Author's Note: I'm not entirely sure what this idea was born from, but I kind of like it. I really can't say where this story is going right now, and for all I know, this may be the only chapter. I just thought I'd put this up to see what people thought of it.

Summary: The Darkness has taken over Sparta, one of the larger towns in the world of Agressia, but it had no plans on stopping there. It wanted to cover the world, and the only thing standing in its way was Daniel. When Samantha runs into him while attempting to retrieve his weapon from a home in Sparta, she escapes with him to Crete to discover more about the Darkness and to show Daniel that you don't have to be alone to defeat evil.

Chapter 1: The Angel of Darkness

Samantha walked quickly down the dark streets, clutching a large clay pot tightly to her. The Manson's didn't often send her out alone at night on errands like this. Slaves had a habit of disappearing at night, taken by the Darkness. No one really knew what the Darkness was or what it wanted, but the Darkness reigned over Sparta with an iron fist. No crime save those the Darkness allowed were committed, and the rich that lived here were happy enough with the Darkness presiding over them. Evil ran rampant with such an invisible government, something that the Darkness seemed to feed off. It grew more powerful as Sparta fell deeper into wickedness. The stars no longer shined in Sparta, something Samantha felt had been a punishment to this wicked land, but the Darkness had only consumed the skies completely so that even the moon had to fight to be seen.

It had begun to snow as Samantha had left the flour mill behind, and her bare feet froze more and more with each step. Her tattered dress did little to protect her from the elements, and she hugged the pot tighter simply because it offered a bit of warmth from sitting so long inside the warm mill. She paused suddenly, glancing about her. She could feel eyes on her, but she couldn't understand who else would be out here on such a cold night in the middle of the snow. Then she shivered, moving on once more. She knew the rumors well of the Darkness's minions that kidnapped people found on the streets after dark. No one knew what happened to them after the minions took them—or at least the slaves didn't know what happened to them. The masters of such slaves didn't really seem to care. The slave would be easily replaced. Samantha walked faster, heart pounding in her chest. Could it be her imagination, or were their footsteps following hers?

She uttered a cry as she suddenly lurched forward, tripping over a curb that she couldn't see in the growing mounds of snow. She fell, catching herself on her arms before she could smack her face on the cement, eyes closed tightly as she waited for the sound of breaking clay. The sound never came, and she opened her eyes. The first thing she saw surprised her: a pair of gray boots, laced up to the figure's mid-calf. She slowly followed the boots up, eyes widening. A cloaked figure stood before her, holding the jar she had dropped. The face couldn't be seen under the shadow of the hood; only strange, glowing lime-green eyes broke up the black figure of whoever it might be standing before her. The figure shifted the pot to the crook of one arm, holding out a gloved hand to her. They were biker gloves, only covering the hand up to the knuckles. She wondered momentarily why this person's hands weren't cold before carefully grasping the hand in her own.

"You should be more careful next time," a masculine voice said as he pulled her to her feet. Her face flushed, and she lowered her gaze to the floor, trying to ignore the blood now trickling down her leg from her scraped knee. "It's pretty cold out tonight, and you shouldn't be walking around barefoot in the snow anyway." He held out the pot to her which she quickly took, hugging it tightly to her. "You go right home, and you stay there."

She nodded, barely managing to stutter out a thank you before she hurried off once more. The icy air made her knee sting, but she hurried on, breathing a sigh of relief as the large mansion came into view. She didn't even have to imagine what kind of punishment would be in store for her for taking so long. Master Jeremy loved punishing her, and he had begun to use every small thing she did wrong as a chance to do so. She usually received a slap across the face or some other kind of physical abuse. She daily went through mental and emotional abuse because of the names they called her, but lately, Master Jeremy had been punishing rebellion and disobedience with forced kisses or touches where she didn't want him to touch her. Who knew how far he would push the boundaries between punishment and sexual abuse tonight.

"You're late," Mistress Pamela snapped as Samantha stepped inside. She snatched the pot from the young woman, not even bothering to care that Samantha's lips had turned blue or that she trembled violently.

"Samantha!" She winced as Master Jeremy's voice reached her, but she managed to find enough strength in her weary, frozen legs to walk to the stairs and slowly make her way up them. "Come here, slave." She swallowed hard, walking stiffly into her room. She raised her chin defiantly, earning her a hard slap across the face.

