Author�s Note: I haven�t really seen a fan fiction like this and I was searching for ideas and I just bought the Crow S.E. on DVD so why not? Lol. I used many different things in this, the theatrical release of the Crow, the extended scenes, the graphic novel, the Crow: City of Angels as well as the Crow Stairway to Heaven. I can only hope people enjoy it.
Dedications: To Sofie who believes I'm better than I am.
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"People once believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can't rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes the crow could bring that soul back to put the wrong things right." *1
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A man sat hunched over in a grave yard, his weeping echoing through the darkness of the night as he stared blankly at the tombstone of his lover, his best friend, �Why�d you leave me? Why did you have to leave all of us? It�s just not fair, everyone misses you.� The moon light reflecting off the ivory, shadows falling over the name, slowly the man managed to stand and leant over kissing the top of the stone tracing the name with his fingers before carefully rearranging the flowers, he made his way out of the cemetery staggering a little to his car.
A glossy black bird landed on the abandoned stone; it cawed and began pecking at the ivory, the white stone chipped away and landed on the ground next to the white and red roses, the crow repeated the action chipping more of the stone away, crimson seeping out of the dead material. Thin rivulets of blood began to run down the surface into the indented letters, filling them, until at last the name and date were filled, Billy Martin, June 15th 1981-October 30th 2004. The crow cawed and left the tombstone landing on a crypt it turned towards the grave and settled down to keep a watchful eye.
The crimson liquid ran down through the rest of the inscribed letters, to the base of the tombstone and onto the ground seeping through the grass into the soil tainting it and staining the white a deathly shade of red. A figure stood mere feet away playing with a knife, tossing it in the air and catching it again, his amber eyes peering at the grave from beneath shaggy blonde locks, waiting.
The crow shook out its feathers and stood, seeming to lean forward, watching intently as the ground shifted the grass peeling away revealing red bloodied soil. The figure walked over to the grave and knelt smirking to him as the ground broke apart the lid of a coffin surfaces and a man crawled out dragging himself out of the six foot hole lying on the ground. He was Billy Martin, deceased, wearing a black torn suit, white shirt and gray tie, the garments ragged and dirty looking.
The figure straightened up; he was the leader of death, the one who guided the lost souls to their own personal guides, allowing the victims to seek vengeance on those that had done them wrong. The crow flew and landed on his shoulder; he put the knife away and gently stroked its feathers, the two still watched intently.
Billy managed to roll onto his back and look up at the figure. �Who the fuck are you and where the fuck am I?� He asked bluntly, never one to mince words.
The figure merely shook his head. �Follow him, he is your guide.� He lifted his arm and the crow flew away. �I am merely the one who will return you to your rightful place when your task has been completed.� He nodded and walked away fading into the shadows.
�But�� Billy looked around not really taking in his surroundings, disoriented, he rubbed the back of his head and sighed looking at the crow perched on the branch of a wilting willow tree. It cawed at him and he arched an eyebrow. �Impatience.� He muttered and ignored the angry caw that was his answer, rolling his eyes trying desperately to remember, trying to figure out why he felt so�strange.
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The man from the cemetery climbed out of his car when he got home and went inside, not even bothering to lock it, it wasn�t like it was actually worth anything. He walked up the driveway and into his run down, dirty, most likely rat infested house ignoring the people gathered in his living room he went to his room and sat down on the bed. Opening the drawer of the night stand he pulled out a case of syringes and liquid happiness, preparing it quickly he injected it into his vein and collapsed back on the bed his eyes closing in rapture, �Billy.� He murmured before succumbing to darkness.
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The crow flew off and Billy watched it go, silent as he regained a little bit of his focus, he began walking, stumbling over raised ground and rocks, not realizing what environment he was actually in, more interested in the bird that was leading him. He looked behind him for the figure and sighed when he could no longer see it, turning back he realized the crow was waiting and started walking again quickly, not wanting to lose the animal that was supposed to be his guide. He followed it out of the cemetery and continued looking around, trying frantically to remember something, anything. He just wanted answers, wanted to know what had happened to him, not knowing that when he got those answers he would regret ever asking�regret ever waking from his eternal sleep.
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The figure, Josonel, stepped out of the shadows after he had watched them go and brought his hand to his mouth placing a cigarette in between his pierced lips he lit it and inhaled sharply, the smoke drifting across the cemetery. �God this is going to be a hard one.� He murmured softly. �A real hard one, how the fuck am I supposed to get him to return once he finds out what he�s left behind?� He shook his head and sighed sadly. �Some days I hate this fucking job.� It began to rain hard and he looked up at the sky just as lightning struck the crypt he�d been standing behind to hide from Billy. �I get it I get it.� He muttered rolling his black lined eyes and began walking towards the gates of the cemetery following behind Billy and his guide, trying to keep his eyes away from the lost people on the streets