Table of Contents

Title Page
Copyright
Note from the Publisher
For Don
Trademarks Acknowledgement
Prologue
~1~
~2~
~3~
~4~
~5~
~6~
~7~
~8~
~9~
~10~
~11~
~12~
~13~
~14~
~15~

~16~
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Diane Adams

Rearranging Stars

Diane Adams

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is punishable by imprisonment and a fine."

Cover Artist: Reese Dante

Editor: Juniper Watt

Rearranging Stars © 2011 Diane Adams

ISBN # 9781920501563

Attention Readers: This book uses US English.

All rights reserved.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced
or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or

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Material, is a model.

PUBLISHER

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Note from the Publisher

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For Don

Thank you for your help, your encouragement and

just believing in me

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status

and trademark owners of the following wordmarks

mentioned in this work of fiction:

Band-Aid

: Johnson & Johnson Corporation

Coca-Cola

: Coca Cola Company

Hamburger Helper

: General Mills, Inc.

The Dresden Files

: Jim Butcher, author

Pinocchio

: Disney Enterprises, Inc.

SpongeBob

: Viacom International

Star Trek

: Paramount Pictures Corporation

Tylenol

: Tylenol Company

Prologue

"Absolved."
Unsurprised, Drake stared up at Jordan. The

result was no less than Drake expected, no less than
he had received multiple times before. Absolution by
the council didn't help then, and it didn't help him feel
better now.

"Then whose fault was it?" Drake asked,

knowing the answer but unable to keep from voicing
his despair. The compassion in Jordan's sky-blue
eyes didn't ease the pain.

"You are aware of what cannot be changed.

There is no fault. It just is."

Drake shrugged, a habit he'd picked up from

the humans he spent his entire existence protecting.
The motion flexed his wings, the dark feathers
shimmered even in the low light of the Hearing Hall
and he pulled them closer to his body. His white-
blond hair was fine and caressed the back of his
neck, falling over the top of his ears. Unlike most of
his kind, his hair and his wing color were in contrast.
More commonly, blonds tended toward white wings

and brunet to dark. Only Drake sported platinum-
blond hair and feathers so black they glinted blue in
bright light. He had been so from the beginning and
no one noticed any longer, if they ever had. Drake
hated to admit it, but Jordan was right—some things
just were. Too many things, but Drake didn't
understand why human suicide had to be one of
them. He turned and left the presence of the Angelic
Council without further comment. He felt Jordan's
eyes fixed on his back until the doors closed behind
him.

Ralph stood there, strawberry-blond hair

curling over his ears and forehead, pink wings folded
tightly against his back, each blush pink feather
tinted along the edge with a slightly darker color and
speckled throughout, like the freckles sprinkled over
his upturned nose and fair shoulders. Drake thought
Ralph had the most beautiful wings. He wondered
vaguely if thinking so made him odd. He seemed to
always think about things no one else cared about.
Ralph's blue eyes were concerned.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft, as

another angel entered the hearing room just vacated
by Drake. Wishing he could sit down in the middle of

the floor and wail out his hurt and anger like a human
child, Drake managed to remain in control, even
giving Ralph a small smile. Drake remembered
when Ryan was two, he'd often given in to such vocal
protests much to the despair of his mother. Who
could have guessed that the sweet-faced young
woman, so quick to scoop up her crying toddler,
would turn into a woman who would help drive her
teenage son to suicide? Drake's head hurt from the
unfairness of knowing Ryan was mistreated for
something he couldn't control. Despite Drake's
smile, Ralph must have read something of what he
felt on his face. He reached out to grip Drake's bicep
briefly, in what angels considered an extreme show
of emotion and support.

Drake sighed, another human habit. "I'll be

alright. Time will see to that. What are you doing
here?"

Seemingly reassured that Drake wasn't going

to give in to despair and do something crazy like
retire to corporeal form, Ralph smiled. "Zyn passed."

Drake paused in their walk down the long

hallway to study Ralph's face. "Natural death?" he
asked.

Ralph smiled. "Not exactly, though Zyn was

102."

"He didn't die in his sleep?" Drake closed his

eyes, briefly trying to imagine watching over a
person who lived so long.

"Not him. Water skiing accident."
Drake's eyebrows rose. "Water Skiing?"
Ralph laughed. "I know, perhaps I should have

intervened in his going, but at 102, I couldn't deny
him."

Drake's expression darkened again. "Are you

called to judgment?"

Startled, Ralph frowned. "No. Jordan asked

me to act as courier for the AIC while I wait for my
next charge. Could be a while, but I don't mind. It is
nice to have something to do."

The arched ceiling to floor windows on the

outside wall of the hall let in the bright sunlight. The
ceilings were so high, angels flew overhead on
some mission or another. Drake never had figured
out what they did all day. Despite the hardship of
being a protector, he was glad flying paperwork
around wasn't his eternal fate. They all had their
place; each one of them had his job.

"Really? What do they need a temporary

courier for?"

Ralph shrugged. "He said something's

coming up and he needs a courier he can trust. I
asked if that meant there were angels he didn't trust.
He told me not to be silly." Ralph rolled his eyes, his
dimples showing in his cheeks briefly.

"That's true; Jordan is Jordan. Maybe being

Head Angel in Charge makes a guy flaky after a
while." They reached the huge double doors that
stood open to the outside. The beautiful grounds
spread out before them, well-manicured, the grass
green and unblemished. In the distance, the darker
hills, and beyond them, the purple mountains rose on
the horizon.

"I suppose you are headed for your perch?"

Ralph didn't look pleased.

"Ryan was a good man; he deserves

someone to remember him as he was, and not with
the distorted view of those who drove him to his
death. It costs nothing for me to do so for a little
while." Drake looked at Ralph's hand gripping his
arm; what amounted to two embraces in a single
encounter was odd. Perhaps the wrong angel was

encounter was odd. Perhaps the wrong angel was
concerned, but when he peered into Ralph's honest
round eyes, nothing appeared to be amiss. Unable
to handle more than his own troubles, Drake let the
moment slide away.

"Don't get so lost in your remembrance you

fall off your shelf."

Drake's wings spread to their full span, not as

wide as many other angels, but the silky black
feathers gave back the light with a blue shimmer
unlike any other. "I have a safety net."

Ralph didn't let go of Drake's arm, studying

him with a grim expression. "Make sure you don't fail
to use it, should the need arise."

Drake doubted he could keep the others from

worrying over him considering the bad luck of having
his last ten charges commit suicide. His record was
unprecedented as far as he knew. Only Jordan was
aware he'd specifically requested to watch over gay
males. They required a lot of work; things were
slowly improving for them but despair was too often
their constant companion. Perhaps one day he
would have to face the consequences of losing a
charge to suicide once too often, but he hadn't yet

reached the end of his endurance. Drake said
nothing to reassure Ralph, but returned the solid grip
on his arm with one of his own. He left Ralph to his
courier duties and took to the sky with a single push
of his wings.

The air of Home was crystal clear, free of the

pollutants that thickened the air of Earth. Drake
discovered flying under the clear sky made
remaining depressed impossible. Instead of the
dark final moments of Ryan's short life, Drake found
himself focusing on the highlights. By the time he
settled onto his shelf, high on the sheer rocky sides
of one of the mountains, Drake's heart was lighter
than it had been in a long time. He believed Ryan
deserved to be remembered as more than the
heartbroken, despairing man who jumped to his
death from a bridge. Drake closed his eyes recalling
instead Ryan's first breath, first smile, first step.

Little Ryan was learning to ride his bicycle

without training wheels when the sound of someone
clearing his throat brought an abrupt end to the
memories playing through Drake's mind. He opened
his eyes with a sigh; usually no one bothered him
during his meditation. There wouldn't be another

charge for him until the wait time was over. He
wished they would leave him alone. Ralph stood on a
narrow shelf beside the broader one Drake was
using.

"Jordan sent me for you." Ralph sounded

breathless; he must have flown hard to get there.

Drake frowned. "Did they finally decide it was

my fault?"

Ralph shook his head. "No nothing about that.

It's Noah. He's resigned his charge, requested to go
corporeal. I think Jordan is going to ask you to
replace Noah. They cannot deny the request to
corporeal. He's already gone, Hawaii or somewhere,
but his charge…"

Drake was on his feet. "Is unprotected." He

leaped off the ledge without a glance toward the
ground. He flew with a strength that soon left Ralph
far behind and when he strode into the hearing room
for the second time that day he was alone.

"I'll do it." The words burst forth as soon as he

stopped in front of the council table. Jordan frowned.

"We need to tell you…"
"Nothing. Someone is unprotected. I have

nothing to do but sit around on a rock, thinking. I can

think and work. Is it in the stars for this charge to be
without a guardian? If not, then there is no time!
Send me, now."

Jordan stood, his wings spread to their full

span. He was an impressive sight with his golden
hair, and blindingly white feathered wings tipped in
gold. "He is correct." Jordan's words silenced the
murmur that rose up against the unprecedented
happenings. "He goes."

~1~

Drake found himself standing on a street

corner just before sunset. There were few people
around. No one noticed when a mugger grabbed an
old lady walking past an alleyway and pulled her into
the shadows. Drake didn't see her angel and
worried she might be his new assignment. Despite
not feeling the connection usually present between a
guardian and his charge, Drake moved forward to
intervene. He noticed her angel just before he got to
her, their connection obvious. Drake was stunned
when the woman screamed and her angel just
continued to lean against the wall. Another angel, the
mugger's, perched dejectedly on top of a trashcan.
Drake felt for him, getting assigned to a criminal
wasn't fun.

Been there, done that.

Drake was ready to

intervene regardless of protocol when a shape
emerged from the shadows. Drake hesitated; his
connection with the newcomer unmistakable.
Disappointment welled as the shadowy figure
approached, apparently intent on assisting the

mugger. Relief washed over Drake when, instead,
his new charge grabbed the mugger's arm just as he
raised it to strike the cowering woman, and jerked
the mugger around to face him.

"This is my block, we fight back!" The

newcomer looked at the woman over the mugger's
head. "Go." She didn't need to be told twice as,
clutching her purse to her chest, she turned and fled.
Watching the action, Drake was distracted by the
back of his charge's jacket where a pair of white
wings had been painted stunningly white against the
black leather with a single word:

Guardian

.

~2~

Unsettled by the jacket, Drake rejoined the

action when he realized that the encounter with the
mugger had gotten physical, and his newest
responsibility wasn't coming out on top of things.
When the thug pushed him against the wall, Drake
caught a glimpse of his new charge's face. He
wasn't as young as Drake expected him to be
considering the gang-style jacket. About twenty-five,
with a ruggedly handsome face, strong cut jaw,
Roman nose and high cheekbones. His hair was a
mop of red, orange and yellow, giving the disturbing
illusion his head was on fire. He managed to push
the mugger away and when the burly man stumbled
backwards, a piece of board happened to be there
to trip him. He lost his balance and fell. His angel
looked up long enough to make sure he didn't break
his head. Angels of the criminally inclined tended to
keep their protection contained to preventing death.
There was no interest in helping a human subjugate
or mistreat another.

As soon as the man was on his back, Drake's

'Guardian' was on him. The mugger had one more
trick, the knife in his hand glinted even in the low
light. Drake's charge caught the mugger's wrist and
slammed it into the pavement. The knife flew out of
the mugger's grasp and under the dumpster. After
that, the struggle was over in a matter of seconds.
Drake noted his charge had a strong right hook.

Drake turned to the angel on the dumpster. "I

think mine broke your guy's nose."

The other angel shrugged. "Too bad it won't

teach him anything. Good luck with yours; that Grey
is something. See you around." The mugger
stumbled away, clutching his face and cursing. The
angel slid off the dumpster to the ground, dutifully
following his charge.

Drake followed Grey the rest of the evening.

He roamed the streets, seemingly aimless, never
arriving at a destination. Just before dark a young
woman came out of one of the tall apartment
buildings with a paper bag in hand. She gave the
sack to Grey along with a bottle of water. He grinned
at her, and she blushed.

"Thank you so much, I… we all… just thank

you." She disappeared back inside before Grey had

a chance to respond, but settling down on a step to
open the bag, he looked satisfied. He pulled out an
apple, followed by a bag of chips and a sandwich.
Once the sandwich was free of its baggy, he peeked
between the bread.

"Chicken salad," he said in a voice that led

Drake to believe chicken salad was the answer to
Grey's prayers. "So, you're new. Where'd the other
guy go?" Grey looked directly at him. Drake had a
moment of panic thinking Grey could see him, before
realizing there must be someone standing behind
him. He turned around but no one was there. Drake
whirled back around, confusion and panic warred for
dominance in his expression. Grey took another bite.
"You're gonna get dizzy spinning around like that."
He pointed at Drake with the last of his sandwich.

Pointed at Drake.
"You can see me."
Grey tilted his head. "And you answered me.

That's new. I talked to the other guy all the time, he
never answered though. Crazy." Finished with his
sandwich and chips, Grey tossed his trash into the
garbage can beside the stairs. He took a bite of
apple as he walked off. Compelled by duty, despite

the fact he was about to hyperventilate, Drake
followed.

"You could see Noah?" Drake caught up with

Grey and walked beside him. He wasn't watching for
threats or accidents, his entire focus on the man, not
his circumstances.

"Noah is his name? That's nice to know. Guy

was around forever. Then he's just gone, no goodbye
or anything. Kinda sucks. Yeah, I could see him. He
wasn't as pretty as you, but he was okay." They
walked along, and unlike Drake, Grey's eyes were in
constant motion as he watched the streets. His
words conjured an image of Noah in Drake's mind.
He was tall and thin, with narrow wings. His hair was
sort of beige and so were his wings. He was…

"Nondescript."
Grey snorted. "That he was. He helped me a

lot though; sorry he got tired of me. Hold on." Drake
became aware of their surroundings once more
when Grey jogged across the busy street, unmindful
of traffic. Horns blared and brakes squealed. Drake
rushed after Grey, making sure he didn't come to
harm, regardless of how hard the other angels had to
work to keep their charges safe as well.

Grey arrived on the other sidewalk unharmed

and only slightly out of breath, Drake on his heels.
There Grey confronted a man twice his size
manhandling a young woman.

"Is everything okay?"
The couple jerked around to look at him.
"You damn Guardians," the bulky man

grumbled, his hand fell away from the young lady's
arm. She rubbed where he'd been holding her but
the dark red fingerprints remained.

"Yeah, sure, it's okay. I'm going inside. Benji

was leaving. We had a misunderstanding. He forgot
we broke up. Right, Benji?" She glanced up at the
big man as she edged toward the stairs.

"Yeah, right. You aren't worth the friggin'

trouble."

She flashed Grey a grateful look and

disappeared through the door. Benji stared down on
Grey from his loftier height. "You think you're so
damn smart. You'll get yours, just wait. You don't
really own these streets. The Stallions are going to
take back what's theirs."

Grey's brow rose high on his forehead. "Is

that right? Well, until that glorious day, don't forget

that right? Well, until that glorious day, don't forget
again, I don't put up with this crap on my watch, and
you know it. Now get the hell out of here." Benji, his
hands fisted at his sides, had more to say and he
turned so red Drake thought he was in danger of a
coronary. After a long drawn out minute he turned on
his heel and stalked away. Grey walked to the corner
and waited for the light so he could go back to the
other side of the street.

