girl that Death had noticed earlier. She stood the surest and straightest of them all, her firm but small chin up straight in the air as she stood with her wings folded gently and her hands beneath them. Death couldn't help but to marvel at her strength. War noticed her as well and shared a glance with him, frowning a little as he rolled his shoulders back, popping several muscles as he did it.

"No one else is backing down, no?" Death asked with a growl, taking a step forward and accusingly pointing at them. If anything, the angels stood straighter, faces firm. Out of them all, the little angel girl was the one to stand straightest. He lifted a hand to point at her. "Not you though. I want you to back down. This is not your fight."

The little girl blanched, surprised. Almost immediately the color to her face returned as she took a step forward, her chin jutted out as she held her arms to her side, her pink eyes blazing fire. "It is my fight, Horseman. Anyone who picks a fight with God and Christ itself makes it my fight to play a part in."

Slightly smiling over her bravery, Death threw his head back and laughed, hoping to squash her courage. Instead she just glared at him. "Little dove, little dove! I can not decide if your bravery is foolishness or a heart made of gold itself shaped about the name of God."

"Brave but definitely foolish. Does the child not have any parents?" War asked, turning to Ferago and Arazel.

The two looked at each other, blind eyes meeting Arazel's white ones. At first, when Ferago had shown up with the human woman who had changed him so much at the White City, Arazel had been one of the angels to believe that he would not make the cut as an angel. He was too... Demonic. But Arazel had to admit, the light bender who had used to bend darkness was different now. He could not stay with his human; he would have to wait until she died but it was clear Ferago was more than willing to wait. When the two had began to tale shifts on the wisest angel in the White City was unclear; Ferago had only been an angel about seven months now, which was nothing for Heaven. Arazel didn't mind that much. Ferago was smart and he opened eyes just as fast as what Arazel could with his 'miracle' of bending light like he could.

"The girl has no parents," Ferago called out. "She died before all of... that down there."

"Haha, funny," War grumbled from the background.

"No brother or sister?" Death insisted, turning to look at her. "No one that I could ask to take care of her before she got herself hurt in battle?" He saw her gaze fall, the tops of her wings twitching lightly as she shook her head, running a hand up her arm. "Well then, little dove, how dis you die to be so alone?"

She didn't open her mouth. Instead, she reached out and touched his hand with her small, slim finger.

At first, Death's instinct flared and he was glancing everywhere, Harvester broken into two scythes as he tried to determine just where he was. When he could not, he growled and took a step forward into the only light that was there in the pitch darkness, seeking answers. Instead of meeting the little angel, he saw a school yard. The place was small, nothing overly big or fancy about it, and he hadn't been standing there long before a bunch of children ran out of the short, brown building nearby. They looked happy; hands up in the air as they laughed and cheered. Death flinched as they ran through him, most dividing up into groups to go play with the thing that they normally would.

Scanning the crowd, Death looked for the angel. He was beginning to understand that this was a memory; instead of saying it all to hear she was going to show him just how she had died. If he found the angel then this would go faster -hopefully. He began walking, gazing over the shoulders of the children as he tried to find the familiar face that he was looking for. He found her by the swing set, chatting with a small, dark headed girl who was standing as she swung back and forth. Smiling, he stood in front of her, arms crossed as he watched her and began to listen to what they were talking about.

"My parents want me to get baptized sometime soon," the other girl was saying. "I want to have a say but..."

Death lost the rest of what she said as he caught the small angel on the opposite side of the swing set, little hands grasping some of her bangs as she strangled them. So she could see her own memories. He reached out toward her, wanting some answers, but paused when she glanced up at him, eyeing him. She pointed toward one of the sidewalks that was by the school, frowning. He realized that he was being slightly rude but at the moment, when his brother and sister could raid the White City any time that they pleased, he felt a little rushed. But, also at the same time, Death was curious. An eleven year old forced to die at a time that should not have been... Death want to know what had happened for such a wicked thing.

