A/N: Hello! Sorry for such a long update- I started a new fan fiction, as you can probably see XD So, I've been paying attention to that mostly (Plus, if you've read We Are Not Alone, I have poll up on my profile page for it, and I can't continue much without a response. So if you'd like, check that out).
Also, I'm going to clear up the phobia names that I use in this chapter so there is no confusion.
-Acrophobia (Fear of Heights)
-Pteromerhanophobia (Fear of Flying)
-Pteronophobia (Fear of Being Tickled By Feathers)
-Pantophobia (Fear of Everything)
I probably just saved a bunch of Google searches in the future. XD
Anyway,
Let's watch me have a panic attack! Hope you like the chapter, guys. XD

Zada

"BLOODY HELL!"

Panic rushes through me like a tidal wave. I can hear both Death and Kyle laughing loudly behind me.

"NOT. FUNNY." I scream at them, batting the feathers away. Feathers. Are. TOUCHING. ME.

"Having fun, Zada?" Kyle giggles.

"SHUT UP!" I squeal in discomfort. "Dammit! DEATH! How do I switch back?!"

He stands up and walks to me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. I whimper angrily and try to move away. Feathers. Touching. Me. "Shh… you must learn to get used to it."

"Used to it?! DEATH! Pteronophobia!"

He laughs. "I know. You must break it- there's a reason why we've given you this form. Just stay calm."

Sighing in frustration and defeat, I mutter, "Fine."

"Good. Now, Kyley, you try."

She laughs and, while giving me a mocking glare, downs the potion. She yelps in pain, and I do feel slightly bad- but because the Council tried to kill me, my endurance was much more painful and lasted longer. I watch, a bit dumbfounded, as wings sprout of her back and her clothes bleach themselves.

When the transformation ceases, she turns to face me. With a mocking look, she jokingly bats the feather away, "Ahh! Get them off!" She giggles.

"Piss off." I laugh, punching her in the arm, though still in Death's embrace. I try not to flip out when he trails his fingers down my wings. I smile, walk upstairs and stare into the mirror. What I see, I am not happy about. My hair is bleach white, along with my clothes. My scars are gone. Not a single one remains. This is what angers me. Death's scar is gone. That's what has been keeping me sane for months.
"No… no, no, no! DEATH!"

"What?" He walks into the bathroom. "Are you alright?"

"How do I change back?"

"Zada, you must-"

"I know, I know. The feathers, it's fine. I'm having a panic attack. Please, just tell me."

"Okay. Just imagine yourself in the form you want to be in."

I do so, and a sharp pain runs through my entire body as the wings suck themselves into my back. Immediately I look to my arm, and the scar is there. I sigh in relief.

"Why are you panicking?" Death asks.

"I… I thought that scar was gone."

"This one?" He runs his hand over it too. "Why would you panic if it was gone?"

"Because… I, uh, just though.. It reminded me of... you... through… difficult times…"

"I see." He replies simply. "I am sorry."

"For which part?" I smirk.

"Both." He is completely serious, dodging the joke completely.

"'Do not worry about that. It only lives in the past.'" I quote what he had previously said.

He smiles and wraps his arms around my waist. "Indeed it does, my love. Indeed it does."

Playfully, I morph into my tiger form and out of his arms. Death spins around and looks down at me. Purely to spite him, I tug on the fabric of his pants with my teeth. He chuckles and leans down, but before he can touch me, I bolt out the door. I can precisely hear his footsteps as he catches up to me. I end up jumping onto his bed and sitting down, perfectly symmetrical within myself. Death walks up to me.

"Tease." He chuckles, climbing on top of me. My amused tiger face turns to loud peals of laughter as he shifts my form. When I compose myself, I kiss him with my hands in his hair. He wraps his arms around my waist, toying with the black fabric of my shirt.

"Zada?" I break the kiss and look to Kyle, who is walking through the door. "Oh! My apologies." She's holding back laughter. As she shuts the door, I swear I can hear her muttering something along the lines of, 'Big Bang Theory'.

"No!" I start laughing. "Damn you, Kyle!"

Death chuckles and brings his lips to my jaw. I can't stop laughing, but all that comes out is quiet wheezes.

This is what I presume to be genuine happiness.

Xxxxxxxx

Daire

The Angelic potion must've had a different effect on Veil. It's giving me a rush of energy that no matter what I do, will not subside. Ignoring Strife's warning shouts as he chases after me, I bolt out the large wooden door. The grass is a beautiful kelly green, and pure white clouds hang lazily in the blue sky. The scene reminds me of the Maker's Realm in Darksiders II.

