LAST CHAPTER.

It's been a long road, folks! And I'm really glad that all of you, well . . . most of you stuck it out. I think most of you. :-)

The next book will be called Modern Day II. I hope everyone stops by to read it (and review, didn't have too many this last time) though it may be a little while before it shows up.

To be kept informed ADD ME TO YOUR AUTHOR ALERT LIST. Otherwise, I will not be sending out personal emails. Sorry, just can't do that this time. Last time was only because ff . net was broken, lol.

Time to answer the sparse reviews I got!

Famelia Ly: Aw, I'm so glad you liked it! Thanks for the review. It is so too bad that Xellos couldn't find Lina . . . but it's still possible he might in the future. ;-p I hope this last chapter satisfies . . . and whets your appetite for more.

Emmyjenny: Lol, I guess that could be it, the way Azrael knows Xellos. And I used your idea! Sort of. Wow, 84 emails! Thanks for being here for the ride!

Ryu-Zero-Rei: That's fine, I don't mind that it took you a while. And yeah, in a way Xellos and Azrael are very alike. They are a bit different took though. You are the best, thanks for being here!

Eyebrow obsession: Wow, nobody has EVER noticed that little bit! I am sooo happy you did! Wow. You made me speechless. (actually, nobody really knows what the sex talk means, so you have something in common with many people.) Actually, Meliael and Azrael weren't in the series, so there's no way you'd know who they were anyhow! As for Val and his memories, read onward and wait for MD II! And I LOVE your rambling. Seriously. (snugs)

Crazy Elf Paladin: Thanks! I love you sooo soo much. And yes, Azrael has a very shifting language, I'm pleased you noticed.

Flam3gurl: I very much appreciate your review, and your support for how I have written this. Also, you've noted so many aspects that few others have, I'm glad you saw it. I think soon they will realize what they have is beyond friendship and lust. :-)


(-(-(-)-)-)

Chapter 52

Wolfpack Island
June 11th, 2002

She was at the door. She knew if she stepped forward, it would slide open onto the convalescence room, and reveal his silent form . . . and it was that outcome that she feared.

Filia closed her eyes and touched the smooth, lacquered wood of the barrier before her, brushing her fingers and palms across it as her head fell forward to rest against the cold mahogany. Behind her eyelids, images flashed, one after another. The last few days felt as if centuries had passed; Xellos' injury, Val's collapse, the discovery of Lina's amulet, then Xellos leaving them . . .

A comedy of errors. A horrible twist of happenstance. She chuckled bitterly and slid further down the door, fingers weakly clawing at the finish. Or all as it was meant to be. Xellos. You'd better come back to me.

She had flown high into a sunny sky, releasing all of her tensions – or so she had believed – only to return to the crumbling courtyard, to step through the archway, and find herself drowning in midnight, the darkness washing over the landscape like blood seeping into cloth.

Blood . . . I'm becoming macabre, spending so much time with demons.

Zelas had taken her to a dining room, where Val and Iyzeka were eating. Filia had forced the food down, but could not savor it. Instead, she asked to be taken here. After all that had happened, after everything had spiraled out of control, the answer remained within this room. Soon they would be wrapped within the cocoon of the island's energy field, propelled into a different quantum frequency and sent into the future. And if you don't return before then, who knows how long you will be inside there, a shell without the other half of your soul?

Underneath her weight, she felt the door click, and inhaled with surprise as she watched it slide away into the wall. Straightening as the doorway cleared, she peered into the gloomy, faintly lit chamber. Many feet away, toward the back of the shadowy room, sat his motionless silhouette within the slowly spinning vortex that was his demonic aura, backlit by the diffuse fuchsia light given off by the circlet of astral stones that glowed dimly in the fog.

