— — ONE SHOT — —
There are many ways for people to die. But there are many more ways for them to live.
They can treat each other with kindness.
They can show other’s sympathy.
They can hurt themselves.
They can be cruel.
All of that, every decision a person decides to make, has an impact on if they become an angel or a demon. Michael remembers the last moments of his death vividly, the bright headlights of a car hurtling toward him, a drunk driver behind the wheel. He remembers the feeling of cool rain on his skin and the pain of skidding across the pavement as his vision slowly faded to black.
He’d woken up before the two guardians and, after seeing his own life play out before him, been chosen as an angel. And at first, everything had been fine. He made friends, he discussed random interests, he enjoyed his time as he settled into the new routine.
Of course in his time there he’d heard of the war between the demons and angels. When he’d been asked to fight them, he hadn’t hesitated to agree, to protect this gorgeous place that had begun to feel like home.
The decision now felt slightly like a mistake. He wasn’t sure if he was capable of dying again and he really didn’t want to find out now.
“Does everyone understand the plan?” Ranboo asked, wings twitching back nervously as he tried to put up a cool facade for the small squad he was leading. Michael nodded alongside the other fifteen or so angels, too tense to crack a normal joke that’d break the rising tension. I shouldn’t have agreed to this.
“Then we go at Techno’s signal.”
They never got the chance to wait for the signal.
A demon had managed to slip through the front line and in a flash of black and red was tackling Ranboo to the ground, long tufted tail lashing furiously as the two rolled around on the dirt. Wha-
“Ranboo!” Conner gasped, lurching forward before falling immediately back as a dagger almost clipped his pearly white flight feathers as a small formation of demons broke through and charged them, following the first attacker’s lead. There was a burly green haired man, eyes flashing dangerously followed by a brunette with shaded eyes, arm still outstretched in a throwing position, and a ravenette with fire flaring out around him defensively.
Michael heard Ranboo yelp as the blonde efficiently pinned him to the floor, seated on top of him as his own dagger materialized in his free hand. There was the briefest space of hesitation that he wasn’t sure if he was imagining if not. He moved without thinking, throwing himself at the demon, shoulder ramming into their side and sending the two tumbling away from the others. “Don’t touch him!”
Slitted green eyes flashed angrily at him as the blonde quickly recovered, rolling away as he summoned a spear, a frustrated hiss escaping his mouth at the interruption. “Don’t interrupt.”
Michael took a couple of skipping steps back, using his wings to lengthen the distance between him and the demon. His ears flattened in displeasure as he studied him, poisonous green gaze sending something curling in the bottom of his stomach. Overall the demon looked to be his age, meaning he’d died in his early twenties but he was taller than Michael, giving him the advantage. I have to keep my distance.
“Got a problem with it?” He lunged forward, stabbing his spear in the other’s direction before quickly bringing it back toward him and spinning it to deflect the dagger, feeling it nick his arm.
“Would you rather it be you?”
He gritted his teeth, spreading his wings and boosting himself into the air as he circled around the demon, looking for an opening.
“Dream!” The brunette from earlier ordered, drawing the blonde’s attention. “Bad is calling us to fall back!”
Dream’s gaze flickered once more up to him, more in the direction of his wings than anything else before spinning around and sprinting back toward his retreating group at a speed Michael had never seen anybody reach.
The next time they met, Michael was more informed, having begged Punz, their main war tactician, for something that could give them the advantage. The angel had been reluctant to reveal anything but after a nudge from the leading general, Technoblade, he’d given in. He’d gathered Ranboo and Connor together one night to share what he’d learned.
They’d actually been fighting one of the demon’s elite strike teams. The blonde who’d made the first move, Dream, had arrived the same time as the brunette who’d called the retreat, George. If they wanted any shot of disrupting their formation, they’d need to separate George from the others, as he was the ordained leader, though he wasn’t the strongest.
