Title Bloody Mary

Rating PG-13

Warning/s Violence and some swearing

Category DNAngel, pre story arc

Pairing/s /

Summary On Satoshi'sfourteenth birthday, it's not his reflection he sees in the mirror any more.

Author's Note For Mist's sweet sixteenth! c: Your Krad puts me to shame, let's hope I did him justice, eh? I hope we keep roleplaying for many years to come :D and you know this won't be a nice fluffy fic. You and I do not do fluffy stories XD

I loves you almost as much as Krad, but not quite as much o;

Bloody Mary, bloody Mary, bloody Mary- folk lord, say her name three times into a mirror at night, and she'll appear

Disclaimer I do not own DNAngel

Krad did something so epic, so amazingly out of character, that it was basically complete and utter failure- Mist, The Laws of Chaos

He's been feeling ill for days now.

No- he wouldn't call it that. He's always been sick, since a young age, since the curse. Bad lungs, dizzy spells and chest pains frequently find him in hospital beds, attached to beeping monitors and being poked at by confused doctors.

Then about a month ago, he'd woken up, feeling something cold and heavy resting in his palm. A crucifix with missing rosary. And he'd truly wished to die, then and there. ". . it's my time, is it?"

After that day, he's typical symptoms have taken a turn for the worst. Satoshi's been suffering under spilling migraines, uncontrollable vomiting and pains like some crippled old man for the last week and two days. He's managed to scrape himself together and gone to school twice in that time.

It's Friday today, alarm saying he's missed the train in, and sunlight making his eyes water. No one's come to wake him up. No surprises there. Satoshi's willing to bet the mansion is empty at this hour. From above, birds scuttle across the tin roof, claws clicking.

Sitting up, and blinding fumbling for his glasses, Satoshi discovers the pain is bearable this morning. World hazy until he dons his second pair of eyes, the bluentte glances across to the mirror resting on his desk. He looks ghastly. Face the colour of off soup, azure eyes lacking in shine, and if he wasn't wearing a night shirt you could see his bones.

The crucifix lies innocently on his night stand.

Since he was four, Satoshi has known about the Hikari curse. How it kills off their blood line, the legend behind it, the people who he shares it, yet is no closer to why than his ancestors before him. Why did the curse poison them like this? Was it some malevolent smite from God, punishing Hikari for creating life- punishing Niwa for stealing?

If anything has been learnt from this, Satoshi is assured that there is no God- malevolent or not- for why would such a being create a monster with an angel's face?

The legend of Krad is just that- legendary. His hair and eye colour have ranged from white to amber gold over the centuries, but many of the past Hikari dairies that are scattered throughout the house depict him as an untouchable Adonis with pure white wings and cross tangled in his hair. The very cross he now carries around like a talisman.

Notes that scrawl over the dairies have tried to analyse Krad's erratic behaviour. Some are optimistic, saying he's simply misguided. A few argue he needs to be pushed down and not be let out. Many simply state it's easier to just give into his demands.

What Satoshi finds interesting about the dairies is the common thread he's discovered in the writing of each host body.

As much as Krad abuses my body to its breaking point, no matter how much he shamelessly slings our magic around until I pass out- each time he gives my body back to me he always reassures me with whispers that he loves me and that I'm everything to him.

To say it's puzzling is a gross understatement.

The Commander is sure Daisuke was never aware of Dark like he was to Krad- his family is simply kind like that- and always being surrounded by love, Dark naturally came out. It's not the complete truth that their other halves only awaken by the feelings of love. Equal strong emotions can do it as well.

Satoshi had been told by his step father Krad would awaken after he fell in love, so the Commander has simply deducted that the opposite must be done to prolong Krad's freedom. Delved into a world of hate to keep Krad away. He knew what would happen if Krad ever came out. By keeping everyone and everything at arms length, Satoshi was positive that he would never trip over the pedestrian hazard called love.

It was unfortunate as well as ironic that Daisuke would be the cause of everything.

But it wasn't really the obsession over Daisuke- over Dark because seriously he didn't even hide the fact his last name was Niwa, it didn't take a genius- but instead all that hate and rage, and pain that woke up Krad from his forty year slumber.

Satoshi stumbles into the local Church that Friday night, his condition gotten worse over the course of the day. He has no idea why the hell he's here, possibly being stuck in that mansion for a second longer would be the death of him. Anyway. Nobody in this city comes to Church anymore.

It feels like there is a rusty chain wrapped around his heart and lungs, squeezing, squeezing and making him feel feverishly hot all over.

The dead weight of the cross drags in his pocket.