When they reached the corner, Drake was

unable to hold back any longer. For the first time he
could tell someone how stupid they were. "You could
have been killed."

"Not a chance."
Drake stopped and stared, his mouth

hanging open, but Grey kept walking and Drake
snapped his mouth shut to hurry after him.

"Are you just crazy? Those cars could have

run right over you." Drake waved at the street where
the flow of traffic continued unabated.

"That's not how it works. I see where I need to

go, and I go there. Your job is to make sure I arrive."
Grey sounded one hundred percent confident.

Drake realized his mouth was hanging open

again and closed it. Grey stopped and Drake
stumbled to keep from running into him. Auto reflex.
He couldn't touch his charge, would have gone right
through him in fact, but avoiding contact was one of
the many laws of guardianship. Drake's wings
unfurled to balance him at the same time Grey
reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Watch it dude. Holy fuck." Grey stared at

Drake's wings, their expanse filled the width of the
sidewalk and the late afternoon sun tinted them blue.
Drake stared at Grey's hand grasping his forearm.
The world swam out of focus, he swayed, and the
tips of his wings fluttered, preventing him from falling.
Grey's fingers tightened to the same affect.

"You touched me."
Grey let go and stepped back. "Uh, sorry, is

that forbidden or something?" His attention fixed on
Drake's wings. Shaken, Drake managed to stay on
his feet. He folded his wings tight against his body,
hugging himself with his arms.

"Not forbidden, impossible." A man hurried

by on the sidewalk, walking right through Drake. His
guardian angel hurrying behind him gave Drake an
apologetic shrug. "See? But you see us; you know

corporeal bodies pass right through. Could you
touch Noah?"

Grey shrugged. "I don't know. I never did. He

stayed, you know, over there." Grey motioned off to
the side with one hand. "You guys do your mojo
without touching anything. I guess he didn't need to
touch me."

Drake struggled to control his reaction,

ignoring what just happened as impossible as the
fact of it happening at all. "Is there somewhere we
can go talk?" Drake felt exposed standing on the
sidewalk. People couldn't see him, but the angels
could and they'd notice his conversation with Grey
sooner or later.

"Yeah, we'll go to my place. You go wherever I

go anyhow, right?" He laughed. "Dude, the fact you
talk to me makes this a lot weirder for some reason.
Trish is taking over patrol in a few minutes. It's okay
for us to go in; my apartment is up the street."

~3~

Drake sat in a chair at Grey's tiny kitchen

table, its laminate top cracked and the stainless
steel trim around the square edge discolored with
age. The metal chairs had red cushioned seats and
backs. An old neon Open sign on the wall over the
table glowed red surrounded by an oval of blue light.
Another wall held a vintage print of a Coca-Cola
advertisement. Grey moved around the kitchen
putting together something for dinner.

"Hamburger Helper okay for you?" he asked,

dumping the package of raw ground beef into a pan.
Drake watched him, looking startled when Grey
turned toward him expecting an answer. Drake
blinked and his feathers ruffled with his discomfort.

"I don't eat," he said, shifting in the chair. His

wings made sitting on the chair uncomfortable, but
he didn't want to be rude. Usually he just stood in the
corner out of the way and watched. Grey expected
him to act like a guest. Drake just wanted to do his
job. He rearranged his wings again, leaning forward.
Grey noticed.

"Turn it around," he said, poking at the

hamburger with a spatula.

Drake frowned. "Excuse me?"
"The chair, turn it around. Straddle it." Grey

opened the Hamburger Helper box and peered
inside. Drake got up and followed Grey's
instructions. He folded his arms on the back of the
chair, grinning.

"That's better." Surprised, he glanced over

his shoulder at his now unencumbered wings. He
fluttered them slightly. When he turned back around,
Grey was staring. Something in his expression
made Drake's cheeks grow hot. "Are you okay?"

Grey blinked and jerked back around to stir

his hamburger. "Sure fine, why wouldn't I be?"

"You looked odd."
Grey blushed. "Well, you look so different

from the other one… Noah? It's hard to get used to."

Drake nodded. "I look different from most

angels." He watched Grey drain the meat and mix in
the other ingredients.

"Your hair doesn't match your wings." Grey

stirred his dinner and covered the pan before turning
down the heat.

"You really can see all of us." Drake was

intrigued. Knowing Grey could see angels took
some getting used to, maybe there'd been a
childhood trauma or something.

Grey laughed. "Dude, yeah, the world is way

more crowded than people realize. I used to tell
people about the men with wings when I was little. I
figured out pretty quick it's better to keep some stuff
to yourself, even at five. None of you guys look like
the pictures people paint. You're all so different, but
hair and wings go together, except for you."

Black wings unfurled slightly before Drake

brought them back in close to his body. He ran a
hand through his white-blond hair, which immediately
fell forward into his eyes. Drake brushed it back
again, that time it stayed. "I don't know why I don't
match."

"You aren't very big either." Grey eyed Drake.
"You want someone else?" Drake frowned,

trying to decide what difference his build made. Grey
looked shocked at the suggestion.

"Hell no, if they send someone else, he might

not talk to me. This is better." He grinned. "I have a
lot more questions. Is it okay to ask?" Grey stood

behind the chair across the table from Drake. Grey's
T-shirt stretched tight over his muscular shoulders
and tucked into a pair of jeans that rode low on his
slim hips. Realizing he was studying how Grey
looked, Drake frowned. A human's appearance
never distracted him before, and he wondered if
something was wrong with him. Maybe the fact Grey
touched him had turned his brain to mush.

"Questions." Drake forced himself to focus on

what Grey was saying. "You may ask, I may not know
the answers."

Grey nodded. "Fair enough. Look, you're

going to be around for a while, so I'm going to take a
shower while that finishes cooking. We'll talk while I
eat."

Drake nodded. Grey telling him what to do

was surreal. Drake wished he had time to leave and
talk to Jordan, but he didn't dare until Grey went to
sleep. Until then, he just had to keep up with things
the best he could and hope he didn't screw anything
up. Drake could still feel the impression of Grey's
hand where the human had touched him, as if the
sensation of each finger pressing into Drake's skin
had been tattooed there. Glancing at his arm, Drake

was surprised there wasn't a visible sign of what
happened between them. Such a small thing,
something that passed between humans every
moment without a thought; between the two of them,
a human and an angel, a touch could change
everything.

Realizing Grey was headed out of the room,

Drake jumped up to follow, unsettled by how often
Grey distracted him. Drake couldn't let the weird
things going on get in the way of doing his job.
Keeping Grey safe was paramount. A guardian's
duty. Grey stopped at the doorway to another room,
turned around and ran right into Drake. Drake
grabbed Grey's shoulders and his wings, unfurling to
balance him, brushed the walls of the hallway. Grey
stared at him. Drake stared at his hands clutching
Grey's shoulders.

The sensation of a person under his touch

was completely alien to him. Drake flattened his
hands on Grey's shoulders. The worn cotton of
Grey's T-shirt was soft under Drake's palms.
Smoothing his hands over the fabric, he watched
enthralled at the motion of his hands on the dark
cloth. Grey cleared his throat and Drake met his

cloth. Grey cleared his throat and Drake met his
eyes. Slowly Drake lifted his hand and laid it against
Grey's face. His five-o'clock shadow was rough
against Drake's skin. Eyes wide with wonder, Drake
palmed Grey's face. Thumb tracing his cheekbone,
Drake's fingers slid into Grey's vibrant hair. He stood
frozen under Drake's touch.

"If you were an angel, you'd have wings of

flame." The husky whisper drew Grey a step closer.
Pupils dilating, he reached up and fingered the cool
silk of Drake's hair. Grey wet his lips, a slow lick of
his tongue over his bottom lip.

"And is that hot?" He leaned forward, and

eyes sliding closed, his lips brushed Drake's. Drake
trembled at the contact before his eyes flew open
and he jumped back. His wings knocked a picture
off the wall and he stumbled, almost falling despite
the added balance of his wingspan. Grey looked just
as surprised. Drake's hand moved slowly to his own
mouth, his fingers brushed his lips. His wide-eyed
stare unnerved Grey.

Grey's voice was steady as he met Drake's

eyes. "It was just a kiss, dude. Don't freak out."

"Why'd you do that?" Drake's brow furrowed

with his effort to process what happened.

Grey shrugged. "Because you're kissable."

He laughed and disappeared into the bathroom
leaving Drake staring open-mouthed at the closed
door. When he recovered enough to follow Grey,
Drake did so by walking through the door.

* * * *

Jordan stretched his wings to their full span

and pinched the bridge of his fine straight nose. His
ability to look in on any angel at anytime wasn't one
he used often as, what did Drake call him… Head
Angel, that was it. However, being in charge didn't
mean a lot. Angels didn't misbehave. The Council
held the unending sessions absolving angels from
responsibility when their charges committed suicide.
It was discouraging how often humans wanted to end
their own existence, and despite all their supposed
advances, the situation was worsening.

The guardians were not responsible for

suicide. The opposite was true, as they were unable
to interfere. The hearing helped them deal with it.
Once an angel was told it wasn't his fault, he let go of
the matter, letting it fade into the haze of all the other
humans he'd protected. They all did, except Drake.

He resisted the natural order to forget and move on
to the next charge. Drake requested the troubled
young men, gay humans, who often destroyed
themselves over lack of acceptance by the people
around them. Convinced no one else wanted to
remember them, Drake was determined not to
forget.

"They deserve to be remembered. They

matter." he told Jordan and any other angel who
questioned his odd habits. When he lost a charge to
suicide, Drake spent the time waiting for his next
assignment in meditation. He forced himself to
remember each face and the details of each life.
Jordan didn't think it was healthy, or natural. The
brutality of humans had no place in Angel Home, not
even in their minds. Jordan remembered Drake's
face as he laughed at Jordan's concerns. "I
remember the beauty of who they were, not the hate
that destroyed them." Jordan didn't understand how
Drake separated one from the other, but he'd leave
a hearing shaken and upset only to return for his next
assignment eager to get started. Drake was
different and that was important. Jordan knew it,
even if he didn't know why.

"The council is ready." Ralph spoke from

where he stood just inside the door. Jordan glanced
at him and smiled.

"Thank you, Ralph. I'm coming." Jordan flexed

his wings once more before folding them against his
body. He noticed Ralph looking at one of the murals
decorating the walls of the huge room. It was a room
for relaxation and reflection. Though open to
everyone, Jordan most often had it to himself. The
murals depicted the few things of note which had
occurred throughout the time of angels and a single
reference to the future. The one Ralph looked at was
an illustration of the exodus. A group of angels chose
to corporeal and left Home to never return. Lost to
the mass of humanity, no record told what happened
to them, though there were always rumors.

It wasn't the art that captured Jordan's

attention, but the angel looking at it. Angels didn't
love, or desire, they served. Jordan's heart
constricted when Ralph turned to meet his eyes with
a smile. Jordan returned the smile, wondering at the
strange feeling in his chest, but it passed and he
didn't mention it. He glanced back into the room lit
with sunlight shining through the glass ceiling, a

with sunlight shining through the glass ceiling, a
sunbeam illuminated the single prophesy of angelic
lore.

An angel, wings of flame spread wide took to

the sky, the Herald, a promise for tomorrow and
change. No one knew where the legend of the
Herald originated and most angels, if they thought of
it at all, discounted it as nothing more than a story.
Jordan shook his head. After so many millennia
watching over humans, more angels should realize
how often such stories were based in fact.

~4~

Grey rubbed his hair with a towel and

grabbed a clean T-shirt off the towel rack. He pulled
it over his head, and his eyes met Drake's in the
mirror. The angel stood in the corner watching. Grey
frowned and glanced away. It was same spot Noah
used to stand, the only open spot in the tiny room.
Grey had the hamper there for a while but watching
Noah perch on top of it prompted him to move it to
the bedroom. Knowing Noah's name seemed odd
after a lifetime of not knowing. Turning to face Drake,
Grey tossed the towel over the shower curtain rod. "I
didn't even know if he had a name."

Drake looked puzzled. "What?"
"Noah. He was around my whole life and for

all I knew he was Angel #456." Grey brushed past
Drake on the way out of the room.

Drake followed, still looking confused. "It

bothers you that Noah didn't talk to you?"

Grey dropped onto the worn sofa standing

against one wall of his tiny living room. "Yes. No.
Dude, I don't know. Do you have to hover around like

that? Can't you sit down or something?"

Drake perched on the edge of an overstuffed

chair in the process of losing some of its stuffing
through small tears in the seams along the arms. He
eyed Grey warily.

Shaking his head, Grey snorted. "Those

things really get in the way, don't they?"

Drake stopped trying to find a way to sit in the

chair without crushing his wings. He stood up,
laughing. "Well not really. I usually don't sit." He
stretched out his wings, careful not to knock anything
over. He preened them with his fingers. Grey
watched, transfixed as Drake's pale fingers slid
through the satiny black feathers.

"You don't sit?" What Drake said sank in,

making Grey frown. "What do you mean you don't
sit?"

Drake shrugged, the motion emphasized by

the wings. "Sometimes, but usually we don't. We
have to be ready, anything could happen. What is
that smell?"

"Crap!" Grey jumped off the couch and ran for

the kitchen. He jerked the pan off the stove. Smoke
was seeping out around the edge of the lid. He

dropped it into the sink without opening it. "You
should have been watching that instead of me. So
much for dinner." Disgusted, he grabbed an apple
out of the refrigerator and took a huge bite.

"Guardian Angels do not watch dinner."

Drake sounded a little offended and Grey laughed.

"We'll stay in here; you sat on that chair

earlier." He waved at the chair still sitting backwards
at the table. "Sit. You know for all the angels hanging
around watching, an awful lot of people still die."
Grey took another bite out of his apple.

Drake's gaze dropped to the scarred

tabletop, he traced a long pale scratch with a single
finger. "Yeah, it sucks. We can only prevent so much,
and so stuff still happens. Accidents, violence,
health, old age. Sooner or later we all fail."

Grey studied Drake in silence, the way his

white-blond hair fell forward hiding his face, the
subtle play of muscle along his arm as he moved his
finger on the table. Grey didn't need to see Drake's
face to know how he felt, everything was in his voice.
Grey reached out and slid a finger under Drake's
chin to lift his head. When their eyes met, the naked
pain in Drake's made Grey's heart clench.

"And I thought we were screwed up." He

shook his head. "Why do you keep doing it?" Grey's
thumb rubbed along the smooth skin of Drake's jaw.

"Some don't." Drake told him, allowing the

caress. "Once a lot quit, they went corporeal and
faded into the crowd."

"You can do that? Is that what Noah did? I'm

so annoying, he quit?" Grey stared at Drake
horrified. Drake laughed, the haunted expression in
his eyes fled and they sparkled with life, the blue
seeming as dark as his wings until the light hit just
right.

"I don't know why he did it, no one told me.

When that group of angels went, I was tempted, but
this… guarding you… is my purpose. I don't know
what I'd be without that."

Elbows on the table, chin propped in his

hands, Grey stared at Drake. "You guys can quit,
anytime? They just let you go?"

Drake nodded. "Hardly anyone does, except

for during the exodus. They can't deny a request to
corporeal. I think Noah went to Hawaii."

Sadness flitted over Grey's face before a

smile quirked his lip. "Well at least he's in a better

place." The unexpected quip surprised a laugh out of
Drake. "Why do you think he did it?" Grey wanted to
know. The idea he'd chased Noah away bothered
him.

