Well, we have come to the end folks. I know this story was a bit short but I had not planned on it being very long to begin with. I can only stand so much violence and drama myself.

Thank you to my beta xfang-girlx. She's always there to help me make sure my chapters are publish worthy.

August 14th, nine days after the second victim, the third murder occurred. BB had decided to be particularly cruel to this woman. A twenty-eight year old bank teller, beaten but not beaten to death. Her death was caused by blood loss due to her left arm and right leg being cut off. Two Wara Ningyo dolls were left at the scene. Four, three, two, one...who would receive the last Wara Ningyo doll? Who would be the last victim? Believe Bridesmaid, Quarter Queen, and Backyard Bottomslash were the names given to the victims. All were alliterative names like Beyond Birthday. Two even had the same initials. What a smug asshole.

Sera paced her bedroom thinking. She had not slept in two days. Her brain had been working nonstop, attempting to unravel the identity of BB's next victim. Perhaps if she could discover the person's identity, she could prevent another needless death. Prior to her anxiety being raised to mania inducing heights, Ethan had taken very good care of her. He had made sure she ate healthy meals and got plenty of rest. He had also kept her from drinking wine or smoking cigarettes. She had hated him for it at first. However, he was such a kind, caring man that she could not hate him for long. For the last forty-eight hours she had avoided seeing him and did her best to keep him away from her. She wanted him to be safe because she feared BB would act again soon, taking his last victim. Her thoughts began to cluster around one person, the only possible, candidate for his final murder. The pièce de résistance of his collection, the recipient of the final Wara Ningyo doll, would be her. The other kills had been his way of getting her attention, a warning. BB had warned he was coming for her. There was a method to his madness, and she had figured it out.

The general synopsis of what had occurred so far was as follows. First victim: murdered July 31st, a forty-four year old freelance writer, Believe Bridesmaid, found in his bedroom, four dolls found at the scene. Second victim: murdered August 4th, four days after the first. A thirteen year old girl, Quarter Queen, found in the basement, three dolls left at the scene. Third victim: murdered August 14th, nine days later. A twenty-eight year old bank worker, Backyard Bottomslash, found in the bathroom, two dolls at the scene this time. What was the connection? What was the one thread that bound them all besides the murderer of course? All reasons led back to him, a glorification of his name and a gleefully macabre announcement to the world, "Here I am, look at me!" A faceless, nameless, shameless killer who was leading up to a grand finale. Most likely an unveiling, revealing to the world his identity to wallow in the limelight no matter how negative the circumstances. He wanted to show the world he was god; doing as he pleased, taking life or allowing life at his own whim.

Sera suddenly felt stifled, unable to breathe. The air hung thick and heavy in the room, filled with a crackling current of foreboding - of her doom to come. The realization had saturated her consciousness that her death was coming in the form of a man she had adored, become obsessed with, and had been completely entwined both physically and emotionally. He would be the one to end her. She walked fast before breaking into a run to get out of the house. Her legs continued to move, carrying her out of the house as if she were trying to run away from her fate. She ran down her driveway and onto the road that led away from her home. She continued to run until she came to the end of the dirt road where the main road intersected it. Where the muddy road met the pavement, she stopped. Placing her hands on her knees, she bent over to swallow noisy gulps of air into her burning, starving lungs. Sweat rolled down her face in rivulets, streaking down her neck and soaking into her shirt. She wanted to cry, but there was no physical capacity spared for crying at the moment. The sound of squeaking breaks made her ears hurt and set her nerves on edge not just because of the awful noise but because of the unexpected arrival of someone. Pushing her hands off her knees to straighten to a standing position, feeling a bit faint due to lack of oxygen as well as fear, she saw a delivery truck had pulled over to stop at the edge of the road. Her body tensed as the man jumped from the truck, holding a package the size of a shoe box in his hand. He seemed like just an ordinary delivery driver, wearing an ordinary company uniform, doing his ordinary job. She chided herself for her irrational fear. Not many delivery companies liked driving down the desolate road to deliver packages to her home that's why she requested they retain them at the main office so she could pick them up. So what was this guy doing here?

"Miss Bethesda?" he asked, his brown eyes looking her over questioningly. He seemed to be as put off by her as she was by him. After all, she was a dirty, panting mess with sweat rolling down her body and mud splashed over her legs. She wasn't even wearing shoes. He might be more afraid, or disgusted, by her than she was by him.

