Summary: Damien Mazoku, a sociopathic assassin is sent to kill Eethan Ange, the son of his employer's rival family. But what happens when he falls in love with the stoic boy? Angst, obviously. Rated R for graphic violence and sexual situations. SHOUNEN-AI.

Story Warnings: Shounen-ai, mental torture, graphic violence, angst, language, child abuse, talk of suicide and the perspective of someone with a distaste for people in general.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, casual talk of homicide/suicide, language.

Author's Notes: Koyuuno seems to has lost her mind. Which explains the whole talking in third-person thing. Why has Koyuuno lost her mind? Koyuuno is not sure, but it has lead her to post an original story. [Insert your deity here], help us all. Koyuuno started this story back in summer of 2002 and is just now rewriting it. Lazy much?

Koyuuno would also like to make note that the "Him" mentioned in beginning of this chapter is not [Insert your deity here]. It will become clear who "Him" is later in the story (or not to late if you're Loz-chan, Bre-chan, or very quick with those kinds of things). Koyuuno just capitalized it to distinguish from other hims.

Koyuuno will go beat herself with a frying pan to try and stop the Dobby-Talk (c).

You can read the story now.

No really, go ahead. But don't say Koyuuno didn't warn you.

~When Demon Meets Angel, Chapter One: The Assignment.~

I never did like the rain.

He loved it of course, one of his many wonderfully unique personality quirks. He'd run out onto my small balcony and wait for rain every time the radio predicted a storm. I'd always make fun of Him for it, but He'd just glare at me playfully and blow cigarette smoke into my face.

I can hear the rain drumming against the top of the ambulance, but I'm really not concerned about it at the moment. The earth could spiral into the sun and I don't think I'd notice. All I care about right now is Him. Nothing else.

It's funny; they say your life flashes in front of your eyes right before you die. Well, I wouldn't know about that... but it sure as hell applies for when the person you love is dying and there's nothing you can do to save them.

I'd actually laugh if I wasn't so caught up in my grief. It's rather amazing how much I've changed. How much I've wanted to change for Him. Fat lot of good that did. If I'd never accepted this damn assignment... None of this would have happened. What am I saying? If I hadn't have accepted, someone else would have and He would have died anyway.

First chance I get, I'm going to torture and kill both Mortimer and his bastard son. I promised Him I'd never kill again, but it looks like I'm going to have to make this one exception. Yes, I'm going to truly enjoy watching them bleed in return for the suffering He's going through right now.

~*~

"Eethan Asmodeous Ange the Second. Goes by the nickname Shiruva." A manilla folder, bound by a thick rubber band sailed through the air for a second before landing on the polished conference table with a smack and slidding in front of me. I stopped playing with my locket and looked up at Mortimer's serious face. A short staring contest ensued before I finally took my feet off the table and picked up the folder.

"None of your mind games this time, Damien. Just kill him, A.S.A.P." I smirked as I removed the rubber band and flipped through pages inside the file. It contained the average information: name, biography, residence and two colorless photos. The kid wasn't bad looking, not bad looking at all. Little bit on the gothic side, not to mention a smoker. Both pictures were taken of him inside his skyscraper apartment, sitting by a large bay window and staring at nothing in particular. Brood much?

"This is a personal case, so make sure it's clean and can't be traced back to me." I looked up at my middle-aged boss, grey hairs and all. "Personal case?" I parroted leaning forward on the table and resting my head in my palm. Mortimer opened his mouth to speak but at that moment, his assistant from the less-shady side of his business walked into the room.

Really, I found her attractive, but not at all extraordinary. Though I suppose that's not saying much because I find absolutely no one extraordinary. She had mousy-brown hair pulled up in a perfect bun at the base of her neck, wisps of hair falling down and mixing with her bangs. Large brown eyes were hidden behind half-moon spectacles. Her hair somehow managed to match her suit and shoes, though I think a darker brown would have really brought out her eyes. She was so pale, I often wondered if she belonged in an old black-and-white movie.

"Sir, here are the notes from the conference call with Intetron." She deposited a small stack of papers on the table and bowed. Mortimer must have ordered those notes earlier or the girl would have been killed for walking in without warning. Literally, of course.

She cast me a wary glance, probably wondering what the hell someone dressed in a black trench coat and combat boots was doing talking to the president and CEO of one of the biggest stock-exchange companies so casually.

"Thank you Mira. That will be all." One more look at me and a quick, nervous nod before she scurried out of the room. I don't think I'll ever stop associating her with a gerbil. Mortimer turned his dark eyes to me. "Do you accept?" He was referring to the job. I glanced back down at the pictures of the boy and hesitated for the first time in my life before nodding slowly to Mortimer.

I spent the next few days tapping Eethan's phones, bugging his apartment and familiarizing myself with his routines. Over this span of time I became increasingly curious as to why Mortimer wanted the kid dead, anyway. He rarely went out, except to his job at a tiny little coffee shop around the corner. He was quiet and only socialized with a guy named Iri Naoshi.

Sure, he was the son of a well-known gang-lord, but he'd been expelled from the family years ago. Mortimer wasn't really the type to hold grudges. Well, I take that back, he does run a company full of assassins used to kill off his enemies.