Filia stepped forward, bare feet sinking into the plush carpet, and contemplated. The past, the present, and the future were set to collide . . . but at the moment, her heart felt cold and empty. It's as if I don't even know who I am . . . She shook her head bitterly and pressed onward, to kneel before the dark cloud and gaze into it, unafraid. How pitiful I am, being so dependent upon someone else. I guess I always have been. First it was the Fire Dragon King, then Val, and now you. She closed her eyes to the darkness and the incandescent orbs that cast the surroundings into a cherry-colored haze, and let her chin sink to her chest. I suppose I am just too weak.

Beyond her self-reproach, a distant part within her began to blaze. The discomfort grew into a tiny voice of derision, which cast aside her pity. Stop it, Filia, she told herself, shame filling her, and also anger. You feel so sorry for yourself because Xellos left you. Because he had his own agenda and wanted something for himself. This isn't about you being weak because you rely upon him, this is about you being jealous because he chose to leave you behind.

Flushing at her own realization, she raised a hand to her face and began to rub at her brow. "Enough of my self pity," she told herself aloud, eyes seeking out the stillness of Xellos' silhouette in the darkness. "I miss you, Xellos," her words simmered in the silence, "and I worry, but I know I shouldn't, since even Zelas said you'd not really be in any danger. Maybe I do rely on you too much. But that's my own fault, and it's something I should fix, instead of moaning about it." Her eyes dropped to study her knees folded below her, then rose to gaze upon the circle of stones arranged around his spinning miasma. "I want to be independent. But I don't want to be alone, and lonely. Even the humans have been struggling for millennia to understand how to accomplish that. I still haven't figured it out.

"Maybe," she sighed, leaning forward just enough to press both hands into the carpet, gaze still attempting to pierce the cloud of energy, "when you get back, you can help me figure out how you manage to be so . . . carefree. Maybe you can help me to be that brave, too."

Her plea seemed to release all of her tension, and she yawned as a wave of exhaustion enveloped her. Sinking into the soft flooring, Filia stretched out upon it face-down, pillowing her arms under her head and letting her eyes slide shut.

(-(-(-)-)-)

Wolfpack Island
June 12th, 2002

Within the darkness through which he fell, flashes of light and sound emerged, rippling fluidly, growing and receding. Every second of his life flickered through his mind's eye, from the moment he first awoke to see Zelas standing above him, to the instant he closed his eyes and broke himself in twain, readying for the journey beyond the planes.

The images crowded him, struck his mind with the intensity, the speed, and then they began to mix, to swirl together, one moment after another, before another, in between, in betwixt, coruscating, conglomerating, shifting and melding—

Filia before a pottery wheel—sunlight touching snowy mountains—a young Val running along cobblestone—blood freezing into ice—Iyzeka tossing back her head to gaze up at him—wine spilling from a glass—bodies before him eroding into dust—Lina spinning a dizzying dance, Goury in her arms—gore staining his ivory gloves—Golden Dragons burning amid the rubble of their civilization—darkness falling across the land—the sun blotted from the sky as the moon passes before it—fires raging—women sobbing—children screaming—

the sound, the sound . . . with a gasp and the feeling of air filling his lungs, Xellos found his hands clenching carpeted floor, and forced open his eyes to see the suffused glow of the astral stones encircling him. They hurt his gaze, and his skin tingled from the touch of the air and the fibers of fabric that encompassed his clothing, as the whisper of a sound brushed along his ears . . .

He heard breathing. Slow, and soft, beyond the clouds of dark energy sweeping around him in that lazy, drifting cyclone that held his soul. Xellos bowed his head and raised a shaky hand, My body feels so weak, and gently drew the miasma back into himself, watching as the fog slipped between his fingers and vanished there, leaving the air clean and cloudless. Better, he mused, invigorated as the power flowed through him, yet disturbed by the sensation of his two forms reestablishing cohesion, as if he knew himself to exist doubly, and each thought began to meld together.

