Someday, my pain may destroy the world.

The idea scares me, but I can't deny it. My temper is a dangerous thing. I wasn't created to cope with all this sorrow and anger. There was a time when all I knew was joy and hope and love. My laughter made flowers bloom. Now, I can kill with a frown. I often wonder if Sean realizes how much power he left me with. In all the times I have lashed out at him, I have never really tried to hurt him. The urge has been there, but I've managed to control it so far.

Why don't I want to hurt him, after all he's done to me?

Because I love him too much.

I can't help it. He made me love him. He made me TO love him. No amount of free will can ever change that.

Added to my torment is the knowledge that once, not so long ago, he loved me best. Maybe part of him still does.

That's why I hold back. That's why I play these little games. That's why I still meet with him every so often to plead for forgiveness that I know he'll never give. That's why I watch him.

I've spent countless nights hiding in the shadows, watching him sit in some dark, dingy place, throwing back shots of that foul whiskey even though he can't get drunk, pretending not to notice the fear that he inspires in the people around him.

They are right to be afraid of him, though. He can cause more misery and pain with a single thought than I have ever even imagined.

Just look what he did to me.

I find a strange comfort in watching Sean during those displays of melancholy. Both of us alone, bored, trying to find some distraction in our misery. Even apart, we're still together.

Until tonight.

Tonight, I find him in yet another dark and dirty bar, at a table in the corner with his usual collection of shot glasses growing in front of him. He looks the same as he always does, too big for life, his features harsh and his hair wild. Although the bar is crowded, people shy away from his corner, unwilling to even glance in his direction.

The difference between this scene and all the ones before it is the person sitting next to him. Well, person might not be quite accurate. It's one of his.

The dark one. He's calling himself Paul these days, but I knew him before he had a name, before any of us had names. He is as beautiful as only his kind can be, with glossy black hair and smooth caramel skin. His eyes are impossibly dark, the angles of his face sharp and perfect. He looks away from Sean for a moment and I feel a pang of longing when his eyes pass over me without recognition. We were friends once, he and I. More than friends. But that was long time ago.

Sean says something to him, drawing Paul's attention back, lighting up his face. He answers and accepts the shot that Sean hands him. At Sean's encouragement, he takes a sip of the whiskey, then winces as it hits his throat. He hands the glass back to Sean quickly, shaking his head. Laughing, Sean catches his hand and holds it as he drinks the rest himself.

I can't tear my gaze from their hands. Sean's fingers, so big and thick by comparison, curl around Paul's. I don't even have to look up to know that Paul is glowing, that he's nearly in ecstasy at that small touch. I remember what it felt like.

Sean used to touch me. He used to run his fingertips over my face and through my hair. He used to hold my hand just like he's holding Paul's now, cradling it between his like something much more delicate. He used to wrap me in his arms and press his forehead against mine while we spoke, breathing in each other's words.

No one touches me now. I won't allow it.

One of Sean's hands moves away from Paul's, coming up to brush over his sleek hair. Paul leans into the touch, his eyes flickering closed. Leaning closer to him, Sean whispers, his expression softening into something so familiar…

I want to run. I want to turn away from this scene and flee. I want to deny what I'm seeing. But I can't. I'm stuck, frozen, seeing everything, unable to hide from the terrible agony welling inside me.

Sean strokes the back of his hand across Paul's cheek and says something that makes him smile. There's so much love in his face, so much tenderness.

This is pain. I thought I knew it already. I thought I had developed a tolerance to it, but I was wrong. Whatever I've felt before, it was a mere ache compared to this stabbing pain. It radiates out from the center of my chest, making it hard to breathe, making my head swim and my stomach clench sickly.

Hooking a finger under his chin, Sean tilts Paul's head up and kisses him. It's a mere peck on the lips, hardly lasting more than a second, but it is my undoing.

Now I run. I fly out of the bar, knocking aside anyone in my path, possibly killing some of them. I don't know. I don't care.

Where do I go? There is no place far enough away. I can't outrun what I'd just seen. No matter where I go, how fast I fly, my pain will go with me. I find myself in a dark, quiet alley, not more than a few blocks from the bar. I take a deep breath of the cool night air, oblivious to the odors of rotting food and stale beer and urine. Turning my head up, I look for stars, but they're hidden by the city lights.

I don't know what to do now. I don't know how to deal with this. I'm lost. I'm scared. And for the first time, I am really alone.

My vision blurs then, and I'm staggering, falling against the rough wall on one side of the alley. I can't hold myself up anymore, my whole body is shaking. Lifting my hands to my face, I find tears there, the first real tears I've shed in an eternity. I press my fingers to my mouth, wondering what my sorrow tastes like after so long.

He touched him.

A sob breaks free from my chest at last, and I crumple to the ground, curling up in a tight ball around my pain.

Time is strange for me. Years can pass in a single blink of my eye, and seconds can stretch on forever. I don't know how long I sit there, weeping, feeling everything inside me being torn apart, fused back together, then torn apart again. I keep seeing Sean, the warmth in his eyes, his smile. I keep seeing his hand moving over Paul's face. Not mine. Paul's.

After a while, the pain becomes more manageable. It doesn't fade, but I find a way to breath around it and gather enough strength to push myself upright. It's still night, and I'm still in the alley. I'm guessing that not much time has passed, because my surroundings are relatively unchanged. Except for them.

I feel them watching from every shadow, peering down from above, peeking up from below. Mine. Not lovely, graceful creatures like Paul. Ugly, overgrown things, with features deformed to reflect the loathsome natures within. I should know. I made them that way.

I'm not sure why they're here, because I didn't call them. Perhaps they are just responding to my anguish. They feed off it, growing more agitated by the moment. Ordinarily, I'd command them to leave me alone. Being near them when I'm unhappy only makes things worse. They serve as nothing but a reminder of what I've become, of how far I've fallen.

But I doubt I can get any lower than I am right now, so I let them stay. They sense my acceptance of their presence and draw nearer. Several begin to take solid shape, hulking forms that stay out of the meager light.

Staring at them, I am beyond feeling any revulsion. I'm one of them, after all. I'm the original. Why I was allowed to keep my beauty, I'll never know. For his pleasure, I suppose.

The rage hits me hard and fast and I nearly double over with the force of it. Closing my eyes, I take short, panting breaths.

All this is his fault. He created this world and everything in it. He created me, and he gave me the free will to betray him. He set this course of events into action, punishing me, making me pay for a mistake that was essentially his. He strung me along, all this time, teasing me with the possibility of mercy, with the false assurances of his love.

I hate him.

The creatures around me are stirring, becoming riled as my fury grows. I'm losing control.

"Shannon?"

If there was justice in the universe, that would be him, coming to face me, but it's not. It's Paul. I guess my violent departure from the bar did not go unnoticed.

He's so beautiful. Standing just inside the mouth of the alley, he stares at me with a mixture of alarm and concern. It seems as though all the light in the alley has been drawn to him, making him glow, while leaving me in the darkness.

"Shannon?" he asks again, sounding unsure. Glancing around at the shadowy figures that surround us, he takes a brave step closer.

A voice I've never heard before comes out of my mouth. "What do you want, Paul?"

He hesitates at the sound of it, studying me again. "I...I just wanted to talk to you."

"Did he send you?"

"No." Something almost like guilt crosses his features. "He told me to stay away."

Am I grinning at him? I am. I don't understand why. What I would like to do, more than anything, is throw myself into his arms, let him comfort me. I know he'd do it. He's been there before, when I needed someone. Instead, I snarl, "Careful, Paul. He doesn't like it when his playthings don't do as their told."

He frowns at me. It does nothing to diminish his beauty. Is he more beautiful than me? Is he more beautiful than I used to be, when I was still filled with love and not this terrible anger? Maybe I've become ugly now, like them. I wipe at my face roughly and find it unchanged except for the tears that are still flowing.

"Shannon, come talk to me. Let's go someplace, just you and I."

"I like it here." Something is happening. I'm not sure what it is, but I can feel a change in the air. A low murmur rises in the darkness. A dangerous one.

He looks at the creatures that hover all around us now and shudders in disgust. "Please, come with me."

"I'm not going anywhere." I tell him, wondering at my own words. "Neither are you."

He jerks, his eyes widening. "What?"

I take a step back from him, putting some distance between us. In the same motion, the shadows close in on him. More of them are solid now, their shining eyes focused on Paul, their grins terrifying, even to me.

"Shannon, you can't do this." Paul insists.

He's right. I can't. I won't have to.

"You should have stayed away. You should have listened to him."

"Shannon..."

I shake my head. What's happening? What am I doing? I have to stop this, before it's too late.

"I'm sorry, Paul."

To his credit, Paul doesn't try to flee. Not at first. I stand back and watch as they overwhelm him. For a long time I lose sight of him altogether, then he reappears, flying straight up into the sky like a star that has remembered its place. My creatures are after him immediately, but I don't follow.

My rage is fading, and with it, my hatred. The hurt is still there, still fresh and alive, but it doesn't consume me as it did only moments ago.

I still love Sean. He can hurt me again and again, in a million different ways, and I will never stop loving him.

They bring Paul back to earth quickly. I catch a glimpse of him as they fall. Even now, nearly beaten, his face bloody, he's still beautiful.

I turn away from the awful scene. It's too late. I can't stop them now. Maybe Sean could, if he were here, but not me. I don't have the strength. Walking to the mouth of the alley, I look out. The city has gone to sleep around us, blissfully unaware. I wish I could be out there among them. I don't want to know what's happening here. I don't want to be the cause of it.

The distinctive sound of tearing cloth is accompanied by rough, raucous laughter. There is a sudden, renewed scuffle, I would guess Paul's final efforts to free himself. It's over quickly, and the worst of it begins. The moans and grunts, the harsh slap of skin against skin. I can almost hear Paul's flesh being torn apart.

I close my eyes, but resist the urge to cover my ears.

Why doesn't he cry out? Why doesn't he call to Sean for help? For that matter, where is Sean? I suddenly find it hard to believe that he doesn't know what's taking place here. Lifting my head, I look upward.

The sky is still a blank canvas, except for the light of a single planet, shining just brightly enough to overpower the city lights. I don't see or feel Sean anywhere. I wonder if it's possible that he's abandoned Paul, just as he abandoned me.

"Shannon."

I look back without thinking.

The largest is on top of Paul now, pounding grotesquely into him. A few others have the task of holding him down, while the rest hang back and wait. I feel sick looking at them, monsters of my own creation. For the first time, I have turned them loose, and look what they've done.

Paul is covered in blood. His body is a patchwork of cuts and bruises, new ones being inflicted even as the old ones heal. His sleek black hair is matted and filthy. But his eyes are open, and he's looking at me.

Somehow, he's still beautiful.

"Shannon..." He whispers, his broken lips barely moving. "Please."

What have I done?

"Stop." I command, striding back toward them. When there is no immediate reaction, I scream it. "Stop!"

There is a moment when I'm not sure they will obey. They glare at me, unhappy at having their sport interrupted. I don't back down from their eyes. I have no reason to. There is nothing in the universe that can frighten me now.

Slowly, grumbling, they withdraw. Paul lays limp on the ground, his eyes slipping closed. I wait for the last of them to vanish into the darkness, and then I kneel at his side.

"Paul..."

I reach down, then hesitate. I have never touched anyone but Sean. I'm not sure if I should. I'm not sure if I can.

My fingertips brush his skin then. He's so cold. Taking a deep breath, I press my hand to his cheek. His flesh is smooth, damp with sweat and blood.

He opens his eyes again, looking up at me. I can't read the emotion in them. He must hate me now. That's good. I want him to hate me. I deserve it.

"Oh, Paul...I'm sorry..." Fresh tears are flowing down my face. "I'm so sorry."

I realize that he's crying too, and uselessly wipe at his tears with my fingers, smearing them into the blood.

"What have I done...what have I done..."

"I can never go back." he whispers, a shudder running through him. He's right. Willing or not, his flesh is tainted now.

I shake my head. "No. I'm sorry..."

His shaking increases and he puts both hands up over his face. Bending, shivering at how cold he is, I gather him into my arms. He remains limp, allowing me to hold him.

"I'm sorry, Paul. I didn't mean for this to happen." I rock him like a child. "But it's going to be okay. I'm going to take care of you. You're going to be my dark angel now."

~



High above them, I watch. A presence stirs the air behind me and I glance back. It's Adam, my warrior. He has long since abandoned his armor and flaming sword, but he is no less fearsome in black leather. Nodding his greeting, he moves around me to the edge of the building. He looks down for a moment, then back at me.

"Why?"

It's not a challenge, just a question. Adam's loyalty to me is without doubt, free will or no.

"It was time."

Again his gaze shifts downward.

"Time for what?" he asks, watching as Shannon comforts Paul.

If I don't answer, he won't ask again. But he needs to know.

"Time for things to change."

The End