((This came out way longer than I first thought it would be but oh well. Finally some confrontation :) ))

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

Silence hangs heavily through the air, even the thud of footsteps seemed to grow quieter, a mere whisper against the tense air. No one dares to speak as we march closer, I can almost physically feel the change in the air as we get within a few meters of where it would go down, of where we'd meet with him, or whatever's left of him at this point.

Any warmth had quickly been sapped from my skin, I almost question whether my heart continues to beat, I can't hear it anymore. It's all numb. I'm almost thankful for the desensitizing effect, it forces some kind of false calm over my thoughts. I know it's fake, I know it won't last, but I can't bring myself to move past it. Somehow the thought of facing off with the demon who'd essentially ruined my life seems less petrifying, I know that won't last long.

Even speaking to him in a dream, had me frozen, scared like a child. It's instinctive, I know that. Simple primal urges noticing danger and acting to defend. Doesn't make it any easier however, I can't help the twisting shame that follows every shudder, nor the humiliation after every shaken word.

Weak. Pathetic. Worthless.

It's the darkness, the cold, the stench that surrounds us. That's what I choose to blame on these thoughts, on this unease. It's easier than trying to face the truth, that maybe the small voice at the back of my mind is right. Maybe I am- .... I shut that thought down hard.

Ebbing at the corner of my mind is that numbness from moments prior, I grasp onto it like a security blanket, allowing the hum of nothing to consume these thoughts again. They remain, they always will, but the thick fog quiets them enough to be ignored.

With or without the blanket of desensitization, I find myself unafraid of being hurt, hell even killed. I can't bring myself to care.

Maybe a part of me knows Anti won't hurt me, he shouldn't anyhow. He'd made it very clear in the dream he didn't want to, but if it becomes necessary... Hell maybe I just don't care, maybe I'm just exhausted, maybe I'd welcome the embrace of eternal darkness, welcome the end of it all. Then again... Knowing both heaven and hell exist, and which one I've leaned more towards for a majority of my life, makes the thought a lot less comforting.

A sudden drop in the already below-zero temperature pulls me out of the state of fogginess I'd burrowed myself into. Instinctively I feel my numb hands move to cross over my chest, desperate to conserve some body-heat, though knowing it to be pointless.

The air grows thicker, and I find it impossible to breathe without full-on gasping in the oxygen. My lungs burn with each shaky breath however, and the darkness moves back to the corner of my mind, out of reach once more.

My eyes move hesitantly up the dark oak of the door lying just in front of the group, which I'd hardly noticed halting. The wood splinters in a few places, as though it had been slammed one too many times, copper handles sitting dead center of the two, rusted and unsteady. The dark wood shines in the little candle-light, the air humming with a power I only barely recognize.

Anti.

My brain supplies the name unhelpfully, and suddenly I'm not so sure anymore.

"-n"

I blink a few times, not having noticed the humming that settled over my mind blocking everything out but the nauseatingly powerful aura that seeps from the cracks. Flashes of green and crimson paint the forefront of my mind, I can't focus on anything else. The dancing colors promise something dangerous.

"-ean.

I can't do this... I can't do this.... I can't. I can't. I can'tIcan'tIcan'tIcan't.

"Sean!"

I flinch out of the panic, vaguely noticing the quickness of my breaths, and the loud thumping in my chest. Shakily I look to the female voice, taking a second to clear the rest, and put on what I hope is a stoic face. I'm almost 100% sure I fail.

"Did you get that?"

"H-huh?"

Emma huffs at the less-than-intelligent response but speaks patiently. Strangely, I'd prefer any other tone of voice, she speaks to me like a child, like I'll break down again any minute... but then again... who's to say that's not true?

"We'll have you and Dark move in first, get him talking, get him off-guard."

She reiterates the plan in a soft voice, as though I could forget.

"We'll be nearby, waiting for the opportune moment, understood?"

I find myself nodding quickly. Eyes unable to move from the door for more than a few seconds at a time.

"Stay calm, stay focused, and whatever you do, keep him talking, keep his focus on you."

A slight shuffle indicates movement behind me and I find myself looking backwards, unease doubling as I turn my back on the door. Where he lies.

The other two angels stand, in the middle of the two Mark looks on with something akin to a smile. I can't help noticing how much it appears like a grimace. Regardless he speaks softly, his tone calm, and oddly easing me back to something like quiet.

"You've got this, Sean... Just breathe... Stay strong..."

He sounds about as unsure as I feel, regardless I offer a meek nod, hoping my face doesn't convey how awful I feel about this whole plan.

I hardly notice Thomas's hand falling to rest on Mark's shoulder before they're gone. Disappearing from my sight within a blink, any semblance of calm I'd managed to scrounge up falls away again, and I turn back to Emma, back to that god-forsaken wood. Hardly noticing the brush of Dark's shoulder against my own.

"Forgetting something?"

The demon's gruff tone earns only a glare from the female angel who stands rigidly. Her eyes narrow, and in return the demon gesture to his cuffed hands.

"No. Not happening."

Dark stands straighter, oddly enough his dangerous stance is comforting, in some strange way.

"What will I do? Even without these cuffs I stand no chance against you bunch, we both know it..."

He sounds bitter.

"At least this way I'll be able to defend myself... to defend Sean..."

Crimson irises dart to me in some form of attempted ease, it does nothing for my frayed nerves.

Emma thinks for a moment, eyes darting between the two of us, then to the door, and back again. Finally, she sighs, seeming to realize the time ticking by far too quickly. She fishes a set of keys from her front pocket, they jingle lightly, the noise oddly pleasant against everything.

"You try anything-"

"And you'll kill me... I got it..."

Sarcasm drips from Dark's words, sarcasm covering something darker. Emma offers one last warning glare, before unlocking the cuffs with a gentle click. As soon as they fall from his grayish skin, I can feel his power swarming once more, no longer held back. I take some kind of sick comfort in it.

With another look between us, and one blink she's gone. Without the angel's buzzing power nearby everything else feels more defined. The burning smell of rot grows stronger urging a gag up my throat, the hum of hell's natural darkness grows thicker, and I feel an odd sense of determination beneath the blatant fear.

"Use your fear Sean... Play to his humanity..."

I nod, though I find myself unsure if there's any humanity left in the creature. The demon pushes the door open, it groans loudly on its hinges. I find myself wincing at the noise.

Everything hits me at once. The hum of rage through the air, the sudden mix of both heaven and hell settling over the air.

I glance around, hardly noticing as the doors squeak close behind us. My feet carry me to the center of the familiar room, same place I'd stood days prior. Same obsidian walls and floor matching almost exactly in color. The large rug below my feet is torn, stained with disgusting brownish tints that I refuse to acknowledge. My eyes travel upward to the line of throne-like chairs, they sit at the top of the staircase, a few of the end ones askew and no longer do the colored scarves lie over the darkly colored backs. I find myself missing the splashes of color from the dream, it somehow made the place homelier and less like... well... Hell...

"You actually showed up...?"

An accent tinged voice full of surprise causes me to jump, turning back towards the door. Anti-strides out from the dancing shadows in the corners of the room. Back straight and resolute, long strides bringing him gracefully forward. The glowing green of his irises rest on me with something like shock, the murky blackness surrounding them making it hardly noticeable at all.

My eyes dart around, and only now do I notice the lack of a certain demon. I silently cuss, suddenly feeling a lot more exposed than I had prior, without that measure of protection I find myself taking slow steps backward. The creature merely tilts his head.

"I-I... I h-had to..."

I almost kick myself at the weak stuttering that hardly sound like words. He steps forward, long legs carrying him noiselessly across the dark floor which I find myself wishing would open up to swallow me whole.

As he moves closer I take notice of his appearance. Same dark, almost leather clothing, but his skin looks paler than it had in the dream only days before. Eyes more sunken by dark bruises underneath the lids, cheeks hollowed out by the dark shadows cast across his face by unkempt, tinted-green hair. He looks exhausted, worn, I find myself flashing back to the broken shell I'd seen in his memories. If it weren't for the regal stature, he could almost compare.

"Why is that?"

His tone is cool, even, accent softer and seemingly thicker than mine. A crackle of power underlines his words, I feel my eyebrows furrow. He knows why, I know he does... I half wonder if he's merely playing along with the charade, making the angels believe him to be ignorant.

"Because we need to talk..."

The familiar gruff tone seems to chill the air once more. Anti's body tenses, face paling even more if it were possible, eyes widened, and mouth drawn into a tight line he turns on his heel. I follow his gaze to the demon with raven hair, red eyes drawing over the Nephilim with calm care, sadness.

"Hello, Anti..."

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

"Hello, Anti..."

His breath hitches, and for the first time in forever he seems to be at a loss for words. I feel my eyes carry over his small form, he'd grown thinner, hollow even. Pale skin glows softly underneath the dancing candlelight, sending shadows careening over his unkempt face. The scruffy appearance suits him, longer unkempt hair, unshaven face. Under different circumstances I may have enjoyed the look, yet I find myself worrying.

He's deteriorating.

It shouldn't be a surprise, all that power, no one is meant to wield it. I can feel it buzzing through the air, in every word he speaks, every step he takes. It'd be a miracle if he retained any part of who he once was.

However, with one look into the neon color of his irises, I know he's still there. I can see it, denial, anguish, regret, some sick kind of love. I find myself unable to look away.

It's been too long, since I've seen him, since he killed me, since he became this monstrosity.

My muscles instinctively tense as he steps forward, once sure steps become wobbly, unsure and unsteady.

"You..."

Voice quiets to a mere whisper, a breath at best. Still I feel a smile ease onto my lips as he steps closer, stopping only once he's within arm's reach. It takes more than a little will-power to not pull him close like I once would.

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

I force out the chuckle, though it sounds rather humorless. He offers nothing, only a wide, doe-eyed stare. One I'd expect from the human still standing frozen only a few feet off.

"But you... I-"

It's odd to see him so unsure, so illiterate, so quiet. His hand reaches out hesitantly, thin fingers curling back as though afraid I'd disappear at the slightest touch. Patiently I allow his fingers to brush the fabric of my shirt, soon resting coolly against the middle of my chest, far too similar to the day I'd died. I find myself tensing at the familiarity, but he makes no move to do anything, and I don't move away.

Taking his contact as permission I reach out; a pang of guilt eats at me as he flinches away for a moment. Shoving this down I cup his pale cheek, noticing how bony his face had grown, how cold his skin is, how beautiful he still is. He leans into the touch after a moment, seeming to just now realize it's real, I'm real.

"I've missed you..."

His eyes close at the words, without the agonizingly bright irises staring he looks smaller, weaker, I feel the need to protect him. He allows me to pull him closer, and I feel myself shiver at the familiar scent, the familiar power I'd spent so long trying to keep trapped.

"Dark... I- "

I shush him quietly, the apology dying on his tongue as I lean forward. He hesitates as our lips brush, but within seconds he leans the rest of the way, pressing the flesh together almost desperately.

I relish in the familiarity of the touch, the familiar taste of mint on his tongue, and the soft feeling of his hand in mine. It lasts a minute or two, yet still not long enough. It'd never be long enough.

He's the one to pull away, resting his cold forehead against mine. I worry how thin his face has gotten, I worry the impact this has had on him, I almost voice these concerns, however as his eyes open I bite back any words that may have escaped.

The inky shade leaks away to hide underneath his eyelids, leaving the blood-shot white to surround his soft green irises. A smile returns unbidden to my face, this time he returns it though smaller.

"But how... I felt you... How are you-"

I feel it before I see it. The change in his demeanor, the way his hand clenches tighter into the fabric of my button-up, the way his muscles clench with realization, and how his power hums with a new rage.

"They-"

His voice takes on a dangerous edge, a sharpness that seems to seep the very air from the room. An anger alights those soft green irises, firing them back up to the brightly lit orbs that seem to char the whites as they fade to black once again. He takes a step back, then another, an unsure tremble in each movement.

"Anti..."

"You're working with them...?"

His voice shakes, but it's not a childish tremble I'd expect from one of the humans, rather it's biting. Each syllable enunciated with a snarl that threatens to shake the floor itself.

I dare a step forward, watching the Nephilim in turn flinch back another one.

"You..."

He can't seem to form the words, can't process the realization.

"Anti. Listen to me... I-"

"Enough!"

