TRIGGER WARNING - the events in this chapter will be confronting for some.

Been writing happily along. Quite a few chapters ahead and hopefully close to finishing. Never know with the way I write. Odd things keep happening :D

Please note - this chapter happens immediately after the Amenadiel chapter a while back. Quite a few of the recent chapters have happened close to concurrently.

Thank you for reading, hope you're enjoying it. Leave a comment if you can, they make my day. :)

The wound in the world, in the middle of Linda and Amenadiel's wrecked living room, closed.

The Third stood watching it, tapping his foot impatiently, his eyes burning, his small hand still clenching the blade dripping with Amenadiel's blood.

He gave a satisfied smile when it was done.

Surely the Second would pay attention to that?

"It's going to happen!" he yelled at the wrecked room. "I'm going to find you! Might as well get it over with!"

Then he let out a cry and dropped to his wounded foot.

"Ow ow ow!" he yelled, holding the area, allowing himself to feel the full spectrum of signals his recently grown body was sending his brain.

A quick restructuring healed the wound the small brat had made. The signals stopped. The pain vanished.

Efficient. Handy.

"I do like these inventions though," he said to the air again, rubbing the spot. "They are very complex. Admirable work."

The boy looked over his shoulder, at the woman standing frozen just beyond the couch.

He smiled.

"It's interesting to finally meet you, Linda. You've helped my dad so much."

The smile turned into a grin.

"Okay, you're right. He's not really my dad, it's true. But he is the father of this body, so... we'll just run with that."

Linda remained frozen, her head thrown back, a fine stream of blood from her nose still suspended in a graceful arch.

He snorted. "There's a really dumb angel headed over here now, coming to kill me I think. I'm annoyed it's not my dad. He's different now, I'd like to ask him what happened."

Turning to her fully, he crossed his legs, and his smile grew sharp.

"Do you think I might have attachment issues, Linda? Should we work on that?"

His boyish laugh was interrupted by the sudden flurry of beating wings.

A breeze ruffled his hair.

Footsteps alighted behind him.

"Your evasions were clever, but I have found you."

"Good talk," he said to the frozen woman, releasing her from his time lock, as he stood to face the angel Remiel.

A spear was pointed at his chest.

Frowning up from it, he found the angel glaring over his head at the therapist, who'd fallen to the floor behind him.

He could hear Linda convulsing back there.

He'd been playing with quite a few parts of her brain, so, little wonder.

"You came to kill me with a stick?" he asked the angel, his face scrunched in disbelief. "You really are stupid."

The angel glared back at him, her hands tightening on her spear. "Let the human go."

"I did, can't you see?" he said with a smirk, gesturing over his shoulder helpfully. "She's doing that seizure all by herself."

The smirk grew into a grin as he crossed his arms. "Okay, yes, I gave her some help... Azrael, are you here yet?"

Remiel took a half-step back. "My sister is not here."

His grin widened. "Oh, yes she is. I can feel her. She knows what's about to happen."

"The death of a single human does not require her full presence," the angel stated calmly. "An instance you could never hope to catch will do what is necessary."

"Please stop talking and flee, sister," came a voice from everywhere at once. "Please!"

Despairing.

Remiel paled. "Azrael? Why would you risk this for a human? What are you doing?"

"Wow," he snorted, pointing the Hell blade at the angel as his gaze took in the room. "She is SO dumb!"

"Do not DO THIS," the voice came again, as Remiel took another step back.

Sighing, he glared around the room, spreading his arms wide. "Are you going to take me to your dad?"

Without a sound, Remiel chose the moment to attack, spinning the spear around with enough force to decapitate him.

Taking Azrael's silence as a firm 'no', the Third touched Remiel's spear as it neared his head and turned the weapon to ash.

Then he gave her the Hell blade as a replacement.

And made her thrust it through her own chest.

Remiel's eyes bulged as she took the blade and drove it into herself.

She stared down at it, giving the smallest cough.

Then crumpled to the floor.

"That's for killing my dad!" the Third yelled, pointing at her dramatically.

