this is a really short chapter all this considered but its mostly dialog so it felt longer while writing it... we have some Good interactions tho.

gimme your predictions friendos what do yall think we're got planned for the End

also speaking of which i just wanna take one second and tell ya that like... this fic is such a big deal for me, like its one of the longest things ive ever worked on and is definitely the longest thing ive ever posted, and it means the world to me that people enjoy it (whether you've been here from chapter one like, almost three years ago now or you just got into it and binge read the whole thing).
thank you all so much for leaving reviews and sticking with me.

also yeah i mentioned this on my tumblr but i dislocated my knee and hooooly shit. i forgot how much accidentally dislocating things hurts. funfact tho i can purposefully dislocate my shoulder and pop it back in w/o any pain bc my arms Fucked

anyways enough of that, happy early halloween, stay safe and kiss your local witch (or leave them a nice review :3c )

Eden is beautiful, you'll admit, but watching your best friend decapitate a dark version of himself does subtract from the ambiance.

And by subtract you obviously mean "forces you to question what the fuck you're doing with your life". The Watcher has its arms draped across your shoulders as you do so seeming to be asking itself the same. Its still angry, but not aggressively so. The touchy-feelyness seems to be a by-product of Azrael getting up close and personal. The Watcher and War are both like that, although you doubt they'd appreciate the comparison.

You glance over at Azrael, watching him spectate the fight with avid attention. He's seems to be… weary of the Horseman, but not excessively so. Not like the Chosen, or other demons capable of speech. They seem to switch between being openly terrified and overcompensating by being too cocky. War is always amused by people thinking they can kill him.

You, not so much.

The Watcher actually winces when War strikes the killing blow, its hands curling defensively.

"Are you okay?" You ask quietly. Not loud enough for Azreal to hear, at least.

"I'm fine, glitch." It snaps. It seems to notice its position after a moment, and purposefully relaxes.

You roll your eyes. "Hey, listen," You glance over at the annoying sprite, trying to keep a neutral expression.

It doesn't seem to impressed by your efforts. "If you're going to say some mushy human thing, I'd like to preemptively ask you to shut up."

"Mushy human things are my specialty." You say, mock offended. "And i wasn't. I just wanted to say… I'm trying to figure something out." Some way it can survive along with you and War, and it can become… its own person. Its own being. Not just a pawn for the Council. The Watcher is infuriating and terrible on a good day, but trying to imagine your future with War without Shadow makes you feel… wrong. Like something is displaced.

You roll your shoulder, trying to get used to the lack of pain. It's weird.

The Watcher gradually tenses up again the further War is from your little group, but you don't pay it much mind until Azrael asks, "Do you not feel safe without the Horseman?"

"Fu-"

"We like to be all together." You interrupt its no doubt rude commentary. It bumps its head against yours in response. You're not sure if that's meant to be a warning or an affectionate thing, but it doesn't hurt you, so whatever.

Azrael's expression doesn't change but his wings shift, forming a closer circle around himself. "I see. Do you all three…?"

You bring a hand up to your mouth to muffle the laughter while the Watcher hisses in your ear. "Excuse me, you winged rat?"

Azrael breaks his calm and poised persona for a split second to roll his eyes. "No offense was intended, darkling."

You hum in acknowledgement but don't involve yourself again. If Azrael wants to start a fight with the Watcher he's certainly picked a good place to start. You slip off your backpack (and the Watcher, but it latches back on the moment you stop moving so much), They continue to bicker on and off while you sift through your possessions and take a few photos of Eden. And selfies with a sour looking Watcher. And Azrael, who looks awfully confused when you tell him to smile.

Is it wrong that you sorta wanna pinch his cheeks?

Probably.

Probably a little weird in general too. You'll have time to dissect that particular thought later.

The Watcher sticks close to you the whole time War is gone, alternating between forcing itself between you and the angel and doing the exact opposite. You're seen it do the latter with War, using him as a meatshield, but it trying to protect you is new.

Maybe its taken your words to heart?

You're aware that's probably wishful thinking at best, but it is… a nice thought.

Its argument with the angel dies down as you pull out your notebook, idly trying to figure out how to change the future. Your notebook is a mess only you could possibly understand, and purposefully so. It watches you trace the code in a new color in curiously, probably trying to sort through the messy timeline you laid out.

The pages are dirt and blood stained now, either from the times you shove dirty clothes in with it or from your own fingers (its really difficult staying clean in a post apocalyptic wasteland), and you make a face whenever they stick together.

The Watcher remains silent as you go through what's already happened and what you want to happen. Your scribblings include a lot more question marks than you'd like.

