((Alright, this chapter isn't anything too major. Mostly it's a slightly fluffy scene where Mark gets to play doctor. Little bit of drama at the end of course ;) enjoy!))

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

Walking in, I can instantly feel a handful of eyes rest on the small group of us that frankly don't belong. They linger the longest on Dark, disgust and plain hatred radiating, the demon however seems indifferent, occasionally meeting those eyes with a cold stare until they inevitably backed down.

The air in the small room feels... different... It's not as cold, strangely warm compared to the narrow hall which is a small comfort. The smell of decay doesn't seem to pass the doorway, nor does the overbearing sense of foreboding. The air feels almost electric with a gentle power, one I recognize from being housed with angels for the few days prior. Oddly enough this doesn't put me at ease, if anything I find breathing to be even more difficult.

Emma had moved to the other side of the room quickly, speaking to another who I don't recognize. A male with a head of curly brown hair, who towers over the female, yet looks oddly nonthreatening. Dark stands as well with them, looking more than a little pissed at being dragged into the conversation, Emma's hand hovers just over the demon's elbow, that and the cuffs he looks like a straight up prisoner, I wonder for a second if Dark would lash out if she truly grabbed him. The demon's red eyes occasionally scan the rest of the room, scaring off any other eyes that watch him, hardly seeming to listen, and speaking in a low grumble if he was spoken to directly, seeming to stick to one-or-two-word answers.

I flinch as though burned when a hand lands atop my shoulder, the hand flies back in the same motion. I turn with a quiet huff, forcing my breathing to even out, to Mark who eyes me warily. I mutter a soft apology, and again he reaches to grab my arm softly.

"Let's go sit down... You look like shit..."

"You don't' look so good yourself..."

The attempted snark falls flat on my tongue, coming out lamely. Mark offers up a small smile anyway. I allow him to lead me further into the room until I feel like I might suffocate on the energy permeating the air. He gestures to a small wooden bench on the far side of the wall, haphazardly shoved against it. I don't' hesitate to sit down when we reach it, feeling the sore muscles of my body sigh in relief.

Mark sits next to me, a small wave of reprieve flashing over his tense features. His eyes move around the room cagily, as though he too doesn't trust the angels. I try my hardest to believe they're good, but Dark's voice continues to creep into my thoughts.

That corpse... I keep telling myself it had to be self-defense, but... The way Dark looked at the remains, the way he spoke of this Arin, it seems he almost cared for the other, he believed wholeheartedly that the demon wouldn't have attacked first. I don't' want to believe him, but... those emotions that passed his face before the rage, those are hard to fake...

Even if it had been self-defense... it still looked like plain overkill. The body was hardly recognizable, I can't get the sickening sight of charred red from my head, every time I so much as blink it comes back to me. I give a silent sigh, when this is all over, I may as well admit myself back to that damned asylum... I feel like I'm going crazy...

I flinch back into reality at a soft pressure against my injured wrist, wincing and pulling it against my chest protectively. Turning to meet a pair of tired brown eyes, I release the tension in my muscles, though leave my wrist pressed firmly against the fabric of my t-shirt, waiting for the throbbing to go down at the sudden motion.

"Let me see it..."

He speaks patiently, as though trying to talk down a wild animal. I hesitate and give a soft shake of my head.

"I'm fine..."

"I'm not stupid, Sean... Let me see your wrist..."

That patient tone again, honestly, I think he's just too tired to really give a damn anymore. I pause another moment before placing my arm in his outstretched hand. I can't stop a wince as he rolls up the sweatshirt's sleeve, and slowly begins unwrapping the tightly wound bandages. I feel an involuntary gag at the back of my throat and quickly stifle it.

The bruising hadn't gotten better, if anything it looks worse. Soft purple-green bruises had turned into gross yellow and green splotches around the entirety of it, the swollen limb honestly looking infected. I slowly move my fingers, noticing the increased pain with the movement at the removal of the bandages. I silently wonder if I'd just wrapped them tight enough to numb the limb itself.

Mark says nothing, eyeing it carefully, and occasionally brushing across it with his fingers as to feel the bone underneath.

He drops the dirtied bandages to the floor and gently sets my hand down in my lap, I instantly cradle it against my stomach, forcing myself to look away from the disgusting coloring.

With a soft mumble of 'stay here' he stands. I watch him weave through the crowd, only gaining a few looks, and approach Thomas whom stands talking to a female. Mark approaches and mutters something to the angel, both sets of eyes move to me for a second before Thomas nods, turning away from the female angel with a soft word of apology and grabbing the duffel Emma had been carrying, now lain across the doorway.

He rifles through it, pulling out a few items and handing them to Mark, who mutters something akin to a thank you and walking back towards me. Once he comes within a foot of the bench I can see the items in his arms. A box of alcohol wipes, a new roll of bandages and a small smooth piece of what looks to be plastic. He sits again on the bench and without waiting for him to ask I hold out my wrist, shamefully avoiding his eyes.