It was late one Tuesday evening that the first major event occurred. I was on the rooftop apartment across the street that I'd been using to spy on Eethan, trying to fix the sound quality of the taps when something caught my eye. I moved to the telescope I'd set up and saw that Eethan was awake. He seemed more than a bit shaken and clutching desperately at his chest. I watched in strange fascination as he went to the bedside table and pulled out about seven prescription pill bottles, took various amounts of medication from each before lighting up a cigarette and calling Iri.

I watched him until he'd gone back to bed and then went to research his file. Very little information was provided in said file -- nothing I didn't already know.

He was the only son of Eethan Asmodeous Ange senior. His mother had died in childbirth and his father had remarried to a woman named Marianna, coincidentally one of the maids who'd been hired to take care of baby Eethan.

When he was thirteen he'd been committed to a "Rest Hospital" a.k.a., nut house. The reason why was unknown, but he'd spent three years in that place off and on before he was let out officially. Afterward, his father set him up with an apartment far away from the family house and he was legally emancipated from his father and step-mother. Since then, Eethan senior had remarried for a third time to a woman named Candy who had given birth to Eethan the third, new heir to the Ange family fortune.

Well that was boring. Might have been intriguing to most, but keep in mind that at the time I killed people for a living, therefore it took quite a lot to surprise me. Eethan seemed normal -- boring enough, so why was Mortimer after him? Better yet, why the hell did I care? I shook my head and searched for something to eat.

My ex-partner, Jason used to say that being too curious was exactly what had gotten our victims into the situation they were in. You get killed for asking the wrong people the right questions. Jason had always been a little morbid, but it wasn't curiosity that had been his undoing.

It was a girl named Chelsie. One of his targets. He'd fallen for her, hard, and when he told her he was an assassin sent to kill her, she shot him in the head. Cold-hearted bitch. I'd taken up where Jason left off and poisoned her. The papers assumed she'd lost her mind, killed her boyfriend and then herself.

That was the first time I felt much of anything. I'd been depressed for a couple of weeks after that, and hadn't even come up with new characters to play when going on a mission. Mortimer locked me up in the basement of his country house until I stopped showing emotion. It was a weakness, after all. I'd been careful after that. I let my characters -- my other personalities -- make friends. But never myself. Mortimer allowed this, he assumed it was my sadistic way of playing with my victim's minds.

I never protested of course, because at the time I thought he was right.

The next night Eethan's friend Iri came to visit him and I listened to their conversation from the safety of my room.

"I'm so bored I feel like cutting my wrists just to make sure I'm still alive." Eethan had a nice voice, if not a little girly.

"Don't even joke about that, Shiruva." Iri had a more masculine voice, that had he not been so serious, would have sounded a bit on the immature side. I made a mental note that close friends called Eethan by his nickname and continued my eavesdropping.

"Take me out clubbing, Iri." There was the sound of choking and I could see through the telescope that Iri had nearly spit out his beer all over the plush white carpet. Nearly. Shiruva didn't even flinch, in fact he barely moved.

Once Iri'd gotten control over himself he glared at Shiruva. "Are you insane?" It was a rhetorical question, but Shiruva answered anyway.

"Yes, I believe I am."

Iri intensified his glare. "Last time we went out you were nearly killed!" Shiruva didn't even blink an eyelash as Iri leapt to his feet and began pacing the room.

"Nearly," was Shiruva's only reply as he picked up his glass of wine from the coffee table and took a sip. Deja vu.

Iri looked beyond pissed. "Shiruva, I'm getting sick and tired of your self-hatred bullshit! People care about you--"

He never did get a chance to finish his sentence. Shiruva threw his wineglass into the fire. It caused a small explosion that made Iri jump. "People do not care about me, Iri. In case you've forgotten. That bastard Eethan didn't, the people at social services didn't, and that bitch Marianna sure as fuck didn't!"

Marianna? Eethan senior's second wife? What did she have to do with all of this? Iri frowned and pulled Shiruva into his arms, hugging him like one would their little brother. "I care about you, Shiruva."

Shiruva laughed bitterly and buried his face against Iri's t-shirt. "I don't understand why, but go ahead." He sounded more than a little shaken.

Shiruva calmed down significantly and went to bed a few hours later. Iri slept on the couch rather than return to his own apartment and just as I was dozing off at around four in the morning, Shiruva woke looking like he were about to throw up.

Which he did, in the bathroom toilet, several times.

Iri woke of course and helped Shiruva get cleaned up. They were just getting back to bed when the argument about Shiruva going clubbing with Iri arose yet again. They fought back and forth for a few minutes before Iri caved under the condition that Shiruva promise to not get killed.

"I promise, I promise." Shiruva muttered, stretching and heading back to bed. Iri sighed and dropped back down onto the couch, muttering about what a pain in the ass Shiruva was.

"I heard that!" For the first time, I saw Shiruva smile before dropping off into a mostly peaceful sleep. I called Mortimer's answering service and explained I wouldn't be able to make it to the meeting at his office the next night.

I'd be busy clubbing, of course.

(End of Chapter One)

*Hides under her desk* Reviews and flames welcomed as usual. Flames will be used to keep Koyuuno toasty warm, as it is well into fall and very chilly in the house.