"Yes. That's me," she managed to breathe out between deep inhalations.

"For you," he said, holding out the package to her with his thumb and forefinger gripping the corner furthermost from her. He jumped when she took the box from him.

"Do I need to sign something?" she inquired, using one hand to hold the box. It was very light as if there was nothing but air in it. Something shifted to the side when she turned it so she knew it was not empty.

"No. That's not necessary. Have a good day, ma'am," he returned, moving to his truck as quickly as he could.

"Hmmm...that was odd," she remarked to herself as the driver pulled away with a faint squeal of tires. A big, fat drop of rain splashed down right on top of her head. "Oh, goody," she mumbled as more drops followed, wetting her arms. Rain had dominated the skies for the last two days. The sky fit her mood perfectly: gray, dreary, and just plain sad. Turning on her heel, she slowly strolled down the long road concentrating on the sensation of the combination of rain falling down on her body and the fresh mud squishing between her toes. The rain cooled her overheated body while her breathing returned to normal. As she walked, she began to feel lighter, better, like she didn't have a care in the world. Obviously the 'runner's high' had finally kicked in. Being able to breathe again was nice too.

Rather than tracking mud into the house, Sera went to the little pottery workshop. There was a bathroom and a bed in the little building because her mother would work at odd hours of the day and night to console herself, sleeping, showering, and eating whenever she wanted. The workshop was where her mother had found solace; and more recently, she had too. It had been her mother's way to escape from a world she simply could not bear at times. For the first time in her life, Sera truly understood her mother. She no longer blamed her or hated her for killing herself. Sometimes life just became too much to bear. Unfortunately, her mother had not been strong or resilient. She had taken what Sera had deemed for years as the selfish, coward's way out when the truth of her life had become too distressing. The truth about her husband had damaged her psyche beyond hope. The knowledge that she had been unable to protect her daughter had crushed her spirit. All of that had killed her.

Sera threw the mysterious box onto the work table strewn with pottery implements and dried lumps of clay before going to the kiln to check the fire. She poked at the fire with a metal pipe to stir up the flames. Her eyes studied the red peaks of the orange flames stretch upward in bursts of sparks. After adding a few more blocks of wood, she stripped off her clothes on the way to the shower.

"I'm sorry, Mom," Sera whispered turning the hot water knob only. She only hoped her mother could hear her pitiful apology after years of cursing and hating the woman who had left her behind with a monster.

The cold rain had soaked clear through to her bones, and she wondered if she would ever be warm again. Her mind mulled over the possibility that it was more than the rain that had chilled her. The hot water warmed up her body, but there was something, an unescapable sense of dread that had taken hold of her at her very core. Her very heart was frozen with fear. She cried, her tears blending with the stream of water. Today would be the day she died. There was no avoiding it and no reason to lie to herself about it. She dragged her body from the shower, slowly drying herself off. As if performing a ritual, she applied lotion and perfume to her body, preparing for her inescapable end. She told herself it was only Karma coming around, giving her what she deserved. She should not be surprised that she would be done in by a serial killer. She never imagined reaping what she had sown would be so painfully ironic and excruciatingly bitter. After putting on a plain black sheath nightgown, she went to the work table to open the box. She sat down on the stool to prepare herself for what lay inside. Taking a deep breath to build up her courage, her shaking fingers slid under the damp flap of the brown paper covering the box. Once it was unwrapped, she stared at the unassuming white box. It looked so harmless, almost inviting as if she had just received a present. Closing her eyes, she lifted off the lid. Her eyelids gradually parted so she could see the Wara Ningyo laying inside of the box. A comforting numbness settled over her as her senses were inundated by pure terror. She had not experienced anything like this since that first night her father had accosted her. Her hand trembled as she reached for the ugly straw doll that appeared to have been made by BB himself. There was a note in the box that had been underneath the doll. The paper shook like a leaf in the breeze, and it took painstaking effort for her to unfold it because of the violent tremors of her hands.

"Avenging Angel," she read aloud, tears stinging her eyes. "I love you..." She paused, a sound that was a mixture of a stifled cry and a bitter sob coming from her throat. Swiping at the steady flow of tears wetting her cheeks, she read the next words. "But I must kill you now." She sniffled, her whole body vibrating as she tried to breathe. Fear was suffocating her. Maybe she was the true coward, not her mother. She stared at the paper in her hands. There was more to the note. Oh, god... "I've heard it said that you hurt the ones that love you the most. You of all people know that this is true."

