A/N: Greetings, readers. Welcome to my second attempt at a D.N.Angel story. The first one is on indefinite hiatus, as I found that it wasn't really going where I wanted it to…but this one is much different from that one. Where that one was mildly amusing in a child-like sort of way, this one is more…well…angsty. Oh yeah, I'm talking a serious amount of angst. Mondo angst, people. Muahahahahaha! Oh, and the viewpoint will shift around a bit to find the most angsty situations in the storyline! Hooray! (But if you don't like angst…why did you read D.N.Angel, again?)

…Okay, I'm done—with the explanation part, anyway. In this section, I will explain to whoever thinks I actually own D.N.Angel that I do not, in fact, own D.N.Angel, nor do I own anything associated with it. I'm just along for the ride, enjoying the characters along the way.

Savior… Chapter One: Creator, Destroyer

In the forest glade, it was completely silent. A now blank canvas lay on the ground, staring up at the deep black sky, where the crescent moon shone brightly. Though the sky was clear and devoid of clouds, with the stars shimmering in their places on the long black blanket of the night, snow fell gently. It glowed softly as it landed on the ground, giving off more light than just the reflection of the moon, and though no one understood it, those who touched it felt a soft heartbeat emanate from it—slowly, gently, calmly.

No one understood the strange phenomenon—warm snow, in the middle of summer, no less—no one, that is, except for Satoshi Hikari.

He stood still, his blue eyes staring intently at the blank canvas in the center of the glade, and let the beautiful white snow cover him.

Cover me, Freedert, he whispered to the wind, sighing sadly. Cover me in your white snow, so no one will see the darkness of my heart.

He felt the flakes land on his hands, his cheeks, his nose, with each one stinging more painfully than the next. The heat of the snow was not the pain he felt—though his skin was paler and colder than that of a normal human. Rather, it was like needles of happiness were stabbing into him, shooting straight to his frozen heart. He couldn't bear to feel the Toki no Byushin's joy, not as Krad's blood—boiling with rage—still receded from his veins.

He looked up to the sky and watched the snowflakes cascade down around him, like the tears of the stars.

Don't cry, Freedert…you don't have to be sorry for me. I gave you back your time, and I gave you Elliot. Be happy, Freedert…

Satoshi suddenly stiffened, forcing his emotions back into the far corners of his mind, and shivered. Snow burst off his shoulders and head in a cloud of sparkling dust, and his silver hair caught the breeze and fell in front of his eyes.

He sighed and brushed it aside, adjusting his glasses again. The snow was just barely covering the ground, but the ground was covered in white where the canvas lay.

He strode over to it without thinking and picked it up. There wasn't a single trace of Daisuke's painting left.

Daisuke might be the first Niwa to try to create something, rather than steal it…

Dark's words had appeared unbidden in his head, but Satoshi did not send them away. Daisuke…the first Niwa to create…And I shall be the first Hikari to destroy all the works of my forefathers. These beautiful, beautiful works of art…

He tossed the canvas away nonchalantly and collapsed against a snow-crusted tree trunk, burying his face in his hands. I was born to create…and yet…here I am, systematically destroying the artworks that my family treasures so dearly…not to mention the two people I care about most…

As those thoughts ran through his mind, he suddenly felt himself grow numb. The muscles between his shoulders ached and screamed, and his blood simmered beneath his skin. His eyes went unfocused, as though his glasses were actually impeding his sight…

NO! Satoshi's mind screamed.

At his rebuke, his blood cooled slightly, and his vision became normal. In the place of the pain, a cold, chilling voice resonated in Satoshi's mind. Why do you fight me? I'm only here to help you get what you want.

Satoshi blinked, and the image of Krad appeared before him, staring down piteously at his host with eyes as black as coals. Or maybe you ignore me because you fear what you truly desire?

"Shut up!" Satoshi shouted, finding himself unable to simply reply in his mind. "How do you know what I want? All you care about is destroying Daisuke!"

I care about destroying the despicable Phantom Thief Dark, not that measly little host body you call Daisuke. Krad spat. Though, if he dies, I'm not sure it would be so much of a loss… He gave a menacing chuckle.

Satoshi said nothing, simply returning Krad's fierce gaze with one of his own.

Krad sighed, unfurled his wings lazily, and sat down on the snow-covered ground. Listen, son of the Hikari clan…You are worried about destroying the works of your fathers. I am worried about them falling into the hands of Dark. The reason you continue to destroy these works is because of your unbecoming feelings for the abomination and his host. He smiled wickedly, showing off his flawless teeth. Don't you see…if we work together, we can both get what we want.

Satoshi shook his head fervently, releasing himself from the snow and Krad's poisonous presence. As the crystalline cloud of powdery snow fell about him, the phantom image disappeared, returning to Satoshi's mind.

Just remember…Krad's disembodied voice whispered. Remember that our desires are the same. Perhaps the next time we must take action to protect a sacred treasure, you will change your mind.

Satoshi stood and breathed out, watching his breath crystallize in front of his face. It had gotten colder…the snow was just barely warm now. Freedert's heartbeat could just barely be felt over the feeling of his blood pounding his eardrums.

"Krad…" he whispered, letting the wind carry his words away. "You're wrong. The same hands cannot both create and destroy."

The wind did not bring the answer of Krad's specter, nor did the angel's cold voice enter Satoshi's mind. Gathering his coat around him tightly, he trudged out of the clearing and into the dark forest, his sorrows weighing as heavy as wings on his shoulders.