"This is…"

"My game plan, basically." You answer quietly. Azrael is still right there, after all, and you're not emotionally prepped for another round of 'angelic judgment'. Maybe after a nap. Or three, more like. You're very tired.

But not quite tired enough to fall asleep without War nearby. No thank you.

Shadow floats over your shoulder as you finish up revising your playbook (and if it were anyone but the being that's been watching you for the last couple... weeks? Months? Time is hard to keep track of when you're getting next to no sleep and traveling around with a Horseman. Point is, if it weren't the Watcher, you'd probably be freaked out by the close contact and lack of privacy.)

You bide the rest of the time by playing tic-tac-toe with the Watcher. Its a terrible sport and hisses when you win. You wonder how such a thing could possibly inspire any kind of affection, but find yourself smiling anyway.

"You're such a whiney baby," You tell it, snorting as you watch it angrily scribble out the most recent game.

It narrows four of its eyes, and somehow that's more intimidating than when it does all six. "Shut up." It snaps, making another three by three.

You win the next game again, but then it wins, and then you tie. It seems equally pleased by a win as it does a tie so you think its objective isn't to win but to make you lose. Interesting, but still very rude.

You hear War's approach before you see him, and his calm, rhythmic footsteps (foot stomps?) are very deceiving.

Because he's a fuckin mess.

A very angry and surprisingly pretty mess.

You wonder not for the first time how the hell he manages to pull that off. You certainly can't.

"Can you stop looking at him like that for thirty seconds?" The Watcher says irritably.

"In my defense-"

"Well?" Watcher cuts you off, practically using your shoulder as a launch pad to throw itself as War. Which, you know is unnecessary given that it swims through the air. Ass.

War's grimace is truly impressive. "Abaddon is the Destroyer."

You try your best to look sympathetic when Azrael flinches.

"The Archangel?" Even Watcher sounds disbelieving.

"He was betrayed. Only a pawn in some greater game." War looks over to you as if you should have something to add to that. You shrug.

"You must bring him peace." Azrael says, somehow making it sound more like a request than an order, despite the wording.

"Peace?" It makes it sound like a curse word. "He's the Destroyer! I'm pretty sure peace is off the table."

Azrael is surprisingly good at ignoring the Watcher for someone who's only known it for like. Two hours. "Did you find any clues among the visions? Any way to stop-" He hesitates, looking pained, "him?"

You decide to cut to the chase, "We need the Armageddon Blade. War already has the hilt."

The angel makes a face that you can't discern the meaning of. "I fear its lost to us. It was destroyed, upon the very anvil of its creation."

You tried to skip this. You did such a good job of being direct and this motherfucker…You try not to look as annoyed as you are as you make your way over to War, grabbing at his shoulder armor.

The Horseman barely glances at you before seeming to make up his mind, his mouth curling back into a snarl as he says, "The Tree would not have given me the vision were it not possible, Angel of Death."

"What else did you see?" Watcher asks, clasping its hands in front of itself. You think that might just be excitement, which is… weird. Usually the only thing that gets it excited is good ole fashioned murder.

"Abaddon guards the Seventh Seal. He plots with others to storm the White Gates. Uriel will lead the Hellguard against them and fail." War's eyebrows pull together, his bright eyes coming to rest on you.

"I have a plan, just trust me." You say carefully. To assure him that you know the rest of the vision and that he's right in keeping it secret, without telling the other two is harder than it seems.

"And?" It says, trying to draw back attention.

"I saw nothing else." War responds definitively.

You look to Azrael, making a 'go on' gesture with your free hand. While he does his portal nonsense, you turn back to War and ask, "You did get the treasure right?"

"Of course." He answers immediately. Only to follow up with, "What would you do I didn't?"

"Don't get saucey. Watcher might not be able to travel Eden but I'm a human. I totally could drag you back there to get that sweet loot." You threaten despite the smile on your face.

"You could." He agrees. "Why didn't you visit the Tree?"

Your claws curl at the thought, making a strange scratchy noise against War's armor. "I'm… I'm okay with not knowing some things. And… I don't know, what would it show me? The future that'll come to pass if I fuck up? My past, the family that I lost? I don't… want to see that. I want to be here, with you."

War has the strangest look on his face, one that not even you can decipher. It's… soft, somehow.

You could do it. Bets with obnoxious brothers be damned, you could take initiative and kiss him right now, and how amazing would it be? Here, in Eden? With War looking at you like this, like… even though you just discussed the treasure hidden in Eden it pales in comparison to yourself.

You could do it.

And then The Watcher is yelling at you two to get a move on, and the rather fragile atmosphere is broken.

What a dick.

You pull away with a glare for the Watcher. "Shut it. Five minutes of small talk ain't gonna kill you or the angel."