Sera crumpled the paper, unwilling to read more. She knew BB was referring to her mother and father. They were the people who were supposed to love her the most - unconditionally, unwaveringly, eternally - yet they had scarred her forever with their selfishness, cruelty, and weakness. His words were almost more than she could stand. Holding the doll to her chest, she hummed as she rocked back and forth on her feet. Although she sought comfort, a safe haven, there was none to be had. The sound of movement behind her caught her attention, causing her to cease all sound and movement of her own. He was here. BB had probably been here all along, watching her and waiting. She should have known he was going to enjoy every minute of this.

Sera held her breath as his hands, hands capable of inducing pleasure or pain, gently touched her bare shoulders. She shuddered as the hands that held the power of death skimmed down her arms, covering her hands that held the doll to her chest. Her eyes closed as he pulled her body to his, pressing his chest to her back. He was holding her tightly, lovingly, like the lover he had once been to her. Silent tears poured down her cheeks when his lips pressed a kiss to her cheek. Adrenaline dumped into her veins, causing her to feel as if her whole body had been electrified. She wanted to run, to kick, to scream, to do anything to fight for her life. However, terror in its most intense form kept her still and quiet and his arms.

"I didn't want to do this," he whispered, kissing her neck. "Things could have been different." He turned her to face him, kissing her lips briefly. "Open your eyes. Look at me."

Sera opened her eyes, gazing at the man in front of her. His coal-black hair was as wild as ever, poking out in all directions: her psychotic dandelion. His skin made a lovely white canvas for the reddish-orange flames from the kiln to dance across. His eyes, black as pitch, bore into hers. She was staring into the gates of hell. He held the keys to death and hell in his eyes. Her body quivered when his fingers pushed into her damp hair and glided to the ends to rest on the small of her back.

"I loved you. You would have been mine forever. We could have so much fun together," he murmured, pulling her body against his.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't too much into the killing for killing's sake," she retorted flippantly. "I killed for a reason. I murdered men who deserved it. Evil, foul beasts who left destroyed lives, broken bodies, and twisted minds in their selfish, disgusting wake. I - " Her words were cut off when his hand grasped her neck, the web between his thumb and forefinger pressing into her voice box. He continued squeezing until he successfully stopped the flow of air into her lungs. She dropped the doll, her fingers clutching his shirt. An odd sound something like a squeak and wheeze mixed was pushed from her throat as his hand tightened until his fingers met at the back of her neck.

"Ah, so noble, so self-sacrificing," he growled into her ear, his hot breath snaking across her neck to raise goosebumps. "My Avenging Angel. Having a high-minded reason does not change what you did. Murder is murder by any definition. You are no better than me. That's why I must kill you."

Sera slumped against him as the lack of air weakened her. Her lungs ached, threatening to quit functioning entirely since they were not receiving the necessary oxygen. This was it. Her vision blurred, then began to darken. Just before she lost consciousness entirely, he removed his hand. Unable to defend herself, she hung limply in his arms when he pressed his open mouth to hers forcing air into her body. Her chest began to rise and fall again in fast, irregular breaths.

"Not yet. I won't let you die so soon. Did you really think it would be that easy?" he asked, his lips grazing her cheek as he spoke.

No. Of course not. It would not be like him to skip the torture. Sera fell back onto the work table, greedily inhaling air as if she were preparing to be choked again. She saw that his back was turned to her, and he stooped down to take something out of a bag. He was probably retrieving something to tie her down before he tortured her. Glancing at the implements beside her head, she picked up the cut off wire that was nothing more than a thin flexible wire between two short wooden handles that she used for cutting the clay. She stood up holding the handles so firmly her knuckles whitened. Soundlessly moving up behind him, she held the wire pulled tautly between her hands. As BB withdrew the rope from the bag, she lunged to throw the wire over his head before pulling it around his neck. She crossed her hands to tighten the wire as much as possible. Feeling it slip and slacken slightly, she knew it was cutting into his neck. She would cut his head of if possible. She screamed in unison with his roar of anger and agony. Another scream was ejected from her throat when he rose up and shoved them backwards into the work table. The wooden table top caught her at the lowest part of her back, extreme pain cutting into her body as he shoved her into the table several times in an attempt to make her let go. Her legs were going numb because of the nerves being damaged from the rough edge cutting through her skin and into the muscle. The wire slackened a bit which signified it was cutting into his neck even more. She was determined to kill him even if it meant he succeeded in killing her in the process. She tried to tighten her grip and pull harder, but he grabbed her by the hair and leaned forward to fling her over his shoulder. She landed on her back. Winded and stunned, she blinked in confusion while staring at the ceiling. She screamed when he reached down to grab her by the hair. Folding her legs between them before he lifted her, she kicked him as hard as she could in the abdomen. With arms flailing, he stumbled backwards toward the open door of kiln. As if time suddenly slowed, she watched as his thin body fell through the door before being engulfed in flames. She flinched, covering her ears when he released a scream that was like a sound released from the very bowels of hell.

