A/N: I have started yet another. Sigh. My new motto is "Ah, the never ending tirade of the artistic mind." I would have liked to finish one of my many projects before I did another, but they have SOOOO far to go, I can't help it.
All characters are human here, no Saiyans, aliens, all that. However, I have included the Dragon Balls, simply because I don't believe in a DBZ world were such things don't exist. They will simply be magically unexplained, no Kami or anything. After all, there are such things as real witches, right? Also, while some of Vegeta's traits will be seemingly Saiyan, that's because I either couldn't help myself or because a lot of human's actually have such trait.
Disclaimer: Perhaps a written contract is in order: I can stop stating the obvious, and you don't sue me.
Summary: He had died, and now he's in a place he really didn't think he belonged. After having been a guardian angel for three years, his celestial word is turned upside down when he's given a project; due to a strange wish made on magical orbs, a freshly killed teenager, whom was supposed to be condemned to hell, is giving a chance to repent. Now, he must train a teenaged girl to be a guardian angel, lest her soul be condemned to hell.
Please Enjoy My New Story:
Of Guardian Angels and Demon Spawn
Prelude: Car Crash
He had known he was going to die that day.
Well, perhaps he hadn't known, but he had clearly sensed something was wrong. He was certain that something was wrong.
He hadn't had any strange dream or vision, no creepy message from the TV, or even subtle threats from an obsessed stalker. He just knew.
He hadn't wanted to go to school that morning. He hadn't eaten breakfast, hadn't felt well. Of course, he had a Calculus test today, so his parents weren't just going to let him skip.
School had been its normal, boring, everyday routine. He was the popular kid, one of the jocks. And a Senior, to boot. He had turned 19 a month ago; his Senior year had been crazy, in an amazing way. School had never been fun before, and he relished in it. Nobody ever pants him, nobody stole his wallet, or spray-painted his locker. Nothing about today was different from all the rest; it was perfectly normal, in every aspect. Eventually, he forgot why he had felt sick, not that he knew the reason anyway, and went on about his business.
He wasn't really a videogames kind of guy. He liked Black Ops and Call of Duty, of course, but he wasn't a major videogame nerd. But the guys wanted to head to the arcade after school, so he went. He spent ten of the twenty that that was in his wallet, and won half the time.
It wasn't his fault; not really. He had been a good boy; he'd looked both ways across the street, walked quickly, waited for the light. His friends had been right behind him, laughing and joking as they left the arcade. He was just a few steps ahead; if he had stayed farther behind with them, he'd have been safe.
Walk, the stoplight blinked.
Krillin, Yamcha and Jinzōningen cracked up at something Goku had said. They weren't paying attention to the car.
He heard it before he saw it…the screech of tires around a turn. The people inside had been drunk, whooping and waving their beer bottles out of their Jeep.
He had always made fun of people in the movies, for not getting out of the damn way when cars were speeding at them or when somebody came at them like lighting.
He understood better now.
They didn't see him until they were upon him. The driver stomped on the brake, but they were too close, and at the speed they were going…
He didn't really feel it. It was so fast…he heard it hit him, heard his body falling to the street. He heard his friends running to him, yelling at the top of their lungs.
"HOLY SHIT, VEGETA!"
The Jeep had run over him completely, and the tired grinding as they stopped hadn't helped him any. His lungs had collapsed…he couldn't breathe, couldn't think.
Before he drew his last breath, he felt Goku's hands on his shoulders, the younger boy trying desperately to get him up. He forced his eyes open and saw the spikey hair and the worried face of his best friend that was normally plastered with a grin.
"Vegeta! Come on, man, stay with me!" Goku shouted.
"Somebody get a phone and get an ambulance!" he heard Jin say.
"I am!" Krillin called.
"Call faster!" Yamcha yelled.
He tried opening his mouth, but nothing came out. He wanted to tell them to tell his parents that he aced the test.
"Come with me."
Vegeta opened his eyes. A small, pale man with red cheeks smiled warmly at him.
"I'm Chiaotzu," the little man said. "Come with me, Vegeta."
"Where?" he croaked. His voice sounded slightly muffled and echoing.
"To the Gates."
