A/N: Thank you so much for the positive feedback!  *Huggles everyone who read and reviewed ch1*  I am so very sorry that I have not been able to finish this before Florida!  I also apologize for the further delay; I had a nasty case of stomach flu after the trip and was restricted to my bedroom until January 4. :(  Here is part two of the ten-chapter saga.  The surprise villain is introduced!  (I don't think you'll be surprised, but maybe you will be.  You'll comprehend what I'm saying if you read on.)  The romance will also begin!  Read, review, and above all, ENJOY!

Chapter 2

Nobody's Angel

  At first it seemed like absolutely nothing was amiss in the castle, until the word of Myotismon's metamorphosis from a vampire to a cross between an angel and a vampire had spread.  It was more unbearable for Myotismon than any other digimon, knowing that he was too much of a vaccine for the virus types, and too much of a virus for the vaccine types.  His white wings, which shone as if they were lit by the dazzling light of the sun or made of moonbeams, would make him seem less intimidating, counteracting the fangs that he possessed, which were the main cause of his servants' consternation.  His wings folded up by themselves, and fell to their resting position.  It was as if he were wearing a white version of his cape.

  The spectre digimon that were in the room which the transfiguration incident had occurred in were first perplexed to why this had happened to their master—a Child of Darkness, a light-fearing vampire—and why he had become an angel-type vaccine all of a sudden.  They hovered in their positions, their eyes expanded to their maximum circumferences and their pupils no more than small pinpoints; their wide, grotesque mouths dropping at their jaws; they were so speechless that it was like their voices had suddenly been stolen without a trace.  Phantomon had dropped his scythe to the ground, which landed on the stone with a loud clang.  The metallic sound echoed through the room, yet not a single servant had uttered a word about the dissonant noise.

  Wizardmon's reaction differed from those of the loyal ghosts.  He trembled, then slowly edged backwards.  The wizard had assumed that he had mutated the vampire instead of convert him to a data or even vaccine type.  His heart was pounding so hard, one could see the lump in his chest every time it beat.  If the other henchmen got killed, the blame would be entirely his.  He could not put the burden of the accountability on the shoulders of Azulongmon, as the wizard was the one who accepted the challenge of reciting the incantation properly.  If anything at all, he knew Azulongmon should condemn him for doing this atrocious deed.

  Demidevimon, however, was different altogether.  Being the sort of pesky, outgoing digimon that he was, he was speechless for ten seconds after the scythe hit the ground until he jocosely blurted out, "Whoa!  Holy crap!  That outfit's more revealing than that hoochie Zephyrmon's!  So what are you gonna do in that thing, try to get girls attracted to you because they think your face is one only a mother could love?  It's hopeless, I tell ya.  You know, white ain't really your color, especially when it's the color of those six ugly things that are stuck to your back!"

  Myotismon grew outraged at those taunts, so his first instinct was to lash out and attack the imp.  He decided to utilize the first object he knew he possessed, so he took his silver rod and held it in front of him, parallel to the ground.  A crimson glow seemed to bleed through his fingertips and spread all over the surface until it glowed like a neon sign.  He raised it above his head, prepared to give Demidevimon the bashing of a lifetime.  He saw the imp slowly fly backwards and heard him meeky admit, "I was only joking, master!  Please don't kill me!"

  The angel-turned vampire ignored the apology and swung the rod like an axe, and Demidevimon shielded his head with his wings and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the strong impact to the head.  But when the makeshift weapon was halfway to the ground, it stopped in midair all of a sudden, as if the rod knew itself that it was not supposed to be used to abuse other digimon.

  The imp warily opened one eye and looked at his master.  Myotismon was perplexed to why he had just ceased his attack all of a sudden, with slight traces of confusion on his face.  For a strange reason, he had a sensation deep inside him that had a small voice that just told him what he was doing was not only brutal and unorthodox, but just plain WRONG.  Possibly it had been the being… it had a name that humans gave it, but he did not remember what it was called.  It was peculiar that the vampire had not heard or felt the internal entity before he had become a completely different digimon.

  "Master…" the imp breathed, astounded.  "You took pity on me!"