The ravenette and green haired demons were more well known among the angel rankings, having both been ferocious fighters and strongwilled ever since their death had occurred. The ravenette, Sapnap, had been killed in a house fire and had taken some of that fire with him, infusing him with a fiery power of his own that made him a dangerous opponent. The other, Sam, apparently hadn’t even blinked at his life story before he was walking toward the demon’s side with a snort.
Unfortunately Michael was more interested in Dream and George and was therefore still mostly at a loss when their two squads clashed again. Dream was the one who struck first again, his speed getting him through without almost any effort as he shoved all his weight down into the two daggers he was holding, pushing against Michael’s spear with practiced ease.
He’s targeting me. He huffed as he ducked underneath a wide slash and jabbed his own weapon forward, which was smoothly evaded. “Funny meeting you here again.”
He didn’t get an answer to his disappointment but it gave him time to think of if he recognized the blonde before him as they landed blow upon blow on each other, both barely dancing out of reach only to immediately lunge forward in the hopes of landing a strike. He isn’t from my previous life. But there was something erratic about his movements that felt familiar to Michael.
At one point he’d stumbled over somebody, and had flung his wings out for balance. He’d realized his mistake instantly as Dream’s blade arched toward the precious pearly white limb and had flinched hard, squeezing his eyes shut. An angel losing their wings was like death all over again.
The hit never landed. His instincts were the only thing that saved him from Sam’s long knife and his entire rhythm felt thrown off when he spotted Dream’s green eyes narrowed at him over the other demon’s shoulder before he focused his attention on his new opponent Ranboo, who Sam must’ve been fighting with previously.
“Technoblade is calling the retreat!” Connor cried, leaping into the air and landing a hard kick on Sapnap, freeing himself to glide away from the battlefield. Michael quickly followed suit, beating his wings to lift him up into the air as he fended off Sam’s precise deadly movements. One slash managed to scratch his leg before he was safely out of reach. Ranboo was up and flying moments later, taking his hand and tugging him away to wear Punz and Technoblade were waiting.
Michael couldn’t help but glance back at the figure of the blonde demon that was quickly growing to be a speck in the distance as the others regrouped around him, George flinging his arms around Dream’s shoulder in a show of success. Why did he stop?
He’d asked Punz for any footage he had on the team he’d found himself fighting with more and more often. He, Connor, and Ranboo had all survived but several of their comrades had fallen. They were three of the five angels from the original strike squad. He couldn’t imagine himself losing his other two friends.
Now, sitting alone in a dark room as the film rolled on, his thoughts roamed untamed as brief snippets of fights with Dream’s team played. He’s fast. More so than a normal demon or angel. It must have something to do with his past life then.
Again, his movement, while undeniably fluid and practiced, always seemed slightly different depending on the opponent, jerking slightly when it appeared a blow could’ve landed.
It switched toward the scene when he’d first met the demon and he sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He wasn’t getting anywhere.
Another sharp movement caught his attention and he frowned as he saw his past self retaliate by launching himself into the air. Michael’s eyes widened when he spotted what he’d missed earlier.
Dream was tracking his wings more than his actual person. Each seemingly pointless extra movement was to ensure the dagger never touched a feather on his opponent’s wings. Why would a demon care about the angel’s wing code?
The question made his decision for him. The next time he saw Dream in battle he’d force him to answer.
“And here I was beginning to miss you!” He spun away from Dream’s attempt to trip him with his tail, parrying the dagger with his spear.
The blonde snorted, what appeared to be a flicker of amusement flashing across his venomous gaze before replying with his own retort. “I didn’t realize you were so excited to die again.”
Michael smirked to himself, that had been a good one. He’d have to figure out how to use that for one of his own jokes.
“If you want me dead, why didn’t you cut off my wings?”
The blonde visibly stumbled, a mixture of shock and horror visible across his expression. Michael used the moment to his advantage, propelling himself forward and crashing into the demon, forcing him to the floor.
“That’s sacrilege.” His answer was hushed in disbelief, not even trying to fight back as his emotions froze his body.
