This is my first ever Kuroshitsuji fanfic, combine that with the fact that I've barely read any Kuroshitsuji fics (except as a crossover with HP) and you can almost guarantee that I don't know if anyone had ever used this idea before...

Summary: Angels fall and Demons are born. Coming home to find your loved ones dead at the hand of another Angel can make anyone fall. Why should he be any different?

Warnings: mentions of blood, self inflicted harm.

Disclaimer: not mine, never mine.

Enjoy!

Fallen

oOoOoOo

He stared in horror as the large pool of blood surrounding the body grew larger and larger until it connected with the smaller – but still gruesomely large – pool some odd meters next to it.
He followed the edges of the puddles of blood until his gaze once again rested upon the dead bodies of his wife and his child. His gaze flittered over the with blood soaked clothes, the stab wounds in their chests and stomachs, the slit throats, the bashed in skulls until all he could see was the red of their blood and their dead, dead eyes.

Why? He wondered to himself. What had they done to deserve this? They were innocent in all of this! Who would dare to murder his loved ones? Especially humans as light and good as his wife and child had been!
Who did care so much about the fact that he, one of God's Angels, had chosen to bind himself to a human?

He couldn't help but grow angry and he felt something inside of him break – shatter in thousand pieces even – but he ignored it in favour of the burning feeling of his anger, his hatred.
His hands clenched into fists and – unknown to him – his amber coloured eyes flashed the same colour as the liquid spilled in his own house.
They would pay, every single being that had dared to touch them would pay. He would make sure of it!
He immediately calmed down as soon as he had realised where exactly his thoughts had dwelled towards, such thoughts did not belong in the mind of an Angel.

He finally managed to tear his gaze away from the dead bodies of his loved ones and he meticulously searched the entire room for traces before his gaze lingered on the knife still resting in the chest of his child. It was a simple knife made out of clear Celestial Steel with no decorations except the carefully inlaid white stone veined with black in its pommel. It could belong to anyone really, but he recognized the stone. There was only one being, one Angel, who preferred to use plain knifes and a white stone veined with black. Dominicanus(3), God's Dog.

He closed his eyes as he tried to remember what he knew of the other angel. Every distraction was better than the sadness and guilt he felt over the fact that his loved ones were no more.

He knew that the Dog was not one of the more powerful angels. He also knew that he preferred to stay on Earth to spread the word of God and the last time he had heard anything about the other he had been seen in Hwt-ka-Ptah(1) - or whatever it was called now that its people believed in just one god(2) – spreading the word of the true God.

So why did he go after his family? He himself had always loyally followed the rules, his only sin – if it could even be called a sin – had been loving his wife and his child. And wasn't love one of the elements of goodness?

He clenched his fists tighter and closed his eyes. It didn't matter to him anymore, not the rules, not the other Angels and not God. How could something be good if it was willing to kill humans who hadn't done anything to earn their wrath?
He opened his eyes again as he screamed his pain, anguish, hatred and anger towards the heavens.

He no longer cared about being an Angel, not if it meant going on without his wife and child. And not if it meant killing, no slaughtering innocents because an Angel choose to love.
His eyes flashed brightly before they dulled to a dark maroon, a demonic colour.
He forced his wings to appear before he placed one of his hands near the base. He let it rest there for a second before he savagely pulled at the base. He grunted in pain at the feeling but he kept pulling. The pain intensified with each pull until it finally became too much. He briefly paused – panting heavily - before he once again gripped the base and pulled. It caused him to cry out and he felt something wet and hot seep along his hand and arm but he kept pulling and pulling until he felt something rip – a hot , sharp flash of pain shot through his body as if he was hit by lightning – and his wing finally came loose.
He dropped it before he doubled over, both from pain and from the effort to stay upright. He panted harshly as if he had just run the diameter of the earth in a couple of minutes and blinked to lose the black spots that had started to appear. He could feel the blood flow over his now completely ruined clothing and the itching of healing tissue but he ignored it in favour of getting his breath and bearing back.

As soon as the wound had sealed over – without scarring – he focused on the other wing, only to repeat the motion of removing it from his body. As soon as he had removed that one too and as soon as he had recovered from the impromptu amputation he straightened and removed the rest of his tethered shirt. He was now completely covered in his own blood and his back hurt but he didn't care. Not anymore.

He knew that it was unnecessary to remove the wings to denounce his heritage as Angel – a lot of Angels had fallen and kept their white wings – but his wings had always reminded him of those he loved. So they had to go.

He quickly took one last look around the house – and one last glance at his wife and child – before he made his way over to the fireplace and threw the remaining wood in the fire. It didn't take long before the wood caught on fire and it wasn't long after that before the fire started to spread onto some of the more flammable items in the room. He left the house, not looking back as it burned to cinders behind him.

oOoOoOo

Years went by, years dripping with the blood of the many people he had murdered in revenge for the death of his loved ones. As time went by he started to forget the face of his wife, the sound of her voice and her laughter. He forget what his child had looked like or how he used to play with it.

Decades went by and he completely forget just why he killed. The only thing remained was the hunger for more. People had started to call him a demon and he had started to believe it
He certainly looked the part with glowing blood red eyes, slit pupils, sharp filed teeth, sharp claw-like black nails and a crazed grin.
His wings had regrown over time, only now they were a frightening black. They reminded him of the crows which scavenged the remains of the dead he left behind.

When his fourth century as a 'demon' came and went he made his first contract with a human being. And, as the woman's soul entered his stomach, his body went through the last changes until he emerged as a fully grown Demon.
He didn't remember why he had fallen, he didn't even remember that he used to be an Angel.
He didn't remember his wife or his child, he didn't remember the love he once knew and he didn't remember the feelings that accompanied it.
All he remembered was the lust for souls, his disdain towards humans, his want to play with his food, his hatred of dogs and his love for cats.
He remembered a long life as a demon, the life of the Demon he had finally become.

He was henceforth known as the Crow Demon.

(1): Ancient Egypt, means 'House of the Ghost of Ptah' (Ptah was one of the ancients Egyptian gods)
(2): during the rule of Akhenaten – the father of Tutankhamen – Egypt was a monotheistic country, the first ever in fact. They worshipped the god Aton, the sun disk. Akhenaten ruled from 1353 - 1336 BC (or 1351 – 1334 BC).
(3): Members of the Dominican Order are often nicknamed as the 'Dogs of God'. They weren't always the nicest guys to meet in the Middle Ages...

I hope you guys enjoyed this story!

Reviews are very much appreciated,
~Marwana