Dazed by the force of Master Jeremy's hand connecting with her cheek, she couldn't fight back as he bodily lifted her up and threw her onto the bed. She recovered quickly, fighting against his hands as he began to undress her. She tried her best to block him by crossing her arms, using her legs to try and push him off of her. Such defiance earned her another slap across the face, this one causing her nose to bleed and paralyzing her once more. She lay limp and unable to fight as Master Jeremy's eager hands pulled at her slave clothes. She couldn't get her body to respond, blinking dumbly through the fog that covered her brain.

Then suddenly, his presence left her. He had done nothing more than push up her skirt and tug at her shirt. Perhaps he'd thought the bloody nose had been enough of a punishment. She slowly raised her head, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. Then she stopped, staring wide-eyed at the sight before her. Master Jeremy had been lifted off of her only to be held in midair by familiar gloved hands. Her cloaked rescuer from earlier had appeared once more. But why would he be here to help a simple slave like her?

"Where is it?" His voice rumbled from the shadows of the hood like the crash of the ocean's waves against the cliff shores. "Where is the sword, damn it?"

Her heart fell. He hadn't come for her at all. He'd come for some weapon her master had probably stolen from him.

Master Jeremy only laughed, that laugh turning to a grimace as a gloved hand closed around his neck. The cloaked man cast him aside as if he weighed no more than a child's toy, and Samantha let out an involuntary cry of surprise as Master Jeremy's body smashed into the dresser and demolished it. The cloaked figure turned, as if not realizing someone else had been in the room with the man he had just done away with. Samantha's heart began to race once more as those lime-green eyes fixed her with that piercing stare.

"I'm looking for a sword. Have you seen any in this household?"

She nodded slowly, swallowing. She opened her mouth, but only a squeak escaped her. She closed it, cleared her throat, and tried again. "O-over the fire place in Master Jeremy's bed chamber," she whispered.

The cloaked man gave her a curt nod, striding to the door and disappearing through it. He reappeared moments later with the sword in his hands.

"Jeremy? Jeremy, where are you? Abigail wants you to tuck her in again. Aren't you finished punishing that slave girl yet?"

"Time to go," the cloaked figure muttered, heading for the window.

"Wait! You're not really just going to leave me here with this dead guy, are you?" she cried. When he didn't even pause his step to acknowledge that he'd heard her, she knew he would do just that. He would abandon her just like that.

She growled, running after him and grabbing the sword. It struck her afterward that putting her hands on a sharp object probably wouldn't be the best idea. She didn't have to worry though because the sword hadn't been sharpened in a long time. The wound it would give could probably be best described as the same wound a butter knife would give if she were to run it across her palm. Grabbing the sword, however, did get his attention. He stopped, and his head whipped around so fast that the hood fell.

For a moment, Samantha couldn't breathe. His white hair only added to the eerie beauty of his face. His cheekbones were high, his jaw line well defined, and the little bit of stubble growing on his chin could barely be seen against his pale skin. Samantha could find no other way to describe him: he looked beautiful.

"Let go," he said calmly and quietly.

"Jeremy!" Pamela could be heard from somewhere downstairs.

"Take me with you," Samantha muttered, "or the sword stays with me."

"This sword has been in my family for generations! There is no fucking way you're going to convince me to leave it behind with you." He jerked it out of her hands, returning his attention back to the window.

Samantha grimaced and rubbed her hands against her dress to try and get the stinging to go down. She ran toward the window as he leapt out, and once again, before any brilliant ideas could cross her mind, she leapt out of the window right after him. As she fell, watching the ground come up very quickly to meet her, she came to the conclusion that the man that had unintentionally saved her probably had some sort of skill with jumping out of windows. She, however, did not, and if someone didn't catch her, she would be sporting injuries from a jump out of a three-story window.

She let out an "eep" as her midair journey suddenly ended about six feet away from the ground. She raised her head to find the man holding the back of her clothes, a bored look on his face. "This is really not worth it," he muttered, slinging her onto his back.

