After everything, babysitting is still. . . A learning experience.

It had been a few weeks since the babysitting began, however Hester still struggled with the new routine. -When will I get good at this?- He thought as he picked berries occasionally turning back to see if Wilbur was still behind him, he was still grabbing at bugs that were in the grass. He would later need to collect water luckily his water basket and two jars had been dropped off on his doorstep full of water and, with a note—he didn't read it, but it laid unopened on his small table in his cabin. He didn't know how he was going to get water with the kid running around getting distracted at every little plant and bug.

The Angel didn't know how to function with the kid around every sound—good and bad had him on edge making him have sleepless night and early mornings, however it begun to make sense what the kid needed, what he was asking for let it be milk and a story, or a change of scenery making for lots of walks (and ways for Hester to do chores, like picking barries) after the first few times he learned the landscape around him making finding barries and water much easier—however he hadn't gone back to get water since he lost the fight he had with Alexander, not that he was afraid.

-It's that I can't find the time- He lied to himself, he stretched his wings—they still ached from him not using them in so long, his feet were sore from using them so much. He dropped to his knees to get one last remaining barry close to the ground.

Then stood up, he walked over to Wilbur who was covered in dirt from trying and failing to catch bugs that hopped out of his reach. He chuckled as he picked him up then sighed "Alright mate, we need to go and get water." Wilbur looked up at him with his honey brown eyes confused.

He took Wilbur in one of his arms and in the other was a basket of red barries. Wilbur could walk—well run technically but everytime he did he fell, so Hester continued to walk with him in his arms.

-Could I leave him alone?- Hester though, his idea was swiftly knocked away from the other thought of Wilbur somehow hurting himself for as much as he wanted to leave him, just incase something dangerous were to happen. -Like me almost losing my head again- He remembered humorlessly, he made it to the small clearing, Wilbur being left alone was a horrifying thought.

He opened the door with his foot kicking it gently then placing the basket with barries on the table, pointively avoiding the unopened letter, then getting his water basket, Wilbur babbled happily at the barries. Hester quickly fastened the basket to lay on his shoulder then walk out still holding Wilbur, he seemed confused at going in just to come back out he fussed a little as they walked Hester tiredly let Wilbur walk beside him occasionally stumbling he never fell though. Hester was always there to catch him.

They both made it to the small river, Wilbur picking yellow flowers on the way making a small bouquet. He heard the sound of boots against running water, groaning he walked out of the cool shade of the forest.

Alexander payed him no heed, didn't even comment as Hester crouched down filling his basket with cold water on the other side of the shallow river the two had fought on less then one weeks ago. Still, they both silently collected water, however the silence didn't last long, it never seemed to last long.

He didn't even know where Wilbur came from.

But he just had enough time to see him race up to Alexander, Wilbur proceeded to cling on to the man's leg as he confusingly looks at Hester's for his many questions. However keeping his mouth pointively shut as he looks at him, then looking at the very sharp sword Hester had around his hip, that he fidgeted with, he never had a chance to retrieve his dagger making him foced to use the heavy and uncomfortable sword instead.

He was going to kill him if he touched Wilbur.

And this time he wouldn't fail.

But then Alexander slowly puts both his hands up dropping his wooden bucket as he stares at Hester, and he stares back.

He knows he doesn't trust him.

The silence was the worst he had ever experienced like the start of a war about to break out, the soldiers waiting to receive the command.

The spanning slience continued as Alexander looks down at the kid clinging to his leg like a life line, he chuckles softly looking up at Hester who was now slowly walking to them, cautiously walking through the shallow river that barely went below his ankle, he bent down to Wilbur and calmly pick him up Wilbur didn't complain as he was wrapped closely to Hester as Alexander slowly puts his hands down.

The deafening silence was still there, making itself known as the river, birds and bugs swirl into a mute roar as Alexander swiftly walks away. He lets out a long sigh that he had been holding on to. "You shouldn't have done that, human's are dangerous." Hester said gently to the kid wrapped in his arms, clearing not understanding what he was saying but stayed quite nevertheless. He hears heavy boots again and turns to see Alexander carrying something, his dagger.

"You forgot this. . ." He says extending the dagger for him to take it.

Hester didn't say anything just took it silently, then examining it. It looked just the same as before if not maybe sharper, but no damage seemed to happen to it.

"Thank you. . ." He mumbles as Wilbur babbleds happily at this new person excited to see someone to play with, he fussed in his arms as he drops the weapon on the ground trying to stop the child from falling. Alexander takes notice of this but says nothing as to why he suddenly had a kid—or why he was so protective over this kid.

He simply walks away leaving the two behind, but fate (or Hester's big mouth) had other plans.

"Why didn't you kill me?"