The wings on my back tingle as I move them. Giggling like a schoolgirl (A/N: Yes, Daire, that was a shot, if you are reading this.), I move them up once, and down to the ground as quickly as I can. The air rushes underneath then, and I yelp as I am picked up a good three feet off the ground.

"Daire!" Strife yells. I flap my wings twice, and with the extra momentum, easily tower over the Horseman. I fall to the ground, laughing uncontrollably.

"You must get used to your wings first! Immediately trying to fly is not good for your human health. The rush of energy, anxiety, and excitement, your stronger Angelic mind can handle. Your human mind, however, will-"

Not listening, I shift into my human form, just to see if I can. As soon as I start to see at my own level, I black out.

x-

When I awake I have a mind splitting headache. I move to touch my head, but I then hear a quiet, "Don't."

Shifting my gaze to the right, I see Veil, who is sitting across from me in a chair. She is wearing a smug smile. "I think we should go back to Earth and get you a hearing aid."

I groan in pain and mutter, "Fuck you."

She laughs, "Why didn't you listen?"

"I was on a sugar high."

"Without actually consuming any sugar?"

"Correct."

"Yep. That makes sense!" Veil rolls her eyes. "You'll probably not feel well for the next day or two. You kind of fucked up your head."

"It was already fucked up. I have a voice in the back of my head."

"I think you and Zada should get together and go bowling."

"Why?" I roll on my side, despite the spots in my vision, and pull a random blanket over me. "Does she have a similar problem?"

"Yeah… it's roughly the worse thing ever, because you know you can't have a conversation with any one person without knowing someone else is listening."

I nod in a solemn agreement.

"Get some rest." She says, standing up. "I'm going to find Strife."

xxxxxxxx

Veil

After making sure Daire is asleep, I walk into the room Strife and I share. Opening the door, I see him sitting in a chair and staring out a window in the corner of the room. Without breaking my gaze from his back, I silently shut the door and start towards him. With my hand centimeters away from coming into contact with his shoulder, he suddenly grabs onto my wrist. I yelp as he spins me around once so he can wrap his arm around my waist. Losing my balance, I collapse in his arms.

"Hello," His voice is intentionally deeper to sound more seductive. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes to mind. I quickly close it. Strife pulls me closer, gently drawing circles across the small of my back. The sensation sends shivers up my spine. My eyes droop ever so slightly, along with my shoulders and my sense of self defense. I lift my hand up and put it to the side of his face.

"H… Hell- hello…" I stammer, absently lost in his glistening golden eyes.

"Hello."

"Hello."

"How many times exactly do you plan on saying 'hello?'"

"Eight." I immediately reply. "It's symmetrical, dammit!"

Strife bobs his head back in laughter. I awkwardly shift so I don't fall off of him as he moves. When he composes himself, his hands slowly move from my waist to the underside of my thigh. I laugh as he brings his lips to my collar bone. I run my hands through his choppy short hair.

And at this split second, I do indeed love my life. I love Strife. I love that I am home where I belong, with him. I love how I don't have to keep Zada sane anymore. Back then, when we were at school, she occupied all of my time and thoughts. I barely scraped by when it came to my grades. And now, I don't have to worry. I'm sure that she and Death are happy where they are, wherever they are. I do want to see her, but I feel like the guilt she's been carrying all her life will return to my mind, haunting me through my own life. I don't want that.

Though, despite my mental conflict, I say, "Strife?"

He grunts in acknowledgement.

"Will we see the others again?"

Hesitantly he lifts his head up. "Of course we will. We must lay low for a while, though. When the Council finds out of your leaving- and trust me, they will- we must keep you hidden. Taking you could potentially cause us to be stripped of our power."

I unintentionally grip the fabric of his shirt in my fist. "No," I choke out in a short breath.

"It's alright." He shifts to we are eye-to-eye. "Nothing will happen to you and I." I break the gaze for a split second, but he moves his eyes into my line of sight, pulling me right back in. "Is that understood?"

I playfully roll my eyes. "Yes,'mother.'"

He picks me up, smirking and saying, "You might want to watch your tongue."

"Or what?" He roughly kisses me, pinning me underneath him on his side of the bed. I laugh, spiteing him by tugging on his shirt playfully, then pushing him away to stand up. "I think Im going to get something to eat."

"Oh, no you don't." He chuckles, gathering me in his arms. "I'm not letting you out of my sight, love."

xxxxxxxx

Raven

"HA...! Oh, shit!"