Drake cocked his head thoughtfully. "Perhaps

he wanted to talk back."

"Dude, I've been trying to get him to talk to me

for years." Grey protested. "All he had to do was
open his freaking stubborn mouth."

The feathers in Drake's wings ruffled.

"There's probably not one other angel, besides me,
who would have answered you. It's bad enough you
can see us."

Grey got up, ice clicked into a glass, he took

his time filling it with water. "If that's true, why did

you

answer me?" He turned to face Drake. Studying the
angel, Grey leaned against the edge of the sink,
sipping his drink.

"Because not answering wouldn't change

anything." Drake looked like he wanted to say more,
but instead returned his attention to tracing the
marks on the tabletop. Grey continued to watch him,
unable to suppress the rush of desire caused by
Drake's lean-bodied beauty. The familiar tingling at

Drake's lean-bodied beauty. The familiar tingling at
the base of Grey's spine and tightness in his groin
were pleasant but unwelcome. Disgusted that he'd
lust after an angel, Grey set his glass aside and
checked the contents of his pan. The blackened
mess no longer smoked but remained too hot to
dispose of. He set it back into the sink.

"I'll get that tomorrow. I'm going to go to bed

and read for a while. I have an early morning since I
have to patrol before I go to the shop, so it's going to
be a long day."

Drake looked up and smiled, seeming

relieved Grey had run out of questions. Grey flashed
a grin at him. He'd give the guy a break for a while,
but he had plenty more questions. He was curious as
hell. His view of being an angel had been skewed by
society's idea of what an angel was. Talking to
Drake was a revelation. Being an angel sounded
restrictive, a lot more than Grey had imagined, and
he guessed since he knew angels were real, he'd
thought about it more than most people.

Grey didn't protest as Drake followed him

through the apartment and into the tiny closet-sized
room that passed for his bedroom. There was a twin

bed against one wall under a window, the outside of
the glass so grungy it distorted the view of the alley
below. A battered chest of drawers stood next to the
closet door. On the floor next to the bed, a book sat
beside his alarm clock. The room was painted a
boring off-white, the carpeting worn and stained. It
had been a while since the last time Grey had
company, and imagining what it looked like through
someone else's eyes made him cringe. At least the
homemade quilt on his bed looked warm and
inviting, the sheets soft and clean.

Grey blushed and tried to ignore it when

Drake was drawn to the pictures that covered the
dull walls. Sketch after sketch of angels, most of the
same one, but there were a few others depicted.
Drake touched one and turned to Grey, his
expression amazed.

"You did these?" He turned back to the

pictures, studying them closely. Grey shrugged,
stripping out of his T-shirt.

"Yeah." He took advantage of Drake's

distraction to strip out of his pants and crawl into
bed. When Drake faced him again, Grey was safely
under the blankets, book in hand.

"They are very good. You could sell them."

Drake glanced around the tiny room, a frown
furrowed his brow.

"They aren't that good." Grey shook his head,

opening the book to the place marked. "Besides, I
can't get permission. You can't just sell people's
pictures without permission."

Drake looked surprised. "They are that good,

some of the best I've ever seen and angels are
popular. You could make a lot of money. I doubt
Noah would care." He touched a picture beside the
door. "This is Stan. You captured him very well."

Grey glanced up. "Oh him, I hardly ever talk to

other angels; they get all agitated and for a while
people thought I was not quite right in the head
talking to stuff they couldn't see all the time. So I
gave it up. They wrote it off to my head injury in the
accident. But I forgot and told Stan he had a nice
ass. He tripped all over his feet getting away from
me."

"I'm sure that was something that never

happened to him before." Drake laughed, moving to
stand in an unoccupied corner at the foot of the bed.
He didn't slouch or lean, simply stood, arms relaxed

at his sides, watching Grey settle with his book. "You
don't need our permission. Who will know it's a real
angel?"

Grey glanced up, frowning. "I will." His tone

brooked no argument. He snagged his clock off the
floor and set the alarm before settling back against
the mound of pillows with his book. "Have you read
this?" he lifted his book with the cover directed at
Drake.

Drake shook his head. "No, I never read

anything." He didn't appear disturbed by the
statement.

Shocked, Grey lowered the book to his lap.

"Nothing? Ever?"

Unperturbed,

Drake

shook

his

head

negatively again. "No, I don't read; I watch. Even if I
could read, I doubt I could do it and guard at the
same time."

No longer relaxed against the pillows, Grey

sat up straight, staring at Drake in horror. "You can't
read?"

"No. I don't have time. Humans are busy and

get into a lot of trouble. I understand some basics. I
can't let a kid eat what's under the sink, but I don't

can't let a kid eat what's under the sink, but I don't
need a book. Life is too busy for anything like that."
Drake seemed amused by Grey's reaction. "Did you
ever see Noah read?"

"No but I didn't know he couldn't read. Some

people just don't like to. I don't know, I never thought
about it. What do you do to relax? You don't sit or
read…" Grey gripped his blanket, his book forgotten
in his lap. The fact Drake couldn't read appalled him.
He couldn't believe he never noticed before how
Noah never did anything except watch. Grey rubbed
a hand over his face trying to collect his thoughts.
Noah was always there, a bit of a puzzle but not one
Grey ever tried too hard to unravel. Having a different
angel and the fact Drake would talk to him, changed
things, and for the first time Grey saw the angels as
individuals, and the way they lived was foreign to
him.

"I don't relax, Grey, I watch. Guarding is why I

am. Everyone has a destiny written in the stars, the
thing about their life that cannot be changed. I am a
guardian. We watch over humans, keep you safe to
fulfill your purpose."

Grey looked thoughtful. "Why?"

Drake blinked. "What?"
Grey got up, moving to confront Drake,

standing almost nose to nose with him in the narrow
space between the foot of the bed and the wall.

"Why is your sole purpose in life to protect

humans? Who said so?"

Drake swallowed, staring wide-eyed at Grey.

"I don't know. It simply is."

"You mean you aren't made by God to do this

job for some as yet unforeseen glorious revelation of
man?" It was an easy equation. Angels were God's
front men, doing the Big Guy's footwork. Grey wasn't
convinced there was a benevolent God looking over
them all, but the fact of the angels had sealed the
idea in his mind that God was real. Got Angels? Got
God. Or something like that.

"No, at least as far as I know anyhow. I don't

know who made us, if anything."

Drake's simplistic reply rocked the foundation

of Grey's world. Assumptions he'd lived with his
whole life began to crumble. "You don't know?"

Drake looked puzzled. "Do you know who

made you?"

"No."

"But we should?"
"Yes, I guess. I mean I thought… you don't

believe in God?" Grey was staggered, his
preconceptions turning to dust.

"I don't know. I guess He could be there. Do

you believe?" Drake began to look amused.

"Yes. No. I don't know. You aren't from

Heaven?" Grey winced at the question. He sounded
more ignorant to himself every time he opened his
mouth, but he couldn't stop.

"No. When we aren't guarding, we are at

Home. If there is a heaven, I do not know where it is."

"Where's home? You have a house? Is it

nice?" Grey sat on the footboard of his bed, staring
up at Drake, intrigued. What would angels put in their
houses? They didn't sit down, lie down, or eat.

"Home is… it is there. When I need it, I go

there. So, I suppose I don't know

where

it is. There

are a few buildings, official ones, The Hearing Hall
and the Chamber of Legends, but we do not need
buildings or houses. It is much like your countryside
and very beautiful. It is always spring-like, always
day. Whenever one of us must return, it is a comfort."

"You need comfort?"

"We only return when a charge dies. The

transition to a new assignment can be difficult. There
is a lot of waiting."

"Waiting with no reading, or sleeping, or

eating." Grey sounded horrified. "How much
waiting?"

Drake smiled. "I do not know. There is no

time there. We wait, that is all."

"You know, sometimes when you talk you

sound like a regular guy and sometimes you sound
all proper."

"I don't talk much."
"Oh." Grey's perch put him eye-level with

Drake's chest, reminding him he wore only a pair of
worn boxers. Being almost naked, nose to chest with
the beautiful angel distracted him. "Do you have
sex?" Drake choked and Grey's face flamed. "No, I
mean do you, does it… ah crap. I meant do you have
sex."

"No."
"No you can't or no you don't?"
Drake frowned. "I don't know."
His answer surprised a laugh out of Grey.

"You don't know."

"You don't know."

"No."
Suddenly more curious than he'd ever been in

his life, Grey tucked his fingers in Drake's
waistband. "Dude, do you even have…" He tugged,
but Drake's hands locked around his wrist and
despite the fact Grey was much larger, he found
himself immobilized.

"No."
Grey's eyes met Drake's. "No, you don't have

any, or no, you won't let me see?" Drake didn't
answer. He looked at Grey, his eyes dark and
thoughtful. Grey realized he was blushing again. His
grip on Drake's waistband relaxed and Drake let him
slip his hands away.

"Sorry." Grey sighed and moved away from

the silent angel. "My curiosity gets me in a lot of
trouble. It doesn't help that you're hot as hell." He
crawled back into bed and picked up his book.

"Kissable?"
Relieved to see Drake looking more amused

than annoyed, Grey's eyes moved over Drake's trim
form. "Dude, you have no idea." Calling an end to
question and answers, Grey opened his book and

tried to start reading, but Drake shifting around in the
corner made it hard to concentrate. Glancing up in
hopes of identifying the source of the angel's
restlessness, Grey was surprised at the look of open
curiosity on Drake's face.

Grey lifted the book slightly. "You want me to

read it aloud?"

Blushing, Drake shrugged. "If you want."
With a last amused look at Drake, Grey

turned the pages to the beginning of the book and
began to read.

~5~

"It's a thrift store, come on." Grey led the way

into the store without waiting to see if Drake
followed, pausing just inside to let him get a look
around. "I buy just about everything here. It's where I
got my furniture, and I always buy my clothes here."
The store was huge. Clothes hung in racks on one
end, and were piled high on tables in the middle of
the store. Used furniture lined the walls in the back
and shelves of miscellaneous items filled the other
side.

"Everything is used." Drake observed as they

wound their way through the tight aisle. Grey noticed
he was the only one really navigating the space.
Drake just walked through anything that got in his
way. Grey wondered how the angel walked through
tables but sat on a chair without trouble. Unable to
figure out an answer, he made a mental note to ask.

"One man's used is another man's way to

cheaper living." Grey stopped and went through a
stack of T-shirts, picking out three or four before
abandoning the rest. When he moved away from the

table, they hung over his arm like a black, green, and
blue flag. None of the colors sharp, but muted with
age. "I can buy jeans and still pay the rent."

Grey piled the shirts on the edge of a table

filled with jeans. "Take these for example." He held
up a likely pair. Faded from washing and already
worn through in places, they were the sort of pants
he liked best. He checked the brand name and
grinned at Drake. "These probably go for about a
hundred and fifty bucks in a store new, but here? All
jeans are five dollars. These probably don't look
much different now than they did new." He added
them to the pile. Drake reached out and touched the
fabric.

"Those are really soft." He continued to pet

the buttery aged denim, making Grey smile as he
looked for another pair his size.

"Jeans are at their best just after most people

give up and toss them." Grey added two more pairs
of jeans to his growing stack of clothing. Distracted
when he noticed the cashier in front of the store kept
giving him odd looks, Grey almost jumped out of his
skin when he felt Drake's hand on his ass, just
before hot fingers grazed the skin on the back of his

thigh through a tear in the back of his jeans. A
shudder racked Grey's body and he turned his full
attention back to Drake. Nothing about the angel's
posture or expression suggested sexual overture,
but that didn't stop Grey's blood from heating.
"Drake?"

Drake looked down and stared at his hand,

looking surprised to see it there resting on Grey's
ass. He jerked it away and pink tinged his cheeks.
"Sorry."

"Hey, no problem." Grey lied, having a lot

more trouble gathering his composure than he did
the clothes he'd picked out to buy. "How'd you like
it?" Keeping his tone casual was an effort.

Drake looked thoughtful. "Jeans are nice."
"Jeans," Grey muttered, his skin still tingling

where Drake's fingers had slipped into the rip in his
pants just under the seat, inadvertently brushing
against him. "Yeah they're just great. You want a
pair?"

Drake caressed another pair of jeans; his

fingers looked elegant and out of place against the
aged material. "It is tempting."

Grey's mind had no trouble presenting him

with a detailed image of just how irresistible Drake
in a pair of loose fit jeans would be, and his mouth
went dry. "I'll guess your size," he muttered, turning
back to the stacks.

"I cannot, people can see these. I would be…

odd."

An image of being followed by a pair of

animated blue jeans replaced the hot angel with his
fly unbuttoned in Grey's head, and he laughed. "I
think you're right. I have a question."

"No, really?" Drake's dry tone as he followed

Grey to the other side of the store surprised a laugh
out him.

"Very funny," Grey muttered, searching a shelf

of kitchen items. "Why do you guys wear pants if
people can't see you?" Grey added a couple of
spatulas and a new pan to replace the one that never
really recovered from the Hamburger Helper
incident.

"I don't know, we just do. I never thought about

it. There are baskets at the front of the store."
Drake's eyes were fixed on the precarious balance
of the items Grey held all in one arm as he continued
to peruse the shelves.

"You never think about pants; that's weird.

You could just carry some of this." Grey added a pair
of pig-shaped salt and pepper shakers to the mix,
setting them inside the skillet.

"I don't think about pants. I don't carry things. I

protect." Drake said.

Looking thoughtful, Grey cocked his head.

"What are you protecting me from in here,
splinters?" He reached for something in the back
corner of the shelf when Drake's hand wrapped
around his arm.

"Or worse."
Grey stared in silence at the exposed end of

a nail he'd almost dragged his forearm across.
"That'd hurt."

"Most likely, you should stop talking to me so

much, it's distracting." Drake rubbed his thumb
across the vein just under the skin of Grey's forearm,
one that may or may not have been in danger from
the nail. Grey decided he didn't want to think about
how something as stupid as reaching for a yellow net
scrubby could have gone so bad.

"I'm a man, Drake; I don't need you to watch

over me every second. There's nothing wrong with

over me every second. There's nothing wrong with
you taking time off for a conversation." Grey headed
for the front of the store, weighed down with his pile
of stuff.

"Carrying packages and entertaining you are

not my purpose. I protect."

"Yeah, I know, and good job on that nail thing.

It might have been a real bitch, but seriously, how
many times a day can I need to be protected from
crap? Life's not that dangerous." Grey set the stuff
on the glass counter beside the register.

"Life is the most dangerous thing of all."
Oblivious to the cashier watching him in

amusement, Grey turned to face Drake. The angel
made Grey's heart ache, he was so beautiful. "It's not
if you don't live it." Pulling his wallet out of his pocket,
he noticed the cashier for the first time and frowned.
"What the fuck are you looking at?"

* * * *

Drake stood behind Grey at the counter of the

ice cream shop. The hand-dipped ice cream came
in more flavors than Drake could count. He
wondered how Grey would make a decision, but he
didn't seem to have a problem with it and soon they

were sitting at the counter on bar stools, feet resting
on the silver rail attached to the bottom of the counter
for just that purpose.

"I prefer a booth but considering…" He gave

a meaningful look at Drake's wings before turning
back to his banana split.

"I could just stand and watch over you like I'm

supposed to." Drake suggested. He twisted the
stool, barely resisting the temptation to spin it all the
way around.