She clung to his shoulders without a thought, both of them looking up as a scream alerted them that Pamela had found her dead husband. Sure enough, the woman soon came to the window, screaming murder and demanding justice from the Darkness. The man Samantha clung to simply turned and ran. She had to cling tighter, her breath being pushed out of her by the speed of his running. She didn't even know anymore if this guy were even human. No human could run this fast with a 90-something pound weight on their back.

"Wh-where are we going?" she asked, teeth chattering as the chill wind blew around them. She couldn't believe he could stand this kind of weather. His cloak did little to keep him warm after all. She had a feeling it had been designed mainly for show.

"I'm going home, and out of responsibility, I'm taking you with me since you're obviously going to follow me anyway. I'd hate for you to try and swim after me; you'd probably end up in a block of ice in no time."

She pursed her lips stubbornly. "I can take care of myself, thank you very much."

"So I noticed when you leapt out of the window with no idea how you were going to land safely."

Her cheeks flushed. "All right, so intelligent thought escaped me for a moment there, but I do know how to take care of myself!"

"I'll believe that when I see it," he muttered. "Now, hush for a moment. I need to concentrate."

Samantha fell silent for only about five minutes. Then she asked, "What's your name anyway?"

He didn't answer for a few moments, and at first, Samantha didn't think he'd answered her at all. Then she realized the whisper on the wind had been him. "Daniel."


Samantha wouldn't have thought it possible to fall asleep on someone's back while they ran through the night. But morning surprised her as she opened her eyes to find herself lying beside a crackling fire. Daniel sat nearby, his luminescent eyes locked on the flames. He had removed his cloak, and it took Samantha a few minutes to realize he'd wrapped it around her. His clothing astonished her. It seemed too dark for the angelic face, and yet it suited him too in a way. He wore black cargo pants, the kind that had at least seven pockets if not more. His shirt did not look at all weather-appropriate. A simple tank with no sleeves, it hugged tightly to his chest. Add that to the boots and biker gloves, and she could only think of one way to describe him: soldier.

"You've decided to wake up now, have you?" He didn't even look at her, making her jump. She would've been prepared to hear his deep voice again if he'd looked at her first.

"Did you sleep at all?" she asked carefully, pushing the cloak away as she sat up. She immediately regretted that idea and tugged the cloak back around her. It was certainly warmer than it looked.

He shook his head, standing. He toed snow onto the fire, putting it out before he walked over to her. She didn't hesitate this time as he held out his hand to help her up, readjusting the cloak around her as she stood beside him. He helped her up onto his back without a word and took off running once more. Samantha had to hide her face against his shoulder as the falling snow stung at her cheeks and nose.

"How long will it take to get to your home?" she asked, speaking into his shoulder.

She felt the rumbling of his chuckle coming from his chest before she actually heard it. "We're heading for Athens right now to catch a ship to my home. It'll probably take a few weeks at most."

"Where is your home?"

He fell silent for a moment. Had her question triggered a bad memory or something? Then he spoke. "Crete."

She had heard of the place before. Vladimir ruled over it, and he had made it into the large tourist attraction it was now known as. "Why aren't we just taking a ship from the ports here in Sparta?" she asked.

"Hmm, that's a good question," he muttered. "It might be because I have a runaway slave strapped to my back, or it might be that I'm a wanted criminal. In fact, it could be both."

She snorted. "How could you be a wanted criminal? That doesn't even make sense. Crime runs rampant here."

"My crime is against the Darkness itself. He isn't very happy with me right now."

"Wait, the Darkness is actually a person?"

"Well, yeah. What, you thought a dark cloud ruled this kingdom?"

She growled. "Fine, he's a person. So, what'd you do to make him so angry? Sleep with his daughter?"

He laughed, glancing over his shoulder at her. "You're good. Yeah, actually I did. That, and I decided I didn't want to be in alliance with the Darkness anymore."

Her jaw dropped. "What? Okay, first the Darkness really is a person, and now he's got a daughter too?"

"Yep. He even had a wife at one point. He's just as human as you. Well, kind of."

"Mmhmm, he's just as human as you are, huh?"

He glanced back at her. "So, you've realized I'm not exactly human, hmm?" His luminescent green eyes were hypnotizing, and Sam had to bury her face into his shoulder once more. "All right, so I'm not human. Not completely, anyway. I have some abilities because of who I am, but I'm pretty much human otherwise."