Turning his head, Death followed her finger, eyes narrowing as he saw a man and a woman approaching the playground. By the way that some of the children ran up to the woman, he was predicting that she was the teacher. The man Death did not know. He watched, seeing how the man was acting perfectly strange, hands deep in his pockets as he walked alongside the woman. Gears started to turn in his head. His head snapped toward the little angel when he figured it out, eyes wide and horror filtering into his mind and chest. When the little angel nodded sadly, Death's suspicions were proven true.

The first gunshots were loud and earth-shattering, cutting through the intended target as it killed her. As the teacher fell, the man turned toward the frozen children, eyes wild as he held up the gun in his hands. The children dispersed after his movement, screaming at the top of their lungs. Death cringed, hearing the shouts of fear, bringing forth some of his own haunting memories. Children fell and died upon the gun of the man as he fired many times, laughing hysterically as he found some hidden joy in murdering the helpless generation of humans. Death found his hands itching as the man walked past him, smiling. For a moment he forgot that he was in someone's memory and he swiped out at the man as he wandered by, snarling as he tried to get a firm hold on his neck. When he failed, he remembered and quickly darted away, looking for the little angel and her friend.

"Come out little kiddies, I know that you're there!" sang the man, dancing about the playground. "I know that I didn't kill you all!"

"Hannah!" sobbed the angel's friend as she clung to her shirt. "Why is he doing this?"

Hannah, the angel, was crammed up underneath a slide with her friend, both shivering in fright. They were both hidden but Death knew it would not stay that way. The man was moving and he was coming their way, humming some childhood song that Death recognized with the same tune as a Nephilim song. Grabbing her friend, Hannah smiled at her, sadness in her eyes. "Cassidy, you've got a life ahead of you. I think mine has been drawn to a stop. Whatever happens, don't make a noise."

With that the Little Dove left her friend, earning a quick but silent cry of distress from the girl. She hadn't made about seventeen feet before the man appeared behind her, laughing again in a crazed way as he grabbed her neck and lifted her high in the air. Death's hands twitched once more and he made a movement to strike the man, to knock his damned head from his damned shoulders so he would not hurt the small girl. Instead, his hand went through the man without anyone noticing. Death did spy the actual angel though; leaning against a rail on the swing set with her wings opened wide and then her pink eyes narrowed. Again Death felt torn, torn between what he could not do and torn between what he had done.

"Tell me girl," the man snarled, laughing. "Who do you believe in? Who will give you the power of afterlife and the chance to go to Hell?"

The Little Dove's eyes narrowed and, at first, she remained impassive. When the man lifted the gun however to put it to her head, pressing the cold barrel deeply into her forehead, Death saw her lips move ever so slightly. Snarling the man hold on her neck tightened and she gasped, flailing to be free for a moment. "Say it to where I can hear ya, girl!" he barked.

"I said that believe in God and Jesus Christ, you bastard!"

Death heard his soul ripping in two when the man pulled the trigger, blowing the Little Dove's brains free from the rest of her body. Instead of the memory fading away like he had thought it would, it stayed, though blackness and fuzzy began creeping in on the sides. He walked over to the real, angel Little Dove and watched as the police came, shooting the man on sight and helping the other little girl, Little Dove's friend, out and away. One of the policemen appeared to be very distraught about Little Dove and that's when Death put things together. This happened before War. That was her father.

So, sorry about that. It is certainly a little... rough. But that is Little Dove.

My daddy likes to tell me stories about certain people and places that the government *COUGH COUGH* doesn't want you to hear or learn. That, Little Dove's

death actually happened somewhere. I can't remember where it was but that really is true. Some evil person stormed a school somewhere with a gun and asked everyone what religion they were. If they said Christian, he would kill them.

On that sad and unkind note, I leave you for a little while again. Hope everyone has fun and I OWN NOTHING BESIDES THE OCS!!! DARKSIDERS OWNS THE HORSEMEN AND ARAZEL!!!