"And make me a nervous wreck with you

hovering? No thanks." Grey took a big bite of the
vanilla ice cream covered in chocolate sauce.
Watching him lick the sweet concoction off his lips
made Drake's stomach do odd things. He turned to
stare at Grey through the mirror on the opposite wall
in an effort to remove himself from the immediacy of
the situation. "Did Noah sit with you?" he asked.

Grey rolled his eyes. "No. He didn't talk, totally

different situation."

"It's not different; we are the same." Drake

protested. He wondered how many choices Grey
made to get his banana split. Noah was the furthest
thing from Drake's mind. Humans, out of all

creatures, had the ability to choose. Not just
meaningless things like ice cream and movies, but
profound things that could change their lives.
Choices with the potential to alter fate, and yet they
treated that ability with such a cavalier attitude it
amazed Drake, but he'd tried to talk to Grey about it
before and it seemed to go in one ear and out the
other.

"You and Noah couldn't be more different."

Drake frowned. Grey confused him.

"We are the same. All angels are the same."
"If that's true, why do you all look so different?

Why do you have names instead of numbers? If you
are so much alike, you might as well all look the
same. Like black bears, black bears all look the
same."

"Not to other bears." Drake struggled to

follow Grey's line of reasoning, but his insistence that
Drake could break free from what Grey saw as the
herd-mentality of the angels confused and terrified
him.

"I'm not a bear." Grey met Drake's eyes in the

mirror. "Something weird is going on with you guys. I
don't know why you can't see it."

"It's not weird. The destiny and purpose of an

angel is written in the stars."

"Most of you look pretty damn bored." Grey

pointed out, looking around the shop. Angels lurked,
doubling the number of patrons visible to most
humans. They were paying attention to what was
going on, but their expressions said doing so was
about as exciting as watching paint dry.

"It's not our place to question, but to be

prepared." Drake swiveled the stool back and forth
with his hips.

"Hmm, so you keep saying. That's no kind of

life. You should do something about it."

"Do what? Rearrange the stars?" Drake's

sarcasm was lost on Grey.

"If that's what it takes."
Drake sighed; Grey's world was so black and

white. "It's not that easy. Angels don't make
choices."

"You made the choice to talk to me." Grey

pointed out, scraping the last of his ice cream from
the elongated bowl in front of him.

"That wasn't a choice, it just happened."
"Is that what you tell yourself? You don't think

"Is that what you tell yourself? You don't think

you are making a choice every time we hold a
conversation? When you sit instead of stand? When
you look at my ass instead of watching where my
feet are going?"

Drake's gaze dropped to the counter in front

of him. Grey's words made his head spin. No choice.
Angels weren't free, they had fate, not choices. He
felt Grey's hand cover his where it lay on the top of
the bar. Drake stared at their hands. It meant
something, he wished he knew what.

"You know, dude, changing the stars really

isn't as hard as you try to make it out." Grey grinned
at him.

Drake's brow furrowed with his frown. "Is that

right?"

"Yep. You do it one decision at a time." Grey

hopped off his bar stool. "Let's go. I'm late for my
patrol."

Drake didn't move. Grey's opinion of Drake's

behavior stunned him. Grey couldn't be right. It wasn't
possible that Drake had changed things by such
inconsequential actions. Except that was exactly
what he'd been thinking about Grey, about

decisions… about choice. "It's because of you," he
breathed. "You are different, and it caused all this."

Brow raised, Grey looked at Drake. Instead

of leaving, he turned, leaning his forearms on the
counter. Staring ahead into the mirror, his voice low,
Grey continued their discussion. "You started
making choices before you met me. What you said
about remembering people and how the other
angels don't do it. That's a choice, Drake. You made
a conscious decision to do things differently than the
other angels. I had nothing to do with that." Grey
paused, looking thoughtful. "Noah was with me my
whole life; he never said one word no matter what I
did. You were already different, that's why you
answered me. That's why you keep talking to me,
when maybe it'd be smarter, or at least less
complicated, for you to stop."

Bewildered, Drake stared into the reflection

of Grey's eyes, trying to ignore the other angels. The
ones not talking to their charges, or thinking about
remembering. The ones he wasn't like. "I don't
understand how this happened," Drake said, just as
an enormous man sat on him. It wasn't an uncommon
occurrence. There were a lot of people in the world,

add an equal number of angels and things got
crowded. Drake was used to being walked through,
though he usually stepped aside when someone
tried to stand where he was standing. Something so
common for Drake wasn't as commonplace for Grey,
and the look on his face when he suddenly found
himself locking gazes with stranger made Drake
laugh. He got up off the stool, the guy never even
blinked. There wasn't the least awareness of Drake's
presence. "You see? That's normal." Drake stood
beside Grey, copying his posture, forearms on the
counter, hands clasped with fingers loosely
interlaced in front of him. There was barely room
between the stools for them both, their shoulders
brushed.

"I don't get it. Why can I touch you but they

can't? How does me seeing you change that
dynamic?" Grey sounded frustrated and a muscle in
his jaw tightened.

"I don't know, you can't say you aren't the

cause of what's happening to me, Grey. That's
normal," Drake said as he motioned at the guy
who'd sat on him. "What happens with you, there is
nothing close to normal about that." Drake let Grey

lead him toward the door of the shop as they talked.
There was still work to get done that day, a patrol to
walk and cars to fix. Half way to the door, Drake
suddenly spread his wings. Grey gasped and
reached for a near-by candy display, but Drake's
wing passed right through it. "That's how things are
supposed to work. So why do I knock pictures off
your walls and trip over that stupid rug in your living
room?"

"When it rains you get wet, yet the wind

doesn't blow through you. I don't understand any of
this, so don't go blaming me." Grey hustled Drake
out the door of the ice cream parlor. "All this angel
stuff is enough to make anyone crazy."

"You think so? You should try it from this

side!" Fuming, arms crossed over his chest, Drake
followed Grey. Outside, Grey stopped and turned to
face Drake, their eyes met and Drake's anger
evaporated like it had never been. They both burst
out laughing.

"'I don't know' is becoming my most hated

phrase."

"That's interesting, you know what mine is?"

Drake walked along beside Grey, more alert than he

Drake walked along beside Grey, more alert than he
had been since their patrol had begun.

"What's that?" Grey peered up an alley and

greeted a couple of people on the street.

"To be continued…"

~6~

"I need the quarter inch wrench."
"I'm supposed to watch you, not play

mechanic's helper." Drake poked around in the box,
trying to remember his wrench lesson.

"It's the smallest one."
Drake found the right one and handed it over.

Grey grunted his thanks. Staring at the open hood of
the vehicle, Drake wondered if closing it on Grey's
head was a breach of his angelic duties. With a
long-suffering sigh, Drake decided it probably was,
he'd have to get the aggravating man to accept the
correct order of things without violence, somehow. It
seemed to Drake they'd spent the last few weeks in
a continual tug of war over his role in Grey's life.
Drake explained the guardian responsibilities as
being mostly observing with timely intervention when
necessary. Grey insisted their relationship was
different than the usual guardian/charge situation,
and so the same rules didn't apply.

Waiting for Grey to finish with the car, or need

another tool, Drake picked up the book Grey had left

on the workbench after lunch and thumbed through it.
Telling Grey he couldn't read had been a slight
exaggeration, he had a rudimentary skill. No one
could sit through as many years of school as he had
without learning something. Hampered by lack of
practice, he could still piece it together if he tried. It
never seemed worth the effort before, but Grey
always quit reading at a particularly exciting part to
tease him. So Drake stole the book one night and
tried puzzling through the next few pages on his own,
but Grey caught him.

"No cheating!" Grey had laughed when he

grabbed the book away, but he'd slept with it under
his pillow ever since.

Drake frowned at the cover, disgruntled at

himself as much as Grey. It didn't make sense to
care so much whether a fairy wanted pizza or not,
fairies weren't even real.

"Are you sure?" The sound of Grey's voice

pulled Drake back to the present. Grey appeared
from under the battered blue hood of the car wiping
his hands on a heavily stained towel. Startled by the
question, Drake met Grey's laughing eyes, realizing
he must have voiced his thoughts out loud.

"I'm sure. Nothing in this book is real." Drake

flipped through the paperback before setting it
aside. Grey slammed the hood of the car and leaned
back on it to contemplating Drake.

"Chicago is real, people are real." Grey

teased referring to the setting of the book.

Drake rolled his eyes, a habit he'd picked up

from his human charge. "You know what I mean.
Wizards, magic, fairies, vampires… werewolves,
none of those things are real. The whole story is just
over the top. It should be ridiculous." He couldn't help
fingering the book again.

Grey's smile lit his face. "And yet you can't

wait to see what'll happen."

A soft blush highlighted Drake's cheekbones.

"It seems real when you read it. Compelling." Grey
reached over and picked up the paperback. He
hopped onto the hood of the car and braced his feet
on the bumper. He opened it to where they'd left off
the night before.

"Why don't you believe in fairies?" Looking

up, Grey marked his place with a dirty finger. His
question seemed idle but Drake had learned to
watch out for Grey's casual inquiries.

Drake's brow rose over his left eye as it

commonly did when he thought Grey needed to stop
and think things through. "Have you ever seen one?"

"That's a really bad argument. Angels are

real."

Drake blinked. "You think these books are

real?"

"I'm open to the idea that there are things I

haven't seen that are real. Fairies? Well the jury is
out on that one, but I can see angels and no one else
can. So, it'd be pretty closed-minded of me to laugh
at someone who says they can see ghosts… or
fairies." He looked thoughtful and tossed the book to
Drake. "I feel like taking some time off, want to go for
a ride?"

Drake eyed him warily. "What do you mean,

ride?"

"I'm going to take the bike out. You always fly.

Ride with me today." Grey moved around the shop
as he spoke, putting things away and securing the
cars. He grabbed his helmet and glanced back at
Drake. "Coming?" Drake slipped down off the table
and followed Grey into the office. Leaving Grey
checking messages, Drake wandered out to wait for

him by the bike. He glanced back at the office. Not
that long ago the idea of leaving his charge alone
would have horrified Drake, but Grey complained so
much about hovering, that it made breaking tradition
easier than listening to him. Drake walked around
the bike. It looked good and as safe as anything
could be that one clung to and drove at
unreasonable speeds. Usually when Grey rode,
Drake flew overhead, pacing him and watching out
for trouble, today Grey wanted him on the bike.

"I want you to know how it feels."
Drake turned to face him. "I can fly," he

pointed out, spreading his wings for emphasis. Grey
grinned and pulled on his helmet.

"That's great. This should be a piece of cake

then." He slung a leg over the big bike and settled
onto the seat. He slipped the key into the ignition
and the engine roared to life. Drake could feel Grey's
eyes on him even though he couldn't see them
through the tinted visor. With a long-suffering sigh,
Drake tucked his wings close to his body and
climbed onto the motorcycle behind Grey. Drake
wrapped his arms around Grey's waist. The power
and strength of the machine under them vibrated

and strength of the machine under them vibrated
through Drake's body. Surprised, he hugged Grey
tighter, burying his face in between Grey's shoulder
blades. Drake breathed deeply, Grey's scent had
become as familiar to him as his own. Sensations
unfamiliar to him before meeting Grey assaulted
Drake's senses. Heat curled at the base of his spine
and his breath caught. He'd felt these things with
Grey before but never with such intensity. Startled,
Drake would have taken to the air, but Grey put the
bike in gear and took off.

Riding behind Grey on that motorcycle, Drake

learned there was more than one way to fly. Grey
took the shortest route out of the city and they soon
left the busy hustle behind. Farmland flashed by on
either side, a checkerboard of colors dotted by
horses and cows, like assorted playing pieces
scattered over them. After the farms, the two rode
through a national forest, the trees huge and stately,
the scraggly sun-starved undergrowth struggled
beneath the canopy. The wind rushed past, the
feeling of being propelled by something other than
his own muscles totally foreign to Drake. It made him
feel powerful and terrified.

If Grey lost control or made a mistake, the

results would be disastrous. Not for Drake, he
couldn't be hurt. He wondered if he'd be held
responsible if Grey killed himself while Drake clung
to the precarious perch behind him and what the AIC
would do to him if he were. No angel had ever been
found guilty, of anything. Acquitted and reassigned,
always. No doubt, if Grey destroyed himself through
some misbegotten adventure, the worst Drake faced
was a premature trip Home where he'd be absolved
of all fault, regardless of circumstances.

Grey slowed the bike and turned down an old

trail, pulling Drake out of his thoughts. They
proceeded at a slower pace, giving Drake time to
appreciate the variety and color of the foliage
surrounding them. The leaves overhead filtered the
sunlight into a greenish haze. It felt like Home and
made him smile. When they broke out of the trees
and the bike came to a stop, Drake gasped at the
view. They stood at the edge of a small canyon. A
waterfall tumbled into the lake at the bottom, the blue
sky a dome overhead, sprinkled with fluffy white
clouds and dominated by the brightly shining sun.

Drake slipped off the bike. Sunshine warmed

his shoulders, the heat made his muscles feel liquid.
His slow shrug and flexing of his wings reflected how
he felt.

Sunbathing was a rarity in the city, the

freedom to soar even more so. He stretched his
wings and hurtled into the air. His laughter rang out
and he caught an air current. He played on it for a
while, barely moving his wings as he glided from first
one then another. Without warning, he tucked his
wings against his body and dove. His slender form
cut through the water cleanly. He reemerged
shooting straight up, water streaming off of him, his
wings glistening. Drake flew through the waterfall
and then dove into the lake once more.

* * * *

Grey watched Drake fly, the sight more

incredible than he ever imagined. Drake didn't talk
about himself much, nothing really, beyond the direct
questions Grey asked. That was one reason he
asked a lot of questions. Drake didn't have any
hobbies, or relationships. Grey still struggled to wrap
his mind around the idea that even though Drake
hadn't met every angel, he knew them all on sight.
Angels were aware when they had a first meeting

and grew familiar with those they saw more often
than others, but first encounters were as shallow and
painless as the rest of their lives. Grey thought it
beyond weird there were always enough angels,
regardless of how the human population increased.
Talking to Drake revealed he had no idea how
anything in his life worked. It just did, and he
accepted it. "We are guardians, not scientists." Grey
wished he had a dollar for every time Drake said that
or some similar comment.

Angels didn't live, they existed, and the more

Grey learned, the more determined he became that
things would be different for Drake. As spontaneous
as it seemed, Grey planned the outing because one
of the few things Drake talked about with fondness
were open spaces, lakes and waterfalls. How much
he missed those things, clear in his expression.
Even knowing that hadn't prepared Grey for Drake's
reaction, and watching Drake plunge into the lake
put Grey's heart in his throat. The angel hit the water
with enough force to have broken a man's neck but
he emerged unscathed, catapulting back into the sky
solely under his own power. Grey lost himself
watching Drake; his flight the most beautiful thing

watching Drake; his flight the most beautiful thing
Grey had ever seen.

When Drake landed next to him, the sight of

him dripping wet and beaming stole Grey's breath,
and just like that he lost his ongoing battle with the
lust Drake inspired. The first night they were
together, Drake's firm answer about no sex and his
subsequent admission that he didn't know if he could
even have sex, convinced Grey he couldn't. His
continued attraction to Drake, including his body's
response when Drake was close, embarrassed
Grey. He was thankful Drake usually appeared
blissfully unaware of Grey's recurring dilemma. Their
shared motorcycle ride proved Grey's assumption
wrong; Drake could get aroused. Just when Grey
thought he had things under control, there stood
Drake in all his angel glory. Water glistened on his
skin and his feathers. Hair so light that even being
wet couldn't darken it was plastered against his
head. The white pants Grey delighted in teasing him
about clung to narrow hips, turned sheer by the
water, leaving nothing to the imagination.

