Drawing courtesy of @Spi11ed_Ink! Make sure to check her out!

And I feel like I haven't slept in months,

And it takes everything I have to get up. 

It has for a while now,

It kills me to say it.

It's just too much.

And I, I think I've had enough.

I think I've had enough.

Please, take me home. 

Moose Blood, It's Too Much

27

Despair crested the hill with his head hung low, obviously equally tired as his two riders. Valir was asleep on Death's back. The only way that Death was able to stay awake was the uncomfortable position he was in from the saddlehorn and attempting to keep his Thoroughbred awake.

It had taken a while to get back to Jessica's. Jophiel had bid 'the two, unworthy children of Adam and Eve' as the other Archangels had approached. Apparently, the discussion that was to come could not be spoken with the listening ears of the Kingdom of Man, even though Death technically wasn't human. After accessing the surprise and the wounds that Valir and the Horseman had gathered, Death decided that there was no point in arguing with Jophiel's righteous views and simply left. From the evening sun, the moon had rose and brought the sparkling stars with it.

Jessica's broken house sat in the middle of her farm, a shadow casting over it from the one tree that was anywhere near it, another coming from the tigress that was waiting beside it. And, suddenly, things made sense. That broken house was Jessica's broken spirit. Death could almost see the shadows of the two people that had deceased in her life; there, like they weren't the ghosts of what had been, a man holding a young child's hand stood by the Guardian without casting shadows. It wasn't until the child ruffled Sera's fur that the Kinslayer realized the ghosts could interact with people. The second that they entered the shadow of the house the two had completely disappeared, leaving just the tigress.

You didn't die, Sera stated calmly as she flicked an ear in acknowledgement to their arrival. I was beginning to wonder if you would ever return, Horseman.

"Glad you missed me."

I was more concerned about the life you might have lost, Sera hissed, baring her fangs and flattening her ears.

"I wouldn't have gotten her hurt, Guardian." Death dismounted Despair, awakening Valir. She jerked upwards, taking a moment to gather her surroundings before stretching and dismounting herself. "Go rest. I'll take care of Despair." Valir nodded and left without complaining.

Sera watched her walk into the house before turning back to the Horseman. Where did you go?

"You weren't concerned when we left, what makes it different now?"

Again, her ears flattened, her lips pulling back into a snarl. One second later the white, purple-striped tiger was in her human-like form. Death wasn't entirely sure what to think of the Guardians. They claimed that they weren't human -they called themselves Sri Moi- but there were so many qualities that they shared with humans that it seemed like the best thing to go with. Sera stood before him, tall for a woman but not taller than him, and her hair was ruffled like she had been running her hands through it nervously. The only thing that didn't appear human were her too blue eyes and the glow that came from immortality was too strong.

"I had other things to do, Horseman." She crossed her arms, leaning into the side of the house. One of the shingles fell off with a clunk. "I'll explain everything to you later. There are people inside who you will most likely want to meet. Hand me Despair's reins. I'll put him up for you."

Despair's eye flicked up in a disagreement, but neither one was able to resist. As she took his horse's reins, Death grabbed her arm to keep her from moving. "Why are you doing this?" he asked softly. Sera lifted her eyebrow for him to elaborate. "Why are you helping Jessica? What were you doing with those ghosts?"

"I was hoping you hadn't seen that. They are Jessica's husband and little boy's souls. As a Guardian and since it takes a while before Heaven can accept can souls now, I'm one of the few people that they can interact with. You'll meet someone later who can talk to them too." She sighed, twisting Despair's reins. "Jessica doesn't talk about them much because they died so painfully... but she loves them dearly."

"What were they like?"

"Why the questions?" A small smile flickered across Sera's lips before replacing it with a frown. "Her baby was adorable. He was just learning how to talk when he passed. And Jessica's husband...." The Guardian trailed off for a moment before shaking her head. "He was one of the greatest men that I have ever seen. Respectful, full of duty, polite, strong, independent, loved Jessica with all of his heart.... A lot of people were sorrowful when he passed."

"When the time is right, I shall apologize for her lost."

