Reno: Estaun intiniris, ira vehementi!

Reeve: What the hell are you babbling?

Reno: Latin, I think.

Reeve: And poorly. Just... why?

Reno: Y'see, it's the lyrics to One Winged Angel!

Reeve: Okay. And why are you singing that?

Reno: Because... y'know... Sephiroth!

Reeve: You sad little monkey boy. Tyramir doesn't own the rights to Final Fantasy or any of its characters.

Chapter Twenty Two

Angelic Demon

As Barret and Red XIII traveled, they heard more of what lay ahead. Cosmo Canyon was preparing for a siege. Men and women were taking up arms, canyons were being subjected to avalanches, forcing enemies to only come in through one direction. Unfortunately, that direction was the same one the refugees were coming through. There were no further stories of the albinos. Only the old ones lingered, the ones that said that in one night, they had forced the people Gold Saucer and Corel to flee from their homes, killing all who did not. There was no word from Gongaga, and if there had been any from Rocket Town or Nibelheim, they were heading in the wrong direction to hear it.

And whether or not it was a good thing, the two continued to hear stories of the angelic protector of Cosmo Canyon. But very few stories were the same. Some said he didn't exist at all, while some proclaimed that he was a creature of the heavens sent from the sky to defend humanity in its darkest hour. Some said he was an evil, twisted thing that only helped because he sought redemption from some foul act, and others even went so far as to say it only helped because it wanted to kill everyone for itself. A few whispered that the angel would lead mankind to a new home, a utopia... a Promised Land.

Even stories about the angel's appearance different. Some claimed he was an angel, sure enough, but others claimed he had claws and demonic wings and red eyes. In one group of gossipers, he was a beautiful man, perfect in every way. No one agreed on anything but one startling fact.

In his hands he wielded a sword no mortal man should be able to wield. The blade was long, longer even than the one who wielded it. And it wreaked such terrible destruction on its opponents. Nothing could stand in its path. Not man, not monster, not albino, not even rock or steel. There was not a thing that it could not cut. And odder yet, whenever the blade struck flesh, it never drew blood.

Barret recognized the decription right away. Masamune, Sephiroth's sword. And it was true what the people said. No man could wield that awesome blade save for Sephiroth himself, and he was supposed to be dead. But the closer the refugees got to Cosmo Canyon, the more the stories sounded as if the great Soldier himself protected the area from harm.

"It just ain't right," Barret said one day, walking alongside the chocobo while Marlene sat upon it.

"What isn't?" Red XIII asked.

"S'just fucked up. If it is Sephiroth, what the hell makes him so damn special?"

"What do you mean?"

Barret spat at the ground in disgust. "We've lost a lot of good people. Jesse, Biggs, Wedge. You didn't know them, but they were good people. We lost Cid, and more'n likely lost Vincent, too. And Sephiroth, the badass Soldier himself, doesn't only get to come back to life once, but twice. That's just fucked up."

"He deserves as much a chance as anyone," Red XIII explained. "Remember, when he was our enemy, he wasn't in control of himself. That was Jenova. Last time we met him, he was able to resist her. Perhaps he deserves another chance."

"Better people'n him deserve a chance, and they don't get it. That's my damn point."

Red XIII managed as much of a shrug as he could. "He is protecting my people, fulfilling the role I should be doing right now. I am content with who he is as long as he keeps Cosmo Canyon safe."

Barret shut his mouth, knowing that going any further would only antagonize his companion. He did have a point, though. As long as Sephiroth kept doing his thing, then everything should be fine. He should just accept that Sephiroth was back and that he was a good guy, a protector.

They continued their trek, and on the dawn of the fourth day since they had separated from the rest of Avalanche, they arrived in Cosmo Canyon. The red dust lay thick in the air, making it difficult to see, but still they traveled, over poor terrain, under the blazing sun, their morale damaged. Their journey seemed hopeless, like a frantic retreat from an enemy that they could not see, that they did not know, that they did not understand. After a time, the refugees realized that it only seemed that way because it was the reality of the situation.

When night fell, Dio called a halt, and everyone stopped and immediately began to set up camp. Barret noticed that everyone took on a practiced look, setting about readying makeshift shelters out of branches carried from their flight and blankets, producing amateur looking tents. Red XIII snorted in disgust at their shoddy work, but said nothing.

"Watch after my girl for a minute, Red," Barret said, then set out to go speak once more with Dio.

The man was unbuckling a leather strap from his chest which held a broadsword, and unsheathed the weapon. He nodded to Barret as he approached.

"One more day of travel, and we'll reach Cosmo Canyon," Dio said.

Barret grunted. "Think we'll make it?"

Dio shook his head sadly. "No. Reports of attacks on the Canyon have come to me from my scouts. I've lost about half of them already, too. Good fighting men. Men we can't afford to lose. I think that those damned albinos have been watching us, waiting for us to get deep into this place so they can attack us at night."

"Shouldn't we be tryin' to make some sort o' defenses then? Somethin' we can use to hide behind when the attack comes?" Barret looked back to the people, and saw them only setting up their tents, but no fortifications.

"They won't do it. No, that's not fair of me. They can't do it. Their homes have been lost, Wallace. They've been driven away by an unknown enemy. They have no morale. If I told them that an attack was going to come tonight, they'd scatter now. They aren't fighters. All we have is you, that cat, a few of my old security guards, and myself. Tell your companion to be on the look out tonight. All my men are going to be alert, but I figure that cat will see any attack coming first."

Barret nodded. The reality of this situation was beginning to sink in. If only Cloud and the others were here. Then they'd be able to drive away these damned albinos. If only he still had his gun-arm... then maybe he'd be able to put up a fight. He fingered one of the two mattocks strapped to his belt, and then turned and left to go get his sledge.