"Oh." He followed the tiny man, trying to take in his surroundings. "Where am I?" he asked.
"Well, you're in Heaven right now. In a few minutes we'll see if you can stay here, or go to the other place."
Vegeta swallowed. "Other place?"
"Oh, you know, Hell."
He suddenly felt sick again as he tried to think up anything bad he might have done in his life. Okay, so he told a few lies, and he cheated on big test once Junior year, he beat up a kid once, but that was because the kid had clearly been about to punch him first…he had never done drugs, or stolen anything, though he did go all the way with a few girls…those weren't enough to get him into hell, were they?
But there was one thing.
His uncle, the husband of his father's sister, had never been a good man. Once, when Vegeta was 9, he decided to "visit", certain that Vegeta and Tarble had taken his favorite pistol. They hadn't, of course, but since they were the last children at the house, and his uncle had no kids…
Reena had told him to get the hell out of her house, accusing her boys the way he did. His uncle had retaliated by beating her. His mom had stamina, that was for sure. She took it like a real woman for at least ten minutes straight, even fighting back, before his Vegeta Sr. had finally come home and beat the crap out of him for touching his wife.
And Vegeta hadn't done a thing to help.
Of course, being nine, he couldn't have done much, but every day it pained him to see his mother still walking with a slight limp.
That was enough, in his mind, to send him to the other place.
Chiaotzu took him to the Gate, where a tall man with a strange number of eyes was reading names off a very large book while he sat on a stool in front of a podium.
Typical, Vegeta thought. They couldn't have gotten an Ipad or something more modern?
As if by magic, the book shrunk and turned to a screen. The tall man carried on as if nothing had happened, casually strumming his index finger against it to scroll.
Chiaotzu grinned at him. "Cool, huh? That's Tien, by the way. He's a Throne Angel; he keeps track of all the new comers."
"I thought that was supposed to be some angel called Gabriel," Vegeta said.
Chiaotzu looked shocked. "Oh, of course not! Gabriel is an archangel! He has much more important things to do than a job like that. Not that it isn't important, of course; everything is important in this system, but still."
Vegeta was silent for a moment. "Tien decides if I go to Heaven or not?"
The pale little man laughed. "Course not, silly. God does that. He decides from afar; Tien just delivers the message through the book…or rather, through the Ipad."
Chiaotzu started humming a cheerful tune, then stopped abruptly and looked at the 19 year old. "Do you remember how you died?"
Vegeta blinked. Come to think of it, he couldn't. "Um…"
The teen frowned. "I don't remember being in any car."
"Noooo, silly, a car hit you. Some drunken joyriders."
It came flooding back to him in a flash. The arcade, crossing the street, the Jeep…
"Where are my friends?" he asked, looking around.
"They're still alive."
A mixture or relief and loneliness washed through him. He hadn't really gotten to say goodbye, not to his friends or his parents or Tarble…
"Well, your turn!" Chiaotzu said cheerfully. "I gotta go get my new assignment. It was nice being your guardian angel, Vegeta!" and with that, wings sprouted from his back and the little man flew off.
"I didn't even know those were real," Vegeta muttered to himself.
A chuckle sounded from above him; the podium was a hell of a lot bigger up close, even though he didn't really remember moving up in line anyway.
"Of course they're real," Tien said. "How else would humans keep demons away?"
He paled. "Demons?"
"Well, duh, if there're angels, then there has to be a counterpart. You know, like cats can't exist without dogs, or peanut butter can't exist without jelly, stuff like that."
"None of those are true," Vegeta muttered.
Tien shrugged. "Maybe not, but who cares? Nobody eats just a peanut butter sandwich with nothing else on it. That's gross."
These people are weird, Vegeta decided.
"Alrighty then, let's see…Vegeta…Vegeta…ah, here you are! Vegeta no Ouji. Hmm…"
Vegeta broke out in cold sweat. This was it; he would either live happily forever or burn for all eternity.
"You got a pretty clean record, kid. Alright, go ahead in. Piccolo will give you your first assignment tomorrow."
"That's it?" Vegeta gaped.
"Uh huh. What, you want me to read you're your life story?"
"But…what about –"
"That's your Uncle's sin, Kid."
Vegeta was silent.