War chuckles at me as I hover in the air above him. I try to keep myself stable, but ultimately failing on every level. He has Chaoseater in his left hand, claiming only to use it if he needed to, quote, "Cut me out of any trees," for there are dead ones everywhere I look. The grass is grey and dead, but the sky is still a, "Zada's hair" blue.

"Are you enjoying yourself up there?" War grins playfully, though completely calm with my distress.

"Shut the bloody hell up, War!"

Hearing his laughter makes me smile… but I'm still in a state of panic! I flap the wings once, shooting high into the air, far past the roof of his two-story home at this point. I yelp when I start to fall again. Only about fourteen feet- roughly half of War's height- from the ground, I flap the white feathery limbs of death once more, only to be taken higher off of the bloody ground.

"Raven." War says calmly.

My panic shows in my tone profoundly, "WHAT?!"

"Be calm. Don't worry about hurting yourself. If you do, I have potions."

"Oh, that's PERFECT! Instead of saying that it'll be fine, you just resort to, 'Okay, you'll probably injure yourself, but why don't we all just get high on potions?! WOOO!'"

He buries his face in his right hand. "That's not exactly what I said… I don't think it is possible to be… ehm… 'high'... on a health potion- what in the nine hells made you think that?"

"I'm paraphrasing what I assume to be your thoughts."

"Well, to politely correct you, my observation is that you tend to use more complex words when in a stage of fright."

"SHUT THE HELL UP- Fuck!"

I start falling again. This time, before I can return to the skies, War grabs onto my ankle and pulls me downward to his level. I tuck my wings tight to my body when he wraps his right arm around my waist, and with his left, wrapping locks of my blonde hair around his metal encased finger. "Are you calm now?"

Slightly paralyzed- of course, not from my previous traumatizing experience, but more to the feeling of his skin coming into contact with mine- I shake my head. He pulls me closer so we are on the same level and stares into my bloody soul, "Now?"

"You realize you are just prolonging the effects of being in a state of calm?"

"Yes. You are still panicking. Your speech shows it clearly."

"Fuck you."

"Well…" He shrugs. "I wouldn't mind you taking up that job."

I start to laugh, and that almost immediately depletes the stress. Taking a few deep breaths, I look into his completely serious eyes, and start laughing again. "You are such a sarcastic bastard when you want to be."

"It runs in the family."

Giggling, I mutter, "That assumption is correct."

He chuckles, setting me down, along with Chaoseater beside me. "Wait here. I will begin your training in melee weaponry fighting."

I stand there awkwardly for maybe ten minutes. Eventually I try to stand perfectly symmetrical- Zada and Veil's OCD rubbed off on me slightly. Suddenly, I hear rustling behind me. I wait five seconds- just as War told me to when I trained in hand-to-hand combat- and then spin around with one arm diagonally in front of my face. The handle of the axe flying at me was stopped by my fragile wrist.

"Very good." War says. I put my hand over my heart. "And…" I hear him mutter before I start to rant.

"Damn you, you scared the fuck out of me!"

Between my words I can hear him mutter something I can't quite repeat without blushing.

"Couldn't you came at me with something a little less intimidating?!"

"In all reality, combat will not not be intimidating. This is the very best it will get." When he sees my annoyed, blank stare, he adds, "roughly."

"Alright, alright." He hands me the small, toothpick of an axe compared to Chaoseater. I take it, running my finger across one of the intentionally dulled edges of the double sided blade. "So, who's this little guy? Turmoil-eater?"

He chuckles. "If you'd like it to be."

"I was just being an asshole."

"This is just a hand crafted axe. There is nothing very special about it, but it is yours to use in training- You'll need something more heavy duty to take on anything with actual significance."

"What? Like a training dummy?"

"One more remark like that and you'll become my training dummy." His words are not harsh, nor playful. They're one-hundred percent seductive.

My heart is beating so loudly in my ears, and his eyes are distracting me to the point where I forget to reply, my face flushes red without me noticing, and I unintentionally catch my bottom lip between my teeth. He smirks as my mental conflict.

Now… kiss him! I think to myself, then start to giggle.

"What?" War asks.

"What? Pfft! Nothing! There couldn't be anything wrong, I'm just fine and dandy-"

He kisses me. Dammit! Totally called that. I smile as I do my best to return the gesture. He wraps his arms around my waist, grabbing the hand that is holding the axe he just gave me, and throwing the weapon to the side. I tangle my hands in his bleach white hair as soon as he lifts me up enough to do so. He quietly whispers my name once and carries me back to the house.

xxxxxxxx

Sage

Thump.

