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As the light collided with her shoulder it had seared, but less than it might have many years before; as her nature changed, so had her race and vulnerabilities. Once such a spell would have done twice the damage and her shoulder would have been horribly mangled, but now it acted the same on her as any other being. No longer impervious to her dark magic, she also lacked a weakness to light. Kane had been relieved and grateful as she gritted her teeth in pain. It would have been foolish to think that they wouldn't be able to hit her as she preached. Any trained warrior could guess the general direction in which to aim an attack in darkness given and audial clue.

The second and third attacks were less anticipated. One had sliced into her left arm, making a gash several inches long midway between the shoulder and elbow. The second had grazed her leg, but not enough to seriously impair movement. Had she been a mere few inches to her right, she was confident that the latter swing would have gifted the angel an entire limb. The blades they wielded, she was sure, were not easily stopped by bone or other essential parts of her body.

About to retreat to a corner of the room to avoid the small crowd trying to engage her in melee, she heard the shattering windows. Confusion settled over her features, briefly seen as the spell she had weaved flickered. What was going on? The notion flashed through her mind in that moment that someone had come to rescue her. It was dismissed as quickly as it was considered- only one person had done such a foolish thing before, and then it was all part of a larger plot that had no consideration for her person or feelings. Her spell dissipated, more attention and concentration placed on trying to visually ascertain who had come in and putting pressure on her arm wound. For a moment as the battered demoness stood there she didn't recognize the fallen.

The carnage didn't make her recoil as much as it should. Having been a participant in several wars (three as a paid mercenary and one of her one volition) and a murderess herself, the sight had little effect. Although it was much more graphic than most her experiences, it was not altogether unfamiliar. The choked screams and wails were the things that haunted her sometimes at night instead. They sounded like banshees, shrieking in terror as their lives came to an end. It was easy to dismiss them as inhuman as a coping mechanism... for in their moment of death almost no one appeared human anymore. Primal desires to live made people act basic so that their twisted features and panicked actions seemed completely foreign.

It was not until Gabriel turned to her, looked at her, and she instinctually took a step back that she recognized him. Eyes widened as she took in what was before her. Covered in bodily fluid, his wings as dark as the ones she was slowly gaining, she could not help but be horrified. Although he had been changing on his own, an overwhelming sense of guilt washed over her; had she not come here, had she not pushed him, would he have had this reaction? Could he not have lived on the cusp of good and evil, enjoying moments to peace when he was not fleeing? What had she done? What had she caused? More terrifying than his appearance was the idea that she been caused it.

As he collapsed, she rushed into action. It was not time to be paralyzed in inner thought and dialogue. Pulling the pendant out of her cleavage, she quickly made it over to his side. Time was not to be wasted worrying about what to do- it was a time of action. He had warned that there were endless amounts of angels after him and she'd give them no chance to attack again when they were vulnerable. "Dancing flames take me home," she muttered as she lifted him and slipped her good shoulder under one of his.

The transport was quick and, thankfully, painless. Finding herself back in her apartment, in the same exact spot she always arrived on, she tried to balance Gabriel's weight on her back and shoulder as she dragged him over towards the bed. Unable to support his weight for long, as soon as she reached her destination she dumped him on it. Pushing him off the edge of it and rolling him on his back, she felt satisfied- until she saw all the pieces of jagged glass poking out all over his body. A frown then. Still bleeding freely, she went and retrieved her milk from the fridge, guzzling it all down as she made her way to the bathroom. Wings were, as an afterthought, absorbed back into her body.

It took half an hour for her to pull out every shard from him. Some had embedded themselves in her too, she noticed belatedly, and she removed them as well. Each spot was treated with some rubbing alcohol to clean the cut and bandages were applied to the larger ones. The wounds on her leg and arm were similarly treated. Blankets were pulled over the fallen angel as she finished and the first aid tools returned to the bathroom once she completed. In the morning she'd have to make a request for the innkeeper to send someone to get more supplies- the large quantity of ailments to treat was quickly dwindling what she had in storage. After all, Kane was only used to treating herself.

What the man was, her culpability, and what to do with him graced her mind briefly as she fetched one of her kitchen chairs and dragged it next to the bed. Fleeting consideration and thought was given to each before she resigned herself to waiting until the sun had risen. While the woman didn't sleep much, some was required, and her regeneration was screaming to her to let it work while she slept.

