The wind was playing with her hair, as though it was his, the cold breeze hugging her as if it had missed her presence, the moon shining above the starry night, shading the Downworlders in a soft, white light making even the tanned skin of Dèlia seem as faded as Alec's.

She could smell the demons, a plague that had affected her whole world, the once she loved. Though she knew exactly what they were, and where they came from, she couldn't help but feel guilt and sadness for there was nothing she could do to permanently keep the monsters at bay.

"It sure is a cosy," Joseph remarked, his chocolate eyes looking at her as snow covered his brown hair. She never quite understood why people with brown hair and brown eyes were always so negative about the way they looked. She found brown eyes to be just as beautiful as blue. Perhaps, on some days, even prettier.

They were a shade of darkness you could lose yourself in, a mysterious shine which made you forget why you had ever told them to be less. They had something calming and comfortable in them, something known which made you recall that just because something wasn't different didn't mean it wasn't beautiful.

And yes, blue eyes reminded her of the sea, one in which she could easily drown, but she knew those brown orbs would be there to get keep her head above the water. Those so perfectly crafted glances which told her: "Come on, you can do it." Maybe because they didn't expect that they could, or because they knew what they were capable of, yet never told anyone?

The brown hair, well, everything was in balance, somehow. She always found herself being drawn to darker shades of hair. And brown, it made her remember of the woods, the trees surrounding them. She had the urge to run her hand through the brown hair of her friend, sometimes, just because she imagined it to feel so soft.

"I would kill for a sofa," Dèlia responded to those looming orbs, earning a smile from her friends, one which told the adventures they had been through and the times they had laughed it off. All the stupid things she had said once before, or the things she had done, all in that mischievous grin.

"You don't have to wait long for the killing part, as it seems," Rafe stated, while a cold tidal wave of death and destruction rushed over the surface, making everyone grab a hold of their weapons or watching anxiously into their surroundings, as if there lay all the answers.

A sudden sound, the sound of water breaking as though someone jumped in, the perfect surface being shattered into pieces, filled the air. Everyone turned their heads to the sound, expecting to see the source, but had they after so many years not learned that it was never that easy?

Had they after so many wars and deaths not learned their lesson? After years of exterminating each other she expected them to understand that it was never as it seemed. Had they not learned from Napoleon, 18 July 1815? Or perhaps 30January 1933, Adolf Hitler? Not everyone is who he seems, mistakes can be made, and people who we think are right, things which we expect to be true, can be traitorous and false.

But it would take a long time for them to learn, they were still so young and evolving. She couldn't really blame them as they were in the middle of their growth. So, she watched, from afar, as humanity thrived, only interfering when she should.

Shadows came creeping in, wanting to end the shining souls they each held, stealing them and hoping to be given something in return, once they reached hell. Had they forgot who they were facing? Who was looking them in their eyes -if they even had eyes- and said no?

Rafe held his sword, tangled in leaves and twigs curling on each side, shining lustfully in the moonlight as if seeking war. Joseph had his fangs ready to go, business as usual. Luke had his claws shown, a yellow stare weighing heavy on those he looked at. Alec drew his bow, aiming perfectly at what was just mist and water. She herself on the other hand, daggers out and ready, had her eyes fixed at the shadow.

Where they always seem to come from. Shadows. The place unreachable for the living and feared by de dead, the place where no one came back from, because those shadows swallowed you whole and made everyone think you had never existed at all.

The first demon sprang from the shadows, claws first, then came its snake-like body, slimy and wet, but with legs and a tail, to help it swim. Two beetle yellow eyes stared her down, hungry for blood and death as it crashed on her, thinking she was just another passer-bye easy to kill.

The assumption that someone, anyone for that matter, was easy, had cost it its life.

She slid his throat, blood gushing out of the wound she had created. It snarled and shrieked as it fell to the floor, the pain it must feel being put in that one last yell, sending shivers down the spines of those who were new to her method of working.

They called themselves demons, because partly, they were, yet she knew they were fake, a bad copy from the real monsters, she had seen demons and turned their back on them, because at the end of the day, had they not even a sliver of love and care in them, concern for those whom they held dear?

Joseph hissed, but it was already too late. It had died.

"Water demons," she stated, whipping the blood from her face.

"Water demons?" Alec repeated with concern. He didn't know how to react. A part of him wanted to wrap his arms around Dèlia and protect her, another part knew better and understood she could take care of herself and another part of him was hurled into the fight.

"They tend to be less deadly on land. But don't underestimate them," was all she could say before the demons crawled up from the water they lived in, seeing their next dish all ready and warmed up for them, sweating and slightly cooled down by the winter's breeze, just as they wanted them.

They were ugly, just as you would imagine demons to be. If you would stare at them too long, you would forget the concept of beauty, you would forget there was even such a thing as pretty and you would definitely forget that there were uglier creatures out in the wild.

Dèlia looked down at them. She knew exactly who made the, why they were made and for what purpose. Throughout the centuries she had learned more than she wanted, and now it finally came in handy. She wasn't going down without a fight, she wasn't even going down at all.