"Drake." Grey's voice cracked on the name.
Drake's eyes met Grey's. "What?" He looked

confused, but Grey didn't have the words to answer.
He took a step forward, invading the angel's
personal space in a way he hadn't since their first
night together. Drake's eyes widened in surprise as
Grey's hand slipped around his trim waist, coming to
rest on the small of his back, and with a gentle tug
brought their bodies together.

"Drake." The name fell from Grey's lips a

second time, and even he didn't know if it was a
prayer or a plea. Their lips brushed. Drake gasped
but didn't pull away. Encouraged, Grey lifted his free
hand to Drake's face, fingers splayed along his
cheek, thumb on his chin nudging his mouth open.
Grey's tongue licked at Drake's parted lips and,
meeting no resistance, slipped inside to be met
tentatively by Drake's. Grey licked deeper into the
kiss. Drake moaned, his hands coming up to frame
Grey's face and his tongue curling around Grey's in a
slow deliberate caress.

Grey pulled back, gasping for air. He stared

wild-eyed at Drake. The angel met his look with a
level one of his own. Grey waited, anxious for Drake
to say something, or at least give some indication
what should happen next. Drake's fingers caressed

Grey's face, sliding down to rest on his neck, thumbs
rubbing the angle of his jaw.

"Did you plan this?" Drake asked, his voice

quiet.

Calming under his touch, Grey shook his

head. "Well, I mean I did this." He waved at the view
of the lake and waterfall. "But not…" His voice faded
as he made some vague motion between them. "I
thought you couldn't."

Drake looked uncomfortable. "I didn't know. I

mean I never, it never…" Drake's voice trailed away,
leaving them both staring in mute silence at the
rather stunning evidence of his arousal.

"Never?" Grey couldn't believe it. Drake didn't

even know his age. He measured time, when he
measured it at all, by the lives he'd watched over.
That alone set him apart from the others of his kind
who forgot their previous charge as soon as they
began a new one, letting them all blend into a vague
haze of accomplishment. The past had no place in
now, the future of no concern, only now had meaning.
They observed, they protected and they did it with a
sense of immediacy that would put a toddler to
shame.

"I have told you. We watch, not experience."

Drake looked into Grey's eyes, and touched his
bottom lip with a trembling thumb that gave lie to his
unruffled facade.

"You exist without living." Grey countered. The

desperate need in Drake's eyes revived Grey's
confidence. "I can teach you to live." His work-
roughened hand slid down and cupped Drake's ass.
The angel quivered under Grey's touch; eyes
widening, Drake gasped softly. Drake didn't resist
as Grey pulled him closer.

"This is a really bad idea."
Grey brushed his lips over Drake's, the breath

of a kiss silencing the token protest. "I think it's going
to be the most incredible thing ever." Drake
shuddered in Grey's arms, fingers digging deep into
the back of his neck. Drake's cock was a hard heat
against Grey's hip. He brought Drake into another
kiss, hot and hungry. Making a desperate noise in
the back of his throat, Drake pressed closer as
Grey's tongue chased his. Grey eased out of the
kiss, his lips trailing over Drake's cheek, back to his
ear. He shivered when Grey's breath brushed the
tender skin. "Never been kissed. Never been

tender skin. "Never been kissed. Never been
touched."

Drake traced the curve of Grey's ear with a

hot wet tongue. Grey whimpered.

"Never been hard." Drake panted, rutting

against Grey. "Something's wrong with me." Grey
recognized panic in Drake's voice and eased off.

"Shh, nothing's wrong. Let yourself live for a

change. Let me show you." Grey was shaking, so
rigid with his own need he could barely keep control,
but determined not to scare Drake, he clung to the
last shreds of willpower.

"Please." Drake's broken whisper almost

took Grey to his knees. Drake caught him and they
clung together. Grey's hands came to rest on
Drake's hips, holding him steady as Grey rocked
their groins together, rubbing the swollen length of
his denim-clad cock against Drake's nearly exposed
sex. Drake gasped and thrust forward.

"Damn." Grey moaned. "I'm going to touch

you." It was a statement. A request. A promise.

"Wait." Drake stepped away. Grey frowned

but before he could form a coherent protest, Drake's
hands were pushing his pants off over his hips. The

material caught on his dick. Grey reached out to help
but Drake shook his head, waving him off. A moment
later the white material pooled around his feet. The
same pair of pants he'd had since the beginning.
The only pair he owned. Angels didn't get dirty. They
didn't change clothes. They didn't age. Pants didn't
wear out. Grey stared at them. His gaze moved up
Drake, over his long lean legs, proud cock, flat
stomach, to the wings that kept unfolding over
Drake's shoulders to flutter in reaction to his charged
emotions, to his eyes.

"When was the last time you took those off?"
Drake looked down and stepped out of the

wet puddle of cloth. His eyes met Grey's once more.
"Never."

Drake's words turned Grey inside out. "Why

now?"

"I want to see. Touch me now Grey, please."
Grey couldn't move. He stared at the

perfection in front of him. Drake's wings were
unfurled again, the tips quivered. Drawn by the way
Drake's wings so often reflected his emotions, Grey
stepped forward. He reached out cautiously and
stroked a feather, an act he'd not dared before that

moment. Drake whimpered and his cock jerked,
leaking its first pearl of precum. His eyes widened.

"Fuck." Grey slipped his fingers between

dark feathers in a careful tender caress and got an
armful of lust-crazed angel. Drake's mouth slanted
over Grey's, hot and hungry. Their teeth clashed and
Grey tried to ease him back but Drake resisted,
clinging tight, one leg around Grey's waist, wings
moving just enough to keep their balance. Grey
threaded his fingers through soft feathers. They were
like air under his touch but Drake cried out, rutting
hard against Grey's belly. In an effort to slow things
down, Grey stopped caressing his feathers. His
hands settled onto the small of Drake's back, petting
gently. Drake took a long shaky breath. Both legs
were around Grey's waist but the gentle movement
of Drake's wings made holding him easy.

"That's it, breathe a little." Grey laughed.

Drake's face was buried against his shoulder and
Grey rubbed his face in the angel's damp hair.

"Never felt like this."
"Drake, I don't think you've ever felt much of

anything."

"Pain."

"What? Drake, look at me."
Drake lifted his head to meet Grey's eyes.

"It's like this, but the other way. When they die. They
all die, Grey. You." Drake touched Grey's face; his
own a mask of pain. "Everyone forgets, moves on to
the next one. I cannot. I have to remember. Someone
has to, but there's so much pain." Drake's eyes filled
with tears that didn't fall, and he kissed Grey
tenderly. "So much pain, and now you. Touch me,
Grey, teach me. Teach me to forget the pain." Grey
slid his hands up Drake's back, his fingers brushed
the base of Drake's wings, where they grew in a
mass of bone and muscle from the angel's narrow
back in a way Grey couldn't understand. The
connection between body and wings seemed too
fragile for the power Drake flew with so easily. Drake
tensed under Grey's touch. Grey repeated the
caress, brushing teasing fingertips over the sensitive
skin. Drake threw his head back and howled.

Grey grabbed a handful of Drake's bottom,

unnecessarily lending support, moving his free hand
between them to wrap around Drake's cock. Drake
sobbed and clutched at Grey. His hips thrust with a
force countered by the movement of his wings.

force countered by the movement of his wings.
Drake had never known intimacy, but his body knew
exactly what to do.

"Grey." Drake's cry filled the air, his wings

folding against his back as he came in hot spurts
that coated his belly and drenched Grey's shirt.
Drake was lighter than Grey expected but heavy
enough that the sudden loss of support dropped him
to his knees. Grey played with Drake's dick as it
softened, enjoying the slide of the foreskin over the
slick head. Drake moaned and trembled, holding
onto Grey's shirt in a death grip.

Before long, Grey slid Drake to the ground

where he sat on his ass braced by his hands in the
grass behind him, legs wide spread with a foot on
either side of Grey's knees. Grey stared. It was a
sight unlikely to have been seen before that moment.
Angel debauched. Drake's cheeks were flushed; his
chest heaved a little as he caught his breath. His
beautiful silk hair hung over one eye and his equally
silken cock lay curled in a nest of sparse white-blond
hair. Grey fumbled with his snap and then the zipper.
Drake sat up, reaching out to help.

"No," Grey gasped. "Don't move. Stay just

like that." Looking puzzled, Drake complied. Grey
freed his cock from his jeans. It was longer and
thicker than Drake's. Drake stared, his tongue
snaked out to wet his lips. Grey braced himself with
one hand behind him in the grass and began to
stroke his dick with the other. Drake watched, his
eyes widening when Grey's cock grew thicker and
harder as he neared orgasm. His balls pulled up into
hard knots. Drake sat up.

"No, wait, almost there." Grey panted. Drake

shook his head and pulled Grey's hand away.

"Stop, I want to…" Instead of completing his

sentence, Drake got to his knees. His hands
pressed into the soil between Grey's knees, and
wings outspread, he lifted his head to meet Grey's
eyes. "I want to do this." Grey watched in
astonishment as Drake leaned forward, his hair
brushed Grey's belly, and his wings fluttered. Hot
breath brushed against Grey's cock. Grey cursed
and came before Drake's mouth ever touched him.
Drake looked up a rueful smile on his face. Cum
dripped off his nose.

"I'll have to be faster next time."
Grey burst out laughing and hauled Drake up

into his arms. "You can go first next time." Grey
promised. He wiped Drake's face and ran a caress
down the curve of his neck. "Now what?"

Drake stretched, looking relaxed and sated. "I

don't know. Did you bring the book?" Grey rolled his
eyes and took a swat at the angel's head, but Drake
was too fast for him and ducked out of the way
easily.

"Yes, I brought the book." They spent the rest

of the afternoon together on a sun-warmed rock.
Grey sitting, legs crossed, read aloud the further
adventures of Harry Dresden and Co. Drake lay on
his stomach, perfectly at ease; every so often his
wings would spread and stretch. After a while, Grey
laid the book aside and turned to look at Drake.

"You really never took off your pants before?"

he asked. Drake turned from staring out over the
lake to meet Grey's eyes.

"Never."
"What about baby angels? How in the hell do

you get more of you?" Grey's questions made it
obvious the focus of his attention hadn't been the
story. Drake sat up.

"No baby angels. No females. There are just

us and I told you before there are always enough of
us. I don't know why, it just is. Some stuff can't be
explained, Grey, any more than we can explain the
stars." Drake glanced at the sky as if he could see
the constellations behind the deep blue.

"How old are you?" Grey studied Drake's

young face and reached out to finger his straight fine
hair. "You look like you're about twelve sometimes."

"I don't know. Remembering is difficult. I

remember the names, the faces because I try, but
years are nothing to me. I don't get dirty. The pants
don't wear out. Why take them off?" The wicked grin
that curled his lips made him look quite a bit older
than twelve and quickened Grey's heartbeat. "Well, I
mean before you." Drake welcomed Grey with open
arms when the man growled and invaded Drake's
personal space for a kiss. Books and pants were
forgotten for the rest of the day.

~7~

Drake rode home on the back of Grey's bike,

arms wrapped tight around his lover's waist, clad
once more in his white pants still damp from a final
dive into the lake. Drake had washed the evidence
of their love play from his body under the waterfall.
The very first time he could remember needing to
clean something from his skin. Being with Grey
brought change so fast, it made Drake's head spin.

In the days that followed, Drake was totally

distracted from guarding. When Grey showered,
instead of Drake watching for accidents like slipping
on the bar of soap, he watched Grey's hands
lathering his body and wished he could fit under the
stream of water too. Drake's wings, contrary to many
romantic musings, were bulky and inconvenient. His
inability to control them when aroused made
intimacy in tight places impossible.

They cooked dinner together, though Drake

rarely ate anything. Grey's resources were limited
and Drake thought wasting food on someone who
didn't need to eat was stupid. Drake insisted on

cleaning up so Grey could read to them because
stories at bedtime were a thing of their past. They
cleared out the bedroom, put the dresser in the living
room and discarded the twin bed behind the
apartment building. Grey splurged on a king sized
mattress set which they put in the middle of the
bedroom floor. The rest of the room was empty
except for Grey's drawings. Nothing fancy about it,
but Drake could spread his wings, something he
couldn't control when aroused and Grey made sure
he stayed aroused plenty. When Grey went to work,
Drake went too, not to watch over his charge, but to
help. Drake learned to tell the wrenches apart and
knew the carburetor from the gas tank.

For Drake, the world no longer existed only in

the extremes of 'dangerous' and 'safe.' Grey pulled,
shoved and coerced Drake into a new life, one filled
with taste, light, color, passion, and oddest of all—
choice.

The light from the streetlights outside spilled

in around the blinds, keeping the room from being
completely dark. Drake and Grey knelt on the
mattress facing one another, bodies flush together.
Hard cocks trapped between them rubbed together,

their breath reduced to short harsh pants. Drake's
hands cupped Grey's face, long graceful fingers
teasing the curve of his ears. It hadn't taken Drake
long to discover Grey's weakness there. The man
melted into a shuddering heap if his ears were
teased just right. Grey's hands alternated between
splaying across Drake's back, teasing the
hypersensitive skin at the base of his wings and
combing through dark feathers. Drake keened under
the attention. His hips bucked forward, thrusting hard
against Grey, wings spread to their full span,
feathers quivering. Foreheads touching, they
resisted kissing, torturing themselves by denying the
desperate need to join their mouths.

Drake broke first. With a soft cry, his mouth

closed on Grey's, hot and demanding. Grey opened
for Drake's insistent tongue, meeting it with his own.
They devoured one another, tongues tangling and
chasing. Their breaths blended, but only Grey
sweated, his heat-slick body rubbed against Drake's
cooler, dry one. Drake groaned, grabbing Grey's
arms and guiding him back onto the bed. Grey went
down without protest. Drake knelt between Grey's
thighs, looking down on him. Grey was beautiful. His

flame colored hair, softer than it looked, all spiky
unruliness; his golden hazel eyes flecked with green;
broad shoulders, narrow waist, lean hips and strong
hands, everything about him heated Drake's blood.

Drake wrapped a hand around his own

erection, stroking it slowly, his wings pulled close
against his body before snapping open again,
stretched to their full span. His breathing quickened.
"How did this happen?" His voice was thick with
wonder. "The sight of you makes me hungry. I feel
things. I want things. Your touch. I would trade
anything. Do anything." Grey ran work-roughened
hands up Drake's naked thighs until he gripped the
angel's narrow hips. Strong fingers dug into Drake's
ass, lifting him, urging him forward.

"Tonight." Grey panted, his eyes locked with

Drake's. "It's time." Trembling in reaction to the
words and touch, Drake's wings folded in slightly. In
the weeks since their first encounter at the lake, Grey
avoided fully consummating their relationship. Now
Drake nodded; though the idea of Grey's cock
buried inside him edged him close to panic, his
desire for Grey burned too hot to deny. Locking eyes
with the man under him, Drake lifted up and reached

down to guide Grey's cock, the glistening head
brushed against his ass and Drake's breath caught.
Biting his bottom lip, he spread his legs, settling
lower. Staring up at him, Grey suddenly renewed his
grip on Drake's hips, stilling his motion.