  "I take pity on you, you low slave who dares insult me…  You stupid, ignorant…" muttered Myotismon.  He paused in his personal speech, and somehow could not think of any other negative comments.  It was as if they had escaped his mind without a trace, like a myriad of his prisoners from their cells.  The vampire thought it was even stranger, because he had a long mental list of insults that he rattled off one by one whenever Demidevimon made a bungle in his plans.  He had shouted nearly all of them yesterday when the Bakemon had set up a gigantic trap for the forest leader that consisted of a silver net that was nearly impossible to cut through, which was held up by a twenty-foot stand that was supported by a smaller plank of wood.  When the smaller plank was removed, the trap would crash down onto the forest leader and keep him secured to the ground, immobile.  The leader would remain there with nothing else until he surrendered to Myotismon.  Demidevimon had wondered what the Bakemon were doing outside the castle walls, so he flew outside and asked "Hey guys, what's going on?" innocently.  He flew into the plank, which made the giant equivalent of a fly swatter crash down to the ground.  The leader, a Blossomon, emerged from the heart of the forest with her organic minions.  A small crusade occurred outside of the woods, and the result afterwards was that every last Bakemon who worked on the trap had been reconfigured.  Myotismon became infuriated by the imp's antics and harangued him until his voice grew sore, going down his mental list of every last offense he knew.

  The vampire was looking at Demidevimon, his eyes fixated on his victim's.  The imp's eyes were like he had never seen them before.  They were wide, open windows to his soul.  Trembling with fear… consternation… trepidation… as if he were afraid of him.  Have I been this intimidating to everyone? Myotismon wondered to himself.  Are all my henchmen afraid of me?  I cannot come back here… not with all the turmoil around here… I need time to think things up, right away.

  Myotismon stood with his head bowed towards the ground, his slender legs spread so they were underneath his shoulders.  He lowered his arms and the rod, which ceased its glowing and turned back into its normal lustrous silver color, so his arms were perpendicular to the ground, held in front of his legs.  He held the rod so it was parallel to the ground.  A soft golden glow began to form around him as his wings erected and unfolded until the six white bat wings had become fully visible.  He raised his head, brought his legs together, and placed his left arm at his side.  The rod-bearing arm pointed it at the window, which opened to the night sky outside.

  "CRIMSON ROD!" he shouted, as if he had known the attack name all his life and had been unleashing it for that long.  A long, straight beam of Crimson Lightning shot out of the tip of the rod like a laser and hit its target off to the right side of the window.  The beam was guided around the window in a perfect circle, its diameter large enough for Myotismon's new gigantic wingspan to fit through.  When the circuitous hole was made, the entire stone wall fell out and landed on the floor with a large thump.  The vampire quickly dashed through the gap in the wall and leapt into the night air without a second thought, as if contemplating suicide.

  The leap took less than five seconds, and instead of flying, the evil digimon began plummeting towards the ground.  Air rushed past him fast, but he just closed his eyes and took it all in like bad medicine.  All of a sudden, his wings turned in such a way that he ceased his plunging towards the rocky surface of the mountain, soaring in a straight direction over the summits of the mountains that surrounded the sinister one on which the castle was located, mounting on his twenty-eight foot wingspan to the sanctuary of the angels.  They might understand him, and possibly accept him.

  As if his wings knew what to do, they turned in such a way that he began to rise upwards, in the direction of the nearest clouds.  The ones that Myotismon was flying to weren't the dark nimbus clouds that constantly hung over his castle, emitting lightning and thunder; these were white cumulus clouds with the moon's silvery-blue sheen on their tops, spread out in a long sheet that looked so comfortable one wanted to sleep on them.  He flew towards them in hope of finding another misunderstood angelic being.

  Why do I suddenly look this way?  It is too eerie, even for me, to know.  I have been converted into… what?  An angel?  This cannot be… I am supposed to be feared for being who I am, but how can that be when I take this likeness?  I feel so… so… different, that is what I feel.  It is as if there is a feeling I have never felt or experienced before, and what is this voice telling me this nonsense about everything being right or wrong?  I have a pain in my chest when I think of all the wrong I have ever done, but why in the hell does this come to me now?  Why have I never perceived such emotions within me before?  Is it because I could be… instead of Myotismon… AngeMyotismon?  Why must this Ange- prefix be present in my name?  I am still who I am, despite these exterior changes.

  "Are you?" inquired a voice behind him, which sounded exactly like the vampire's, only a lot darker and more sinister.  As the voice sounded, the moon produced a blood-red glow, a glow that could only be yielded when the vampire was around.  Myotismon, suspicious by the occurrence, turned his head around to become even more discomfited than before, for standing in front of him was himself.