Sera stared at him, blue eyes swimming with understanding. "I think you know as much as anyone that sometimes apologizing for the people that we lose isn't enough."

A small drizzle started. Sera left him standing there in the rain, his gaze frozen at the blades of grass that was struggling to grow despite the feet that trampled a path around it. The rain felt oddly alive as it slowly soaked through his shirt to his skin. He wished that it could fill the hole that he was suddenly very aware of resting on the left side of his chest were his Nephilim siblings had once rested. In his head, he apologized over and over again for everything that had happened. But, like Sera had said, sometimes that wasn't enough.

He stood there, allowing the rain to soak him to the core, until he heard Sera's footsteps behind him, having finished putting Despair up. Like a senseless ghost, he followed her inside the house. The steps creaked under his weight and he wondered just how much more they could take.

"Death! Sera, what the hell did you let him do? Did he just stand in the rain?"

Jessica's voice sounded tired as they entered the house; when the Horseman looked up to see her face, he was surprised by how old she appeared. The worry lines on her face seemed more pronounced and bags had formed under her brown eyes from a lack of sleep. He watched her dully as she gathered some clothes from a nearby closet. She ushered him to the closest, demanding that he changed before he got sick again.

The clothes felt heavy in his arms as she passed them over to him. For some reason, they didn't appear real as he felt the fabric, wondering how long it had taken her to make these and how often she had mended them. She waved at the door of the bathroom, asking him to do it, but he didn't hear a word. His eyes wandered about the hallway. The broken boards that had been sloppily fixed from the beast that had leapt through her home a little while back until they had the time to do better, the chipping paint from the walls, the picture frames that were barely holding onto the screws that held them up, the squeal of the hinge as the door to the entrance of the house opened. All of it was broken.

"Hey, brother. You better do as Jessica says before she rips out your lungs to prevent you from becoming sick." Strife's voice was able to pierce through Death's daze and he glanced at his brother. The White Horseman was shaking his cowboy hat free of water, his concerned yellow eyes looking at Death in question.

His gaze slowly turned back to Jessica. Her brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun, loose strands popping free from their confinement in all directions. Her lips were set firmly in a deep form. He had never realized it before, but her face seemed skinnier than what it was supposed to look; now that he thought of it, when had he ever seen her actually eat a meal? There was a fire burning in her eyes -determination. He cocked his head to the side. After all that she had been through at such a young age -Sera had told him that she was only thirty-one- there was still a blazing fire inside her. How? Granted, she looked slightly older than what she probably should have, she was still there.

"How?"

"What?" Her eyes narrowed, her arms crossing over her chest as she pursed her lips. "How what? To get dressed? I'm not dressing you. You're perfectly capable."

This wasn't the time, Death realized when Strife came into his view. The image that his siblings thought of him could not be changed because Death was having a momentary crisis. "Nothing. Just a thought that slipped out." He finally focused on the clothes that Jessica had given him. "Is that a cat on this shirt? What the hell?"

The glint that resided in Jessica's eyes told him that she didn't believe his words. But, surprisingly, she grunted, slapping him playfully on the shoulder. "Just go get changed. I'm sure that Sera told you that there was company over. We've let them wait long enough. They're probably starting to get antsy by now."

"Who are they?" Death asked as he slipped into the bathroom to change and distract himself from his own thoughts.

"They're a group of people that travel. They choose not to settle in a house and instead wanted to be in numbers, thinking that they could be better protected from the horrors out in the world. From what I understand, it's grown quite a bit. Their leader has built himself a small army and is trying to defeat the ash."

Death paused in putting on his shirt. "He's trying to defeat the ash with a bunch of humans? Isn't that suicide?"

"It's not just humans anymore. They have... things from all over the place now from what I understand."

Grunting in acknowledgement, Death spent a moment to stare at the ridiculously bright, tie-dyed shirt with a cat plastered in the middle before he exited. Jessica huffed in laughter and he shot her a glare. "Very funny. How old is this? It smells like dust."

"I wouldn't doubt it. I found that one at some supermarket wreckage."