There remained a blackness, and the twinkling globes of light, washing the convalescence chamber with a dim fuchsia. Xellos let his eyes adjust to the low illumination as he sought out the source of the sound of breathing, and blinked rapidly in surprise to find a silhouette laying many feet from him—

A tingling began along his skin as he rose and drew nearer. The sensation turned to a spark of pain and a flood of heat with every step, feelings that began to merge and melt into a simmering warmth along the entire surface of his body. Holy power . . . he told himself as he knelt beside the sleeping figure, her body strewn with indigo velvet and her head a flaxen gold. He stared at her for a long moment, then reached out a hand to sweep the cascading locks of hair from her face. His fingers gently revealed slumbering, soft features to him, the touch sending another pleasant yet painful electrifying jolt through his form.

Hissing, Xellos shivered, his shaking hand drawing away from her even as his eyes narrowed in concern. "Filia," he breathed, feeling a twisting tautness within his chest at the sound of her name, and a fire building along his veins.

(-(-(-)-)-)

The sound of her name slid between her dreams, lingering before snapping her awake. "Filia."

Eyes opening to magenta-tinged darkness, the blonde stared at the ebony figure that rose over her, one hand reaching out towards her face, features hidden by the backlighting of the astral stones. The fingers clenched then pulled away, and she gasped to see the eyes flare a deep sanguine as they blinked down at her. She then felt a wave of demonic energy shatter through her, billowing out from the figure - but unlike the dark magic of a pure astral form, it inundated her without harm.

The power did not cease, however, yet continued to flow across and around her until she felt herself drowning. Her mouth opened to the feeling of it flooding her, her eyes beginning to close and her lungs shutting down, just before the sensation tickled a glimmer of memory . . .

Xellos, Filia choked on the astral power, grasping through the blackness and feeling herself falling through space, what is he doing?

Gathering her faculties, though she pushed through a haze of oxygen deprivation, the dragoness concentrated and drew the holy power of the Gods from far within herself. The shadows were pierced by the brilliance, and she took a deep breath and opened her eyes, only to find herself kneeling upon the floor of the convalescence chamber, Xellos crouched before her and hiding his eyes from the light she put forth with both arms raised above her. Gasping again, and relishing the intake of air into her lungs, Filia released the white magic and allowed it to fade into nothingness.

"Xellos!" she exclaimed then, leaning forward to extend a hand to him that he shied away from, "what are you doing? What's wrong?"

From the shadows, he tossed his head before hesitantly lowering his arms from his face. In the semi-darkness, she could see his eyes blink, now normal, and his thin lips move as if attempting to speak.

Without waiting, the blonde crawled nearer to him, and smiled as she held out a hand again. "Xellos. You've come back," she told him gently.

Slowly taking her hand in his own, the figure nodded, his hair cascading around his face as he raised his chin to gaze down into her eyes. "Filia," he finally spoke again, voice strained and rasping.

"Yes," she breathed and flushed as her pulse sped. "Xellos. I'm so glad." She slumped against him, and smiled as his arms found places around her shoulders to lie, though it almost seemed as if he'd forgotten how to use them. "What . . . what did you see, Xellos? Did you find Lina?"

She could feel his throat swallow against the crown of her head though he said nothing, and she pulled back enough to meet his gaze. "Xellos?"

His fingers tightened upon her back, and his bangs fell forward as he bent his head, to slide over his eyes and hide them from her. "Filia . . . I . . . don't know," his voice stuttered fearfully, then dropped to a halting whisper, "I . . . don't remember."

When she opened her mouth to speak, Xellos' form suddenly began to convulse, his once-gentle hands tossing her aside to claw at his chest, slicing his clothing to shreds. Unable to make a sound, Filia watched in dismay as the point upon his breast began to hiss and steam, glowing a hot white, while Xellos keened a high-pitched wail and tore into the throbbing flesh. Blood gushed out over his fingers to pour upon his knees, and still the brilliant radiance only grew brighter. As his cries grew deeper, he let out a deafening howl and thrust his hands deep into his own body, only to wrench free a blinding ball of light clutched in each hand.

