I blame the melancholy classical music my teacher was playing. I do not own Count Cain Godchild. Enjoy.


So this was what death was like. Slowly and surely, he could feel his senses slipping away. The knowledge that the building was crumbling around him, that somewhere Riff was racing to Cain's side using the blood Jezebel had given him, and that there was massive panic among the people in the streets surrounding them; none of that mattered. Not in the face of death. It would all work itself out one way or another, and Jezebel would die. Those were certain facts.

Dying should have scared him more. He had no idea what was going to happen to his soul, but he at least knew that it was going nowhere nice. Not after all of the terrible things he'd done in his life. He would probably be heading to the darkest depths of Hell as retribution.

Oddly, none of that mattered to him.

Strong arms were cradling him, holding him against someone's chest as he slipped away into the darkness. The man holding him didn't seem to mind that he was getting completely soaked in Jezebel's blood. He could see the man's face, and knew that he was trying not to cry. That mattered to him.

Cassian crying was an entirely new and odd concept. Despite the fact that he'd been stuck in the body of a child for the majority of his life, Cassian had never once cried. At least, not in front of him. Even when Cassian himself had been on the brink of death, not a tear had leaked from his eyes. He was a stronger person than Jezebel was. He had never allowed himself to break, while Jezebel was broken time and time again.

Distantly, Jezebel hoped that Cassian would wait until he was definitely dead before he cried, if he cried. He didn't want to see such a tremendously strong man break over him, not when Cassian had withstood all the horrors he'd lived through until now. The knowledge that Cassian very well might break over his death was staggering. Nobody loved him that much. Not even his father cared that much about him, and yet Cassian had known him nowhere near as long and was the one holding his body as life slowly left it. That presence at his side throughout their stint together had not gone completely unnoticed and unappreciated by him, and he was going to die without ever saying thank you. Maybe that was for the best.

As the darkness fully enveloped him, Jezebel thought he felt something wet drip onto his cheek. His life had mattered to someone after all.