"And you gave it to me?"

"Why not?"

He grumbled under his breath as he followed Jessica into the living room. He immediately noticed the strangers that were in the room. It appeared that everyone had grouped off; Strife, John, and Sera had sat on one side, the White Horseman investigating the pictures that were lining the mantle, the old man staring at the other group with narrowed eyes, and the Guardian was hiding in the shadows with her head bent. The other side of the room was loud and packed. Curiously, they were all surrounding one person.

"Horseman!" The center man stood, lifting an arm so it would be easier for Death to spot him in the mess. He strode forward, the others moving to the side as if he was Moses and they were the Red Sea, the only exception being Thomas clinging to the man's leg with sheer joy.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jessica's mouth twitch in anger. Leaning toward her, he whispered, "How do you know him?"

"He's my little brother, Andrew."

Suddenly, Death could see the resemblance. It sounded terrible, but the man was... prettier than Jessica. Whatever genes that this man had skipped Jessica. However, his looks somehow seemed to help give the man an air of authority that Death wasn't sure that he liked. Actually, that may not have been authority that Death was feeling.... All it took was for their fingers to graze in the Kingdom of Man's formal greeting -a "handshake"- for Death to realize why his aura was strange.

"I prefer to keep my memories to myself, telepathic," Death snarled.

Andrew's eyes flashed, impressed. "If you weren't a Horseman, I would ask if my sister had told you that." A look of what almost appeared to be hatred flashed between the siblings. "We have things to discuss, Horseman. With all of us here, I won't have to repeat anything later." The man gestured for Death to join him on his side of the room.

The Kinslayer hadn't even blinked when Jessica grabbed his arm, pulling Death to the side that hosted the earlier occupants of her home. She joined John on the couch, crossing her arms in a defiant nature and glaring at her brother. Death stood behind her, glancing at Strife. His brother patted him on the back in greeting. "The guy's a prick, but you're going to want to listen to him."

"Let me start by formally introducing everyone," Andrew said with a large smile as if it would help lighten the mood on the other side.

The "leader" went down the line. The biggest woman, the one who looked like she could break a board in half with the shaved head, was Shel and was introduced as a commander to whatever army that Andrew could possibly be making. She glared at Death; he could already tell that he was going to get along more with her than he ever would with the telepathic. The blond-haired man with the terrible attitude was Silas. It was pretty obvious that not many people liked him because of his prickly personality. And lastly was the girl named Cinder. She was ridiculously young, and it was almost like a wannabe angel. Death's nose curled just seeing her.

"And how about you guys?"

"How about you take that shit-eating grin on your stupid face and shove it up your ass?" Strife replied in the same sing-song voice that Andrew had used. Silas snorted in amusement.

Mama arose from her armchair, gesturing toward the two children that were clinging to Andrew. "Do you not see the kids in this room? Watch your words, Strife!"

"It ain't like they haven't heard it before."

"We're not here to argue about the children," Andrew spoke up, breaking the glares that were being shared between Mama and Strife. "We have more important things to talk about. Things like the entire human race, people."

Jessica's hands clenched into fists, so hard that, after a few seconds, that a small dribble of blood rolled from her palm. Confused, Death gently laid a hand upon her shoulder; she jerked underneath his touch, but instantly released the pressure that she had created in her hands. "How about we do this later? When everyone is not so tired?" Death suggested. While it was partially to protect Jessica from whatever was wrong, it was also because he could sense that the aggressiveness in the room was mostly from the lack of sleep that was in the room. Rosaline was already nodding off onto Andrew's arm.

An obvious protest was beginning to form from Andrew's lips when Sera said, "I agree. No one is thinking radically right now."

"Well, I will get to the main point then."

Death stared at the man, taking in the demanding tone that Andrew had taken. The man clearly enjoyed exerting power on others. He had to have the last word. Everything had to go his way. "Hurry up then." When Andrew shot him a gaze that could melt an ice cube from the anger that boiled there, Death only pushed his anger even more by motioning him to step it up a notch.