And as Filia began to shriek in shock and horror, he gasped as if struggling for breath, then collapsed upon the floor, unconscious, the twin orbs of light doused and returning the chamber to ruddy blackness.

(-(-(-)-)-)

Val awoke to the sensation of a voice in his mind. —Valgaav, your mother is in distress in the convalescence room,— Zelas' thoughts ploughed through any vestiges of imagery his sleeping mind attempted to reestablish. —Hurry, meet me there.—

Instantly, the young dragon awoke, fumbling out of bed before pulling himself upright, then grabbing for the pants he wore yesterday. Mom? "Dear Gods, please let her be okay," he mumbled under his breath as he pulled the jeans on and ran a hand through his spiky-short hair, then grabbed a robe and teleported, his destination strong in his thoughts.

When he appeared, a bright, sterile light greeted him, and the sight of a green-haired Zelas holding his mother, who appeared to be shaking. "Filia, you must calm down, he's not dead—" Zelas seemed to be saying, and there on the floor lay Xellos, clothed yet covered in blood.

"Xellos!" Val exclaimed and made a move towards the still figure. Before he could do more, however, Iyzeka materialized and leaped in front of him, her arms outstretched towards the gory demon.

"Big brother Xellos!" the redhead cried delightedly, and glomped onto him, arms encircling the unconscious Mazoku. "You're back! I missed you sooooo much!"

Val gaped at her, then turned to see his pale-faced mother staring as well. "Iyzeka, you're . . . he's . . ." the boy turned to Zelas, who seemed unperturbed. "Is he really okay!"

"Feel for yourself," Zelas drawled, a cigarette suddenly between her fingers. "surely you can sense his aura. His body is merely unconscious from blood loss and shock."

"But," Val shook his head, though beyond his own confusion he found a glimmer of Xellos' familiar energy, "why? Why is he—"

"Iyzeka!" Filia interrupted, "you, you have blood all over yourself, stop hugging him! We need to wake him up and—"

A coughing noise and a muffled voice saying, "Get off of me, Iyzeka," halted conversation instantly.

Iyzeka quickly jumped up, the front of her sun-dress smeared with sanguine fluid, and Filia and Valgaav both gasped as Xellos began to rise, coughing and hacking. "Ew, ick," he winced as he wiped his bloody hands off on his equally gory shirt. "Why am I covered in blood? It's not in my hair, IS IT?" he asked suddenly, sounding horrified.

"Xellos!" Filia gasped. "You're alright!" She hurried to his side, but stopped suddenly, seeing his state. "Um, no, it's . . . not in your hair . . . dammit!" she cried suddenly while around them Iyzeka began to prance in circles, "you worried me!"

"Hey!" the young demoness gasped as she waved her gory hands in the air, "I have blood on my hands!" She stopped and stared hard at the ruddy fluid, then grinned. "I should go paint!"

"What?" Val stared after her as she headed for the nearest wall and began smearing her fingers across it. "No, Iyzeka! You don't PAINT WITH SOMEONE'S BLOOD!" Fingers clenching into fists, he turned to glare at Zelas. "You didn't teach her this, did you?" he demanded to know.

"Of course not," Zelas looked bored and smoked her cigarette.

Meanwhile, Xellos still blinked down at himself, then noticed the two bloody items on the floor. "Hey, Lina's amulets! No wonder I'm so bloody," he laughed, putting a sullied hand on the back of his neck before wincing and sticking out his tongue. "Yuck."

"Can't you just . . . get rid of it?" Filia insisted, tone rising in a way that threatened to break into screams at any moment.