It did not take long for her to succomb to the pressing darkness at the edges of her mind. As it took her, easing her into a light, refreshing slumber, her body started to lean forward. Her face muscles relaxed and the hands in her lap shifted slightly as her torso decided to double over. It was not intentional, for had Kane noticed she had slumped over onto the bed she would have been mortified. Her head lay softly on his chest, visage tilted in his direction as if guided by a subconscious desire to see that she was not alone when she woke. For a few hours at least she would be at peace, something that seemed impossible when she was awake with her temperment. A low-grade fever was starting to slowly take a hold on her, the pale skin of her face flushing from its grasp. It was hardly a cause for too much concern- after all, it could simply be an indication of the repairing her body was performing.

I wonder if he'll kill me before I wake, was her last thought as the night took her.

As soon as the finger moved and the whisper escaped his lips, she woke with a start. Sitting up suddenly, she felt her head swim with disjointed thoughts covered in a thick fog. Kane didn't realize she had, a moment before, been laying her head on the once-angel in the bed, nor did she seem to be fully cognizant of the fact she had just been asleep.

The first thing her mind processed was that she was uncomfortable. The stiff boning of the corset was bruising her ribs she was certain, and so a hand pulled the bow she had made with the lacing loose. With no tension, the cord whipped out of the first few rivets and the garment hung loosely on her. The second cause of discomfort was registered a half second later; sticky, wet bandages on her. The ones on her leg, arm, and shoulder were ripped off impulsively, revealing smooth, unblemished skin. Gabriel could be reassured: her wounds were all mended during her slumber. Her paler skin tone and flushing of the face were not directly caused by him, and although perhaps troubling, he could have a free conscience about.

After she was comfortable, she blinked a few times and seemed to finally see the fallen in front of her. By no means had the fever or grogginess faded and granted her clarity, so as she moved to speak, all the jumbled thoughts and notions that had run through her mind the night before and now spilled out into one, completely incoherent sentence: "Well, you need to was trying to let you get heard me tell him learn control away stalking me was dead you all right sorry?" Even Kane seemed amazed that somehow she had mashed five sentences into one, completely unintelligible muttering.

Perhaps it would distract him from the state of her being. It was best they focused on him and his problems, and she'd dodge any allusion to the fact she was ill. In the depths of her mind, despite the stupor that seized her now, she knew why she was so scalding and her skin so white this morning.

I'm changing....

He had thought wrong. "No," she said quietly but firmly. He was right in his estimation there wouldn't be arguing; usually this would provoke an prolonged discussion and tossing of insults. Tired and still a bit disoriented, Kane was not completely without convictions... she just lacked the energy to defend them vocally or physically beyond a certain point. "Until you are able to control your newfound abilities and self and are fully healed, no. I don't need to rest." The faint blush on her cheeks was obscured by the fever, and for the moment she was glad. As far as she was concerned, she slept sitting up.

She had mashed five sentences into her incoherence. The fog clouding her mind was parted for the time being and with some effort and focus she could think with some clarity. 'You need to learn to control those new powers,' 'I was trying to let you get away, why were you stalking me?' 'Are you all right?' 'I thought you heard what I said and I was a dead woman,' and 'I'm sorry,' had been the five. Kane was impressed he had sorted the few he had out of the tangled mess correctly.

In truth, the woman knew exactly what was happening to her. The severity of the symptoms and the new ones that would be showing themselves soon were not startling or foreign. Kane was attempting to do it a bit differently than her sister, which was the cause of the slightly exasperated extent of ailments. While his condition was caused by a lack of control over his new form, one could say her escalating temperature was caused by the opposite.

She used to be able to stop her wings from changing by drawing them inside. At the moment, they were changing. Inside her.

Kane stood and stumbled back a couple steps. It wasn't fear of the fallen in front of her, but logic that forced its way through a numb mind. In her state, he could easily subdue her, but given his condition it was unlikely. If she moved out his reach, with his wounds it'd be damn near impossible to use physical coercion.

"I," she responded, her voice raspy as she tried to accentuate the pronoun, "remember what happened last night and am not still covered in bandages." Her feet had planted themselves as soon as he had tried to move her but, finding that speaking was a bit more trying than anticipated, she spun around. There was a plan in mind now; to illustrate the point rather than explain it. Reaching around his shoulder, she pulled forward one long locket of dark silky hair and held it in front of his face.

Kane could not explain what happened next. Perhaps it was the fever seizing her, perhaps it was their now close proximity, perhaps it was the sudden twirl about in his arms, or the pain spreading across her back. Regardless of the cause, the clarity in her mind was fading rapidly. It was just a matter of time now. Warmth spread across her, from the tips of the fingers holding his hair to his visage and the balls of her feet. "At least I know what's happening with me," she whispered weakly.