"You wrapped it all wrong."

He speaks up again as he slowly begins wiping the dirt from the abused area with a wipe that stinks of alcohol. I force back any noises of pain, instead settling for the occasional cringe.

"It's fractured..."

I silently cuss. Irish luck my ass...

"Sorry... I- I didn't know..."

I murmur lamely feeling rather helpless as he finishes cleaning up the area. He waves away the apology with a shake of his head reaching for the small piece of plastic.

"What happened?"

He presses the plastic to the side of my wrist, the side that had the most bruising it seems. The plastic I now note has a small divot where it cradles the side of my hand and down a little of my arm. I can't stop a small gasp of pain as he begins wrapping clean bandages around it expertly.

"Fell out of bed..."

He nods accepting the white lie, a small smile gracing his pink lips. I almost feel the need to return it.

"You fell out of bed? Why didn't you tell me it hurt?"

"I didn't want you to worry... there are more important things in case you hadn't noticed..."

Mark's hands freeze, halfway done wrapping the bandages around my flesh. He peeks up through strands of raven hair to look at my face, I almost pause at the heartfelt compassion that dances through his chocolaty irises.

"No there's not... Hell I don't care if it's the damn apocalypse... You're the most important thing to me Sean, you know there's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

I blink a few times, feeling a sting at the corners of my eyes. He goes back to wrapping and within minutes finishes releasing my wrist gently. I move my arm a bit, instantly feeling some of the pressure released. The plastic piece holds my wrist rigid while not restricting movement too much, the bandages, snug but not too tight, add another layer of protection, and I feel some of the painful throbbing go down.

"Thanks..."

I offer a small smile with the word, Mark nods.

Silence stretches out for a minute, then another, finally Mark speaks up. The question I'd been dreading having to answer.

"You going to tell me how you fell out of bed? That's never happened to you before."

I avert my gaze, focusing at first on the hum of energy in the air, then on the firm wood beneath me, then to the rustic looking room itself and soon to the gentle ache in my hand as my fingers move. I run out of things to focus on within minutes, and finally turn my eyes to those soft brown ones with a silent sigh.

"It was-... It was just a nightmare..."

He scans my face as if detecting any untruth, but finds none, giving a small nod, reaching to rest his hand against my knee softly.

"Do you want to talk about it..."

I feel a snort leave me before I can stop it, Mark raises an eyebrow.

"Don't go psychiatrist on me again..."

I mutter earning a chuckle from the man beside me. I cover his hand with my good one giving a small squeeze to the warm limb.

"It's nothing important..."

The raven-haired man considers this, eyes downcast as he thinks. I can almost see the light bulb go off over his head.

"It was Anti... wasn't it..."

I feel a lump move up my throat, panic tugging at me until I'm about to stutter some form of an apology. I meet his eyes, and force myself to calm... He doesn't know... he thinks it's just a dream. This doesn't do anything to calm the racing of my heart.

"Y-Yeah..."

He takes the shakiness of my voice as fear instead of the panic it derives from, I feel my throat clear, allowing me to take a few deep breaths.

"I'm sorry..."

His hand moves from under mine, arm reaching out to wrap around my shoulders. I lean into the touch, lying my head against his shoulder and breathing in his musky scent, allowing his warmth to calm me, and matching my quick breaths to his steadier ones. I wonder for a moment if he purposefully slows his breathing, either way I'm thankful for the slight distraction.

"You have nothing to apologize for..."

The words are muffled against his sleeve as I turn my face inward, trying to block out the sickeningly strong aura floating about the room.

"I'm sorry you have to go through this... You don't deserve any of this, you should be able to live a normal life... You shouldn't have been locked up, and you sure as hell shouldn't have had to deal with two asshole demons..."

His hand tightens where it rests on my shoulder and I reach my good hand up to grab it, feeling it relax in my grip.

"Well..."

I pause a moment.

"If I hadn't been possessed and locked up.... I never would have met you..."

I don't' need to look at his face to see the small grin he gives. I allow him to pull me closer until our thighs press together gently keeping my head buries in the crook of his shoulder, his hand moves down from my shoulder to wrap around my waist protectively, and for a second everything feels okay.

"That's the one good thing that came out of this mess..."

His words come out hopeful, I feel my chest swell as I feel his lips press momentarily against my tousled brown hair. Words murmured, his deep voice forces away any remaining tension in my muscles.

"I love you Sean..."

"Love you too..."

~

We sit like that for a while, I find myself dozing off only to be ripped from that small blessing by a sudden mess of loud voices. My head perks up, and Mark's arm tightens around me, his brown eyes glaring glassily into the room.