Night settled quickly, and the few hundred refuges began to sink into sleep. The camp was large, and Barret estimated that they only had two dozen people capable of protecting everyone. At least they had some Materia. That might count for something.

Red XIII patrolled the outlying area around the camp, and Barret stayed near the center of it, with his back to the large bonfire that the people had built. A stupid waste of the firewood some of the people had thought to bring with them, but it gave them warmth. It gave them light. It gave them hope.

The attack came an hour before dawn. It was wild and frenzied, pushing into the camp immediately with its ferocity. The attackers were filled with zeal and a near berserker rage, swinging their weapons wildly at anything that moved. People just waking up panicked, fleeing from the attackers. Dio's shouts from his megaphone echoed throughout the camp, crying for people to stay in the camp and defend themselves.

Barret stayed in the center of the camp, protecting what people he could. He kept his daughter between him and the bonfire, away from the enemies, making them come to him. The albinos flooded throughout the camp, both men and women. The women were the same as the one Barret had encountered before. Short and thin, skin and hair all white, wearing gray cloaks and wielding longswords. The men were even shorter than the women, but were nearly as bulky as Dio. They wielded clubs and axes, and several of them were frothing at the mouth.

Barret held his ground and waited for the enemy to come to him. He wasn't used to close combat, but years of working in the Corel mines, and years of training as a member of Avalanche had kept him in more than peek condition. He swung his hammer with awesome strength and precision, crushing all the enemies that came into his path. Those that did always flinched before him just before the killing blow, always hesitating at they came near. Not even their zeal would stand before him.

Gun fire filled the night as several of Dio's men began to use what weapons they had to drive back the attackers, but Barret knew it would not be enough.

In moments, Dio was beside him, swinging his broadsword into the enemy ranks, hacking a path through them. The two fought as a perfect unit, like they had been side by side all their lives. It seemed natural to fight this way, with hammer in hand, Dio at his side. But they were hopelessly outnumbered, and the threat of being overwhelmed loomed ever over their heads.

And then Red XIII was there, lashing at the albinos with claws and teeth, howling a battlecry even as he tore single-mindedly into the enemies, scattering them with his appearance.

"Face me!" the feline cried, nearly bordering on a frenzy so much like the enemy's.

But none of the albinos would. They always retreated from him, always ran, fleeing in terror when they saw the guardian of Cosmo Canyon. And Barret quickly realized why. The flinching, the hesitation, and now the outright fleeing. Always when... He looked to Red XIII, most notably at his tail, which was glowing with an unearthly flame at its tip. Whirling about, Barret looked at the bonfire, and yelled to Dio, "The fire! They don't like the light!"

Barret whirled his hammer about once, then flung it into the face of the next wave of attackers. Turning, he dove towards the bonfire, and with his metal arm, reached into the flames and pulled out a firebrand. Swinging it around, he ran towards any of the albinos he could find, swinging his newfound weapon with ferocity, sending the enemies into an absolute panic. Just as they had with Red XIII, they fled now before Barret, too frightened to face this new challenge.

And even as the last remaining albinos turned to flee, completely disengaging themselves from their attack, a burning light filled the sky. Everyone looked up to witness it, a burning star falling from the sky, streaking towards the camp, seeking out the battle.

It flew in the midst of the battle, a glowing creature so peaceful in its movements, so graceful and cool and cunning. On angel's wings it swooped about, swinging a sword whose blade was easily nine feet in length. A normal man would never be able to wield such a blade, but this creature, swung it about with ease. Not from any real skill, but more from the advantage of being able to fly and being able to bring the awesome weapon to bare from a distance. Anything that stood in the blade's path fell, enemies crumpling under the weight of awesome wounds that did not bleed.

Where the albinos had shown a berserker zeal, single-mindedly seeking destruction, this creature of light showed a calm, detatched way of fighting, so distanced from what it did, as if horribly used to wreaking destruction. And yet, despite the obvious efficiency that it dispatched its enemies, who fled from the burning light only to be struck down, there was something about it that said that this ... angel was only slightly familiar with the sword, as if it weren't the weapon of its choice.

Barret took this all in while in a daze. Then, shaking it off, he roared his defiance at the enemy. He could hear Red XIII and Dio do the same, then a few more called, and then others, until everyone in the camp was shouting. Charging at the enemy with the firebrand, Barret began to fight with renewed strength. And so did everyone else in the camp.

In moments, the tide of the battle was turned. The people in the camp had numbered only approximately four hundred, and the enemy almost twice that. But with the new surge of moral, it seemed as if the refuges were an army of thousands, overwhelming their attackers. The albinos fell before the slaughter, trying desperately to escape, but only finding a quick death.

In minutes it was over. The sun peered over the horizon as the last albino fell, all of them killed to the man. And then, with battle's end, the angel, their saviour, rose up above the camp, as if readying itself to fly away, and then fell.

Everyone in the camp stopped what they were doing and rushed to the fallen hero, Barret and Dio pushing through to the forefront. The two stooped to the angel's side, and watched as its glow faded, and a man was revealed. But not the man they expected. Leathery wings were in place of feathered ones, and instead of silvery hair was black. A flawed body riddled with scars stood in place of a perfect physique, and the saviour's left hand was a metal claw.

Barret felt a tear slide down one of his cheeks as he reached down and grasped his friend, holding him tightly to his chest, glad that he was alive.

Author's Note:

Blah. I've felt like absolute crap for the past two weeks running. Between work, this blasted flu that just won't go away, and various work-related injuries, I just haven't been able to write. Thank goodness Nisus wrote that Cait Sith chapter for me. Being able to post two chapters at once felt kind of nice.

Oh, and you are such a sucker. I can't believe you fell for the Sephiroth trap. Do you really think I'd be that obvious? :P