From where his arm was placed now due to her movement, encircling her back, he could feel ripples beneath the skin. A thick, heated liquid spilled down from the marks on her back. Although the ooze moved slowly, it had ample time during her lapse in movement to close the gap between her upper torso and waist. If he pulled away enough to look at it, he'd easily recognize it as blood with what looked like small quantities of leathery hide mixed in.

And then she panicked. Kane had anticipated this- for she had her sister change. A part of her would regret not assuring Gabriel that what would follow would be passing, although disturbing; then again, the demoness had neverintended to be near anyone if she mad the transition. In one, suddenly encroaching moment, she didn't want him near her. Acutely aware that she was about to be vulnerable, her mind screamed and reeled at her for having someone so near- as if that presence in front of her would most certainly take advantage. A rational mind would know what this was: a survival instinct.

The wings exploded from her back, bursting out as if they had been held in under great pressure. There was nothing graceful or dignified: one moment they were not there, and the next they were. No choked cry accompanied them, although it certainly didn't look very comfortable. The blood that had been pouring out of her back started to slow as the exposed limbs hung limply, the tips slumped on to the floor.

Half of her wings were now covered with soft, ebony down. The remaining portion was bloated and disfigured, the tough leathery skin stretched as feathers underneath started to grow. It didn't take long for the plumage to win the battle- what was left of her demonic heritage split apart and slipped down. The hide fell to the floor unceremoniously and left her new wings mirroring his own- except, of course, they did not have a dark aura nor seem to draw in any light.

"Why did you do it?" she whispered. Kane was normally abrasive, loud, and her voice carried immeasurable strength, but now it was worn down with fatigue that slumber alone would not remedy. He might inaccurately guess this was the sole reason for her quiet tone. Despite her frustration with the man holding her, the general discomfort she had being held tenderly, and all the wild concerns about his being, she realized part of the reason she had spoken so softly was her acceptance of the moment. Kane would not admit it outwardly, but something inside her had been soothed with his insistent and gentle touch.

With drooping limbs draped behind her, Kane's body temperature slowly cooled with the exception of her cheeks. Suddenly feeling awkward and foolish, painfully aware of what had transpired, she struggled to regain a presence of mind. Thoughts whirled back towards what she had blurted out in a hushed voice a moment before. "I had made myself the bigger target so you could escape... but you... now that I am changed," her back twitched absently as if in response, "you might be able to leave and have peace a while after you heal." Her words stumbled slightly as she regained her breath.

What a mess she thought. What was, him and her or the room?

Being tucked into bed was thoroughly embarrassing; even if it was done the sort of tenderness of a husband laying down his sickly, devoted wife, she felt childish all the same. Had she not been caught off-guard by the sudden affection he had displayed and been somewhat drained by blood loss, she would have put up a fight for the sake of her dignity. Instead of putting up a valiant effort, she had found herself being unusually compliant and docile- had the man lulled her that much with such simple actions? It was a bit unnerving to say the least.

As the covers had been pulled up over her, she had opened her mouth. Finally regaining some composure, she had managed to shun the flush in her cheeks and raise the walls carefully guarding her feelings. Kane was poised to return to caustic, biting comments that covered up any and all softness in her being- she'd much rather have that sort of tension.

And then he fell. She heard her breath get choked in her throat as she stared up at him. The thoroughly unexpected proximity to his face pulled and twisted at the strands of her heart, igniting distant memories. Walls crumbled and for but a moment her eyes danced with life, energy, feeling. In her lapse, Kane almost acted on an impulse to do more than stare. Kane was suddenly aware how much he looked like her deceased daughter's father. It took his second jerk to jolt her into reality. Walls were raised again with mental chiding.

Clearing her throat, unbeknownst to her with a faint blush, she finally gained her voice again. "It's apparent you don't remember last night; suffice to say that the darker side of you came out. I expected as much to happen," she said slowly, waiting for the weight of her words to sink in. "But you did stop. I'm not entirely sure why, but... it's because you might be able to control this darkness that lingers that I didn't leave you there to bleed out or die by other means." She cleared her throat and reached out from under the covers. Pale, cool hands held the sides of his face. "Demons and fallen can absorb the darkness, use it as they wish. I'm going to cast a dark spell right now." As her voice traveled over the words 'right now' it seemed to drop an octave. It was pleasant, more than typical, even at this lower pitch. "If you can adapt, it can heal you. Just keep looking at me."