"By midday tomorrow, you will have everything that is valuable to you packed up and ready to leave. You are no longer safe here and I will not allow my sister die from this ash. Some of my people will be here tomorrow to gather up your animals and-"

Andrew's words came to a standstill when Jessica stood. While he couldn't see her face, Death could feel the anger that was radiating off her. "I will not be going anywhere. You cannot just march into my house and tell me what I am supposed to do. I don't care what it's like with your 'people,' but in my house, you will respect my opinion and you are not the one that gives the orders around here."

Silence arose. Mama was the first to speak. "Jessica, you should listen to your brother-"

"I don't have to listen to either one of you," she snapped with so much venom that it probably could've killed a demon. "If it's my choice to stay here, then I will stay here, dammit. Now I suggest that you all go to the rooms that I am allowing you to stay in."

*

It hadn't been that long since he had been changed to a human and yet Death could already see the differences.

Standing before a mirror, Death stared at himself. Without his mask, he felt naked; he traced the smooth angles of his face, the fine cheekbones, his nose, his chin. They were more... sculpted than the other humans that he had seen -not that he had seen that many- and he assumed that some of his birthrights as a Nephilim had managed to survive. Either way, the longer he stared at his face, the more he grew disgusted with himself. There were so many things wrong with the person he could see in the mirror.

Refusing to look at himself any longer, Death exited the bathroom, throwing himself on the bed that Jessica had made that night just for him. Jessica.... He stared at the ceiling, sighing. They had all filed out of the living room after her outburst without saying a word. The most noise that had been created when Thomas and Rosaline had voiced that they wanted Strife and Sera to put them to bed; Andrew, as the respected father, had not taken kindly to that and had disagreed until Sera threatened to rip out his tongue. Death had been the last to leave, and that was because he could tell that Jessica wished to be alone.

Should he have actually left her alone, though? If it was him in her place, he would want everyone as far away as possible, so he wouldn't accidentally last out and hurt them. But, females were complicated. Maybe she just needed someone to support her after so many that she cared for had been torn away from her?

Why did he even care?

Rolling his eyes at himself, Death sat on the edge of his bed, running his hands across his face. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was Jessica's emotional state having such an effect on him? Maybe it was because he was tired. Yes, that was it. He did see the ghosts of her husband and child earlier; that would make anyone aware of another's pain. It wouldn't be long before he just forgot what they looked like and he would never have to even think about it again.

But he owed Jessica his life now. His hand naturally went to the scar where the demon attempting to possess him had been in his chest, scratching. Because of her, he most likely wouldn't be here. She had been able to nurse him long enough for Mama to appear and cast the demon away. Wasn't it the least that he could do to make sure that she was okay because of that fact?

"Why are humans so damn weak?" Death scowled as he stood, cursing himself. He already knew what was going to happen. Getting himself involved and comforting Jessica while she was in pain would send the wrong message. While he wouldn't openly admit that he felt attracted to the woman, it was obvious that Jessica was at least attracted to his body. He didn't want her thinking that the two of them could ever become a... thing. There were many things wrong with that -a Horseman and a human, a Nephilim and a human....

Could he even be considered a Nephilim or even a Horseman right now? Turning his hands over, he investigated the thin skin that stretched over his calloused hands. His eyes drifted to the vanity. A Man, a son of Adam, looked back at him with unnatural orange eyes, perfect human features, and black hair that was perfectly straight. The tattoo that he gained when his Nephilim brethren were alive and the scar created from their souls both seemed duller now. However, the weight of both were surprisingly strong. The most noticeable of the scars was his new one. A brilliant red, most of the skin appeared to be still growing, the color increasing toward the center to make it look raw. Was this the price that he was paying to become human?

A shadow passed over his door, peeking through the small space between the wood and the floor. Though human, instinct made his eyes narrow, his hand outstretching to wield Harvester. When a weapon lacked to randomly appear into his hands, he remembered that the woman he was so concerned about had hid it somewhere.... Though he was sure that whoever was at his door wasn't dangerous, he couldn't take chances.