He didn't even know where the question came from or that he had been thinking about it for so long, but as he asked if felt like a weight being lifted from his shoulder, just a little piece of reason he wanted to know about this strange person. He stopped walking turning around looking at him.

"Why didn't you kill me the first night, or-or the second when I attacked you, and now? You still haven't, why?"

He stared at him and calmly said.

"I do not like seeing good people die from their own recklessness."

He said bluntly stating it like common knowledge, a rule everyone knows to follow—if so, Hester definitely didn't follow it for the past something-odd-years of being surrounded by war.

He continued walking hooking the water buckets to his horse like last time and disappears into the shade of the forest only the soft sound of foot steps being heard however stop after he became too far away.

Hester couldn't help but feel he wasn't telling the whole truth. There has to be something more, right? His thoughts still swirled as he walked, not letting Wilbur out of his arms until they made it home no matter how much he fussed and pouted. He made some food and proceeded to tell a story on one of the many wars that the two Angels of Death were in. Wilbur went to bed quickly luckily missing all the parts that were graphic and full of gore.

Hester want to sleep not as soundly walking multiple times to foot steps, -stupid Shadows- he thought sleepy as he hears multiple step on leaves and twigs filling the peaceful night with sudden chill of hostility knowing their are close to his front door, his locked front door. However after the foot steps die out he rests comfortably as Wilbur sleeps on his chest breathing steadily and relaxed.

«»«»«»«»«»«»

. . .He hears the click of a lighter then smalls the unnoticeable sign of sulfur in the air he looks up to see black smoke rising like a dark cloud telling the world that there was no one left to speak of what happened there.

Other then him, of course.

His hands being staind a black soot colour from placing the flammable materials next to the camp.

He was fine with what he was doing. . .

Until he heard a scream.

He tentatively steps forward to see what was happening—only to get a hand on his shoulder tightly and a half hit to the back of his head, the boy yulps in the small pain he now feels.

"What are you doing, you're going to be seen if you go any farther in."

One of his cousin's angerly whispered to him like he was a child, he pulled away from her hand but it stayed stubbornly on with an iron-tight grip. She looked at him with something akin to disappointment on her face.

"Look, think of it this way." She said sounding annoyed

"They deserve this, they hurt people. We're the heros here." She said calmly as if this always happens, common knowledge to everyone.

Everyone except him.

He hears another scream however it gets surpassed by the sound of running feet and water being splashed on something then a hissing sound.

His cousin sighs, then mumbles under her breath.

"If you want something done right, I suppose you should go do it yourself."

She said bitterly then taking the long spear she had on her back charged head first into the smoke.

He stood there frozen to the ground as he heard the sound of clashing weapons, yelling and the occasional noise of cloth ripping. However one sound quickly rised above the others, a sicking laugh that filled the air, penetrating everything else, it seemed like every other noise became too quiet to even hear. Every animal leaving before the incident, the fire becoming a white noise compared to this high-pitched insane laughter.

And the worst part?

He knows that laughter.

Can put a name and face to it, in fact.

The crazed laughter of his older cousin continued as the fire became smaller and the smell almost losing the bitter taste it left in the air.

However it continues.

And continues—

—And continues. . .

«»«»«»«»«»«»

He opens his eyes ever-so slightly as he smells smoke around him, his hand drifts to his chest still feeling the small weight of Wilbur.

Exhaling he still smells smoke. -Gods that memory was vivid- thinking it must be his mind playing tricks on him, he slowly pushed himself up and carefully places Wilbur on the bed.

He knows he's being utter ridiculous but he unlocks his door to see what all the noise was or where the smoke was coming from.

He puts his hand on the door knob, it was cool showing no sign of being close to heat or flames before.

He turns it.

The door stays closed making a small click as if it was locked he turns it again same result, he trys flipping the lock instead, same result. He then smells not smoke but sulfur, and not just smells surlfer hears the flames too. He steps back from the door, crouching down he delusionally looks down at his fireplace, it pathetically stays coverd in ash with no sign of life. He then hears splitting wood, he turns and sees a bright light dancing behind the wood.

He hisses and puts a hand to cover the blinding light, as his head swims with questions, -what was happening? Am I dying? Did I die? Was this some sick result of something I did?- His eyes adjust instead of the light being white like it was originally, it forms into a yellow-orange hue.

Fire.

It encapsulates the entire wall making it unmovable and Hester unable to breath as logic gives way to full and complete fear he steps back as the flames near him playfully lick at his feet, quickly spreading under the floor boards, he coughs at the smoke that fills his lungs making him grip at his throat as he looks around for water—he finds a small bucket next to the fireplace and grabs it, he haphazardly trys to drown the flames—it made a small satisfying hiss but still stubbornly remains he moves over to Wilbur and wraps him in his arms the child remains asleep unaware of the commotion happing around the two of them—or already dead from the fumes.