Kane had told a small lie. She had an inkling the sight of her had caused the man to collapse and stop his rampage... but she was not certain. If Gabriel could remain focused on her perhaps he'd retain some small portion of himself- or she could at least see him slipping and stop the spell herself. As she stared into his eyes, melodic blasphemous words trickled around their faces gently and small coils of inky blackness slipped out from her fingers and hair. Tendrils playfully danced around the pair before slowly twisting around him. They were not threatening, for the spell was not the sort to cause harm: it was a simple immobilization spell. At worst, they'd stare at each other for several long moments.

"With the right amount of control magic is just a tool," she whispered as the spell faded, dark tendrils recoiling back into the tips of her fingers and strands of her hair. "It's but a weapon, like a sword, that is only as malevolent or benign as its user. It's a matter of willpower. I can help you if you don't intend to run away." She closed her eyes as if that would somehow ease the pressure of his angry stare. Guilt swelled in her gut even though there was little she could do: the attempt to heal him was met with some scorn and the change was finished. The dark angel could not blame him for the look; it must be torturous to be bathed in light and subjected to the dark.

You chose this.

Yes, yes she had. If she had truly desired she could have followed in her sister's footsteps, slowly purifying her magic into something bright and uplifting. It was her decision to stay hidden in the darkness, bending it to her whims and desires, molding it into weapons to use against her kin. Kane refused to throw out the baby with the bath water; something could be done with the powers she was born with if only she could use them properly. Not everyone, after all, could be a glorious role-model.

"You'd need to let me up first." With him still over her, she shifted her arms so as to prop herself up slightly with her elbows. Their noses were now touching although guarded walls kept him from being closer than an arm's length away from her in all but the physical sense. Even with the malice he had exhibited a moment before, Kane doubted he'd actually do something. The warmth of the blankets was inviting, but she was more concerned with putting on an appearance of strength than being horribly comfortable. Nothing could be done or gained from wallowing in bed all day; blood loss simply required time and food.

Now that she thought about it, she probably looked like she needed a shower desperately. The area where her feathered wings melded into flesh were caked with blood, her hair was (at best) a tangled heap of straw, and her fingers still smelled strongly of ammonia and blood from bandaging the night before. If she had kept her wounds from the night before instead of regenerating it would have made her a poster child for some sort of outreach group.

Now he must be sure he's in hell.

"While it was horribly charming to be rescued by a fallen angel completely overwhelmed with homicidal glee...," she began facetiously, a hint of honesty tinging the word 'charming.'" She pushed herself up on her elbows again; if he intended to keep her fully reclined he'd have to restrain her at least a couple times more before she'd be complacent. "It'd be best if we ate and started right away. I'm not fully convinced that the next time you have such an episode I won't be among the ones you mutilate."

"You'll have a small reprieve; I think I've provoked them sufficiently that in the next combat I could, conceivably, be targeted solely at first." It might become apparent that Kane had no real intentions of following his orders- still valiantly trying to function as if nothing had transpired. It was also blaringly obvious that the female had gleamed something from Gabriel's tale and was attempting to use it to her advantage. She assumed this would be to his disliking, but anything that would get the focus off her supposed need to get bed rest would be welcome.

Her wings felt as if they were made of lead as she leaned up a few inches. Kane knew it would be passing and that in a few hours, with a veritable mountain of food slowly dissolving in her stomach and intestines, they would feel lighter and more graceful than her previous limbs. Eyes wandered over to his and suddenly noticed his gaze. Her discomfort intensified; if the weighty, awkward plumage on her back hadn't been enough, now he was pointedly staring. Kane was used to irate visages turned in her direction. The one he wore now made her inwardly twitch; what was he looking at? A small part of her panicked, screaming for her to say something that would vex him and make him revert to a state that was known and comfortable.

"I insinuated I was pregnant," she suddenly blurted out. Kane flinched inwardly. What the hell was she saying? Too late to change course now. "I figured that they would be far more concerned with the mere chance of an abomination than anything else. I'm not entirely sure it will consume their thoughts entirely, but they did take the bait last night." Mentally she was kicking herself; physically she seemed unable to stop vomiting words. "To be honest, I was slightly worried that they would figure out the ruse; until such a time my sister can perform a miracle I'm infertile."

What the hell is wrong with you? Maybe you should go to sleep. Maybe now he'll PUT you to sleep. If he could hear the long strings of obscenities that followed her little rambling soliloquy he might, even as a fallen, blush. Kane was frequently surprised by the depths of her rash stupidity.