"Well," Tien said, "I can tell you this; every new angel's gotta work on three things when they get here. Three faults you had on Earth, any three you like, and you've got to fix 'em. My advice for you? Pride, Anger, and Guilt."
Vegeta frowned. The people in his family were naturally prideful, and everyone except Tarble had a fiery temper. How was he supposed to fix that?
"Never said it was supposed to be easy, kid."
"Stop reading my mind," Vegeta snapped. "God, that's annoying."
Vegeta's hair bristled at the back of his neck. His lips lifted in a small snarl, revealing sharp canines; another trait of the Ouji family.
Vegeta growled and tried to reign in his anger. He didn't know if he really deserved Paradise after the incident with his mother; he felt kind of in-the-middle. Like sorta deserving.
"Go on, kid, you're holding up the line," Tien said as he began scrolling again.
And suddenly Vegeta was on the other side of the gates. They hadn't opened, he hadn't walked through, he was just there.
"This is weird," he said aloud, looking at his hands. Could he pass through objects now?"
"Of course you can," said a smug voice. "You're an angel, aren't you?"
Vegeta's eyes darted to the figure that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He looked maybe 21 years old; he was tall, with long, spikey hair that he kept in a ponytail. He'd have been one hell of a football player, Vegeta decided. He was stockily built, a perfect opposite of Vegeta's lithe frame. His coach would have killed to get his hands on such a player.
"I did play football, actually," the teen said. "And I was hella good at it too," he grinned. "Name's Raditz. I'll be showing you around, you know, kinda like a mentor until you get the hang of things."
Vegeta narrowed his eyes slightly. "Quit reading my mind!"
"It's not my fault you can't control your thoughts. Anyway, you're a newbie. Newbies can't control crap. Until you get proper training, you might as well get used to it. You're hot headed, aren't you? You're practically screaming thoughts to the universe."
"Dammit," Vegeta cursed.
"Hey, watch it. People take that literally here."
"F – "
"Flippin awesome," he ground out.
"See, that wasn't hard."
Raditz snickered. "Is aggression one of your 'Things to fix'?"
At Vegeta's silence, Raditz laughed again. "This ought to be interesting. Alright, c'mon. I'll show you your house."
"I get a house?"
"You wanna sleep out on the lawn?"
"Get on with it."
He followed Raditz sullenly, still not actually believing he was dead. Heaven was beautiful, no doubt; there was city and country, warm and cold; anything that could possibly be needed to make a person comfortable.
Vegeta would want the city, of course.
As he followed Raditz, he noticed something. "I thought angels had wings," he said, recalling how Chiaotzu had flown.
"We do. I can't just go parading them around everywhere! Somebody'll shoot me down for sure."
"The demons, dummy."
"You fight them?"
"All the time. What do you think a Guardian Angel is?"
"Well, yeah, but I didn't –"
"Look, most of 'em aren't even that powerful. Only the Official Angels handle the big ones. You're a newbie, so you'll just deal with the minor ones. Like Temptations or Convincers. But first, you need training."
Vegeta perked up at that. "Training?"
"Sure. We can't have you go out fighting demons if you can't even throw a punch."
"I can throw a punch fine," Vegeta huffed.
"Maybe, but you'll need a lot more than fists to beat a demon, especially if you accidentally stumble upon one of the big ones. So, whatshisname, how'd you die so young?"
"My name is Vegeta. Didn't anyone tell you that?"
"Are you kidding? I found out about this like, two seconds ago. So what was it, drugs? Gunshot?"
"Do I look like I'm from a gang?" Vegeta asked irritably. "Some punk ass joyriders ran me over."
"You're going to be a piece of work," Raditz sighed.
"So, what kinda angel you looking to be?"
Vegeta blinked. "I get to pick?"
"Well, yeah. You don't do well on jobs you hate, right?"
"What are my options?"
"Well, you'll just be an Angel at first, you know, the Guardian type. Eventually you could be promoted to a Power. Powers are the ones who actually fight the demons. The big ones, I mean. They make up our army. Principalities guard nations and cities, like barrier guards for fallen angels. Archangels are the most important messengers to Earth, kind of like an arbitrator between Here and There. Virtues deliver blessings to humans, Dominions make sure everything is in order and being done right, Thrones like Tien carry out God's decisions, like letting souls in the Gates, Cherubim angels guard the Gates that lead from here to Earth, and even the Chasm – "
"Hell. And last but not least, Seraphim angels are the big wigs, the ones closest to Him. It takes centuries to get to that position."