  This version of Myotismon was not his true form, but rather, a darker replica that could have only been generated after he morphed into an angel.  His hair was the same blonde hair that was neatly slicked back, with the three stray strands hanging in his handsome pale face.  The mask was black, with tips with a similar appearance to those of bat wings.  His cape was taller, black on the outside and red on the interior.  His suit was a tight black leather suit that resembled Devimon's, was open down to the red belt around his waist, and had nothing else on it except for two red bat-shaped tableaus on the shoulders.  His gloves and boots were black with silver skulls on them, held onto the bodysuits by gleaming silver cuffs, with the gloves' cuffs appearing as if they were broken handcuffs with a single broken chain hanging down from each.  His face was handsome and emotionless, with two blue eyes that could not only send shivers down one's spine, but could cause every being in the surrounding area to feel a polar draft around them.

  "I do not think you've met me before, but maybe you have," said the darker Myotismon.  "I am your darker side, the shadow of death that has prevailed in your natural ultimate form.  They call me the Shadow Mode."  He bowed his head.

  The angelic version of the vampire slowly backed away as if in fear, but the expression on his face showed that he wished to fight.  "What in the bloody hell do you want with me?" he inquired.

  The Shadow Mode evilly sneered.  "I merely wish to reunite with you, for we have been separated when your unfortunate transformation took place prior to when we met.  That little fool Wizardmon did not know how evil you would become, despite this idiotic appearance you have taken on."  He strode closer to AngeMyotismon and stared at him straight in the eyes, sending shivers down his spine and cold waves over his scantily clad body.  "I want you to lose the wings and take on the form of the true Myotismon once again.  He was such a wonderful digimon in this world…"

  "Only because YOU were him!" snapped the angelic form.  "Somehow I do not wish to be him again, but I have a yearning to have remained in that form."

  "You still can," replied the Shadow Mode.  "Listen to your cravings for the blood of female humans, and obey them.  Their blood is so delicious, the ambrosia of the vampires like myself and what you were.  Remember its strong flavor, so warm and soothing as it poured down your throat, satisfying your potent thirst that you would kill to satiate.  And fear… that was the most exquisite essence that made the blood ever so luscious.  You said yourself that human blood always tasted better with a dash of fear in it."

  AngeMyotismon refused to listen to a word of what this evil being was saying, but somehow he began to reminisce about when he traveled to Earth and drank the blood of so many young women when the description was given.

  "And you must not forget the way those girls screamed out when you sank your fangs into the tender flesh of their necks.  So shrill and high-pitched, full of pain and dread.  How you relished everything about it… how the appetizing red liquid gushed out of the twin wounds of her neck into your mouth, you savoring its succulent taste, your tongue running up and down her pallid neck, trying to catch every last drop of blood that flowed from the twin agony it gave her… letting her drop to the ground, her face nearly as pale as yours, your hunger finally satisfied."

  "LEAVE!" shouted AngeMyotismon.  He withdrew his rod and pointed it at his darker form.

  "Do you really believe that your attacks can stop me?" questioned Myotismon Shadow Mode.  "LETHAL DARKNESS!"  He drew his arms back, then whipped them forward, unleashing a darkness so powerful light could not escape it from his cape.  Before the angel could do anything, he was enveloped in a wave of pure darkness, which drained his energy out of his skin, letting him fall limp with only his wings supporting him in the air.  Then the Shadow Mode held his left arm out, his palm facing the large cloud of darkness, and allowed the energy to flow into himself.  All that remained after the stamina was extracted was AngeMyotismon, weakly floating in the sky, his wings exherting one final flap before he dropped onto the satiny surface of the clouds, his hands beneath him in shaky support.

  "Have you had enough, or do you want some more?" asked Myotismon Shadow Mode.  "No matter what your reply may be, I will give you more, which will be the worst you get!  MEGA CRIMSON LIGHTNING!"

  AngeMyotismon opened his eyes and encountered a thick red whip of Crimson Lightning lash from the agile hand of his darker counterpart through the air and scourge him across his back, striking all six wings in one blow— the white bat wings quickly aligned and stood erect in the air, the parts that were whipped turning as crimson as the lightning itself, manifesting a scalding sensation that was so overwhelming the angel-turned vampire cried out in anguish for the first time than since he could remember and collapsed onto the crest of the cloud.  His wings fell onto his back, limp as rags.  As he attempted to catch his breath, he saw another lightning bolt crash down onto the surface of the cloud, penetrating it all the way through until it hit his side.  He screamed out again as it struck, a searing pain forming in that very area the attack collided with.  The force was so strong, he flipped over so he was lying on his wings, perspiring from the burning that he was feeling, worse than anything else.

