Why is it I never can seem to sleep in on weekends? Oh well. The story keeping me awake this time is Frozen Sun, the sequel to Dead Moon.

Enjoy this last chapter. I'll post the epilogue later today.

Chapter 32

Vellena was barely consciously aware of anything now but her and her opponent. The opponent who just wouldn't seem to die. Sanguiferrous's bloodlust was fully in control, and she fought relentlessly, but the fucker just wouldn't fall down. She took hits, barely aware of them, that healed almost immediately after when she took his blood from him again and again and again.

Her world was blood, frost, and screaming death. Everything was crimson. Sanguiferrous flashed in the light, taking limbs, sucking blood, funneling continued strength to Vellena. It just fuelled her dire onslaught further. Finally, she hacked and hacked, and when she raised her sword to attack again, there were no weapons blocking her.

A peripheral part of her was aware that Nnoitra was gazing at her with an expression of abject joy; almost rapture. All his arms were gone, yet he was grinning from ear to ear. Something flared in his sole eye, that almost looked like something she'd seen once or twice in Grimmjow's eyes after they'd fucked - something almost tender. Then it went out as her sword pierced his chest cavity, punching through ribs, lungs, heart… he was dead before he hit the sand.

Her power surged uncontrollably as she took his life. Her wounds were healed almost fully. But she wasn't done yet, oh no. There was more blood to be spilled, waiting out here for her. She raised her blood-spattered head. Sanguiferrous was hungry, and so was she. She licked Nnoitra's blood off her blade, off her hands, and turned her crimson gaze to the battlefield.

Spotting a nearby victim, she charged, voice raised in a metallic roar. But she didn't make it to the aqua-haired woman; something jumped in front of her and blocked her sword. Something that jingled with the sound of bells. A mountain of a man stood in front of her, halting her progress.

"You seem healthy enough for me," she heard him say. She merely bared bloody teeth in a ghastly grin and struck again. Again, he parried. She swung wildly at him, fast as lightning. Parry, parry, parry, made it through! Blood sprayed from a wound in his shoulder, landing against her face. She licked what she could and kept going. He got in a few hits, further shredding her already destroyed clothing and sending black blood arcing into the sand. Those healed when she landed another on him.

There was no strategy; no finesse. The Death Knight attacked as though she were possessed, which she was. The Runeblade had her firmly in its grip, driving her with its overriding bloodlust. She was relentless, not holding back one erg of her energy in her attack. Her opponent was laughing, his eye shining with pure, unadulterated joy.

She staggered back a few steps as he pulled away the eye patch to reveal a glowing yellow eye, blazing with reiatsu. Tossing away the patch, he pressed on, attacking her. She began losing ground. Still she fought on. The damage was starting to pile up – she was scoring fewer hits and he was scoring more. Still she fought on. She lashed out with her rune magic, sending fel disease and unholy energy at her opponent. He kept coming. She blasted him with a howling gale. He kept coming.

"Kenpachi! Disarm her!" a raw scream penetrated her ears. She ignored it, swinging at the opponent in front of her. Nothing mattered but him, his blood on her blade.

"Ken-chan is having fun, Berry-kun!" a high pitched voice chirped. The man in front of her grinned. Vellena was forced backwards, on her knees.

"Disarm her!" shouted that voice again. Whose was it? Did it matter?

She raised the sword to block, still attempting to get through his relentless guard, steal back a little strength. He struck like a mountain coming down on her. Metal ground against metal, sparks flew. Then he reached out and grabbed her blade, heedless of the bloody wound its vicious edge opened in his hand. With a mighty jerk, he wrenched Sanguiferrous from her grip, tossing the blood-soaked blade aside.

Her strength vanished. The red that washed the world receded. She returned to her senses long enough to gaze up at Zaraki Kenpachi with a slightly surprised look before pitching over into the sand. Everything went black.

She wasn't out for long. Something was slapping her face insistently and none to gently. She cracked open an eye. It was that monstrous shinigami captain.

"I'm alive?" she croaked. He grinned.

"That was a great fight." He said.

She groaned, sitting up. She wasn't precisely sure what had happened, other than Sanguiferrous took over. So she said, "What the hell happened. Where's Nnoitra?"

Captain Zaraki gestured, and she looked over, to see a corpse lying in the sand. Nnoitra's dead face was still grinning. The sight jogged her memory. She remembered killing him.

"Oh." She said. "Where's Grimmjow?" Another gesture, and she followed the pointing finger to see the Espada on his back, eyes closed. Was he dead? She got unsteadily to her feet, and almost fell over. The strong arm of the captain kept her from pitching headlong back into the ground. "Thanks," she muttered.

"No problem."

"Where is my sword?" Again Zaraki pointed, this time to the ground nearby. She spotted Sanguiferrous, covered in blood and sand. It needed cleaned badly, but damned if she was going to touch it right now. This soon after a full on thrall and it wouldn't take much for her to be back in a state of mindless bloodlust. She swallowed. "Captain Zaraki. Could you do me a favour?"

"What do you need?"

"Pick up my sword, and put it in this bag." She fumbled at her belt, pulling out one of her magic bags. Her broken armor was already in it.

Zaraki gave her an odd look, but he reached for the sword nonetheless, and held it out. She opened the bag. He gave her another odd look.

"It'll fit, trust me."

"If you say so." He raised the sword and aimed it point down into the bag. His eyes widened as the enormous sword vanished into the teeny tiny bag. "That's a neat trick."

"Magic bag."

"Nice."

"Ken-chan! Ken-chan! Bunny-chan is gonna be alright?" the little girl capered nearby. The huge man reached down and lifted her up to his back.

"You gonna be alright, Vellena?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think so. Could you help me over to Grimmjow?"

"Yeah."

She was so exhausted. Zaraki had to almost carry her. Would she have enough energy left…? Don't think about it. Just… go see if Grimmjow lived or died. Zaraki let her sink to the sand beside her fallen lover. Her hand went to his neck. She sighed. There was a pulse, weak but there.

"He still lives." She said, relieved. She looked around – perhaps Orihime… but where was the girl? "Where is Inoue?"

"Some asshole took her, a guy with brown hair and gloves." That was Kurosaki – voice full of anger.

"Starrk." Vellena said. She was unsurprised that he hadn't interfered beyond that. Starrk was the laziest guy in the universe.

"What are you going to do now?" It was the kid. She raised her eyes to him. He, the giant captain, and the little girl were all staring at her with expectant looks.

"I'm going to go home." She said.

"That's a pity. You're the best fight I've had in ages." Captain Zaraki said. She smiled weakly.

"What about Grimmjow?" Kurosaki asked.

She looked down at the fallen Espada. What about Grimmjow? It was a good question. He was still alive. If he stayed here, she had no doubt that Aizen would execute him. For disobedience, for failure – the reason didn't matter. What about Grimmjow… Orihime's words from several days ago returned to her. The girl's awkward phrasing aside, she understood what the girl was getting at. It had been intended to reassure Orihime that Grimmjow wasn't all crazy asshole, but the sentiment had stuck with Vellena.

If someone could love Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, perhaps Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez could love someone in return. She sat for a long moment, looking at the arrancar.

Grimmjow was dead if he stayed. He would die soon, right here in the dirt, if she didn't do something. She remembered the healing potion in her pack, and brought it out. Kurosaki asked what she was doing as she uncorked the flask and tilted Grimmjow's head. She ignored him, beginning the tricky process of getting a potion into an unconscious person.

As the last of the red liquid finally vanished down his throat, she noted the colour returning to his skin, the wound in his neck closing, and his breathing becoming easier, more noticeable. He was merely unconscious now, no longer unconscious and dying. She bandaged him, wrapping him in the thick frostweave bandages. Kurosaki and Zaraki watched.

"What are you going to do with him?" Kurosaki asked as she stood up.

"I'm going to take him with me."

"What?!" She met the young human's gaze.

"He lost to you. If he stays here, he won't live to see tomorrow." Kurosaki looked at her uncomprehendingly. "He failed. He'll be executed." She clarified. He blanched.

"Aizen would do that?" he asked, tone full of disbelief.

"Aizen would do that. Aizen… is an evil bastard." She said. Zaraki laughed.

"I always said that shithead was bad news." The captain said.

"Yes. I pray he cannot follow me to Azeroth. We already have our own home-grown evil bastard that needs destroying." She said.

"I'd love to visit your world sometime. It sounds like a fun place." Zaraki said.

"How are you going to go?" Kurosaki asked. She stood up.

"Like this." She concentrated, marshalling the last of her flagging energy. A skull-topped frame rose from the dirt. A second later, a garganta yawned within it. She gave a little sigh of relief – she had been half afraid this wouldn't work, and half afraid she wouldn't have the power to do it. She sagged, leaning on the ghastly frame for support.

Then, she leaned down and lifted the heavy, limp form of the unconscious Grimmjow and slung him over her shoulder.

"Farewell, Captain Zaraki, Lieutenant Yachiru, Kurosaki Ichigo. Ande'thoras-ethil. May your troubles be diminished. Do not attempt to follow me, please." She stepped through the gate, moving slowly with the burden of her companion, but nevertheless moving.

After a few paces, the garganta/Death Gate behind her winked out of existence. She walked along the path that formed under her feet, silver mottled through with black and green. She walked for a long time. A very long time.