“We’re your enemy.” Michael frowned. “Why should you care?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Dream sounded so appalled that the angel found himself believing that the demon wasn’t acting. “Who’d willingly harm an angel’s wings?”
He didn’t know when he began looking forward to his little spar matches with Dream, probably some time after he’d digested the blonde’s answer about angel wings. But when he was with the demon it was like they weren’t actually in a war zone but two rivals hanging out and taunting each other like what Punz and Technoblade were.
He didn’t remember when he started sneaking out to see him either. But those were little details, unimportant as long as they weren’t caught. Tonight he wouldn’t be deterred from his mission. He had to know. Why is Dream a demon?
Michael took four days off duty to digest what he’d been told because he couldn’t keep it locked up inside and he didn’t need the others worrying about him.
Dream’s book hadn’t even needed to play because he’d killed someone. He’d killed someone and it had determined his fate as a demon the moment they stopped breathing. He’d been stuck in an abusive relationship for five and a half years. It explained why his speed was so intense. He’d always been running from somebody he couldn’t escape.
Despite that, it had been something else Dream had said that had Michael spiraling like he was. He’d killed himself after because his guilt, the drastic change that he didn’t know how to deal with, had consumed him. They’d arrived practically one after another, both being chosen as a demon without even a glance at their book.
Dream was still stuck with his abusive boyfriend. He hadn’t given Michael a name. But something as, forcing him to reassess every scenario he’d seen the two together in. Because he still remembered what Punz had said when he first started researching who he considered to be his enemy.
Dream and George had arrived at the same time.
A tiny part in the back of his head whispered jealously, I can be a better boyfriend than him.
Sam had killed Ranboo.
Sam had killed Ranboo.
Despair threatened to overwhelm him as he took in the scene before him, ripping his spear out of a nameless demon. Sam was wiping his dagger against his pants with a completely blank expression, staring directly at Technoblade, who had frozen in the act of moving to save the younger angel.
Connor was a good distance away, still fighting back to back with Punz against Sapnap, though he kept trying to catch a glimpse of what had happened that had caused the most intense area of fighting to come to a complete stop. He’d long lost sight of Dream or George.
Techno lunged forward with a feral cry ripping out of his throat.
Sam was dead. He deserved it.
Punz was dead. He wished he wasn’t.
Sapnap was dead. He didn’t care.
Michael forced himself to continue fighting. He’d have to mourn later.
The battle was at a stand still once again, though this time for a vastly different reason. Dream was standing firmly in front of Connor, protecting him from George’s blade.
“Enough.” He demanded, though the tone bordered on the edge of a plea, pushing the brunette back a couple steps. The blonde glanced over his shoulder to a demon that loomed taller than most, white eyes watching with veiled intrigue, as if seeking permission. That must be Badboyhalo.
His tail swished nervously between his legs as Technoblade also put his full attention on the demon, red eyes narrowed with distrust. Still he continued with his point. “This isn’t doing anything. We’ve been fighting for centuries and haven’t gotten anywhere! Does anybody even remember why we’re fighting!?”
Pride swelled up in Michael’s chest as he dematerialized his spear and began slowly making his way over to the blonde demon.
“Can’t we just talk this out?” Dream asked hesitantly, shrinking into himself when everyone continued to gaze at him in silence. As he grew closer he could read the clear threat George was radiating, making it clear that shoving him would lead to punishment. Michael wouldn’t stand for that.
If Dream thought this would work then he’d side with him. If this would get Dream away from George, he’d do absolutely anything. He reached the demon’s side and unfurled his white wings, gently wrapping one around Dream’s shoulder. He startled slightly before relaxing when he recognized Michael, poison apple eyes begging for support. He offered a shallow nod and slowly took his hand, a faint thrill running through him when Dream didn’t move away from it.
He looked up to gaze first to Connor then to Technoblade then to Badboyhalo and then to George, who looked a second away from exploding. I wish he would.
“I think we should give it a try.”