"What kind of abilities?" she mumbled, closing her eyes.

He grinned a bit. "It'd take too long to explain them all. Why don't you wait until we get on the ship."

She sighed. "Yeah, you just don't want to tell me."

"And what if I don't? Could you blame me? I don't even know you."

She made a face. "All right, fine. I'll wait for the ship."

Daniel set her on her feet as they neared the port, frowning a bit. "We'll have to get you new clothes. You'll attract too much attention dressed like that."

Samantha put her hands on her hips, glaring at him. "Oh, please, I'm not interested in making a fashion statement." A passing man let out a wolf-whistle, making her whirl around to glare at him. "Hey, come back here, and try that again!" she shouted. Daniel rolled his eyes, grabbing her arm and dragging her off to a nearby clothing store. "Yeah, you better walk away! I'll beat your ass!"

"You embarrass me," he muttered, pulling clothes off the rack and tossing them into Samantha's arms.

"What? Oh, please, like you care if I embarrass you."

"At the moment, you're in my company. It matters to my appearance if you embarrass me." He tossed yet another garment onto Samantha's growing pile.

"Oh, hell no. I will not wear this," she said, throwing it back at him.

"Why not?" he asked, catching said item.

"Hello, it's pink, and it's a skirt. I've had enough of wearing what people want me to wear." She dropped the pile she had been holding, searching through the clothing rack. She grabbed a long-sleeved, button-up purple top and a pair of black jeans.

"That's all you're going to try on?"

"Yep." She disappeared into one of the curtained rooms and emerged fifteen minutes in the ensemble she had chosen. "Well?" She was shocked to find him on his knees outside the room, clutching his stomach. "Hey… are you okay?"

"Just peachy," he muttered, gritting his teeth. "Here," he held out a few bills, "pay for your outfit, and let's get out of here."

Samantha ran for the register, paying and walking back to Daniel. He looked like he was in pain, though he was standing now. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He looked at her with those luminescent eyes, and she had to look away. "It's nothing I can't handle. Let's go."


The pier in Athens was busy, but Daniel weaved through the people with expert steps. Samantha struggled to keep up with him, stumbling when she bumped into people and ducking beneath arms just to keep up with him. Whatever pain that had been caused him while they were in the store had only increased, but Daniel moved as if the pain didn't bother him in the least.

"Keep up!" he called out, glancing back for a moment. Samantha narrowed her eyes in annoyance. "We're almost there."

A large ship was loading up about 500 feet ahead, and Daniel was making a bee-line for it. She was shocked when she managed to catch up to Daniel before realizing he was clutching his stomach again. "Daniel?"

"I can manage, Samantha. Let's just get to the ship." He grasped her hand, pulling her along beside him.

Samantha could barely keep up with him, stumbling on her feet as Daniel pulled her up onto the ship's deck. He released her hand as he spoke to the captain, and she gazed around her in curiosity. She had never been on a ship before, and it felt nearly unreal to be standing on the deck. Daniel grasped her arm, dragging her along behind him as he headed for the cabin.

"Where are we going?"

"The captain agreed to let us rent out the cabin. I'd made plans earlier to simply sleep with the crew, but that won't exactly be possible now that I have a stowaway."

Her jaw dropped. "I could easily keep up with the crew!"

He turned, brow raised. "We're at sea with a bunch of men who probably haven't seen or touched a woman in months. Do you honestly think you could sleep safely with those people?"

Crossing her arms, she frowned. "Like I've been telling you, I do know how to take care of myself."

"So I've seen. You stupidly grabbed my sword, leapt out of a window, and if I recall, when I first came into the room, Jeremy Manson was about to violate you." He shook his head. "Forgive me if I can't exactly trust your word on this matter."

She couldn't think of anything to retort in return and turned her head away. Daniel shook his head and walked away from her. His legs gave out beneath him, and Samantha stared open-mouthed as he crumpled to the floor.

"Are you okay?" she asked, running to his side. His eyes were closed, a look of pain on his face, and he did not answer her. "I really hope you're not dying," she muttered, biting her lip.