  "You must surrender to your dark side, and make sure you do, or else disaster will occur to not only yourself, but all worlds as well," commanded the Shadow Mode, brandishing his weapon.

  The angel looked at the Crimson Lightning bolt, then moaned as he felt the burn in his side grow even more agonizing then ever.  The temptation of becoming the true Myotismon seemed appealing to him, at least in his mind.  His heart wanted him to take a different path, the good path.  The feeling clouded out his thoughts in his mind, advising him to not listen to the pain, and if he must sacrifice something for not only his own good, but for the good of others, then so be it.  The Shadow Mode could be tamed that way.

  "I REFUSE to surrender to the likes of you!" shouted AngeMyotismon, astonished that he had said that all of a sudden, possibly even more than the Shadow Mode had.

  "So be it, you ungrateful bastard!" shouted Myotismon Shadow Mode.  "You chose the wrong path, which will end in your sudden death!"  He guided the whip into the air and spun it around, letting it crack a few times before allowing it to crash down onto the angel's bare chest, leaving a shiny raw red mark that was especially noticeable on his pale skin.  AngeMyotismon clenched his teeth as he skidded back towards the edge of the cloud, his hand hanging over the edge that gave way to a free fall through the sky to the ground that remained thousands of feet below.  Myotismon Shadow Mode advanced towards his angelic counterpart, dragging his whip through the surface of the now-dark cloud.  He stared at him in the eye without a blink, then let the whip crash down onto its victim, straight up his torso and over his face, leaving a long red mark wherever it hit, drawing blood out of the now-open wound on his chest and on his forehead.  AngeMyotismon flew off the side of the cloud when the whip hit, crying out from the intense pain that his own lightning had brought him.

  Myotismon Shadow Mode did nothing except darkly chuckle to himself, then let his millions of bats flutter around him until he disappeared in a small column of dark grey smoke.  The bats flew away from the moon and into the distance.  Little did the darker version of the vampire know that there would be yet another angel that would get tangled in the dispute.

  The other angel was not Angemon, but rather his female counterpart.  She also had golden hair that fell down to her legs, without a single snare as if she had spent hours brushing it; a silver hemet that covered two amethyst-blue eyes that were hidden underneath; a white bodysuit that clung to her every curve, with portions ripped away to reveal much of her bare skin underneath; fair skin that took on a rosy tint; pink ribbons winding around her shoulders and her wings, and six white feathery angels' wings.  She was known as Angewomon, an Angel of Light.

  Angewomon had perched on a towering cloud near the moon prior to everything, and when she saw that the silver orb in the sky had turned a bright crimson, she knew that Myotismon had arrived and was causing some sort of turmoil in the digital world.  She felt a weight drop into the pit of her stomach, knowing that some sort of life was at stake in some manner or another.  Her six soft feathery wings, white as snow and without a single imperfection about them, as angels' wings always were, spread gently into the air and assisted the female angel in takeoff.  Her intuition served as a guide to where the fight was occurring, and how urgently she was needed.  The result of it was that the combat was transpiring not too far away from Nightmare Castle, far above the mountain range; the victim of this unfortunate row was… an angel.

  "Angemon!" she shouted from the knowledge of the only angel she was close to.  She soared through the heavens much faster than she had before, wishing she could arrive before it was too late.

  When she reached the area of the fight, she looked about her frantically and saw nothing but a black cumulus cloud gradually lightening into the tint it had been and a flock of bats flying in the opposing direction of the moon, which still remained blood-red, signaling that an angel was in great peril of being reconfigured, upsetting the delicate balance in the digital world.

  "ANGEMON!" she cried once again, whipping her head around frantically, searching for a sign of the angel that she had loved so dearly.  Suddenly she saw a white streak plummeting towards the ground, and positive that it was Angemon, she dove off the cloud and shot downwards until she was even with the angel in peril.  She stretched her arms out and grabbed him around his thin waist to ensure that he would not fall again.  She turned herself upwards and glided to the nearest cloud, where she laid the— literally— fallen angel on his back, where the surface of the cloud would cool the burns on his wings.