"I forgot, the condoms are in the other room."
Drake glanced around confused. "No. I can't

get sick."

Grey chuckled and lifted Drake to the side.

"Right, I knew that, but the lube is there too and I
think we need that at least."

Drake frowned and started to get up but Grey

waved him off. "I think I can manage a trip to the
living room and back alone." Drake lay on his
stomach, his wings relaxed against his back without
protest. It'd be just like Grey to change his mind if
Drake insisted. He listened to Grey stumble around
in the dark. "Stupid man. We don't need lube. I can't
get hurt." Drake muttered into his folded arms. "Hurry
up!" His hard dick demanded attention. Drake rutted
against the cool sheets and his wings opened a little,
fluttering in reaction to the friction.

"Are angels supposed to be impatient?"
Drake made a face at the door.

Drake made a face at the door.
"I heard that!"
Drake rolled his eyes.
There was the sound of the drawer opening

and then something crashed. "FUCK!" Grey cried
out, followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor.
The noise brought Drake out of the bed instantly, his
arousal forgotten. Heart pounding with panic, he
forgot the door and went through the wall, straight to
Grey's side. Grey lay on the floor unconscious, blood
pouring from a gash in his head. The top drawer of
the ancient dresser in pieces around him, it looked
like the heavy oak front of the drawer came loose
and hit Grey's foot. His reaction to the unexpected
pain doubled him over, his forehead crashing into
the sharp corner.

Grabbing a pair of cotton underwear out of

the wreckage, Drake wadded it up, pressing it
against Grey's temple in an attempt to stop the
bleeding. Grey's face was pale and Drake worried
he might go into shock. He needed help, more than
Drake could give. The angel reached for the phone
before he realized it wouldn't do any good. No one
could hear him. Or see him.

"I told you it was a bad idea." Huddling naked

on the floor holding the makeshift bandage to Grey's
head, Drake thought about choices and did what
he'd failed to do for so many days recently. He
watched over his charge.

~8~

Grey came to with Drake crouched over him

looking panicked and sick, holding a pair of old
SpongeBob boxers to the wound which had almost
stopped bleeding. Drake helped Grey sit up. Grey's
head throbbed with pain that nearly crossed his
eyes. It hurt bad enough he didn't notice the
tenderness in his foot until he tried to stand. Only
Drake's swift intervention kept him from face
planting. Drake helped him to a chair, kneeling at his
feet, staring up into his face.

"I couldn't help you. I didn't know what to do."

Drake's voice broke and he tried to press the bloody
cloth back against Grey's head. Grey's mind was
foggy, he blinked at Drake. Slowly realizing his angel
couldn't bring help. No one else could see or hear
him, what a mess.

"Bring me some clothes and the phone." After

he called the taxi, Drake helped Grey get dressed,
but when the taxi arrived, Grey had to remind Drake
to put his pants on before they could leave. The
angel's hands shook as he dressed. Grey pulled him

in for a hug. Drake allowed it but remained stiff in
Grey's arms. "It's just an accident, Drake. Stop
worrying. I'll be fine."

The trip to the hospital resulted in one glued

together head, a huge boot for the fractured bone in
his foot, and a trip to the orthopedic doctor for
reassurance he would walk again. A much easier
trip than the time he turned his bike on its side.
Mentioning that to Drake turned out to be an error in
judgment, the observation that things could have
been worse turned into a fight.

"You could have died."
Fear more debilitating than that caused by

waking up bloody on the floor clenched Grey's chest
at Drake's words. Grey shook his head, still
protesting. "Don't be stupid. I bumped my head; it's
not a big deal."

Despair contorted Drake's expression. "It

is

a

big deal, Grey. I'm a guardian angel, this shouldn't
have happened and it wouldn't have if I was doing
my job."

Grey reached out from where he sat on the

couch but Drake kept out of reach. "Job. A job is
what someone does to earn a living. There is

recompense for effort and time off. Whatever that
fucking guarding thing you do is, it is not a job."

Drake's expression cleared, his jaw firmed.

"You're right, it's not a job. You have choices in your
life, working at the shop, patrolling, even reading or
what you eat for dinner. You do all those things, true,
some of them out of obligation, but you still choose.
You are human, Grey, that's what makes you
incredible. This planet teams with life and not
another creature has that freedom. Animals are
bound by their natures. Angels are bound by their
purpose. I exist to protect, it's who I am. If I lose that, I
lose myself. What else is there?"

"Us!" Grey yelled, panicked by the direction

Drake's words were taking them. "There's us! What
are you saying? That you're no better than an
animal? Do you think I can go out and get a dog to
replace you? I

love

you, Drake."

"I know you do, Grey. I'm sorry, by allowing

'us' even for a moment, I risked losing you forever.
There is a reason angels are the way we are, why
we protect." Drake's voice was gentle, patient. The
very compassion in his tone tore at Grey's heart.

"What reason?" Grey hurt inside and out. His

foot ached; the doctor wouldn't allow anything but
Tylenol for twenty-four hours because of the risk of
concussion. His head hurt. He didn't want to do this,
fight with Drake. He wanted Drake to relent, say
some stupid empty platitude about not letting it
happen again, and just hold him. The ball of ice in
the pit of his stomach told him that wasn't going to
happen.

"I don't know the reason, but angels can't be

human any more than a cat can be a dog." The
finality in Drake's tone tore Grey apart and he didn't
even try to control the tears that wet his cheeks.

Drake's face contorted with pain. "Don't cry."

He whispered, broken. "Please." But he didn't go to
Grey, didn't touch him.

"You can be human, you told me before about

that 'corporeal' thing." Grey stared up at Drake,
unable to stop trying to fix things despite the fact he
could read the end of everything in Drake's eyes.

Drake shook his head. "I should have said a

cat cannot become a dog and still remain a cat. It is
true I can request to corporeal, but afterwards I would
be entirely human. My life's purpose is different than
yours and perhaps I did not choose it, but it is a

worthy one, Grey. Thank you for everything you
shared with me and taught me. I won't forget." Drake
stepped forward and cupped Grey's head in his
hands. He leaned, brushing his lips over Grey's
trembling ones before stepping back, and Drake,
the friendly approachable angel was gone, replaced
by a stony-faced replica. Drake watched over Grey
like a hawk, but hadn't spoken to him again.

Days turned to weeks as they crawled by, and

slowly Grey taught himself to ignore Drake, he didn't
talk to him the way he had Noah. It made Drake's
silence hurt too much. Pretending Drake didn't exist
made the pain slightly more bearable. Grey's head
healed, the glue peeled, leaving his left brow
bisected in a rather dashing scar. When the boot
came off, Grey returned to his old life with a
vengeance. He spent every day in the shop and
every night patrolling the streets, returning home so
exhausted he could sleep, despite the untouchable
angel in the corner.

* * * *

Drake struggled to control his temper as Grey

chased the thief fleeing the scene of a robbery at the
Pic-n-Buy grocery. The guy had pockets stuffed full

Pic-n-Buy grocery. The guy had pockets stuffed full
of stolen cash and a gun. Grey seemed to have lost
whatever small sense of self-preservation he'd ever
had. If the whole point wasn't to protect him, Drake
though he'd kill Grey himself and save some random
incident the trouble. Sighing, Drake shifted the thief's
perception just enough he fell off the curb before he
could shoot at Grey again. The fall knocked the gun
out of his hand. It skittered away into traffic where a
semi ran over it. Staring in disbelief at the demise of
his weapon, the thief failed to recover before Grey
landed in the middle of his back. The sound of sirens
approaching turned Grey's head in that direction.

"Lucky for you." He muttered, getting to his

feet and keeping hold on the battered thief until he
could be turned over to the police to the police. The
angel accompanying the criminal glanced over at
Grey and back at Drake.

"And I thought I had it rough." He laughed,

shaking his head. "I guess things could be worse.
Vigilantes. Humans are all a little crazy, aren't they?"
He didn't wait for an answer but followed his charge
into the police cruiser, tucking his wings close so
he'd fit. Drake waited around while they got a

statement from Grey. The police admonished him
about not trying to do their job, but Drake doubted
their sincerity. They were talking about stopping for
doughnuts as they got into the car. Grey nearly
getting his head shot off gave a couple of cops time
for a snack. Fuming, Drake watched them drive
away before hurrying to catch up with Grey. He
longed to shake the man. Grey putting himself at risk
every time he turned around made Drake crazy.
Despite the fact Grey always had taken chances, his
recent behavior seemed like nothing short of a
challenge.

Can you save me this time, you fucking

angel?

Sometimes Drake expected Grey to flip him

off in the midst of some ridiculous stunt.

Take that,

you stubborn bastard

.

It never happened. Grey never said the words

aloud but they were implicit in everything he did.
Somehow,

Drake

endured

every

challenge,

protecting Grey at every turn. In the aftermath of their
misguided relationship, he became the model
guardian he'd never been before. It didn't fix
anything. Protecting Grey, the satisfaction of keeping
him safe couldn't replace what it had been like to

love him. Drake ached for Grey's touch, yearned to
share the huge mattress with him. The air filled with
their combined scent, sated from their lovemaking.

Instead, he watched over a routine that never

changed. When they got home at night, Grey made
dinner. He did so in silence and only ate a few bites
before he was done. He cleaned up, took a shower,
and settled on the couch with a book. The silence in
the apartment was broken only when he read.
Despite everything, Grey still read aloud every night.
It almost killed Drake listening to him.

The worst nights were when Grey cried as he

put away the book, tears that had nothing to do with
the story. They would retire to the bedroom where
Drake watched Grey crawl into bed alone. Usually so
exhausted by his day, Grey had little trouble falling
asleep. Even then, the torture for Drake didn't end.
He stood against the wall and watched Grey reach
for him in his sleep, clutching empty blankets. It was
Grey's sigh of unconscious resignation that sent
Drake to his knees. His fisted hands rested on his
thighs, nails digging deep into his palms. Every night
Drake battled his tears and lost.

After weeks of trying to make right what he'd

let go wrong, Drake gave up. He closed his eyes
and went Home.

~9~

"Drake." Jordan appeared unsurprised by

Drake's sudden appearance. "You look terrible."

Drake dredged up a weak smile. "Yeah,

thanks." Jordan reached out and gripped Drake's
arm, it was the first time anyone had touched him in
weeks. Drake looked at Jordan's hand on his arm,
amazed by his lack of response. He was only
interested in one touch. He lifted his eyes to meet
Jordan's startling blue ones. "I want a hearing."

They were alone in one of the meeting halls.

Drake wondered why they had so many different
meeting rooms when the only one they ever used
was the Judgment Hall. "Did something happen?"
Jordan's question brought Drake's attention back to
the reason he'd come Home.

"Grey can see me. Touch me. I… I don't even

know who I am any more, but he's hurting and I can
stop it. Bring the council. I want to corporeal."
Drake's eyes were wild with fear, a sharp contrast to
his determined expression.

Jordan nodded, but when the door opened

only Ralph came in and despite the circumstances,
Drake smiled to see him. Ralph went to stand
beside Jordan; he looked at Drake, his face
concerned.

"Are you sure Drake?"
Drake gave a short bitter laugh. "No, but I

can't do anything else. Anyone can protect him, will
you do it?" Ralph glanced up at Jordan. They stood
so close their shoulders brushed and for a
disconcerting moment Drake thought they were
holding hands but blinked and the illusion was gone,
nothing more than a trick of the light. Jordan nodded.
Ralph turned back to Drake.

"I will. You won't have an angel, Drake. If

you're corporeal then you'll forget… I mean you can't
undo it."

Feeling stronger and surer of himself now that

he'd begun, Drake nodded. "I won't want to change
it, and really Ralph, when have you known me to
forget something I'm supposed to?"

Ralph laughed. "That's true; you are the

master of memory. You won't be able to see me, any
of us."

Drake shrugged. "It's okay; I'll know you're

there. Oh yeah. I better warn you, he'll be able to see
you. I don't care if you talk to him. He hates being
ignored."

Ralph looked to Jordan once more.

Receiving a nod of approval, Ralph's smile flashed.
"You've got it, Drake." He closed his eyes and
disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving Jordan
and Drake alone once more.

"Step forward Drake. You cannot be denied

corporeal, but I would know why you choose."

"I said something, in a moment of passion. It

turned out to be the truth of my heart."

"What was that?"

The sight of you makes me hungry. I feel

things. I want things. Your touch. I would trade
anything. Do anything.

Drake smiled at the memory,

the radiance of it nearly blinding. "I love him." With
those simple words, Drake lifted his arms, spread
his wings a final time and closed his eyes.

You'll save us all.

Jordan's voice echoed in

his mind. Drake wasn't sure if it was real or
imagined and forgot it as soon as he opened his
eyes to find himself standing in the middle of Grey's
rundown living room, with Grey's voice roaring loud

enough to bring complaints from the neighbors.

"Who the fuck are you, and where in the hell is

Drake?"

Drake had a moment to be relieved he'd

warned Ralph about the whole Grey-being-able-to-
see-him thing before nerves set in and Drake felt like
he might throw up. He didn't have time to collect
himself before a furious Grey strode out of the
bedroom. Drake could just imagine Ralph following,
looking small, pink and worried, trying to get a word
in edgewise.

"Don't start giving me a bunch of angel 'it just

is' crap. I want Drake back and I want him back now.
If I have to rearrange the goddamn stars he's so
fucking fond of, it's going to happen. Do you hear
me? Being mad at each other and acting like a
couple assholes doesn't make it okay for him to
just…" Grey came to a stop. "Drake?"

Drake couldn't find his voice. He didn't know

how different he looked, if he looked different at all
beyond missing his wings. He shrugged a little, his
back and shoulders felt curiously light. He was still
slender, small boned, and without his wings much,
much smaller than Grey. He stared up at the man,

wide-eyed. "Grey." He whispered and the world went
black.

* * * *

Grey managed to catch Drake before he hit

the floor. He lifted him easily to the couch. Without
his wings, Drake weighed next to nothing. Without
his wings. Grey sat on the edge of the couch and
brushed fine strands of hair out of Drake's eyes. "Oh,
Drake, what have you done?"

"He's corporeal." Ralph said from where he

was standing near the dresser which was still
missing its top drawer.

Grey glanced up. "You're pink."
Ralph looked down at himself. "What?"
Grey waved it off. "Never mind. I can see that

he's corporeal. I guess you're the new angel guy.
Where's his?"

"He doesn't get one." Grey's eye narrowed,

Ralph's words doing nothing to defuse his anger.

Ralph cowered. "What? He's human now."
"It's, well, part of the angel 'just is' crap.

Angels can corporeal. They don't get a guardian."

Grey looked down at Drake. He looked

fragile in a way he never had as an angel. If one of

fragile in a way he never had as an angel. If one of
them needed a guardian, Grey felt sure Drake
needed it most. Grey got up and went to confront
Ralph. "Well, Ralphie, welcome to my world, where I
don't give a rat's ass what

is

. You get to guard us

both, but if you have to make a decision what's the
right thing to do, remember this: If something
happens to him, I'll pluck you." Ralph blanched.