Sera pulled herself to a sitting position, unable to move any further. Her legs were numb and uncooperative. Before she could panic about her paralyzed legs, a ball of fire leapt from the furnace. She screamed as she looked into the glowing red eyes of the half-breed demon whose flaming fingers wrapped around her upper arms. Shock kept her from feeling the pain of the fire that burned into her skin.

"I told you we'd be together forever," he returned, smiling at her. "Since I'm going to hell, I'm taking you with me." Blood streaked his teeth and dribbled out of the corner of his mouth as he stared at her with the insane grin.

"I'll be the one to take her you bastard!" Tutanubis yelled, ripping the burning man away from her to throw him toward the furnace.

The black, charred body of BB smacked against the side of kiln before landing on the floor in a smoking heap.

"Sera," the Shinigami murmured, sadness dimming his glowing yellow eyes. He knelt beside the woman who was burned, broken, and covered in blood. He was not sure how much of the blood was hers and how much belonged to BB. He had seen this coming but had been powerless to stop it. Unable to tolerate being with her, watching the turmoil of her last few days, he had deserted her until now. In his time alone, he had made a decision: he would allow the choice to be hers if she lived or died tonight. Patience was one of the few virtues he possessed. He would wait for her if she wanted him to. Sitting beside her, he gathered her into his lap to hold her damaged body to comfort her. She was like a small, frightened child in his arms.

"Sera, Sera," Tutanubis called to her, pressing his hand to her cheek. "It's over."

"I want it to be over," she mumbled, turning her head to look at him.

"What do you mean?" he questioned her, following the path of the tear that coursed down her cheek and dripped from her chin.

"I'm ready. Take me," she whispered, her voice deserting her. She pressed her cheek against his chest, raising her arms to encompass his furry neck.

"Are you sure? You could go on to have a happy life. Ethan Blackwood cares for you," he said, enveloping her in his huge arms. "You care for him. I can wait for when you're old. Please think about this for a while before - "

"I've thought about it," she interrupted, tracing one of the gold plates embedded in his chest. Her eyes moved back to his, pleading with the golden eyed god of death. "I want to die before Ethan knows the real me...before he knows what I've done. I would rather him mourn my death as someone he loved than to hate me while I'm alive when he discovers the truth."

"All right then," he sighed, his arms tightening around her shaking body. "Don't be afraid. It won't hurt."

"It can't hurt more than being alive did," she returned, relaxing in his strong arms.

"Close your eyes. Think of the good things you had in your life. Let it go," he urged her, swaying her gently. "Release your life one part at a time. Mind, then body...give your spirit to me."

Images began to flash through her mind: her mother laughing, the day she graduated from university, the faces of the people whose lives she had saved, Ethan Blackwood's smiling face. Sera smiled, allowing her life to slip away from her. Her spirit began separating from her body. It was warm. A soothing heat and light surrounded her. She felt light as if she were floating, like she was slowly being lifted. Other sensations began to race through her body and mind: the sun on her face, holding a lump of soft wet clay for the first time, the fuzzy fur of a kitten, the caring embrace of Ethan Blackwood.

"Give yourself to me," Tutanubis whispered, holding her tighter as he felt her body grow more limp in his arms.

"Then it will be over?"

"Then it will be over."

Sera pulled in one last breath. She opened her eyes and pressed her hand against the wonderfully soft fur of the face of her Shinigami. A smile turned up the corners of her lips. "I'm yours."

~...~

"Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live."

~quote by Norman Cousins