"I don't want to wait that long for a job," the spikey haired boy frowned.
"Yeah, I figured. You look more like a Power to me, maybe a Virtue. Virtues gotta fight Demons too, otherwise the blessing'll get stolen before it's delivered."
Vegeta scratched his palm, as he often did when he was thinking. "What are you?"
"Me? I'm a Power."
"How long did it take you?"
"Eh...I been dead for what, 10 years? I guess it took me about 6, maybe 7."
Vegeta frowned. That was still a long time, but...well, he didn't really know if he wanted to be fighting Demons anyway. "What position is the strongest?" he asked.
"Angels don't necessarily have rank. I mean, really good Powers and Virtues are the most powerful in physical strength, and the Seraphim are our smartest, but you know, everybody's equal, anybody can get as much power as the next person, blah blah blah…explaining all this is really boring, you know that?"
"Talkative, aren't we?" Raditz snorted.
They walked through what looked like a strange city, though it was for some reason infinitely large and yet also infinitely small.
"Everything is everything here," Raditz explained, reading his mind again. "Everything big is small, everything hot is cold, everything bright is dull. That's just how it is. Whatever you want it to be."
Vegeta grinned then, changing little things around the city as they walked. Burger King there, sports store here, music shop…anything.
And his house.
"Here we are," Raditz announced. "You have today to rest, then we have to go get you properly registered, your first assignment, blah blah blah, all that stuff."
Vegeta barely heard him.
"That's my house," he murmured.
"No, I mean, my house from…home." He swallowed, wondering, not for the first time, if this was just some wack dream.
"Did you want it to look like that?" Raditz questioned, opening the door and peering inside.
"I…I don't know."
"Well, you must have. We might not get mansions or castles, but basically, our houses look like whatever we want."
Vegeta stepped inside and looked at his living room. It seemed slightly smaller than usual, and he was sort of glad. The house would seem empty with only him in it, had it been its original size.
"Nice place," Raditz commented, sticking his head in the refrigerator.
"Out," Vegeta ordered, pulling the taller boy away from his food.
"Ah, give it a rest, Vegeta. It's only going to reappear again after it's eaten."
"Really?" Vegeta asked, suddenly interested. He looked around, and upon seeing a bowl of fruit on the table, just where his mother usually left it, took an apple, and bit into it. As soon as he did, the air around the bowl became hazy, and an apple started to take shape from it.
"Sweet," he crowed.
"Right? And you can't get fat, either. Even cookies are perfectly healthy."
Vegeta glanced at his clothes, which seemed to float around his body instead of fitting snugly on his skin as they had done on Earth. "So my body is stuck like this forever?"
"Ha, no. Not that lucky. You just can't gain any bad weight, is all. You wanna keep those muscles, you gotta work out."
"I don't mind," Vegeta said absentmindedly. He stood at the edge of the stairway, looking up. He could see his bedroom door, just were it always was, and the bathroom, and ever his parent's and Tarble's room were there. Just…smaller.
He walked up to his room, smiling a little when the familiar scent that was his own assaulted his nose. His room smelled of dirty football gear and pizza, some cologne and a hint of cigarette smoke that always stuck to his clothes when he was around his father. It was a disaster, as usual; the bed was sloppily made, a pile of socks in the floor, his X-box controls strewn everywhere, his books and CD's in messy piles on his dressers, his backpack dumped in a heap in the corner of the room, closet door wide open and exposing the overflowing junk that he'd never bothered to get rid of, and his guitar leaning against the wall.
He picked it up, something akin to joy coursing through him as he felt the smooth, polished wood in his hands. His fingers settled over the strings, preparing for a C chord. Immediately, as if by magic, a pick was in his hand, and he brought it up to the strings, strumming them gently.
No sound came out.
Vegeta frowned, and strummed them again, harder. Nothing. He tried again, but no music flooded his ears, as it was supposed to.