The fire spreads like a plague slowly eating away at the furniture, Hester throws himself at the door desperately trying to make it open, but it stays unmoveing as he trys again and again.

The third attempt his shoulder aches as the adrenaline still hasn't kicked in from his brain still being mostly asleep. The fire creeping closer he does the only think he could think of. He screams, he yells for the help of any God or mortal that may listen—that may pity him.

His hopes go unanswered.

As the fire spreads he trys to grab his sword, it's leaning towards the wall of flames. He trys to grab it but by then it was too late, the sword pathetically falls to the blaze, desperately he puts his hand in it—his skin crawls with the sensation he trys and fails to bite back a scream of agony, as his whole hand becomes incredibly cold making it almost feeling numb however as he pulls his hand away the numbing fades.

He thought so many times he was close to death that he had felt the worst pain in the world that it was so bad he had to be at least close to death—but the ones before didn't come anywhere near, compared to the unfathomable pain he feels now, he yells as his hand becomes blackened and sickly looking almost like it's rotting, he feels the side of his eyes prickle with tears that do not fall.

The sword's warm from being close to the heat. He holds it with his blackened hand biting his lip as hard as he can, raises it to the door's hinges he swiftly cuts them off he kicks the door with the heel of his bare foot and throws himself out.

He lands on his back and wings as he falls on his now rapidly darkening porch the wood creeks with his weight and he quickly scurries off of it.

He turns back just in time to see the roof collapse making a loud crunching sound. Then-

—Boom—

The windows shatter from the sound and the house bursted into flames, but not orange—no blue a dark ocean blue that seems to eat away at the wood faster seeming to make the house crumple in it's quest for chaos. Hester's ears ring making the world go into a short period where he could only hear the crackling fire.

The flowers and surrounding forest do not get spared as the flowers become ash and the leaves burn. -this was sabotage, it must be- He thought. Possibly his family or someone entirely new but it has to be, the locked door the blue flames—it has to be.

As if on cue he hears leaves crumple and crush. He doesn't think—he puts Wilbur down and jumps, pinning whatever unfortunate person happens to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. His sword to their throat as he stares into the eyes that tried to kill him and a kid, and—

Familiar eyes blink up at him.

"Alexander?"

He just groans at his name then says tiredly

"Can you please get off me?"

Hester stays there eyes glaring daggers, he does not trust this man with anything never mind what he's doing so close to his house in the middle of the night—the same night his house burns down.

Alexander looks at his blackened hand that seems to now be blistering, the same hand that is currently holding a sword to his throat, he looks at his house that's falling to shambles by the blue flames, putting two and two together.

Hester's hand screams in agony as he holds the sword, it already being annoying and heavy, his hand being practically broken does not help the fact that he hates the feeling of a sword.

Alexander slowly drifts the sword away from his throat Haster too forced on the pain in his hand to even notice anything.

Hester subcutaneously stands up dropping the sword and holding his hand up to his face examining it, the flames made it so both could see the rotting, discolored arm that seemed to be falling apart just by holding it.

Both then hear a scream that turns to a breathy whimper.

Wilbur.

Alexander stands up and walks to the sound of the noise as Hester falls to his knees unable to move them and pleds to him to not hurt the kid. Still Alexander slowly bends down then wrapping something in his arms he walks calmly back to Hester who has now collapsed as the world seems to spin mixing with all the pain and agony he feels. He blindly grabs at anything, grass, rocks, sticks, leaves, anything to keep Wilbur safe as he looks up trying to battle the far more comfortable darkness behind his eyes and instead stay conscious.

He sees Alexander standing in front of him—his mouth is moving but the ringing in his ears becomes louder—too loud—trying to mute everything around him. He looks up at Alexander to see the light of the blue fire behind him spreading to trees and his pagoda that seems to have fallen apart the moment the fire greedily wrapped around it.

From where he stood Alexander looked like a God, as he calmly talked to him, the flames making him look more like a silhouette, a silhouette of nothing close to human.

A monster, he was a monster.

He couldn't even see his mouth moving anymore as Alexander slowly picks him up as well and Hester tiredly allowes it, giving up on fighting and surrendering to the perfectly quiet darkness but before he lost all consciousness he hears a horse and feels being placed on top of a soft coat of animal fur and a breathy whine of Wilbur then closeing his eyes and surrendering.

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Art by (unknown) [please tell me if you do happen to know]
Inspired by Death And Her Angels by oddity03 on Ao3
All writing was originally done on Novelist
Another one! This one I made very sleep deprived, sorry, but you get Alexander telling a story next chapter, so it isn't all bad!
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