"Oh, right!" Xellos blinked, then grinned. "I completely forgot! I'm back, so I have all of my powers." With a wink to Filia, the blood upon him vanished, cloth mended and every hair immaculately back into place. "There we are," he murmured, studying his clean hands back and front. "Much better. And now, what's this about someone painting with MY blood?" he growled, turning to where Iyzeka was putting the final touches on a smiling sun above a hillock of beaming flowers and playful bunnies, the latter slightly dripping gore down the ivory wall.

"I need more blood," she mused absently, then eeped as Xellos strode up to her.

"Well, young lady," he snapped, "you won't be using my blood for it! That's mine, so it belongs to me."

"But," Iyzeka's lower lip began to tremble as she stared fearfully up at him, "my pictures! And, it's just the body you created, it's not like it's really your blood. Mommy!" she cried out to Zelas, tears filling her eyes.

Xellos frowned down at her and folded his arms over his chest. "Hey, no complaining to Mistress! You know very well that I made this body, so it's my blood, I own it!"

"It's not copyrighted!" Iyzeka screamed back, "so there!"

Narrowing his eyes at her, the General-Priest growled, "Go get your blood from somewhere else!"

"Fine!" Iyzeka sobbed, and covered her face with drying hands that shed flakes of blood, "I will! You're so mean! And I missed you and everything!"

Xellos blinked as the redhead ran to the other end of the room and began to cry dramatically. "But . . . hey. It belongs to me!" he reiterated, then scowled and turned to the other three watching him. "What?"

Filia and Valgaav just stared in numb surprise, so Xellos headed towards them, unfolding his arms to raise a finger and begin to speak. "Do you think I should copyright my own blood? I shouldn't have to, should I?"

The dragoness just shook her head. "You . . . you can't copyright your own body, Xellos!"

"But," he raised his pointer finger insistently, "if I had, that Miyazaki guy would really have been in trouble! Him and his stupid Haku character, stealing my haircut," he muttered, glowering into middle-space. "As it is, all I can do is torment him in revenge. That was my haircut!" he told Filia, staring into her dazed eyes. "I came up with it first, before anyone else! It was me, it defined me! Why would he want his stupid character to have my haircut?"

"Um," Filia tried, "maybe it became more popular? And people liked it?"

"But it's not supposed to be popular, it's supposed to be annoying," Xellos rejoined, hands waving around in the air. "I'm annoying, so the haircut is too. See?"

Wincing, Val shrugged and spoke up. "Maybe, um, you were just too cool, so you made the haircut less annoying to the point that other people, like the humans, thought it was cool, too?"

The violet-haired demon stopped, and seemed to ponder this. "Hmm. Yeah, maybe so!" he cried happily. "By the way, Mistress, your green hair is very fetching!" he added. "So. I'm hungry, and you dragons just aren't disturbed enough to feed me. Is there any food?" he queried Zelas, who blew another ring of smoke into the air as she gazed blasély at him. "Perhaps some annoying humans you threw into the dungeons, or maybe some minions not doing their jobs right?"

The dragons' eyes widened even further, and Val took his mother's hand, just as the Hellmaster murmured, "Would corporeal fare be good enough?"

Xellos looked contemplative for a moment, pale lips quirking. "Well . . . I suppose. Let's go then, I'm famished! I think I just might fall over again!"

Filia shook her head quickly back and forth. "Oh, please . . . don't."

"Oh, Filia," Xellos beamed. "There wouldn't be any blood this time! At least," he murmured, one hand rising to his chin thoughtfully, ". . . I don't think there would be."

The dragoness stumbled in shock as he walked passed them, her eyes beginning to glow white and fists clenched at her sides. "Xellos!"

"Yes, Filia dear?" he smiled after a pause, turning to display a mischievous arch of an eyebrow above cheerily closed eyes.

A howl of rage erupted from her, "How dare you freak me out like this!" and with that, he fled in circles around the room, the furious blonde hitching up her dress to race after him. "You jerk! Stop acting like a sociopath and get back here SO I CAN PUNISH YOU!" She swung her fist at the Mazoku only to have him blink out of existence and return paces ahead of her, enflaming her anew. "And that reminds me," she called out, "WHERE DID YOU PUT MY MACE?"

