((Sorry this took so long, I had the entire thing written out a few days ago, but my computer restarted and I lost it all... I'm still bitter about it, honestly I don't think this draft turned out as good as the first one, but it'll have to do ))

~~~~~~~~Sean's POV~~~~~~~~

The darkness seems infinite, a blanket of shadow that swallows every thought, every noise. But even that isn't the worst part. Not the blackness, nor the frigid cold that seeps passed layers of skin and draws away any warmth that may have been left.

No, the worst part is the air itself. The thickness of it, the sure smell of decay floating just at the surface of each shaky breath, the way it stings the back of your throat burns your lungs until even breathing itself becomes next-to-impossible.

The smell, the cold, it brings up memories that don't belong. Familiar, yet ever-estranged. These shouldn't be in my head, I shouldn't feel this fear, this familiarly foreign terror. The hollow ache of bruises that were never there, bones that were never broken, coppery blood that never assaulted my tongue feeling as though it were real. Anger I have no right to feel attacks my brain, mixing unpleasantly with the remaining dread. I can't tell if it's mine or not.

What the hell am I doing here...? Why did I allow myself to be talked into this? I may as well have just ended my life myself, that's where this whole mission is leading. Maybe if I wasn't such a coward, maybe if I'd done it from the beginning I'd-

Those thoughts vanish as the darkness does, the lowly sound of a striking match prior to the sudden flickering hues of orange that light up the surrounding halls. Cracked stone surrounds us, a single path ahead and nothing behind us where the entrance had closed.

I blink a few times, allowing the blurriness of my vision to recede, allowing the darker thoughts that had creeped through to retreat again to the back corner of my mind. A certain warmth follows the dancing light, resting just atop my chilled skin before it oozes into the pores, through layers of skin and into my numbed muscles.

Feeling returns slowly, starting at my feet and moving up until I'm aware of my own body once again. I slowly curl my fingers at my side, half-afraid they'd snapped off in the beyond-freezing air, doing so I notice the lack of a warmth I'd clung to before descending. Frantically my eyes move around until they land on a form standing less than a foot away.

Mark stands rigid, brown eyes distant and unfocused, glazed over with a look I can only define as alarm, similar I'm sure to how I'd looked only minutes prior. His fists clench, white-knuckled, at his sides, shaking ever so slightly with tremors not indicating cold. I watch that haze over his eyes slowly begin to recede with the shadows. His clenched muscles relax slowly, tension turning to small shivers, before those too fade into mere paleness. Only when he blinks, slowly bringing the world into focus again, do I let myself look away, taking in more of the surroundings.

My eyes travel shallowly past the blemished, dark walls. They first land on the source of the light I find myself more than thankful for. My gaze falls on the brunette angel, who holds in his hand a small, copper candelabra, white wax in the middle topped with a small orange-yellow flame flickering shadows off the walls. One glance around and it's clear he simply grabbed it from the side of the long hall. A few old, oak tables line the darkened walls, unlit candles, similar to that Thomas holds, rest atop them.

Thomas himself looks shaken, eyes wide and quietly taking in everything from the sickly odor, to the coarse ground beneath our feet. Oddly enough he still seems well within his own mind, focused despite the situation.

Emma stands hardly a foot from him, her eyes dart from each stone to the next. She appears to study each crack, each stain. Her hand fists tightly in the fabric of the duffel bag hanging loosely around her elbow. She keeps up the soft authoritative posture I've come to expect from her, though I can feel the unease in each of her sharp breaths, each slight twitch of her fingers.

Nate remains near one of the walls, distancing himself from everyone else as he's been doing more and more recently. Resentment comes off him in waves. His arms cross over his chest, teeth grinding together underneath his pink lips being the only sign of nerves he's unable to hide.

Dark, the only one who shows no signs of anxiousness, no sign of anything but a cold familiarity, stands just off to my other side. His crimson eyes peek out from under his furrowed brows, taking in the empty hall that stretches ahead of us. His fingers clench slowly into a fist, only to uncurl again, not an action fueled by fear, but something else. Anger? Loathing? I can't quite tell, and his lax expression manages to hide any other hints.

"Alright,"

The female voice pipes up, authority of a drill sergeant ever present in her tone itself.

"Let's get this over with..."

She begins walking down the narrow hall, shoes making a soft thump against the coarse stone below our feet. Thomas stays close, just behind her to allow the dancing light of the candle to illuminate the area ahead. Mark walks a foot or so behind them, seemingly still in a daze though less powerful. His eyes remain downcast, interested solely on the pace of his feet.

I stay at his heels, using the bit of warmth resonating from him to soothe the shivers racking my muscles. I look anywhere but the darkness ahead, focusing firstly on the gentle flickering of the candle ahead, it brings up memories of scorched skin, and burnt muscles, I look away. Instead focusing on the hard floor below, it's dark, almost black even with the gentle light. It brings up memories of aching limbs, and icy cold seeping down to my bones. Again, I look away, instead focusing on the slight twinge of pain in my wrist. Somehow that's more comforting than anything else.

I can hear the soft sound of footsteps behind me, heavy ones I recognize clearly as Dark, and soft barely there feet that belong to Nate, stealthy as always.

"Why's it so empty down here..."

Thomas's hesitant voice floats gently through the air, I take notice of his whitened knuckles grasping the copper candelabra.

Dark answers what seems to be a rhetorical question, voice deathly quiet, though echoing through the empty stretch.

"No one was stupid enough to stay..."