The sound of a throwing knife penetrating a wooden target, right in the middle, bounces off the walls of the large, dull, and roofless training room in Fury's home. The Horseman and I stand on the sidelines, leaning against the East wall and watching Azzazel, who has come quite far in his training in a very short time.

Thump.

"Is there anything else worth covering in our human forms?" I ask absently, cracking my knuckles.

"No. As soon as he has this partially mastered, then we will move on to your Angelic forms."

It is quiet for a while. I finally muster the courage to ask something I've been wanting to ask about for days. "Why is Azzazel's Angelic form so…" She understands the rest.

Thump.

"In his new form, he is half Angel, half Demon."

I look up at the towering six-eleven woman. "Why- and wouldn't that make him Nephilim?"

"He did not become Nephilim because the potion he was given distinctively separated itself from his half human, half demon blood." She meets my confused eyes, then continues, "Azzazel is the son of the demon, Samael. According to my knowledge of this, 'video game,' that reason why you are here, you know who this is. He knows who this is, but he doesn't know."

"I see." I reply simply, turning back and watching as he almost slices a throwing knife in half with another throwing knife.

Thump.

"Now tell me this," Fury looks down at me. "Where did you learn to fight? Why did you learn to fight? Because none of the other humans- at least from what I have heard- are all fully ignorant, compared to you."

"I learned to fight through myself. I didn't train with anyone. And why? The Four Horsemen themselves inspired me to, I suppose- but you, mostly. Plus, when it comes to physical anything, you are right that the others are ignorant."

She chuckles slightly. "Now you tell me this," I retaliate. "Why did you take us in? We have no connection to you, or significance to you, other than the fact that your brothers were to imprison us. Then of course, the three found their mates, and so on and so forth, but what do you play in all of this?"

Fury sighs and crosses her arms. "My brothers are all I have. When they need help, and especially on this level, then I will help them. To each other, they're sarcastic and cocky when one asks for help." She laughs slightly, clicking her tongue. "That's why they usually come to me for help when they need it. On a social level, I am the least ignorant."

I tilt my head down slightly. "That's not hard to believe."

Azzazel, who ran out of knives during our conversation, walks up to us. He sticks his hands in his pockets but says nothing. He is indeed panting, but not as much as he would after training when he started. Fury looks up at the sky and says, "…it is getting late. We will work on your flying techniques in the morning. Find something to eat, and get some rest."

Azzazel and I both nod and walk back to the house. I open the door first, letting Azzazel and Fury walk in. I follow suit. I haven't ate a lot since we've gotten here- mostly because I wouldn't want to eat all of it in two days- so mostly my meals consist of pieces of fruit. I sink my teeth into a bright green apple and walk downstairs, carrying my pistol in one hand and a yellow apple in the other.

I sit down on my bed, resting my back against the headboard as I eat my 'dinner'. I hear Azzazel in the room to my right. I think nothing of it, setting my silver, grime-covered pistol on the nightstand. I eat the entire apple, standing up to throw the seeds away. When I start on my second, I see a figure standing in the doorway. As a reflex I grab the pistol and point it at him.

This happens often. Azzazel will come in here to talk to me- well, mostly argue with me- and I will come a trigger-pull away from killing him. Annoyed, I set the pistol down and continue to eat.

"Maybe It'd be best to put the pistol out of reach?" He rolls his yellow eyes, and I narrow mine. How the hell did I not notice that his eyes are yellow? I mean, I did, but I never thought anything of it.

I'm an idiot.

"Right." I reply simply.

Azzazel sits down in a chair on the complete opposite side of the room. "Your thoughts on training tomorrow?" He asks.

"My thoughts are mutual…" I chuckle once. "I'm glad no one here has acrophobia."

"Or pteromerhanophobia."

"Or Pteronophobia."

"Doesn't Zada have that?"

I roll my eyes. "She has pantophobia."

Azzazel chuckles. "That's very true." I myself have to conceal a laugh. He stands up just as I pop the last of the apple into my mouth and says, "I'm going to get some rest. I'll talk to you in the morning." He leaves without a reply from me. I stand up to throw the apple seeds in a small bucket filled a quarter of the way with them. I rest my heat on the pillow and pull the blankets over me.

Seems pretty peaceful, right? A normal day of learning how to defend for ourselves? Well, buckle your seat belts in this little roller coaster, because this here is where everything goes to Hell.