They knew the Horsemen were coming.

As soon as the Riders broke the treeline, hordes of demons charged out of the camp. Death slashed his way through; Despair did not break stride. The other Horseman were not quite as lucky, War and Fury forced to dismount and battle on foot.

"Pale Rider," The angel with the lion helmet sneered.

"Ipos, I presume. What is your reason for being on Earth before the seals were broken and threatening the balance?" Death dismissed Despair and approached the three other unearthly beings on foot.

"Look around you, Horseman. These humans, they follow our orders without question. They would give their lives, commit the most heinous of acts, if only we give the word to do so. These hounds do not deserve Eden," Ipos snarled.

"They are brainwashed!" Death shouted.

"Details, details," Ornias lilted, "I'm far more concerned with the human you have been toting around. What value does she have, hmm? Do you think to trade her to Vulgrim for trinkets? Or perhaps she is your pet, a plaything, really? Ha! I bet she hardly fits around your-"

"Would you just shut up?" Death interjected, bringing a hand to his face.

"How dare you tell me to..."

Death drowned out the vexing shriek of Ornias's voice. How an angel could have the voice of a demon, he would never know. Sighing, Death called upon his necromantic abilties to summon three ghouls. Ornias's blabbering turned into a shriek as he tried to take to the air.

"No you don't," the Rider threw his hand in a Death Grip, latching on to the fleeing seraph's ankle. With a quick yank, Ornias crashed into the ground.

Suddenly, Death felt a biting pain down his arm. He turned his head to find a flaming arrow buried in his right shoulder blade. Scoffing, he yanked it out, the obsidian head drawing chunks of red muscle with it.

"What was that supposed to do?" Death queried to no one in particular.

"Distract you from this!"

The Nephilim jumped out of the way just in time. One of Isares's thin swords slashed through the air where his head had been.

"I've always wanted to kill a Nephilim. Too bad you got to them first," She taunted.

Growling, Death charged. Drawing Harvester as a single blade, he swiped down at the demon's feet. Isares jumped over the blade, smirking. She had an opening. Twisting to the side, she planned to swipe both swords at his unguarded back. Just as the wicked steel was to meet flesh, Death split Harvester into two and knocked the twin cutlasses away. With a grunt, Isares fell to her knee, swords buried in the earth.

Wasting no time, Death returned Harvester to its single form, stabbing up into the demon's ribs. Gritty black blood burst from her mouth as the kinslayer used the handle of his weapon to vault over her, ripping out the blade to stab the heel into her back. He split Harvester once again and dug one sickle into her supporting leg, pinning her to the ground. Mercilessly, he slashed in front of him.

Isares's head made a dull, wet thud as it hit the ground.

Death was pulled out of his bloodlust as he listened to Strife fire a volley of shots and curse to himself. He looked around. Ipos was gone.

"Damn shapeshifter," Strife swore as he lowered his guns, striding over to Ornias's blubbering form.

"Please, it was all his idea! He made me do it! He threatened-"

"Shut your damned mouth," Strife commanded, picking up the angel by the collar. He cocked Mercy and pointed it at the other's forehead.

"Strife, put your weapon away. We need him alive to bring before the Charred Council," Death interrupted.

"Who put you in charge?"

"I feel as though we've gone over this before, brother," Death drawled.

'Hmph'ing, Strife dropped the sobbing angel. Death made sure that his other siblings were accounted for before heading back to Blythe's vantage point. When he reached it, he saw the woman looking up at the sky.

"Blythe?" He called.

"Hmm? Oh, hello," She smiled down at him.

"One of them got away,"

"I know, I saw,"

Death nodded, confirming that she had been paying attention to their raid.

"How am I going to get down from here?" Blythe asked.

"Jump. I'll catch you,"

Sighing, the woman crouched on the edge of the stump, teetered for a moment, then leaped off. Death caught her under her legs and back easily.

"Well, I'll be damned. I owe you one, Fury," Both turned their heads to look at War, leaning his heavy frame against a tree with a rather shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

Death still did not release Blythe, turning slightly towards his kin.