~~~~~~~Dark's POV~~~~~~~~

"Why's it so empty down here..."

The brunette angel up front murmurs the question. It's not a surprise he'd noticed, I'm sure heaven isn't much different when it comes to the rush of occupants. These halls are almost always alive with chatter, creatures big and small shoving passed each other to hurry and complete whatever task they'd been given. Typically, the chatter was nothing of importance, mere white noise to tune out the rumble of the floor, and the creaking of the walls. However, I find myself recalling a few discussions that had almost gotten the speakers killed. Most of us feared the council, did what we were told when we were told, but there were some who spoke of an uprising. Spoke of trying to gain freedom from the oppressors. It was foolish, a mere dream that never would be carried out... at least... that's what we all thought...

"No one was stupid enough to stay..."

The words come out before I can think over them, not that it matters all that much. Still, I can't help the stab of annoyance as the female angel at front turns on her heel, eyes boring into me with hundreds of unasked questions.

"Where would they go?"

I shrug my shoulders, causing the metal cuffs to jingle with the motion, another jab of irritation hits me.

"Earth, I presume... As soon as the council fell I'd assume most fled, most of my kind aren't what you'd call brave...."

"To earth... So, let me get this straight, we have who knows how many demons among the humans..."

I give a curt nod, not trusting my tongue to speak anything but a sardonic remark. An exasperated sigh escapes past her pink lips, and her eyes narrow accordingly.

"And when were you going to tell us about that?"

I feel my eyebrow raise, a snarl growing across my lips which I hide with a simple frown.

"I didn't feel it was important..."

Her mouth opens to somehow scold me for such a thing, instead I continue to defend myself verbally. Resisting the urge to strike something... or someone...

"I doubt they will hurt many humans, with the chaos down there I believe they only seek refuge in human vessels, not work.... A few lives may be taken."

"How many is a few to you? Hundreds, thousands?"

I hardly notice the narrowing of my eyes, I can feel them burning with a new anger, but again force it down. There is nothing I can do for now, pick your battles....

"You started this war... There will be casualties..."

She looks as if she wants to argue, and I can't help the small smirk that graces my cheeks when she instead only turns back frontward without so much as a huff. She begins walking again, tensions heavy in the air, weighing down each breath, and making each step appear more difficult. I almost enjoy it.

The way it causes each of the humans to squirm, it's comedic if nothing else.

That amusement is short lived as we make it perhaps another meter, a smell floats down from the chilled hallway. I notice it first, then the angels as evident by their slowed steps, finally the humans with their noses scrunched up against the new scent.

It smells like smoke, not the pleasant smell of a bonfire, but a sickening odor of decay overlaid by that flame-ridden aroma.

I feel my feet instinctively slow. The smell of decay, it's common down here, one I've grown quite used to in my many decades, but it's never so... fresh...

Only a few feet further does it become evident.

A body lay sprawled against the wall, face up, arms out, and legs bent at an unnatural angle. The group stops, I hardly notice, walking forward even faster at the site. I'm almost thankful when they don't try to stop me.

I halt just above the corpse, feet almost brushing its sleeves, or at least what's left of them. I crouch down, ignoring the way the stronger scent retches at my stomach and burns my retinas.