Val watched as Xellos ran laughing from the chamber while his mother chased after him, then blinked as the door shut closed. "So," he murmured into the quiet, realizing that Iyzeka had vanished as well. "This is good," he looked at Zelas dubiously, "right?"

She nodded her viridian head, "Of course it is," then winked at him, causing him to flush and swiftly tighten the belt of his robe. "Time for breakfast, young Val."

"Right." Val's brow rose incredulously, eyes falling to his bare feet and wrinkled jeans. "Breakfast."

(-(-(-)-)-)

Disappearing into subspace to wipe her tears and sniffle, Iyzeka glowered down at her elder sibling, the high and mighty "Greater Beastmaster Xellos", as he gleefully ran from the dragoness who chased him. "No fair," she grumbled, shaking a dried-blood-covered fist at the faded image – but neither could hear her from where she stood, hovering above them in another plane.

"Well!" the tiny redhead announced, "I'll show him! He can't mess up my pretty pictures! I'll just get blood from somewhere else!"

Beaming, she spun in mid-air, then flew through the ether, heading towards the lower levels of the castle. "There has to be somebody in the castle willing to give me some of their blood!" she cried joyfully. "I'll just keep asking until I find them!"

(-(-(-)-)-)

Xellos led Filia in a jolly chase throughout the castle, the distant, external part of him jeering her by rote and absorbing her rage as he did so. But while he laughed and bolted just out of reach, or vanished only to appear again, the center of his demonic miasma mused deeply upon his shadowy memory.

I remember Filia, he told himself as she threw a crystal statue that shattered satisfyingly into a wall, missing him by mere inches, and I remember Iyzeka, and Val, and of course my Mistress. I remember Lina, he continued, and with that a brilliant flare erupted in his mind, eclipsing his surroundings for an instant. Lina . . . I went to the afterlife looking for her . . .

He materialized behind Filia and easily coaxed her into spinning and vaulting towards him, all the while pondering his recollections. The amulets. I got the second one . . . afterwards. . . But . . . the light inside his head ached, blinding him, and he let his thoughts drain away. Too much . . . it hurts. Inwardly, he winced, while outwardly he catcalled at Filia, "Maybe I should return your mace to you, since I certainly miss the view every time you draw it!"

Her eyes crackled in response, and, finally, Xellos received what he had longed for as the blonde started to glow in fury, her form and figure melting into liquid light as she began to recreate her draconic form. But I HAVE to remember, he told himself as he leapt upon a window ledge and, with a mere thought, flung open the glass barrier to fly swiftly into the sky, his head turning to look behind him.

A small section of the castle exploded into fire and shrapnel - the destruction undoubtedly resulting in a sure punishment when he returned - and out burst a shimmering, swift beast, all gold and glittering in the sun, wings sharp as knives and gaining upon him with burning eyes—

Filia. My Filia, he thought, and the glorious taste of her rage coalesced with the aching inside his chest and the fire trilling down his veins to form a seething mass of heady sensation, so strong that it overwhelmed him to the point that he saw nothing else—

Which could be why he soon felt a searing pain along his right side, and he skipped through subspace to reappear behind the frothing dragoness. "Filia!" he exclaimed in reproach, rubbing at his arm where her laser-breath had sliced a clean sliver down his bicep and hip. "Your aim's improved!"

The fire in her eyes immediately extinguished as she banked to hover before him, liquid azure pools widening to a startled stare. "Xellos!" her richer voice vibrated upon the air. "Are you okay?"

He chuckled shamefully and raised his good hand to rub the back of his neck from where he hung in space, then winced. "Yes, quite. I suppose I became a bit careless, that's all." He paused, "I . . ." then stopped as his head fell, a queer sensation of discomfort overwhelming him at his words. "I missed you," he tried again, "and I suppose I just . . ."