As quickly as the shadow had appeared, it was gone. He considered ignoring it. How much harm would that actually cause? None... right? Actually, he had no clue. What if he was the only one to notice that one of the people that Andrew had brought was a murderer? If someone was hurt, then he would feel guilty.

Quietly, he snuck to his own door, opening it carefully so it wouldn't creak. Peeking outside, the Horseman was just able to catch a glimpse of the shirt that Jessica had been wearing earlier that day. If it wasn't a murderer, his second guess had been the woman. He had learned that she didn't sleep most nights and did activities that she didn't have time to do during the day. It was slightly earlier than normal for her normal bedtime though. Maybe something was wrong?

After debating every single situation that he could possibly think, Death eventually slipped out from behind his door and entered the hallway, making sure to be heard. Even though he was no longer a Nephilim, that did not mean that he had lost his skills in sneaking around. Jessica did not deserve to be snuck up on tonight. Not after everything that he learned tonight with her family.

He was just passing by the corner right before Jessica's room when someone grabbed him. Every instinct he had flared through him, only stopping when he felt the familiar fingers lingering against his bare arm. How could he forget just how their skin felt against his? She had spent days caring for him.

"God, you scared me," Jessica breathed, releasing his arm. "I wasn't sure who was following me at first."

"And I wasn't sure who stopped at my door. I still don't trust those people."

Jessica's brown eyes narrowed aggressively. "It's better that you don't trust them. Unlike everyone that lives around here, they only have their personal interests in mind. There are no others to them."

"You really think so?" It didn't seem to add up when Andrew was apparently giving shelter to those who didn't have any and providing protection for them. While Death doubted that Andrew was the amazing person that everyone was making him out to be, it appeared that he was least trying to help others.

She pursed her lips, glaring at him. "You don't believe me."

"I never said that."

"You don't know the whole damn story." Defiance burned through her, the fury obvious in her eyes.

"Then tell me."

The woman snorted. "What are you doing? Pretending to be in a soap opera?" When Death raised his eyebrow in question, Jessica rolled her eyes, mumbling under her breath. "I guess you should know," she said after a moment. "You've been involved with all of this family drama the second that Betty was able to get that damned demon out of you. Somehow she made it to you but not...."

When he noticed the emotion that was beginning to overwhelm her, Death gently took hold of Jessica's arm, motioning to her bedroom nearby. "Why don't we go somewhere more private?" he suggested softly. After she nodded, he guided her into the room, trying to ignore how fragile she had suddenly become. Once they had entered the safety of her mostly empty room other than a variety of plants, he sat her down upon her bed. He crouched down to her height to be less intimidating. "Now you can tell me what happened."

Her brown eyes glistened with unshed tears when she looked up at him. Sniffing, she attempted to graciously wipe a few tears that managed to escape her control at his words. "There's not that much to tell. You know that Betty is a witch. Besides from being able to do magic, she knows how to rid the body of possessive demons."

"Demons haven't possessed the Kingdom of Man in centuries," Death interrupted.

"The End War changed that. Possession has become pretty common now. It's like an illness now.... Touch someone controlled by a demon and there's a pretty good chance that another demon will get you." Jessica wrung her hands together, clearly nervous. To try and calm her, the Pale Horseman took her hands in his own. She took a steady breath. "Michael and my boy were possessed around the same time. It was an accident. Michael and I found someone having a seizure in one of our fields and we decided to try and help him.... We didn't know that he was possessed. Somehow, I wasn't possessed, but Michael and my baby were.... Betty claims that she wasn't able to get here in time, but Andrew and his group were living on my land. She was too busy consoling my brother on the death of his wife. She always cared more about him. If she had cared enough for either her son-in-law or grandchild, she could have made it here long before.... After their deaths, I made them leave. Told them I didn't want to see their faces again and that I wasn't part of their family."

Her grip tightened across his hands as she spoke, tears beginning to flow freely from her eyes as she stared at Death's chest without seeing. Death allowed the information to be absorbed into him. There had to be something else to the story that Jessica did not know. Mama appeared to love Rosaline and Thomas very much; could the woman just not had the time to get to Jessica's home before the possession killed her son and husband?