  There was something familiar about him… he seemed to have some parts of Angewomon's male counterpart, such as his long tresses of hair, but the mask and the six bat wings protruding from his back gave the answer to who this was.

  "What should I do?" wondered the angel maiden to herself.  "Should I heal him and let him live, or should I let him be?  After all, he possesses a remarkable resemblance to every digimon's mortal enemy, Myotismon…"

  "Did you say my name?" questioned the angel Myotismon in a weak voice, opening his azure eyes and staring at the angel, who was leaning over him.  "Do not kill me… I have already been through so much already that I do not wish to say anything about…"

  "Please, tell me," requested Angewomon, feeling more brave than she had when she had realized that her adversary was the one whom she had just rescued.  "I promise I won't harm you in any way, unless I feel that it is my duty as an angel that extinguishes evil.  That is not my way, for I give every soul a chance, no matter what they do.  The only circumstance in which I will destroy you is if you have truly done so many diabolic actions that I find you a threat to any and all worlds…"  She laid her hands on the burn on his chest as she spoke, feeling a slight tingle as her hands made her way over Myotismon's well-muscled torso, healing the wound that had been formed by the lightning with her touch.  She even blushed when she gazed into his eyes, at that point trailing off.

  "I was… I was about to kill one of my henchmen when Wizardmon recited a spell of some sort that transformed me from Myotismon into this freak.  Every one of the others was about to torture me with the same ridicule that Demidevimon had given me, and I saw how Demidevimon's eyes had changed… somehow I was looking directly into his soul, knowing what he felt.  I was very confused, so I flew off to think things over in solitude, but it was not as secluded as I thought it was because I found… I saw…"  He trailed off, fearful of what Angewomon, who was so compassionate towards him, would imagine when he told her.

  "You saw what?" whispered the angel maiden, brushing her hand against the side of his face.

  Finally, after a prolongued pause, the answer escaped.  "Myself," replied Myotismon.  "He was more evil than I was as an ultimate alone, as if he had broken away when I changed into this.  He called himself the Shadow Mode."

  Angewomon appeared concerned about this.  "I know exactly what you mean…" she revealed.  "I myself have an evil corollary who is known as LadyDevimon.  Angemon has Devimon, and Goddramon has Apocalymon…  It is an anathema that is bestowed upon every angel in the digital world, no exceptions whatsoever.  Where there is light in nearly every world, it is countered by an evil that coincides with it in amplitude and potency.  The greater the light, the greater the darkness.  Goddramon, known as the god of the digital world, is the most powerful of all good, and his dark counterpart is Apocalymon, who was granted the ability to decimate the entire world at will… you, as an angel, now have a demonic twin who may delete all forms of light as we know it.  The only one who is able to eradicate him is you, and I know you can…"  She trailed off and softly blushed as her eyes wandered over him, as if she were in love.

  But how could she be involved in any sort of romance other than her and Angemon, the only one suitable for the position of her life partner?  The vampire had attempted to kill her a number of times that was so great it had been forgotten, but somehow it seemed to be forgotten for a brief moment.  His physical features were incredibly attractive, but would his soul be analogous with his physique?  He did look like an angel, yet… there seemed to still be something that the angel could not put her finger on that made him more of a virus than a vaccine… what if his soul was still as hideous as it had been when he was still a vampire?  What if he still had that seemingly unquenchable thirst for blood?  And what if Angemon knew she was in love with Myotismon?…

  "I must go," she quickly said, pained that she thought she needed to depart.  She stood upright and spread her wings, then leapt into the air.  "I will return!  Rest and you shall be fine again!"  Angewomon flew into the distance towards her home in the clouds, where Angemon was standing there solemnly, his face so expressionless his female companion grew frightened.

  "I know about it," he said to her.  "I know about the new angel soaring in these heavens, and how you helped him tonight."

  "I'm sorry," Angewomon quickly, but not sincerely, apologized.  "I only did what I thought was helpful for a fellow vaccine…"

  "Fellow vaccine?!" shouted Angemon.  "Do you not know that he may still be a virus despite the wings?  Please, I am only saying this to warn you, but never jump to conclusions, for the result can be quite unexpected.  He may seem handsome on the outside, but he may be hideous on the inside.  To repeat the most important point, you must never jump to conclusions; the results can be devastating."

To be continued…

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