His face... if it can even be called such a thing anymore... it looks as though it had been burnt with more than a normal flame. It's not just the top layers of skin that are scorched, no, each layer of blackened skin peels back to reveal charred muscle below. An unnatural ashy red-gray color blemishes the entirety of what is left of his features. His eyes, or at least what's left of them, mere spots of bloodshot white against the desecrated body, they're upturned, rolled back into the semi-visible skull in what could be considered fear.

A pool of crimson red forms at the base of his neck, droplets of the thick liquid falling silently to the floor from his longer brown hair. I don't bother looking for whatever wound hadn't been cauterized by whomever had burnt him, it wouldn't make a difference at this point.

"What happened...?"

A quiet voice I recognize as my human counter-part pipes up. Tone quivering, he almost sounds ready to retch at either the site or the smell.

"Angels..."

I snarl out the single word. It's obvious I can feel that disgusting aura of righteousness coming from every orifice of the dead creature. It's almost worse than the burnt smell of death, worse than the taste of copper that follows the strong odor.

Everyone goes silent, hell I almost wince at the tone of my own voice. A flame of new rage flickers in my gut, and for a moment I consider attacking, running, something...

They wouldn't let me get far, that I know. Keeping me cuffed like some kind of criminal, chained like a goddamned animal. Forced to turn against my own kind, to offer myself up as a source of information lest I be slain. I barely notice the pain of nails digging into my palm, focused instead on feeding that fire that had risen to my chest, the fury causing a certain, not-unpleasant, ringing sound in my ears.

"Let's keep moving, it should be right ahead..."

A majority of the group walks past me rather uncaring, at least they have the respect to walk around the corpse instead of over it. That doesn't make it any better, nor does it douse the fury.

Sean stops just beside me, I stand straight up once more. Hardly looking over to his face, I can feel the disgust radiating off him. I'm surprised he hadn't yet thrown up the contents of his stomach, if there are any.

"Maybe..."

He speaks up, I can see the urge to run up after the group, to stay close to the faded orange light. But he doesn't.

"Self-defense... maybe he attacked first..."

Another flicker up my throat.

"No... He wouldn't have..."

The truth in those words almost hurts. Down here most of us know each other, we may not all talk, but regardless we know each other by energy alone. Even with the angelic grace drenching it, I can feel that faded energy of his, recognizable. Arin, we called him Ego... He was most certainly not a warrior, far from it. If any of us down here deserved a second chance at a human life, a chance to change our fate, it was him.

"Maybe..."

"Are you dense?!"

The sharpness of my voice startles even me for a moment, however the flame of anger in my chest dances happily at the humans visible flinch, bringing more words across my tongue.

"This was not self-defense, this was not some righteous act, this was overkill... cold-blooded murder.... Nothing more, nothing less."

My words had grown quiet, cold, the bitter taste of resentment left atop my tongue almost deliciously rich.

"He may have been a demon... but he was human once too, even he didn't deserve such violence, such disrespect..."

A twang of sadness laces my words, I quickly cover that with a sneer.

The fear that dances through his oceanic eyes, I find myself relishing in it despite everything, relishing the way his muscles quiver, the way his instincts scream 'run' but his limbs freeze. This is how it should be... I should be feared, especially by such a pathetic creature. I feel a sharp smile grace my features and allow the glint of murderous wrath to be free in my voice.

"Angels aren't any better than us... We're all fighting the same war, and some of us are willing to do whatever it takes..."

With that final animistic rumble of words, I turn, walking steadily after the slightly faded light. I hear Sean stumble behind me, feet dragging against the cement with quiet contemplation, and the clad-in-black angel remains again further behind. I can't tell if it's to keep an eye on me, or merely to avoid the others. I almost smirk at the thought.

Trouble in paradise?

The sickening smell slowly fades away as we walk, but that doesn't take away the bitterness that holds strong against my throat, a desperate blood-lust seeking revenge, though knowing full-well nothing can be done. Some how that makes it much worse.

A lit room is where the group finally stops, two angels stand just outside, hardly acknowledging the group that walks in. Many more angels litter the large room I soon recognize as a sort of conference room. Chatter hushes as we enter, and I feel my instincts scream at the rush of grace I can feel even from outside the doorway.

I stop outside, ignoring the glances I get, and allow Sean to step up beside me, still quiet, still keeping his gaze downcast.

I lower my voice to a whisper, quiet enough that I for a second doubt he'll hear me.

"Be careful who you trust... They aren't as righteous as they'll have you believe..."

A small shudder from the human is my only response.