"I know what you're thinking." Surprised, he looked up into Jessica's tired face. "Betty had the time. She just didn't want too. Death, my boy died because he was too young to be strong enough to face the demon.... But Michael lived for a week, fighting that demon with everything he had, before he couldn't take it any longer and... and...." Her voice broke.

Sighing, Death stood, gathering Jessica's weak body against himself to hold her as she burst into tears. As she cried, he tried to soothe her by patting her head occasionally. He wasn't good at this. He felt like he was petting an animal after it had accomplished something. After she had stopped crying for a moment, hugging his waist as she breathed heavily to calm herself and her head pressed into his stomach, she said, "Death. Why wasn't I possessed?"

"That's a good question. If you were exposed, you should have been. However, if you have any skills in magic, then the possession wouldn't be able to work because you would be a witch. While they may not be classified as one now, witches used to be considered demons."

Jessica ripped herself away from Death instantly. The Pale Horseman looked at her, waiting for an explanation. In a wild angry, she flung an arm to point at one of the many plants that were situated across her room. "But this isn't a power! Betty can heal people! Andrew is a damned telepathic! I don't have magic! It's just a green thumb!"

"Green thumb?"

"You and your damn siblings are so out of touch with metaphors. Like what the hell. What have you been doing? Living underneath a rock?

As she ranted, Jessica stood from her bed, walking over to a few flowers that were underneath the only window in the room. Each plant was being raised in wooden crates that had been filled with soil. She crouched before the box filled with flowers that had yet to bloom. Taking a deep breath, Jessica waved her hand over them. As her hand moved above them, each bloomed slowly as if she had urged them from their sleep. Color burst into the dark room. Once all of the flowers had bloomed, she glanced back Death.

"That is why your farm is so productive," Death exclaimed, feeling as if he had just figured out a large puzzle. "You control plants."

"I don't control them. I just help them grow. I can't do anything other than quicken their growth or make them bloom." Jessica ran her fingers along a few petals. "Believe me, I've tried. If you consider this magic, then it's the weakest that I've ever seen."

"But it is magic." Death joined her by the plants. They were content on sitting there for a while, surrounded by their company and silence, before the Pale Horseman suddenly felt the urge to touch her. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he felt lost for words when she finally looked at him. Jessica wasn't beautiful. How could she be when there were bags under her eyes, defeat written across her face, and tiredly hunched? But, for some reason, Death felt his heart beat a little faster.

Jessica looked at him for a moment before breaking the moment by standing. "You should leave to rest. When we wake up in the morning, we'll be leaving."

Still in the floor, Death watched as the widow crossed over to her bed, sitting on it and covering her face with her hands. After a moment, she seemed to compose herself. She pulled her hair free and allowed her brown hair to fall across her shoulders. It was the first time that Death had seen her like that and, for some reason, it made her look younger. Raising an eyebrow, she motioned for him to leave.

"You're scared," he said instead.

She blinked. "Do I look scared to you?" Death snorted and she rolled her eyes. "You have to realize that I've lived here for years. I married a man here, I raised a child until he died here, and I have fought for this land ever since I laid foot on it. Leaving this place is also leaving every piece of security that I've known." She paused, looking at him. "Is that bad of me?"

Death arose and joined her on her bed. "No. There is nothing wrong about not wanting to leave those that you love. We all have to face those challenges."

"Have you?"

Such an innocent question, Death though, his hand naturally reaching for the scar on his chest. "I have."

"And what did you do? Did you leave them behind?"

He struggled to find the right words. What would she do if he told her his entire past? That she was sitting besides someone who had murdered his entire race, the actual Kinslayer? "I wish there had been a different way to resolve our issues than how they were handled," he finally settled on. "But sometimes there are no other options."

"I think I understand."

"You will. You will know what to do."

Jessica turned her gaze toward him again, a small smile on her face. "Thank you, Death. You've helped a lot." A small, genuine smile stretched across Death's lips. At his response, she nudged him, leaning her head on his shoulder. "You should smile more. It looks good on you."