He falls at last, fingers grabbing the silk cloth that's been spread over the alter. Flowers, the blood of Christ and the Holy Bible spill and crash to the ground. Oh hell, it hurts, it hurts, wine splashes over his still clenched fist and he flinches like it's burning fire. And there is a fire, erupting from the middle of his chest and shooting up, about to make his heart stutter out from the intensity of it. And oh shit it's happening, isn't it?

"Stay in there, stay in there you bastard. I won't let you out!" Satoshi wheezes, struggling to sit up, but his head throbs too hard to make it happen. His skin is patches of ghostly greens, blues, yellows, moonlight transforming the stain glass windows all around him into beautiful lights. The Holy Mother is smiling from a statue by the reading post. It makes him want to throw up.

Hatred, so sudden and swift, makes him choke.

. . .ari. . . Hikari?

Oh gods.

A voice, from deep inside him, calls out. And for a second. . . the male voice sounds confused, almost lost. And it hits Satoshi. Krad shouldn't have been born this way. Pulsing with hatred and malice and oh god this is all his fault. Krad is a monster, it's been past down from Hikari to Hikari- but what makes him a monster in the first place? Them. Being instructed to reject everything in the hopes Krad won't come and god it's gone all wrong, hasn't it? For centuries now.

Dark was born from love and warmth- Krad is-

White wings burst from under his skin, making him scream as blood whips off the soft feathers and hits the wooden pews and splashes off the stairs he's gasping on. Tears of clotted blood stream off the face of Mary, dripping off her chin and pattering on her praying hands. He wonders how many sacrilegious acts he's just committed.

He's too physically weak to will the wings back in. Surprising light for something resting up against his spine, Satoshi can feel the sting of cool air touching his ripped apart back, blooding dripping down his sides and legs. Hah. . Jesus, give him some nails now. He can't believe he still has enough sanity left to make wise cracks.

Groaning softly, Satoshi sits up, wings flapping softly to support himself. It is over?

No. . long blonde hair falls off his shoulder, and he stares numbly down at it. Something physically solid lies on his back, and Satoshi swivels to spot the crucifix buried in the ropes of his new hair. What the hell-

Is this my new body?

There's that voice again. Satoshi winces. It hurts his head. Something stirs in the back of his mind, like a mouse scuttling around. It notices him at last. You. . what are you doing in my body?

"Krad," Satoshi gasps, then is momentarily distracted by his reflection in the bronze sides of the alter. The man staring back, yellow eyes big and scared, looks like a marble carved angel. Is this him? The other him? The reflection shimmers, and the eyes get hard, angelic face lining and darkening like a demon.

Get. Out.

Krad speaks. From the reflection, and in his head. It seems that Krad is still too disorientated to take full control over him. Satoshi doesn't want to stick around to see how long that will last. Turning from the frightening reflection, Satoshi totters to his feet, feels his knees lock then he tumbles down the stairs, sliding in his own blood and the remains of the wine. He ends in a crumpled heap, wings bent awkwardly.

Krad cackles in his mind. How pathetic! Are you so weak, you can't even stand properly? How about I fix that. . . Satoshi, was it?

A sudden pulse of strength that hadn't been there a moment ago. "Ah!" crying out in alarm, Satoshi eyes close against the tide, fighting back with his own will. The struggle to remain dominate gets harder, and harder, his wings arching uselessly, white feathers flying every which way. His other half purrs at him.

You've always been alone, haven't you Satoshi? Unwanted and uncared for. If you let me- you won't ever have to feel those things again.

Satoshi is ashamed to admit that offer is very tempting.

But only for a second.

"G-go to hell," he manages to growl out, the internal fight makes blood and a pool of saliva leak out of his mouth as the pressure builds inside him. His ears will burst at this rate.

Come now, dear Satoshi. I've been waiting for you for such a long time, and this is the welcome I get? You mean so much to me, after all.

Krad's grip tightens on his subconscious. Panic flares inside Satoshi at the metaphysical actions, at the false words. "Nrrrgh!" Like chains are snaking around him, the commander fails on the ground, in his mind, finding every mind corridor to flee into penned off. Each harsh breath pulls in the taste of blood. His new hair is clotted with it.

He's fought his entire life, and suddenly it's been snatch from him in a five minutes brawl.

Even if you don't want me, I want you he snarls, triumphant and Satoshi is pushed. Pain vanishes as does his grip on the living world, and he's still looking out of his eyes, but it's not him.

He watches, as his body moves on its own accord, head swivelling on his neck. He catches sight of himself in shining surface of the glass covering a painting of the Annunciation. He smirks. "Happy Birthday, my dear Satoshi."

END