It looks like it wants to strangle you, but it doesn't make any moves to do so. You lead the way to the portal and only feel the slightest bit sick when you're thrown into the serpent tunnel. And by a little, you obviously mean A Lot but Fate keeps you upright. You give the halberd a fond peck just above where your hand lays. What a wonderful weapon. You would be lost without it for sure.

War's laughter alerts you to the fact that he saw that, but your can't scrounge up much more than mild embarrassment.

"I'm tired." You say by way of explanation.

He lifts a brow, a clear invitation.

You purse your lips. "Fine," You relent, holding your arms out. "Fucking horsemen and their immortality and lack of sleep."

"We can sleep." He protests.

"I know. Strife and I took naps together all the time. But you don't."

He makes a grumbly noise. "When we're done with this we can take a nap."

"I'm swooning." You deadpan, laying your head against his chest nonetheless. "Hey. Also, before I fall asleep, I just wanted to… assure you that we've got this, I guess. And ask that you trust me. I'm gonna make a request that you won't like much and if you hesitate, I think it'll kill me."

You can't imagine your chain will take kindly to you ordering War to destroy it, nor can you imagine War being anxious to swing a sword that'll probably end up bigger than you are directly at your unprotected abdomen.

But to hell with being the Council's.

You shift closer to War, and you know its silly for cuddling to feel rebellious but isn't it? A minor rebellion, sure, but one that makes you feel better. There's something very human about it. Makes you feel less like you're totally out of your depth.

Your eyes drift closed. "When we get back on Earth I expect a fuckin bed by the way." You say lazily.

"Is that different than a regular bed?"

It takes a moment for that to register. You pause, making several vague hand gestures before you settle on, "...Good question. Better question: did War just make a joke?"

He snorts. "Go to sleep."

"Evading the question won't make it go away." You say.

He doesn't reply, but that's per usual. You fall asleep within a matter of minutes.

You wake up, not in a bed, but leaning against War while the Watcher apparently guards the door. You watch it flit between the doorway and the long since broken window with an anxious energy. Either your eyes are still blurry with sleep or its lower wings are vibrating.

You blink a few times, confirming that it is, in fact worriedly trembling.

Huh.

"Watcher?" You ask quietly.

The poor thing whips around so fast you get whiplash. War only shifts a bit, glowy eyes opening to glare at the both of you. Not sleeping, but clearly resting. You nudge him with you elbow and he relaxes again. Maybe just talking about sleeping made him tired?

Watcher is still fluttering when you turn your attention back to it. It drums its fingers against its clavicle (or whatever it has. You don't claim to have a comprehensive knowledge of the Council's favorite servants' bone structure).

It motions towards your backpack and halberd, both of which you grab. "Something on your mind, Shadow?" You hum, getting a quick meal prepped. By that, you obviously mean scrapping together something that sort of resembles a balanced meal from what you have left.

You'll either have to wrap this up soon or make a few deals with Vulgrim and pray.

"Glitch…" The Watcher settles down next to you, and you're only half distracted by the fact you don't think you've ever seen it sit down. Most of your mental facilities are being used to enjoy the last fuckin chocolate chip granola bar you have. Who knew something so basic could make your mouth water? You hope humanity gets their hands on the recipe again quickly after the revival.

A bony hand reaches out to steal the last bit of your granola, and it says your name, not Glitch or dog or any mild insult, but your actual name, and it sounds sick with worry. "Listen, I… Are we going to make it out of here?"

You choke on whatever insult you were going to spit out at it for stealing your breakfast. "What?"

It huffs, managing to still look annoyed despite the trembling. "You heard me. Are we going to make it to the end of this quest? For someone who seems to value freewill so much you have a plan for us, don't you?"

You bite your lip. "I have multiple plans depending on the decisions you and War make, actually. Why do you… Why are you worried?"

It glances over at your journal like the thing has held it at gunpoint (you blandly remember it making some snarky comment about its siblings choice in stationary and your letters to Death). "The Council implied that for War this is a… make or break thing and that they were hoping it was a break. I… I'm loyal. That's why I was chosen for this, watching the do- over War. But you, they said you will decide my fate. They have more faith in their ability to control you."

You move a hand to your waist, feeling the scar tissue.

"But you love him. You won't let him break, will you?" That question has a surprising lack of derision. It says it more like a fact; you will not allow War to break.

"I won't. I can't… speak about it, but I care about you too, you annoying son of a bitch. If there's a way for all of us to make it out of here alive and free, I'll do my damndest to find it." You promise with harsh finality.

It flinches when you mention freedom, but otherwise seems comforted. "I still don't care if you live or die." It says, turning back to the window.

You laugh so hard you snort. "Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart."