Author's Note: Alright fellow Angels! Here is the new and improved version of My Dark Angel! If this confuses you...great! I'm clearly doing my job right! As pointed out by a good friend of mine, the first few chapters are quite cringe-worthy, and do absolutely nothing for the story, so I have edited them and hopefully gotten rid of the Mary-Sueishness.

Title: My Dark Angel

Author: Princess Kanako

Pairing(s): Dark M/OC/Krad, Satoshi/OC, Daisuke/Riku, with the possibility of a few other pairings as the series goes along, but I can't make any promises

Date Submitted: 18/07/14

Disclaimer: I do not own D N Angel or any of its affiliates; they belong to Yukiru Sugisaki

Claimer: I do own Faye, a few plot ideas, and any OCs that pop up along the way.

Genre: Adventure, Romance, Drama, Angst (story of maturation – mental/physical development – of principal character)

Summary: This would be an example. There would be blood. And pain. Both halves of the Black Wings would understand this folly before they died. The same as other men before them, they would die for a human.

Warning: Swearing. Violent thoughts? I dunno.

Writing like this are thoughts. Diary entries are labelled.

Writing like this is Faye's subconscious.

Faye collapsed on her bed, giving the springs a jolt. After she'd fled Kasumi's house - and Dark. God, how could she even begin to explain this to him? - she'd sprinted home, barged up the stairs and locked herself into her room. The curtains were drawn, and she hadn't bothered to turn on a light, so she'd tripped over her laptop and stubbed her toe hard. She curled into a ball and gripped her throbbing foot. At least the pain was something real that she could cope with, something sane and of this world. she was so glad to be alone.

There was a knock on the door.

She groaned. She could not catch a break.

Faye ignored the knock. She didn't want to see anyone, and whoever it was would get the hint. Another knock.

"I know that you're in there."

Krad. She couldn't see Krad right now. She'd either sound crazy if she tried to explain all that had happened to her in the past few hours, or she'd go crazy trying to put on a normal face and keep it to herself.

Finally, Faye heard a tut of impatience, and the door unlocked itself and opened to reveal an annoyed golden angel dressed in slacks and a shirt. Her initial 'Krad, now isn't the time' turned into a long, lonely whimper on its journey from her brain to her mouth. Instantly, he was climbing up to her, pulling her head into his chest as her arms automatically wound themselves around his waist.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, his gloved hands stroking her hair. Faye groaned.

"Do me a favour? Don't ask."

He shrugged and continued petting her as though she were a large cat as she shut her eyes and went back to her own, personal bubble of turmoil.

She badly wanted to blame Kaya for unleashing this out-of-control feeling inside her, and for a second, she tried to imagine her life without any paranormal activity: no death, no magic, no artwork-come-to-life boyfriend. Except that was impossible. And now she had to figure out a way to wade through all the strange things Kaya'd told her.

But at the edge of her mind, Faye kept spiralling back to what Kaya had said about the time she and Dark had spent together in the past. Maybe she couldn't exactly imagine the moments she'd described or the places she mentioned, but in a strange way, her words weren't shocking at all. It was all somehow familiar. For example, she had always hated dates. Even the sight of them made her feel queasy. She'd started claiming she was allergic so her parents would stop trying to sneak them into things she'd eat. And she had begged them to let her go to Brazil for years, though she never could explain exactly why she wanted to go.

Faye had been trying not to think about her parents when Kaya started talking about her own deaths - how she had died so many times. If there had been any way to fathom such a thing, she would have wanted to ask whether she ever felt responsible. For the choice that she made.

Something heavy landed with a thud on her legs. She bolted upright, yelping in pain as she rubbed her calves and squinted at the bed covers.

"Kasumi asked me to give this to you," a lazy voice drawled from the balcony. She groaned again.

"Dark, as nice as that is, I'd like to be left alone without random books being thrown at my legs," she snapped. She heard a snort.

"If you wanted to be alone, then why is he here?" came the cocky retort.

"Oh fuck off," Faye grumbled, feeling a sliver of amusement through her bond with Krad.

Behave.

He is being a pest.

True. Be a darling and kick him out, would you? I've got a bugger of a headache.

Fine.

Krad shifted off the bed, and Faye opened her eyes just in time to see him tackle Dark out of the room and over the balcony. Chuckling, she scooted the book up towards her with her foot, hand groping until her fingers gripped soft leather. The book in her hands was ordinary brown leather, no title, no author. She sat up with her legs dangling over the edge of the bed. Just holding the book gave Faye a strange, warm buzzing sensation just below her skin. The book felt almost alive in her cracked it open, expecting to have to decode some table of contents or dig through an index at the back.

She never got beyond the first page.

Pasted inside the front cover of the book was a sepia-toned photograph. It was clearly very old, printed on yellowing albumen paper. Someone had scrawled in ink at the bottom: Portsmouth, 1857. Heat flashed across her skin. Faye yanked her jumper over her head but still felt hot in her tank top. The memory of Kaya's voice sounded hollow in her mind.

I come along every twenty years. He falls in love with me, and I with him. And it kills me.

He's my love, Faye. For me, he's all there is.

Faye fingered the outline of the picture glued inside the book. Because, unless every word Kaya said had been true, it made no sense at all.

A young man, with long dark hair and darker eyes, posed elegantly in a trim black coat. His raised chin and well-defined cheekbones made his fine attire look even more distinguished, but it was his lips that gave Faye a heart-attack. The exact shape of his smile, combined with the look in those eyes...it added up to an expression that she had seen in these last few weeks.

This man was the spitting image of Dark.

It could have been just a remarkable likeness. Except that the young man in the picture was posed next to a young woman who also looked familiar.

Faye held the book inches from her face and pored over the woman's image. She wore a ruffled silk ball gown that hugged her body to her waist before billowing out in wide tiers. Lace-up wristlets encased her hands, leaving her fingers bare. Her small teeth showed between her lips, which were parted in an easy smile. She had clear skin a few tones lighter than the man's. Deep-set eyes bordered by thick eyelashes. A flood of hair that fell in thick waves to her waist.

It took a moment for Faye to remember how to breathe, and even then, she still couldn't tear her strained eyes away from the book. The woman in the photograph?

It was her.

Either she had been right, and Dark was just pulling an elaborate joke - or Kaya had been telling the truth.

Dark and Faye did know one another.

From an altogether different time.

Diary entry 39.

Can't...breathe.

Faye Alexandra Clarke.

To be continued...