The thunder of his words is emphasized with a blast of power I almost doubt he himself controlled, an emotional outburst that no doubt poses a threat for a being of his strength. I find myself wondering how he's done any of what he has if he's so unstable.

The burst of energy causes the walls to quiver, a few chunks of stone falling to the floor. I notice Sean behind his demon fall backwards with a noise of surprise, and soon pain as he falls onto the splinted wrist. I stumble, hardly keeping my footing, forcing myself to meet those wide, animistic eyes. Eyes of a cornered beast who sees only one way out.

They blaze with a fury I could never imagine from the small man. In this instance I can only see the monster he'd become, the creature that killed without remorse, cold, calculated, deadly. A look directed at me and it sends unpleasant tremors through each muscle group. Even when he'd killed me the first time, I hadn't feared the man, if he could be called such a thing anymore.

That had been quick, painful, but quick. He hadn't wanted to, even moments ago I was able to see the guilt in his eyes, but now... now... he looks almost ready to kill for pleasure alone.

"This was your big plan!? Your trump card!?"

He's no longer addressing me, rather the room, dots of neon green travelling over each shadow, each slight movement in the air. Only when a couple of the angels' finally step out from the darkened corners of the room, each equipped with a short blade carved with sigils I don't' take time to read. I only assume they're meant to maim, to kill the Nephilim. Instinctively, despite everything I shoot a glare at the holy beings.

The two male angels meet the Nephilim's eyes, wavering just barely under the rage, but standing tall. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Sean scrambling to his feet, seeming no calmer with the arrival of the two angels.

"Have you fallen so far you'd seek help from a demon, an abomination!?"

He steps forward, hand falling to a sheath resting gently against his thigh, strapped around his thin waist, though doesn't move to attack, not truly.

Neither Angel speaks, but one flick of the brunette's eyes over the Nephilim's shoulder, only then do I see the missing third angel, with one quick thrust her encrusted blade aims for the creature's stomach, not enough to kill, but damage fatally.

I wince, biting back a cry... but nothing happens.

I watch in curiosity as the female's eyes widen to saucers, gaze falling slowly onto the blade, stopped merely an inch from its target. Anti turns, dangerously slow to face her, and for the first time since meeting the girl, I see true dread cross her features.

Without a word, without hardly a thought Anti sends out another burst of energy, more focused this time, cold and sure as it could have been. This time even I can't keep my footing. Sean falls back again, managing to catch himself on the non-injured hand, the two male angels fall, metal blades falling to the floor with a loud clang, the female falls a few feet away from Anti, head cracking against the cemented ground, surprisingly her hand stays tightly wrapped around the knife.

No one makes a move to get up. The pure rage that had consumed the air, the uncontrollable fury that had been dominated by emotions alone falls away. This anger is calculated, stone-cold, and controlled. Somehow, it's more terrifying.

His eyes travel around the room, resting a moment too long on the female angel, I half expect him to end her then and there, he doesn't, letting his eyes fall instead on me. Primal instincts kick in as he paces forward, legs no longer unsteady, but a treacherous promise in each step, and I find myself scurrying backwards. My back hits the door and with a silent cuss, he's standing over me.

No one speaks. No one seems to breathe.

"Why is it always you...?"

His words come out soft, emotionless yet full of grief at the same time. Full of static, yet dangerously clear. I only stare back, feeling the paling of my features, how pathetic. Damn this fear, damn his power...

"I've trusted you, too many times... I've given you everything I have... I've done everything for you, and all I ask, is loyalty... all I wanted was your love! So why-"

His sentence chokes off, I find my breath halting as his inky black eyes fill with liquid. Tears? That can't be right. But indeed, it is, salty tears had begun to fill his eyes, his fists clench shakily at his sides as though that would stop them from rolling down his cheeks.

"Why are you always taking the opposing side? Why must you always stand against me...? Why do you constantly deceive my trust? Why-"

Another bitten back sob catches his words, and this time a few tears fall freely, rolling gently down his sunken, pale cheeks. He doesn't look away, but I can clearly see the need to. I find myself sitting up, feeling the need to pull him close, wipe the tears away, to apologize profusely, to beg for his forgiveness, but I can't get more than a choked whisper of his name out, even that goes unnoticed.