Speechless, aren't we? he berated himself in the following silence. What a fool I am.

The dragoness beat her wings in mid-air, large crystalline eyes piercing him with her gaze. "Xellos," she breathed, and he cringed inwardly, awaiting her mocking words. "I," her long snout spread in a smile, "I missed you too. So much!" Tears in those radiant pools began to shimmer, and she clenched her forepaws together at her chest. "Can-can I turn back and . . . hold you?" her small voice requested softly.

Xellos gaped at her, blinking in surprise. "Yeah. I, um, mean – yes."

Shyly, the Golden Dragon nodded her head, then bowed it, closing her eyes as she began to murmur softly to herself. Golden light shimmered around her once again, until her form became a blinding hue of saffron, stirring and mixing itself into a slender sliver of brilliance. As Xellos watched, her curvaceous, radiant outline appeared first, then sparkles overflowed, creating her skin, her fluttering locks of hair, and finally the long, flowing dress that clung to her figure and rippled in the air.

As the Mazoku hung there, transfixed, Filia blinked her human eyes once more, then launched herself across the space between them, her arms crushing tightly around him. "Xellos! I'm so glad you're back."

He suppressed a hiss as the astral and physical injuries he'd sustained burned at her pressure, and quickly set to healing them with his miasma. Yet a smile came unbidden to his mouth and he adjusted his arms to lift them above and encircle the dragoness in human form who rested against his chest.

"Filia," he spoke, esophagus constricting oddly, and he frowned, raising a hand to it and coughing slightly. "I . . ." He seemed strangely torn between his distracting physical discomfort and the uncontrollable urge to kiss her, Oh, Lady, not this again, he told himself, then realized a mild surprise as more memories flooded his mind, memories of heat, and a tingling pleasure . . .

"Xellos," Filia said again, looking up at him from where her head rested against his chest, the morning sun glinting upon her hair like a shimmering desert, "are you alright? You seem like yourself, but also kind of distracted. You said before you couldn't remember . . ."

"I," he attempted, feeling a fire churning within him as images of the many times they had been intimate overwhelmed his thoughts, "I'm starting to remember things again. The memories . . . either overwhelm me or I find nothing at all, when I try." He smiled down at her. "I seem to be recollecting the most, though, when I am with you."

She beamed, cerulean eyes reflecting a thousand clear skies, her cheeks brushed with rose. "I'm glad," her voice whispered, and once again Xellos' throat closed up, his lungs unable to expand as the blonde who inhabited his every thought and sensation raised her head and shut her eyes, then gently brushed her lips along his own.

Xellos,— her hazy mind-voice sounded, and the General-Priest felt the hot fire explode within him, and returned the affection eagerly.

The kiss grew deeper, stronger, and at first the dragoness seemed surprised, frightened even, but within moments she had become limp in his arms, then forceful, and they became intertwined in a passionate battle, as if the two of them were grappling with each other over who would get the most from the kiss, over whose heat were strongest, whose passion loudest, whose tongue most dexterous and lips most supple and—

A dry, bitter taste of shame and self-hatred sent shivers of cold along Xellos' spine, and for the barest of moments, he almost believed it was Filia who had experienced such a strange juxtaposition, yet then he realized it was himself, as images flashed one by one like a camera shutter in darkness – before slamming into his mind full-force.

