War

World War II


I sit up in bed, sweating, gasping for breath.


I look around, disoriented from waking up like I was drowning, knowing there was something wrong.


Stan!


I can't sense him. I fight the urge to panic. Where is he?


I concentrate. I swear I can feel my heart stop, and an overwhelming anguish rushes in. He is… Gone…


No! I refuse to accept that! He can't die!


I close my eyes. Searching. Then I feel it. That familiar warmth. Fading slowly.


I let out a breath. He's alive. He needs me.


I skip to the human plane but to my surprise it doesn't take me directly to him. But he is close. I'm sure. I try to sense him again. Need to concentrate. My heart is racing madly. I skip again.


It takes me to a battlefield in a war-torn country.


Shit. What the hell is he doing here?! Where the hell is here?!


I run so fast I'm a blur. Skipping further ahead when I can. Even with the guns and bombs blasting all around me, the only sound I can hear is the thundering beat of my heart as I hold on to the thin thread of his presence I feel within me. How faint it is compared to the usual comforting warmth I feel every day. I've taken that for granted. Now I can feel the cold void in my chest growing.


Where the hell are you? You were supposed to tell me where you're going, dammit!


He's hurt. Possibly dying. I scan the faces of each corpse I pass on the road hoping to find him. Hoping he is not one of them.


No. Not yet. He is not dead yet. But he is close. So close to it I fear I may not reach him in time.  


He cannot die unless we die together. I remind myself, but I cannot shake the feeling that I am losing him.  


Fuck! We never really tested it to prove it wrong. There are ways to kill an immortal. Ways to kill Angels and Demons. Maybe there is a way to kill just one of us…


Ah hell, where are you, Stan? Why can't I skip directly to him?!


The air has become cold. I hardly notice as I concentrate on the fluctuating warmth within me. I run east. I feel the warmth growing a little.


Hang on. Don't die. Please don't die. Please.


Always so reckless. Going out alone without thought for himself. Always wanting to help. When will he ever learn not to put himself in danger?


He is close. I look around. There are so many dead humans all around me, along with those that are barely alive. Some of them are screaming in agony. Missing limbs. Burned flesh. Dying.


There! My heart stops at the sight of him lying on his side. Even from fifty meters away I recognize him.


I run. My eyes squeeze tight as I drop to my knees beside him.


Half of his face and his body are burned. Three of his limbs are gone and his remaining arm doesn't have a hand. Blood is everywhere. His blood. Mixed with dirt and grime. The burnt fabric of his shirt sticks to him like a second skin. The worst of it is on his left side and half his back. Like he'd hunched over before the blast.


Please… My hand automatically reaches for his neck to check for a pulse. I feel it, faint but steady. My breath whooshes out in relief. He is not going to die.


I look up a few meters ahead to the now-ruined building. An orphanage.


I should've known.


I look around but see no children amongst the corpses. He must've gotten them all out. Otherwise, he wouldn't be here outside at all.


No. Don't think about that.


I turn him over on his back and see a dirty bundle clutched to his chest with his remaining arm. The worn fabric moves, then hiccups. In disbelief, I flip the dirty, but otherwise undamaged cloth aside and find myself staring at a pair of big brown eyes.


My strength leaves me. If I weren't already kneeling on the ground, I would've landed on my ass in the dirt. The idiot risked his life… for a baby.


"Goo… Goo…" The little mouth said, seeming perfectly comfortable beside the unconscious demon bleeding to death because of it.


Stupid fucking demon. My throat closes up as I look at his battered face. His horns are oddly clean but his red hair is black and singed from the blast, not regenerating. It seems he'd only shifted back to his demon form when he… He could've died.


I swallow the lump in my throat. I vaguely hear the thunder above us. He could have fucking died. "You never change, Ramiel."


As if he heard me, his eyes flutter half-open. They are unfocused, but he sees me. Even in human form, my white hair is pretty hard to miss.


"What's with that face…?" He whispers.


"Fuck you." I shoot back, more relieved than I was earlier. I swallow again. He's okay… The burnt portion of his face is starting to heal. Very slowly.


"Baby?" He asks hoarsely, turning his head to look for it.


"Alive. Unharmed." I point to the crook of his arm. I know he is in excruciating pain if he can't even feel the little bastard kicking in the blankets at his ribs. He stayed in human form to shield the kid, choosing a lesser shell than his true form so the heat from his body that normally protects him would not burn the baby. He chose to make himself vulnerable. The idiot! My anger flares as relief sinks in. "Why the hell did you come here alone?"


Even with a burnt face with a missing eyeball, the damn demon has the gall to smirk at me. "What took you so long to follow me?"


"Fuck, Stan. If you didn't look so beat up, I'll kill you myself."


He coughs.  It sounds like an old engine dying. "Cursing."


"Shuddup." We both know I never curse unless I am really upset or we are in really deep shit. This one is a combination of the two. "We need to get out of here… "


"Take the baby."


I blink. "We're taking it?"


"Yes! Explain later…" He winces and tries to get up. Not that he'll be able to in his current state. "Can't move. Can't concentrate. Fucking hurts everywhere. Let's go."


"I'll take you. You hold the baby." I tuck the kid to his side. He clutches it with his remaining arm and lets out a grunt of pain. The baby giggles. Stan lets out a strangled chuckle.


Damn kid. Damn demon.


"You! Hold it right there!" Yells a voice from behind me. I hear rapid commands and gunshots directed our way. "Don't move!"


Anger spikes through me. I whip around to face them. Two jeeps and a tank. Ten soldiers advancing towards us. My eyes narrow at one who has grenades in his hands. I stand, blocking them from the soldiers. Instinct kicks in. Protect.


"Were you the ones who bombed the orphanage?"I ask in their native tongue.


The ones moving forward slow down, probably wondering how I can speak their language so fluently. Pathetic humans. Always thinking they are superior than others.


"Capture him!" The one near the jeep orders. "We'll take him to the general."


"Capture me?" My eyebrows rise sardonically. "You can try. But you'll only make a mess."


The officer sneers menacingly. Obviously he isn't used to being mocked. "Take him!"


I glance back at Stan. His burnt flesh stretches over his bones as he grins menacingly like the demon he is. "Have fun."


I grin back, already tempering my strength, holding back so I don't kill the humans in one blow. I want them to suffer.  I want them to feel pain. I want them to feel his pain. And mine.


He almost died. Lightning flashes in the sky.


Time to go to work. I smile as I lunge for their throats.