"Why can't I hate you...? Why won't you get out of my head, get out of my life...?"

He no longer seems to be addressing me, rather asking himself the final questions. The dangerous tone hadn't once left his words, a deep grief, a deep hatred, soaking each syllable buried underneath something unrecognizable.

"Anti... I'm-"

A hardening of his eyes destroys the apology before it can cross my tongue, leaving a bitterness in its wake. He shakes his head, wiping furiously at the wetness on his cheeks, and again forcing up a calm exterior, an unsettling cool that contradicts the grief-stricken power rolling from him in waves.

"No... It's not your fault... Not truly... I'm the one who continues to think you can change... I've been naïve, I've been pathetically grasping at the past... Not anymore... I won't let you stand in my way, not anymore..."

His hand falls again to the sheath at his hip, pulling slightly just enough where I can see the silver sigils, until a voice speaks up from behind.

"Anti, wait!"

The Nephilim tenses hand freezing where it sat. Turning around on his heels he faces the human he continues to resemble yet differ so much from. Sean had managed to climb, unsteadily, onto his feet, curling his injured wrist into his stomach. Anti says nothing, but I can almost feel his anger lessen, a certain sympathy replacing it for only a second before that's covered by quiet indifference.

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

"Don't you dare say it... Don't you dare claim I can be anything but what I am. There is no humanity in me Sean, there is no good."

Annoyance dances through Anti's voice, and though I can no longer see his face directly I can tell his eyes had hardened simply by the way the human winces as though he'd been struck. Sean hesitates, chewing the inside of his cheek, and old habit.

"I saw it... I saw something human in you..."

I almost praise the human's dedication to this tactic of his, then again it could be purely stupid naivety.

"There's good in you... There must be. You're-"

Sean cuts himself off quickly, and again the silence grows thick. We all know what words were about to leave his mouth, well all except the creature it directly affected. He glowers at the human, picking up quickly on the unsaid words, and the sudden tense silence that had stopped each person cold. The angel's hardly move to stand again.

"What...?"

Sean clamps his mouth shut at an inhuman speed, meekly shaking his head as Anti steps forward. The creature doesn't look particularly threatening as he approaches the human, curious? Definitely. Annoyed? Perhaps.

"I'm what... Sean..."

The commanding tone causes an involuntary flinch from the human, I find myself speaking up. Haphazardly dragging legs underneath, me, using the wood behind my back to support the unsteady muscles.

"You're not a demon, not fully..."

His attention turns to me again, I vaguely notice the blue-eyed human releasing a shaky breath. A few eyes move to me from around the room, all but Anti's a warning to stay silent. I find my lips moving without a second thought.

"You're a Nephilim, Anti..."

His features alight with something akin to fear. Not a surprise, we've all been trained to fear such creatures, especially if they were on the opposite side.

"That's not possible... I'm not a-"

He seems physically unable to speak the word, an odd familiarity crossing his features, as though reliving a memory long forgotten.

"My father..."

"Raguel... Angel of Friday."

The female angel, Emma, speaks up helpfully, gaze slightly unfocused from the blow to her head. Her glassy glare no longer falls on me, yet oddly enough her bitterness seems directed at no one else. Anti looks to her, no longer angry, or even hesitant as she pulls herself up blade still in hand, though unsteady on her feet.

"Raguel..."

He tests the weight of the name, a visible shudder running through him at the mention. His eyes, glassy and unfocused, move around the room as though he only now realizes everything that had happened. A flash of guilt falls over his pale features for a moment, however it's gone so quick perhaps it had just been a trick of the light. It's covered instantaneously by that same indifferent cold, the same quiet contemplation, with a new strength behind it. A new determination to this goal of his. That's when I knew we'd failed.

"I'd suggest you stand down... I'm giving you a chance to flee..."

His voice loses all emotion, leaving it a hollow mutter that somehow still echoes around the large throne-room. His eyes fall over each figure standing around him, examining each expression thoroughly though only for a moment. I feel a slight ache as he avoids me entirely, gaze passing over as if I hadn't existed in the first place.

"Take it... For your own sake..."

With that he's gone, quiet whisper of a warning left in his wake.