He giggled then, stooping down to pull the blade free of her chest. It took some doing with his small hands - he couldn't quite get the right leverage, and it was really wedged in there!

When it finally came free, he brushed her forehead gently. "Just kidding, Aunty. I don't really care. I just needed you to die."

Remiel gasped desperately, clawing at the boy's leg within her reach as the blood pulsed freely from the wound. He gave her a smile for her efforts, appreciating her tenacity, then watched closely as her skin grew pale and her body relaxed against the floor.

"Time to collect, Azrael," he murmured, poking the fallen angel's cheek. Remiel's head rolled with the touch. Her brown eyes remained fixed. "Yeah, she's dead now. Come get her."

But nothing happened.

Azrael was still here, frustratingly just out of reach. Remiel's soul remained in her dead body.

He released a heavy sigh, clasping his small hands on his hips. "You're being foolish. I can do worse things than kill her, you know. Do you want that?"

"Please stop," the voice called again. "You don't have to do this."

I very much do, he thought to the space, before yanking the angel's untethered soul free.

Remiel's shimmering form appeared beside her body, clutching at her chest. Confusion rippled the skin of her brow as she pulled her hands away and stared at them, at her unmarked chest, vaporous and translucent.

Azrael... she asked in wonder, staring into the room, am I...?

He slapped his palm to his face. "Seriously! You are literally the dumbest!" He glared over his shoulder towards where he felt Azrael watching. "This is your last chance! I will tear her apart!"

The room grew suddenly very hot.

The Third's eyes widened.

And he grinned as a fine sheen of sweat leaked from his pores.

Another funny, yet clever invention.

"Dad?" he asked, turning around with a laugh. "Is that you?!"

Everything exploded.

No, no, wait.

He exploded. His entire body burst aflame, inside and out.

Practically atomized.

And it hurt so terribly.

The Third allowed for a single high-pitched scream, because his body was really demanding it, and there was some catharsis in that. Honestly, he hadn't had a good scream, ever, and all those countless millennia locked in a ring demanded it too.

Then he snuffed the devouring flames and restored what had been baked, boiled, and melted away, returning his form swiftly to that of a young boy.

Before him his father stood in those goofy robes, dark eyes wide with shock.

The Third smiled.

Then he frowned thoughtfully. He was playing with the big guns now. Staring up at everyone was getting old.

Time for a change.

Squeezing his eyes closed, he stretched oddly, accelerating his human growth, gritting his teeth at the new pain it caused, until he stood to his greater height, matching that of his father, with a build both slender and defined. His dark hair, not quite as black as his dad's, not quite as light as his mom's, hung over his burning eyes in a careless, shaggy mess.

Smirking, he blew it away, because he'd seen people do that.

It did very little.

He tossed his head back.

The mass of dark hair only flopped forward again.

Finally he slapped and held it aside, and stared triumphantly around the room.

That was now empty.

"Seriously?!" he shouted, throwing up his much longer arms. "I wanted to talk to you!"

The Third paused, listening to his older voice.

A little too shrill, perhaps?

A bus passed outside the house. Speaking the names of every passenger on it, he adjusted his vocal chords to his liking, and stopped each of their hearts as he did so.

But Azrael was gone. Remiel's soul was gone.

And the souls of the passengers vanished with no trace, no trail, just as he'd felt back in the café.

"You're such a fascinating creation, Azrael!" he exclaimed to the air. "You're not like the others at all, are you!"

The fascination melted to disappointment.

Frowning, the Third took in a deep, steadying breath, and let it out slowly.

Killing the sons and daughters of God, as the Second liked to call himself in this reality, had done nothing to bring his enemy out of hiding.

But... the Second had also very recently been human.

With a very human heart.

A human heart that had grown very attached to a life here. To people and places here.

To family and friends.

He could kill the mother and father, certainly. But that felt almost expected. No doubt the Second would simply greet them with love and shelter them in his frustratingly elusive dimension.

No. There was more the Third could do to get the attention he needed.

Another place he could go, where a little girl might have a best friend?

Or ten?

The Third grinned.

And he would have so many more toys to play with.