Day One:

Justin still remembers how on the first night of his new life, Rosie had led him up to the rooftop, where they could be alone. At the time, she'd said she wanted to be alone with him so they could plan how they'd spend the rest of their dark, damned, and intertwined lives together. He'd been happy, or something that was so close to happiness that he couldn't tell the difference until later on. Finally… Justin knew where he belonged. He'd found her, the girl who would love him forever. They'd held one another, looking down on New York from the rooftop fortress, sharing the occasional laugh when the fires in the streets burned out of control or the constant low soundtrack of despair was pierced by a scream, sharp and bright as a clean knife. They danced to the music of police sirens and breaking glass and alarms bells screaming for backup that would never come. Chaos was breaking loose down there, and it was all because of them. Justin held the girl he loved, and he was happy.

Justin couldn't remember a time when he'd felt so powerful, so accepted, so alive, and he told her so. Rosie had given him a knowing look. "You're hesitating, though... I-I can feel it." She smiled at him bashfully, and something in her smile was infinitely sad.

He frowned. "You can? But I thought that your powers as an Angel of the Light..."

"Were gone? No. Only mostly gone. Like your powers, as a Wizard. Only mostly gone. The darkness of our world can only suppress the good in you, like a drug that hides pain or fear. But it can't ever alter your true nature. Not really."

Well. That was bad news. He'd hoped, naively, that his remaining powers, diminished as they were, would work as a kind of secret weapon, should he need one.

But he wasn't going to need a plan B, this time. He had a new life here, he had a new kind of family, and he had Rosie.

He had everything.

Day Two:

He'd been a Dark Angel for exactly two days when he cut his all ties with his family; Gorog and his new brethren had rather strongly insisted. Theresa and Jerry at first had wanted to deny the change in him, had refused to believe that he'd let so much darkness in so fast. Max was hurt and confused, joking in a way that was meant to make things better… and Alex had said nothing at all, just looked at him with those expressive eyes of hers. Pain, anger, confusion, disappointment... it had all been there in her eyes. But she wouldn't say a word.

Of all the things he'd had to bear as he said goodbye, her looking at him that way had been the hardest. That was the last time he'd seen her. But he had Rosie, now. He found he was able to put her entirely out of his mind.

Most of the time.

Day Three:

On day three, he woke up to find Rosie gone. At first he thought she'd just gotten up ahead of him, but the mocking Angels around him had soon set him straight. Evidently, those spies and masters that inhabited the Dark Realm had judged him to be sufficiently loyal, appropriately evil, and thoroughly trapped; the decoy was no longer necessary. The illusion had done its job.

The whole thing made his stomach hurt. He should have been shocked, but instead the whole betrayal felt almost inevitable. It was like he'd always known it would happen. Had he honestly believed that a girl like that would spend eternity with Justin Russo?

It would be several days before he saw her again, and when he did, it would be in Gorog's company.

Day Six:

Seeing Rosie was a shock. He'd been on one of the lower floors at the time, practicing with his new wings, using a small unruined terrace for landings and takeoffs. A few of his Dark Brothers lazed around watching him, but already their presence had begun to feel less like companionship and more like surveillance. When he re-entered the building, after a particularly good landing (if Justin did say so himself), Gorog was there. Justin dropped to his knees and lowered his head, respectfully.

The Dark Lord insisted he get up, that someone so special as Justin had no need to stand on ceremony. He'd made a special trip, he said, for the sole purpose of making a fuss over Justin: the fallen Wizard had been instrumental an attack on Guardian Angel Headquarters, a mission claimed the lives of several Guardian Angels, and led to great deal of profitable looting. Yes, even without taking into account his esteemed role as guardian of the Moral Compass, Justin was obviously moving up quickly in the ranks: Gorog was, he assured him, "Keeping his eye on you, my boy! Great things ahead for you, eh? Great things!"

For that visit Gorog was dressed to the nines, as always, in his neat black tuxedo, complete with tophat and tails. He wore gloves on his large hands; sometimes Justin wondered why he never took them off, but perhaps it was best not to think about it. But it wasn't his outfit that had arrested Justin's attention: it was the girl he wore like an accessory at the end of a long velvet leash.

As if to taunt him, Rosie had been dressed in an outlandish red lace confection that left very little to the imagination. He felt sure it would have made the old Justin blush, if not actually pass right out. Her full breasts were contained (barely) in a candy-colored merriwidow, and a nearly transparent garter-belt held fishnet stockings to her long legs, as she balanced delicately on a pair of stilettos. Tarted up for the occasion, her pretty red hair was fixed to her head with pins, and her makeup painted in thick exotic strokes. Her wings had been clipped, and were restrained by some sort of chain mesh that couldn't have been very comfortable, and would have prevented any flight. She wouldn't look at Justin.

Day Seven:

"Justin, he's been good to me, in his way, " she'd beseeched him, when she was able to catch him alone.. "He could... Perhaps... Be good to you too? If only you'd do the things he wants. He says you have… potential? And we'd be together. " She tried to keep the desperate hope from her voice, but he could hear it.

It wasn't a prospect that filled Justin with joy: Joining Gorog's inner circle, crawling and toadying in order to have Rosie's leftover affection, like some kind of consolation prize. Of course, since losing Rosie, nothing brought him joy. But very few things hurt him, either; he was numb to the world, but that was okay. It helped to be numb, when he needed to do bad things.

And he needed to do a great number of bad things.