"Stop being mean to Ralph." The weak voice

from the direction of the sofa distracted Grey from
his tirade at the angel. He turned to find Drake sitting
up. He still looked wobbly but his color seemed
better. Grey hurried to sit beside Drake. Taking his
hand, Grey squeezed it tightly.

"What did you do?" His voice gentle, Grey

tried to get used to the sight of Drake without wings.
He looked younger without them and far more
vulnerable. Everything else though, the midnight blue
eyes for drowning in, the silver-blond hair, and trim
lithe form were all exactly the same. The weight and
fear of losing Drake lifted. He couldn't quite believe
Drake had done this for him.

"Well, you can see what I did. I love you, Grey.

I couldn't take it anymore. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you

first, but is it okay? I mean the wings missing and
all…" He sounded timid and unsure, totally unDrake-
like.

"Let me show you something." Grey stood

and pulled Drake to his feet by his hand. "Come with
me." He tugged him toward the bedroom. Ralph
followed, but Grey stopped him at the door. "We
don't need you for this. Stay here."

Ralph frowned. "I'm not supposed to, you

know… can I watch TV?"

Grey laughed and shook his head. "Sure,

whatever, just leave us alone."

Ralph beamed. "

I

get to pick a show. Stay in

there as long as you want. Just don't crawl out the
window or anything." Grey acknowledged the
warning with a wave as he ushered Drake into their
room, closing the door behind them.

"We can have a normal bedroom now."

Drake observed, looking around. "It looks kind of like
a flop house in here." Grey scooped Drake into his
arms. "Hey! What are you doing?" Drake protested,
laughing.

"Showing you something." Grey dropped him

in the middle of the mattress. He stripped off his T-

shirt and boxers before crawling into bed with Drake.

"Oh I've seen that before." Drake feigned

nonchalance, despite the obvious rise of his white
pants.

"Have you seen it like this?" Grey nudged

Drake's knees apart and moved over him, the hard
length of their cocks separated only by the thin
material of Drake's pants when Grey settled into the
welcoming cradle of Drake's hips. Braced on
forearms bracketing Drake's head, Grey leaned and
brushed their noses together. Drake stared up at
Grey, wide-eyed with wonder.

"No."

Drake's

breathless

gasp

was

accompanied by the thrust of his hips against Grey's.

Grey grinned wickedly. "I thought you'd like it."
Drake cupped Grey's face in his hands; long

fingers sliding back to caress the curve of Grey's
ears. Grey moaned and a shudder wracked his
entire body. He leaned down and his lips brushed
Drake's ear.

"I want you."
Drake locked his legs around Grey's waist,

grinding against him. "Yes." They couldn't get Drake
stripped out of his pants fast enough. But in a matter

of moments, Grey was pressing Drake into the
mattress and fumbling the lube out of its hidey-hole
between the wall and the top of the bed.

Grey stared down at Drake with desperate

eyes, his hand, already coated with lube, moving
between them. "Slow later, okay?" Drake nodded,
his fingers mapped the curve of Grey's ears,
wringing a cry out of him, and lifted a perfect ass to
Grey's probing. Grey's finger slipped inside as he
prepped Drake, stretching him as quickly as he
dared and struggling with his control. When he finally
pressed inside, Drake's eyes widened and Grey
didn't pause, knowing it was better to get the initial
burn over rather than prolong it. Fully seated inside
Drake, Grey leaned to capture his lips in a hot kiss.
Drake's tongue chased his, tangling them together in
a hot sliding caress. When Drake moved, restless
under Grey, he pulled back, sliding his cock almost
completely out before pushing forward again, harder
this time. His cock nudged Drake's prostate and
Drake cried out in shocked surprise. Grey looked
smug.

"You like that?"
Drake nodded. Unable to speak, he simply

Drake nodded. Unable to speak, he simply

clung to Grey who wrapped his arms around Drake's
waist and lifted him to sit on Grey's strong thighs, his
cock sliding even deeper.

Drake stared into Grey's eyes, his fingers

digging into the muscles of Grey's shoulders as
Drake lifted his hips, sliding easily on Grey's
engorged sex. Drake panted, the sweat coating his
skin as he chased his climax. Grey slid his hands up
Drake's back, fingertips tracing the delicate bones
of his spine. Drake moaned and arched back into
his touch, but when Grey's fingers played over the
edge of Drake's shoulder blades, he came apart.
Head thrown back, howling, Drake slammed down
on Grey's cock as his orgasm wracked his body and
his cock pumped ropes of hot cum between them,
coating their bellies.

Grey's hands locked on Drake's hips,

thrusting hard as Drake rode out his climax, his body
clenched tight around Grey's cock. Sweat and cum
mixed as their bodies slid together. Drake, seeming
as eager for Grey's orgasm as he had been for his
own, rode Grey, leaving dark bruises on his
shoulders where his fingers dug in for leverage.

Grey's hand left Drake's hip to fist in his hair,
bringing their mouths together just as Grey came.
The force of it bowed his back as he pumped into
Drake, shuddering and moaning into their kiss.
Sated, they collapsed back onto the bed and wiped
up half-heartedly with Drake's pants.

"What will I wear?" Drake complained, his

voice muffled by Grey's skin as they cuddled close,
Drake tucked against Grey's side. Something else
they had never been able to do.

"Nothing, I hope," Grey grunted.
"Oh, I'm your sex slave now?" Drake sounded

vaguely offended. Grey didn't bother answering, just
smiled into Drake's hair. They were quiet together
for a while. Grey breathed Drake's scent, ran a
caressing hand down his back. Fingers lingering
where the wings once grew.

"Why'd you do it? I can't ever do anything for

you that can compare…" Grey found himself cut off
by Drake's fingers on his lips.

"Shh. You gave first. Without you, there

wouldn't have been a decision to make. You taught
me to choose. It took a little while, but I did it." Drake
pressed a kiss to the hollow of Grey's throat.

"Hell of a decision." Grey muttered and felt

Drake's smile against his skin.

"Aren't they all?"
Grey

chuckled

at

the

exaggeration.

"Sometimes you only decide what to have for
dinner." He pointed out.

"You could get food poisoning."
"Whether to take the elevator or stairs"
"Too easy." Drake yawned.
"To not use the shower during a thunder

storm."

"You could get electrocuted sitting on your

couch."

"I decide to love you." There was the feel of

Drake's smile again as he cuddled closer.

"You could get loved back."
For a long time, there was only the sound of

their breathing and then Drake broke the silence.

"Grey?"
"Mmmhmmm?"
"Do you have the book?"
Grey laughed. "I do." He fumbled beside the

bed a bit before finally producing it.

"Grey?"

"What, Drake?"
"Thank you for reading to me even when I was

so horrible…"

"You're welcome."
"Grey?"
Grey struggled with his amusement. "What,

Drake?"

"I love you."
Grey dropped the book and pulled Drake into

a kiss. It was a long time before they got back to the
story.

* * * *

Jordan appeared in Grey's living room and

settled on the floor beside Ralph.

"How's it going?" he asked. Ralph grinned up

at him. Jordan's expression softened and he
wrapped an arm around Ralph's waist.

"Noisy." Ralph laughed, but his laughter faded

and as his concern grew. "Are you sure it's him,
Jordan?"

Jordan touched Ralph's face, his thumb

tracing the full bottom lip. "As sure as I can be."

"But what if we're wrong?" Ralph glanced

worriedly toward the bedroom.

worriedly toward the bedroom.

"We lose them both and have to start over."

The words were blunt but saved from sounding cold
by the pain that colored them.

Distressed, Ralph closed his eyes. "He's my

friend."

"I know. It's going to be okay, Ralph, I

promise. Trust me." Jordan slid a hand into Ralph's
tangle of strawberry-blond curls, bringing their
mouths together in a lingering kiss. "You and I, and
now Drake. Two couples in how many eons? It's not
enough, Ralph. Change isn't happening; we need the
Herald."

Ralph met Jordan's intense gaze with a

steady one of his own. "I know."

"You are going to have to let it happen."
Pain clenched his heart but Ralph nodded. "I

understand, Jordan. I can do it."

"He made the decision freely, of his own will,

as it must be." Jordan pulled Ralph against him.
"One day, it won't be a secret. This is the closest
we've ever been. The Herald is coming. He will
rearrange the stars and things will change."

"You really believe," Ralph said in awe.

Jordan's jaw firmed. "I do. I have to, Ralph.

What else is there?"

~10~

Grey woke first the next morning. Drake

cuddled in his arms in a way he'd never been able to
do when he had wings but hugging him close, Grey
frowned. The night before, flush with the excitement
of learning Drake had chosen to corporeal and the
heat of the reconciliation, the consequences of
Drake's choice had seemed inconsequential. In the
light of morning, with his wingless angel fragile in his
arms, every possible thing that could go wrong vied
for attention in Grey's sleepy brain.

Drake mumbled in his sleep, pressing closer

to Grey, interrupting his dreary thoughts. Grey ran a
hand down Drake's back and tried to ignore how
bare it felt without his wings to interrupt the flow of
skin. Grey decided the best way to deal with Drake's
choice lay in looking ahead. The soft flutter of
Drake's eyelashes against his throat alerted Grey to
the fact Drake had awakened.

"Good morning." Grey pressed a kiss to

Drake's ear.

Drake stirred restlessly in Grey's arms. "I

never slept before, that was weird. All those hours
are just gone. Wasted."

Grey couldn't help the chuckle that escaped.

"What would Angel Drake have done for the last," he
glanced at the clock, "six hours?"

"Watched you sleep." Drake stretched,

yawning.

"And that's less wasteful than sleeping

yourself?"

Drake frowned. "You'd be safe."
"I'm safe and look at what I've got, an armful

of angel." Nuzzling Drake's neck, Grey continued to
caress his back.

Shrugging self-consciously, Drake attempted

to look back over his shoulder. "It's weird."

"Little bit," Grey agreed, licking a path along

the jut of Drake's collarbone. "But it was weird when
you had them too."

Drake huffed a laugh. "Good point. You're

really okay, right? I mean with me being well, just
me."

"Silly Angel." Grey kissed Drake tenderly.

"Wings or no wings, you're always you." He grinned,
but the smile he got in return seemed small and

uncertain. Grey hoped his assurances were true.
Drake had been an angel for eternity as far as Grey
could tell, and the learning curve to become
someone else, something else, was going to be
steep.

"Not an angel anymore." Drake pulled away,

rolling over to sit up on the edge of the mattress.

"Nope, you're my Pinocchio now, a real boy."

Grey teased with a sparkle in his eyes.

Drake glanced back at him, frowning and

clueless. "What?"

Sighing, Grey shook his head. "Never mind,

I'll rent a video when I go get you some clothes."

"Grey, I think I…" Drake looked down into his

lap, distressed, causing Grey to laugh.

"We're all guys here. Just say it. You have to

piss. Come on, we'll shower, have breakfast, and I'll
go out and get you some clothes. Hope you don't
have fancy taste, they'll be from the same thrift store I
get mine from."

Drake followed Grey into the bathroom. "I like

your clothes. How will you know the size?"

Grey started the shower water and turned,

grinning wickedly at Drake. "Why, I'll get real boy

size, of course."

White-blond hair hiding one eye, Drake

seemed to considered Grey with the other. Heat
coiled in Grey's spine under Drake's gaze. Drake
cocked his head. "Am I going to think that's funny
when I know what it's about?"

Torn between amusement and arousal, Grey

barked a laugh. "Honestly? I doubt it." Reaching out,
he curled his fingers behind Drake's neck,
encouraging him closer. "But I'll still think it's funny.
Wanna take your first shower?"

"I played in waterfalls before."
Brushing the hair out of Drake's face, Grey

took a step forward. Wide-eyed, Drake didn't back
down. "Not the same. Come see, I'll let you wash my
back." Grey's hand slid across Drake's shoulder and
down his arm to tangle their fingers together. Grey
turned to get into the shower, tugging at Drake's
hand. Drake followed willingly, and when Grey turned
to face him, he found himself with an armful of ex-
angel.

* * * *

"It's cold!" Drake tried to escape the tub, the

spray stung like icy needles against his skin.

Laughing, Grey pulled him back. Drake gasped,
Grey's skin against his felt as cold as the water.

"You have to rinse. We used up the hot water

playing." Drake shivered, Grey's hands running
through the wet silk of his soapy hair didn't help
warm him. "We'll hurry." Grey proved as good as his
promise. The cold water washed the soap away
quickly and they tumbled from the shower, shivering
and laughing. Drake grabbed a towel, rubbing his
chilled skin briskly while Grey turned off the water.
Drake shook the water out of his hair like a dog,
sending a shower of cold drops across Grey's back.

"Hey!" He jumped away, sending Drake into

peals of laughter.

"I told you it was cold!" Drake fumbled into the

sweat pants Grey said he could wear until they
washed the white pants or got Drake his own
clothes. The sweats swallowed him, hanging over his
feet and off his hips. Chuckling, Grey knelt at Drake's
feet and rolled the pants up so he wouldn't trip. From
one knee Grey looked up and Drake met his eyes.
Long graceful fingers tangled in Grey's spiky hair,
hot breath brushed Drake's belly causing him to
gasp, and his fingers tightened in the bright hair.

gasp, and his fingers tightened in the bright hair.
Strong hands urged the sweats off Drake's slender
hips, Grey nuzzled just inside Drake's hip and nosed
the fine white-blond hair at the base of his cock.

Drake whimpered. "You're going to kill me."

Despite his words, Drake's hips pushed forward and
his dick twitched with the promise of renewed
passion. Grey pressed a kiss to the satin skin with a
rueful laugh.

"Or myself." He drew the sweats back up to

their previous resting place and got to his feet,
hands firmly on Drake's hips. "Later." Sealing his
promise with a kiss, Grey sighed when Drake
opened to him, arms wrapping around his waist.
Their tongues slid together in a slow caress. They
kissed for a long time, passion a fluttering presence
on the edge of their consciousness.

"I love you," Drake breathed into their kiss.

"Can I have a shirt? I've never been cold before."

Grey reached over and grabbed one off the

towel rack. "Sorry, it's hard to remember stuff like
that." He pulled it over Drake's head and used the
towel from the sink to rough his hair. Drake stuck his
arms through the sleeves of the T-shirt, noting with a

shake of his head that it didn't fit any better than the
pants.

Drake batted Grey's hands away. "Turn

around."

Grey wrapped the towel around his waist.

"What?"

Drake pushed at one shoulder. "Just do it."

Grey shrugged and put his back to Drake. Biting his
lip, Drake traced the faint lines on Grey's back that
had caught his attention for the first time under the
shower. The thin pale lines were barely discernable
by sight, but Drake discovered he could trace them
by touch if he concentrated. "What is that?"

Grey took a useless glance over his shoulder.

"Scars from the car accident that killed my parents. I
was five. They say I went through the windshield,
guess I'm lucky to be alive."

Drake winced, imagining the accident, not

from the victim's point of view but from that of the
angels trying to protect them. "Noah worked
overtime that night." Drake leaned back against the
sink, eyes closed, and let his fingers map the faint
tracing of scars. "It's weird, almost like a pattern of
wings, or feathers." Drake opened his eyes and

maneuvered Grey around into better light.

Grey laughed. "I guess if Picasso was the

designer."

The

subject

clearly

made

him

uncomfortable and Drake pressed a kiss to the back
of his neck.

"I disagree, but I guess that's why some

people hang Picasso on the wall and some…"

"Use him for the bottom of their bird cage.