I follow his gaze to where a small crowd had formed and can barely make out the top of a head, familiar raven colored hair peeking from above the crowd, and a rumble of a voice sending shivers through my muscles again.

It takes a minute of struggling against the male's arm, however, soon giving up, Mark releases me, following at my heel as I move closer on quick feet. Upon closer inspection it's almost as bad as it sounds.

Dark stands at the center of the formed circle, I take note of a few small blades among the angels, symbols carved into each. Some part of my brain recognizes them, but I can't place it.

The demon presses the angel Emma had been speaking to against the stone wall, his forearm pressing against the others slender throat violently. The Angel's face goes slightly red, but only fury coats his features.

I push through the crowd best I can to get a better view, feeling a new panic arise within my chest.

In Dark's hand is a dagger much like the angels around him have, pressed not so gently against the other Male's chest, digging in just enough to draw a droplet of blood directly above his heart. That would explain why none of them have moved in yet, I find myself wondering where an angel would go if it died... The symbols I now recognize from the cuffs Dark still had on. Does that mean the blade could kill them? Angels, demons.... Curiosity flees as a familiar female voice speaks up, British accent livid.

"Dark, drop it... We won't hesitate to smite you..."

The demon hardly seems to hear her, his eyes boring into the angel at his mercy with a fire I'd never seen from him. His anger is like a bomb, and for a moment I fear it'll explode, and he'll do something regretful.

"You claim to be righteous, humans believe you to be so kind, so good...."

Dark spits the words harshly, a cold resting over his tone. The contradiction of his vengeful eyes and cool voice is somehow more terrifying than if he'd begun shouting.

"But what are you really? Cold-blooded killers... Fucking Sadists..."

The angel he speaks to returns the glare, though panic resonates from him at the blade so close to piercing his heart. That panic is the only thing that tells me how deadly the dagger is.

"We do what we have to do... We're at war, we have no reason to spare the lives of your kind."

The angel keeps his voice oddly calm, condescending almost, eyes occasionally flicking to the crowd from underneath his mop of curly hair.

"Murder is one thing... but torture? You're sick, you're all sick! Arin deserved none of that, demon or not he was once a person like all of you! Does that not matter to you Danny?"

My mind flashes back to the corpse outside the hall, and I feel bile rise in my throat. Torture? What were they trying to find out that required such methods...? I feel any faith in these beings waver even further.

"We needed information-"

Dark cuts him off by slamming his arm harder against the angel I now know as Danny's throat cutting off his breath and slamming his head against the stone wall with the motion. The angel's eyes go unfocused for a moment allowing his calm façade to break, even if for a second, and allowing the fear to come forward.

"I don't give a damn what you needed..."

His voice lowers to an inhuman snarl, words precise and sharp as a knife. I can almost see the glowing fire in his irises despite him facing away.

"How low has heaven sunk...? You're no better than us..."

"Dark!"

Emma speaks again, this time gaining the attention of said demon, he turns his eyes to her, and she too wavers under his intense fury, however keeping her voice loud and full of the authority she holds.

"Let him go..."

She sounds as if trying to calm a rabid beast, though I suppose that comparison isn't too far from reality.

"Or what?"

Dark lets a humorless chuckle cover his words, the small smile that alights his features not making it any less terrifying, nor any easier to meet his eyes.

"You won't kill me... You need me... Without me you have no chance of taking on Anti... You'll get everyone killed!"

Emma's hand tightens around the weapon in her hand, but she doesn't disagree. The others in the crowd however seem ready to strike, the plan be damned.

"Dark..."

I don't recognize the pathetic tone that pipes up, however as the crowd somewhat begins to part around me, a load of eyes resting on my face with interest, do I realize that voice had been mine. I feel blood drain from my face as Dark turns his eyes to me, the anger hardly fading if at all.

I force my suddenly weak legs to walk me forward, keeping a safe enough distance that I don't seem threatening, he says nothing, just watches with a certain curiosity. I don't' bother trying to hide my terror at his cold expression but force my voice out in a soft choked off mutter.

"Y-You don't have to do this..."

I hesitate, unsure of what to say. What the hell was I thinking, there's nothing I can say to him. He's too far gone, too caught up in this vengeance he now seeks. He's going to get himself killed at this rate, he's our last chance, I know it even if the others don't. He's the one thing that can distract Anti enough... At least... That's what I tell myself... I don't' want him to die for strategic purposes only.... That's it....

His eyes soften ever so slightly, just enough where I take notice. I feel myself take another step forward but hardly acknowledge it, feeling many eyes on me. In the end I can only manage one word, it comes out strangled, pleading, broken and pitifully quiet.

It almost feels as though the single word shows through to all my racing thoughts.

"Please..."

Dark's expression softens for a moment, a soft empathy coats his still-glowing eyes, and he looks oddly human.... That same face however, soon goes cold and I watch as the blade in his hand plunges forward.