"What the f–"
"Language!" Raditz sang as he appeared in the doorway. "You can't play it yet."
"Why not?" Vegeta demanded.
"Because," the taller boy said plainly. "You still have something weighing on your shoulders. Something you regret doing, or regret not doing. Maybe something you were meant to have in life, but never got. When you get over it, the sound will come back."
The teen hissed. "That's just fu – freaking great. Can I at least play football?"
"Sure. But apparently music was your outlet when you were upset, or emotionally excited or whatever, so you can't have it until you forgive yourself, or whoever else."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"I hit things when I'm upset," Vegeta argued.
"That's not what your guitar says."
Vegeta grumbled something unintelligible, and Raditz rolled his eyes.
"Well, get your rest. Tomorrow I have to take you to see Piccolo. He's a Dominion angel. He'll give you your first assignment."
Vegeta glanced at him as he sat his guitar down and started pick up his X-Box games. "Already? I just got here."
"Laziness is a sin."
"Hmph. Maybe I got mixed up with some other innocent saint on my way here, then."
Raditz laughed. "Don't be stupid. Thrones don't mix people up."
Vegeta fell silent, ignoring both Raditz and the strangeness of his sudden sensation to clean up his room.
"What do you think it was?" Raditz asked, suddenly somber.
"You know, the reason you can't play your guitar."
"How should I know?"
"Well, you're at least supposed to have a hunch."
There was a pause. "My uncle tried to beat up my mom once. I didn't help her."
"Didn't, or couldn't?"
"I don't…I…" he trailed off, sighing. "I just froze."
"I'm pretty sure that classifies as a couldn't."
Vegeta glared at him with eyes that matched his father's. "Well, I don't know what else it could be, then. I don't have a bunch of stolen goods hidden away in a cave, and there aren't any dead bodies in my basement."
"Hey, I never said it had to be anything bad," Raditz shrugged.
"Why would something good make my music disappear?"
"It'd be something good that you aren't ready to let go of yet."
He laughed bitterly. "What, you mean like my life? How about my family? My football career in high school? I was a Senior, Raditz. I was about to go to college and have the time of my life. I was going to major as an Weapons Architect. "
"Smart jocks," Raditz muttered under his breath. "It could have been something you were supposed to have. You died before your time, Vegeta."
The taller boy sighed. "Just get some rest. You'll need it. Piccolo is like a freaking drill sergeant. I'll come get you in the morning."
Raditz left Vegeta to …adjust, or sulk, or whatever it was he wanted to do. The sullen boy didn't seem like he was adjusting to death well; he was shocked, angry, and bitter. He knew without a doubt that Vegeta would grow to love it here. It was Heaven, after all, but that didn't shake the fact that he would miss his family, and his friends, and his home.
Raditz knew the feeling well.
As he shut the front door to Vegeta's house, a gruff voice interrupted his train of thought.
"Well? Wass'e like?"
Raditz didn't jump at the voice; he was used to Nappa sneaking around like some kind of freak ninja. The big man appeared seemingly out of nowhere, serious and stoic, as usual. He and Vegeta would get along nicely, Raditz thought.
He shrugged in response to the question. "Kinda aggressive, little upset, but I think he's alright."
"Hmph. What kinda angel you think he'll be?"
"A Power, maybe a Virtue."
"That strong, huh?"
"Yeah. You feel that big power level close by?"
Nappa's eyes widened slightly. "That's him?"
"Yeah. I didn't believe it, till I met him. It's incredible, huh?"
The giant bear of a man whistled. "Damn all that's evil," he breathed.
Raditz nodded, scratching the back of his neck. "That guy is something, Nappa."
"Something," he repeated as they began walking, heading to the gym.
"Yeah. He's going to be special. Heck, he might even be Legendary."
A/N: I swear on my own grave that I will try much harder to do a description of what heaven looks like in this story next chapter (impossible as that is), if you guys want me to continue. And I really hope you do. This is kind of a prelude, so yeah. Crappy, I think, as all first chapters are, but hey, that's your decision, not mine.
I will continue this story IF AND ONLY IF I get at least 15 reviews. Considering the stats on ASTAC and TOL, that is not asking for much. Love you guys! =3