"How did you figure it out?" He asked nonchalantly.

Blythe looked back and forth between Death, War, Strife, and Fury. Did she miss something?

"Oh, I saw you two sharing the bed and just assumed," Fury waved her clawed hand dismissively.

"Why were you spying on us in bed?" Death cocked his head.

"Well, I had come downstairs to see if either of you were awake and spied a tangle of limbs and sheets, so I decided to leave you to it,"

"Ugh, we were just sleeping,"

"In the same bed,"

"It gets cold at night."

"Mmhmm,"

"Not to interrupt girl's time," Strife interrupted, "But what do I do with this guy?" He indicated the unconscious angel, courtesy of War.

"You and Fury take him to the White City. He'll face trial there before being sent to the Charred Council for punishment," Death explained.

Reluctantly, Strife nodded and stepped through the portal Fury summoned.

"What happens now?" Blythe asked as she and the two remaining Horseman strode through the rubble of the compound. "I mean, all these people," She stared at the sleeping bodies strewn about.

"They won't remember a thing in the morning. Ipos can't maintain the spell over so many alone. As for us," They came upon a large symbol reminiscient of the one in Blythe's woods, "We go home."

That night, War slept in his normal room as Death and Blythe milled around downstairs. Well, it was less 'milling around' and more Death watching Blythe obsessively clean everywhere she could reach. Every now and then his gaze would wander down her form, whether that be the sway of her hips as she walked or her rump as she bent over to grab something. Sighing, he turned his gaze to a glass cabinet, filled with figurines and painted figures of singing women and angels, alongside a few of demons and angels locked in combat or embrace. The two most interesting to him were a fairly large and elaborate sculpture of an angel and a demon crossing blades midflight, and a faded painting of a cloaked, skeletal figure with a spear at its back clutching a dying woman to its chest.

"Death?"

"Hmm?" His gaze snapped up from where it was resting on her tantalizing hips.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," She giggled as she turned to her kitchenette. She was focused on putting a few glasses in their proper places when she felt Death come behind her and wrap his arms around her waist. She listened to him sigh as he placed his cheek atop her head. Blythe set the glasses down and placed her hands on Death's muscular forearms. She murmured his name and motioned for him to lend her his ear. He lowered his head to her shoulder. She whispered in his ear. He nodded and chuckled, discarding his mask and turning her around to face him.

Blythe's mouth felt dry as she met Death's eyes. They burned brightly, as they had in her dream. A curtain of black hair fell of of his left shoulder, casting half of his face in gentle shadows. Everything around them seemed to sharpen and become more defined. Blythe noticed the small scar marring the right side of Death's jaw. Death noticed Blythe's parted, red lips. Slowly, Death moved his right hand to tangle in her hair. In one swift movement, Death lowered his mouth to hers. Blythe was stunned for only a second before she returned the kiss. She ran her delicate hands up his chest and locked them behind his neck, toying with a lock of his hair. Gently, he picked her up and set her on the counter, pushing back the cups she had oh so carefully arranged. He stood between her thighs, supporting himself on the counter with one hand while the other rested on her thigh.

Soon, Death pulled away, earning a disappointed whimper from the woman. He chuckled as he trailed kisses down her neck, earning yet another whimper as he reached her collarbone. He opened his mouth and drew his tongue along her neck, up to her ear. He whispered something to her, lowering his head back to bite her neck gently. His inhumanly sharp teeth worried the skin, causing Blythe to squirm. She let out a short cry as he bit harder, breaking the skin and drawing blood.

He laughed softly and returned to her lips, catching her full bottom lip with his teeth. The short burst of pain cause her to gasp, allowing him to slip his tongue into her mouth. He allowed her to fight him for control of the kiss, gasping and allowing her victory when her hands brushed the skin above his belt.

Blythe broke the kiss, gasping for air. As she recovered, Death picked her up; she wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her to their shared bed.