He pulled her onto his lap, teeth sampling the flesh of her neck—Filia moaned in the back of her throat as he clung to her desperately—her blouse wrenched open by his greedy hands—her nails dug into his back—his fist shattered the pane of glass into a thousand fragments—he pulled her tighter to him—smacking her hand away, baring fangs and hissing—her leg rose to wrap around his back—words filled his mind, familiar words, "I guess I'll die, another day . . ."—his fingers alternately clenched and combed through her tangled locks—sneering, he pushed through the crowd, announced his intentions and bruised her jaw jealously—a giggle bubbled up from her slender throat to buzz against his mouth—his fingers barely curling around the man's fragile neck as he raised him high into the air—she called his name within his mind as if it were a prayer – or a damnation—so easy to kill him in his fit of jealousy, yet he did not-instead, they danced, and kissed just like this, but with fear—she held no fear now, just a cauldron of emotions so rich and overwhelming he could not dare to discover them all—her fear, her terror was everywhere, feeding him, like a drug - a poison . . . pain, and confusion, and defiance — he couldn't control it, he couldn't stop it, he wanted to hurt her, to own her, to subjugate and damage and tear and strip and force and hurt and hurt andhurtandhurtandhurt—

Xellos shoved away from Filia and stared at her as she stared back at him, shock reverberating through her clear blue gaze before a keening blade of shame and sorrow and pain sliced along his aura, reflected in those cerulean orbs. "Xe-" she stammered, lower lip trembling and liquid collecting within her eyes, "Xellos?"

"I'm . . . sorry," he forced out, "Filia. It's . . . not you. I . . ." Please don't cry, "-need some time," I didn't mean to hurt you, "I-" he drew away, floating from her slowly, the words he wanted to say stuck within him, refusing to come out. Why? Why can't . . . I . . .

He looked down at his hands to find them shaking, color leeched from his skin. Is my face as pale? he wondered, raising his eyes again to meet Filia's tearful, pensive gaze. Filia . . .

He'd hurt her.

But before, in China . . . on that balcony . . .

There, he had hurt her more.

I lost it. . . I . . . lost me. Lost control. Lost . . .

He vanished into the astral plane, gaze unfocused and mind collapsing in upon itself. Lost . . . lost me. . . What did I almost do to her? Never, never again. I cannot let myself lose control like that again . . .

Deep within that darkness and color, that emptiness of form and space, the demon crouched, curling himself into a ball, head buried and arms covering himself, hiding within the nothingness. I can't let it happen again. No matter what. I . . . I won't hurt her. I won't let myself, I came so close . . . so close . . .

In his mind, visions flashed of all that he had ever imagined, long ago, in the darkest of night, when his bloodlust and infatuation begged to be sated, when his vile fantasies pleaded to be released. Terror and pain, the screaming of his chosen prey, the pleading for a mercy that did not exist within him. Each and every cruel deed revealed his obsession, though he suppressed and pushed them from his mind during his working hours. Flayed skin, spilt blood, shattered bone. But there, alone and unencumbered by necessity in the deepest of echoing darkness, within the still, forgotten hours before dawn, his desires demanded fulfillment, lusted and craved the breaking . . . the sullying . . . the defiling of purity.

How much of this did I force from my mind? Xellos' cognizant thoughts struggled to press past the barrage of memories and form within his consciousness. How could I have forgotten such ideas as these, such desires so against even what I was taught?

Yes - taught - Zelas had tortured and enticed, cajoled and commanded, until Xellos finally knew with every tingling fiber of his electromagnetic form that not under any circumstances was he to force himself upon an innocent, to rip and tear and rend away naivety for his own twisted bliss, to break spirits and wills and then crush minds until they were empty but for the pain – and pleasure – he gave them—

Images of memories, fantasies never given form, flickered against his closed eyes; in every one, Filia's haunted blue eyes gazed back at him, her golden locks tattered and splayed, her skin bruised and broken – her eyes, emptystaring . . . glassy . . .

Vertigo suddenly held Xellos tightly it its grip, and he raised his head from his hands, a wave of physical sensations he'd never known crashing into his human form. Clutching at his throat, his esophagus burned, his stomach contracted – and leaning forward, the Mazoku hacked and coughed up bile and ichor, heaving and retching over and over until he felt himself spinning into nothingness, the lights and swirling spectrum of the abyss fading into ebony shadows as he fell unconscious.

To Be Continued . . .

In

SLAYERS

MODERN DAY II

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