How come you know who Picasso is but not
Pinocchio?" Grey asked as they left the bathroom.

"Ryan was an artist. I know a lot about it right

now. Picasso was a kind of genius." Drake sat
cross-legged on the foot of the mattress and
watched Grey dress. "I want some jeans."

"Picasso had something broken upstairs. I

plan to get you some jeans. Loose-fit and skinny
ones, too. God, you'll be hot."

"I'm hot already." Drake ran a hand through

his hair letting it fall forward into his face and gazed
at Grey through the silky strands.

Grey's eyes glazed slightly. "Good point,

maybe I should buy you monk robes."

"I'll just go naked under them." Drake winked.
Grey groaned. "You should be illegal. Come

on, I'm going to feed you before I go. Your stomach's
been growling for the past half hour."

Drake rubbed his belly as it rumbled again.

"Oh yeah, I have to eat. I want some cheese."

"Cheese, for breakfast." Grey studied

Drake's face without further comment.

"Yeah, why not?"
Amused, Grey grabbed his jacket from the

closet. "No reason at all. Cheddar or Swiss?"

~11~

"I don't want to go." Drake glared at Grey

from the couch. It had been a long week. Frustrated,
Drake wondered why living as a human was so
much harder than watching them.

Looking exasperated, Grey stood beside the

door wearing his jacket, Drake's in hand. "Why not?
You have to go sometime."

"Community watch, that's your thing. I'll just

stay here, I'm not ready."

"Then get ready because you're coming."

Grey tossed the jacket at him. It smacked Drake in
the chest. "You talk to people at the shop, this is no
different."

"Easy for you to say." Drake didn't look happy

but he got up, pulling on the hoodie Grey bought for
him at the thrift store with the rest of his clothes. "I
can't believe I thought you belonged to a gang."

Grey locked the door behind them and

pocketed the key. "What are you talking about?" He
grabbed Drake's hand, twining their fingers.

"When I saw you the first time, I thought you

belonged to a gang. A community watch program
isn't really the same."

Grey shook his head, looking perplexed.

"You'd rather I belonged to a gang?"

"No, of course not." Drake sniffed. "It's just not

very exciting."

"But it works."
"It seems to."
"And it's safer, doesn't that make the leftover

guardian part of your heart go pitty pat?"

Drake knocked shoulders with Grey. "Very

funny. What's Ralph doing?"

Grey shrugged. "Following us, what else?"
"You don't talk to him very much." Drake

barely kept himself from looking around for a
glimpse of Ralph. The world seemed an empty place
since he couldn't see angels any longer.

"I guess not. I have you to talk to, and

besides, he gets all antsy if I talk to him too much. I
guess what happened to you makes him nervous."

Drake glanced sideways at Grey. "You make

him nervous. When you do talk to him, you aren't very
nice."

Grey paused, his hand on the door leading

out of the building. "I don't like that they won't give
you a guardian."

Shrugging, Drake opened it for him. "It's not

his fault. I made the decision Grey, it's not like I didn't
know the consequences. All of them." Drake headed
out the door before Grey could question him. Grey
caught up, hands stuffed in his pockets, head bent
against the wind discouraging conversation. Dead
leaves skittered along the sidewalk. The late
afternoon was overcast, the promise of rain present
in the heavy bellied clouds overhead. The looming
buildings of the city seemed grayer than ever. Drake
shuddered and pulled his hood up to cover his head.
"It's depressing out here."

"It's the weather, just wait until winter really

gets here." They didn't hold hands in the street but
walked close enough their shoulders brushed
occasionally. "I know you've seen seasons before,
Drake."

Drake glanced around. "I never paid

attention. The weather didn't matter unless there was
ice or flooding or something. An angel focuses on
his charge, everything else is background. Being on
the human side is different than I thought it'd be."

Drake smiled at Grey to soften his confession. Being
human wasn't bad, even though the details of
everyday living drove Drake to distraction.
Remembering to eat, needing to sleep and go to the
bathroom added to the stress of trying to learn
enough to be useful and not dead weight. He'd never
tell Grey but there were days he wished he could pull
the blankets up over his head and never get out of
their brand new bed.

His silence didn't keep Grey from giving him

a concerned look. "Bad different?" Drake knew Grey
worried that one day he'd regret his decision to
corporeal and sometimes seemed to expect that
day sooner rather than later.

"No, just different." They walked the rest of the

way in silence. Drake went over names and faces in
his head and told himself stories about them, but the
details were fading and one day there'd be only
names, and then only faces. One morning, he'd wake
up and his time as an angel would be gone, leaving
nothing but the person he had become since the day
he gave up his wings.

An icy chill traced Drake's spine as he

wondered if losing the angel would, in the end,

equate with losing Grey. The memory of Grey's
fingers stroking through the feathers of his wings
rose unwillingly in his mind. The wild passion stoked
by the touch of Grey's hands on the base of wings
unfurled in uncontrolled lust haunted him and the skin
between his shoulder blades itched. Drake struggled
with the wave of loss that threatened to overwhelm
him. Not for the first time, he fought off a sense of
impending disaster. Mourning everything he'd lost,
Drake walked beside Grey, shoulders hunched
against his depression as much as the wind. Some
days Drake wasn't sure if he battled for his humanity
or his sanity.

"Here we are." Grey led him up a set of

concrete steps very much like the ones in front of
their building. Inside were the mailboxes on the wall,
the stretch of doors along a hallway leading to the
stairwell, which added to the illusion they hadn't really
gone anywhere. A taped off elevator stood opposite
the mailboxes. That at least was something different.
Their elevator worked. "Stop worrying so much,
everything will be fine." Grey cupped Drake's chilly
face in a warm hand, leaning to kiss him. The brief
contact reminded Drake why he'd made his

contact reminded Drake why he'd made his
decision. Guardianship seemed a small price to pay
to have Grey look at him like that. Drake pressed
closer, his hands on Grey's hips, licking into his
mouth to tangle their tongues. Breathless when they
parted, Grey laughed. "You know how to make a guy
wish he'd stayed home." His thumb caressed
Drake's cheek and they kissed again. The weight of
his worry fell away and Drake beamed at Grey as
they stepped apart.

"We're late; let's get this over with so we can

go back there." Grey led him to the stairs but Drake
hesitated. He glanced around before picking a likely
place over Grey's shoulder to address. "Ralph, pay
attention in here to more than just Grey and make the
other angels do it too. You can work together and
help what these people are trying to do, something
more than just keeping one person safe. The
neighborhood is worth protecting."

Grey barked a laugh as they headed up the

stairs. "I'm pretty sure Ralph thinks you're nuts right
now. You should see his face."

"Yeah, the needs of the many are not an

angelic concept."

"I should have never let you watch Star Trek."

Grey knocked on the door he'd stopped in front of
after only a single flight of stairs.

"Do you think they might make movies like

that about Harry Dresden one day?" The look on
Grey's face in response to his question made Drake
laugh and duck his head against Grey's shoulder.
Maybe it was a stupid thing to spend time thinking
about but after seeing Captain Kirk save the
universe, Drake couldn't help it. Dresden saved the
universe too, only with a lot more flair and a really hot
half-brother. "He deserves a movie."

Grey hugged Drake close, pressing a hard

closed-mouth kiss to his lips. Drake stared at him,
the look in Grey's eyes sent heat spiraling through
Drake's body. "I love you." Grey breathed against
Drake's ear, one arm still wrapped firmly around
Drake's shoulders when the door opened. The
middle-aged woman standing there looked between
them without comment. After so many years
watching over gay humans, Drake recognized the
flair of emotion in her blue eyes and steeled himself.
He'd witnessed such rejection many times but had
never been the target.

"Hi, May." Grey seemed oblivious to her

expression, the change in body language. "This is
my boyfriend, Drake. He moved in last week. I
figured he might as well jump right in."

"Hello, Grey." Moving to the side, May

allowed them to enter. "It's nice to meet you Drake."
She didn't look Drake in the eye or offer to shake
hands, but neither did she bar them from the
apartment.

"Uh, you too." Drake glanced at Grey whose

lips twitched with suppressed laughter.

"She wants me to meet her daughter." Grey's

lips against his ear sent a tremor through Drake.
"Apparently she's so hot I'll 'forget I'm gay'." Drake
frowned, uncertain if Grey was kidding or not.

"Grey's here and he brought a friend." May

announced to the room in general. The similarity to
their apartment building ended at the door of the
apartment. The entry opened into a living room, with
a kitchen and dining area completing the open floor
design of the apartment. A short hallway led to the
bathroom and bedrooms.

"It's nice." Drake observed, looking around.
"It is. Now that the shop has two mechanics,

we'll be moving up in the world." Grey grinned. Drake
had serious doubts his contributions would make a
difference, but the other members of the watch were
crowding around and the idea Grey considered him
a contributing partner in their relationship was
pushed aside in the flurry of introductions.

"This is Drake." Grey introduced him to the

room at large. It surprised Drake to see he and Grey
rounded out the number of the group to ten. He'd
expected at least twice that number.

"Hey." Drake resisted the urge to hide

against Grey's shoulder, or behind a fall of blond
hair. After spending his life invisible, getting used to
people seeing him wasn't easy. Drake shook hands
with everyone and tried to remember their names.
When they all settled in the living room, Drake sat on
the floor at Grey's feet.

"It's good to have you aboard, Drake."

Although it surprised Drake, who had expected Grey
to take charge of the group, the man leading the
meeting stood where everyone could see him, his
presence commanding attention. "The women can
stop worrying about Grey now that he has a partner
to patrol with. He insisted on doing it alone before,

to patrol with. He insisted on doing it alone before,
which really isn't safe." Drake leaned against Grey's
knee, one hand wrapped loose around his ankle.

"He can be stubborn," Drake agreed,

sending a twitter of agreement around the room, the
majority of which were women. He felt Grey's fingers
in the hair on the back of his neck and wanted
nothing more than to let his eyes slide closed and
arch into the caress. "But he's good at handling
himself."

"The Stallions are getting bold again; we

need to come up with some ideas to rein them in.
Our blocks are the safest in the city and I know we all
want to keep them that way."

Drake faded in and out of the meeting. He

learned the community watch had a much larger
base, almost everyone living in the two-block area
protected by the Guardian Watch, as they called
themselves, participated. They'd broken into smaller
groups for convenience in meeting more often, and
the entire watch held meetings twice a year in the
basement of one of the buildings. That night, the
Stallions were the main topic of conversation. Grey's
suggestion that the women go out only in pairs until

they resolved the problem, went to vote and passed
easily. Several people volunteered to call the rest of
the watch with the decision.

Drake noticed a book laying on the end table.

The colorful flowers on the cover caught his attention
and he picked it up and thumbed through it. He
realized it was a journal, the handwriting filling it neat
and precise. The author had some artistic talent as
there were illustrations scattered throughout the text.

"Drake, you can't read that," Grey hissed,

reaching for the book.

Drake looked up, frowning. "Why? It was just

sitting there."

"Grey, it's okay. I don't mind if he looks at it.

I'm writing it for my grandchildren. I don't have much
to tell but it will be nice if they remember me." May
blushed.

Drake smiled at her and continued flipping

through the pages. "You write down memories." He
turned to Grey. "I want one of these, where can we
get it?"

Grey frowned. "Drake, what, why… you can't

even…" he stopped himself but not in time. They'd
captured everyone's attention. Drake knew what they

were thinking. He blushed furiously. He knew enough
fundamentals of reading and writing to practice. He'd
learn.

"I'll practice." He pulled away from Grey a

little, his feelings hurt by the thoughtless way Grey
had responded to his request. May walked over and
sat down on the floor beside Drake. He met her eyes
in surprise, kindness had replaced the disapproval.

"You have the face of an angel." She told him

and Drake's eyes widened.

"I'm not, I mean I don't…" He stumbled over

his response and May glanced at Grey before
returning her gaze to Drake.

"I don't expect you are, but you have the face

for it. Take this." She exchanged books with him.
Drake found himself holding a leather-bound book.
The word Memories stamped in gold leaf on the
front, the page edges also trimmed in gold. "I bought
that one, and used a few pages before my oldest
daughter bought me the one I'm using. You can take
the used pages out."

Drake's fingers caressed the cover, his eyes

filled with wonder. "You're giving this to me? I thought
you didn't like me." He blushed furiously, realizing

what he'd blurted out and May laughed with delight.

"I doubt you meet many people who dislike

you for long, young man."

"May, if you tell him it's the sin and not the

sinner, I swear I'll have to hurt you." Grey threatened
mildly from his place on the couch. May looked up at
him.

"Mind your own tongue before you mind mine.

You could be kinder; a journal is a small thing to ask,
regardless of one's skill." She handed Drake a pen.
"Take this too, it suits you."

Drake looked up to meet Grey's abashed

gaze, his own blue eyes dancing with amusement.
The pen had a pink barrel and a lovely female angel
adorned the clip. "Will you hold it for me?" Drake
handed it to Grey and, when he saw it, Grey barely
bit back a laugh. Drake turned back to May. "Thank
you." He said. There weren't words to express what
the book meant to him.

She patted his hand and got to her feet.

Cocking her head, she looked down on him. "Angel."
She shook her head at her own whimsy. "Who's
hungry? I made those pastries you all like so much."

"Drake, you have to try those." Grey tugged

"Drake, you have to try those." Grey tugged

Drake to his feet but held back as the others
followed May into the dining area. "The pastries are
awesome, but I…" Grey fumbled with his words,
turning the pen over in his hands. "I'm sorry. You just
surprised me. I didn't mean anything."

Drake laid the book on the table and then

took the pen from Grey, placing it on top. "I know
that. Even though what you said is true, I have to do
this." Determination burned in his eyes and Drake
was glad when Grey didn't argue. "Now show me
which of these pastries are best, I'm hungry."

* * * *

Grey turned the pork chops he was cooking

for dinner. Instead of hanging around asking a million
questions, Drake sat in the other room with his
journal, struggling to fill the pages. Once they
discovered his left-handedness it got easier for him,
but he had a long way to go and Grey didn't
understand Drake's grim determination to fill the
book. Grabbing a can opener, Grey attacked a can
of green beans.

"Okay, Ralph, spill. What's going on with

Drake and that damn book?"

Ralph sat backwards in one of the kitchen

chairs, the way Grey had once taught Drake to sit.
He shrugged. "How do I know?"

Dumping the green beans into a pan, Grey

turned a burner on low and set the pot on it before
turning back to the pink angel sitting in his kitchen.
"Because you do, now tell me or I'll make good on
my threat to pluck you for dinner." Grey added dill
and some chicken bouillon to the green beans with a
pinch of salt and pepper. He doubted Ralph still
believed his threat, but it made him feel better to
make it.

"He's writing his memories." Ralph's answer

explained nothing.

"I know that. Why is he doing it, why is it all he

can think about?"

Ralph sighed. "Sit down." He motioned at the

empty chairs. Grey turned down the food and took
the chair across the table, propping his chin on his
fist.

"Grey, I know how you love angel politics but

this is a part of that. Guardian Angels protect, one
charge after another for, well, 'eternity', I guess if we
thought about it the way humans measure time. One

charge fades into another, the sense of having cared
for them remains but the details are gone. We do not
cling to sentimental moments as humans do."

"Drake told me about that." Some things

Drake said to him Grey knew he'd never forget and
that had been one: 'teach me to forget the pain'.
Grey didn't think he'd managed that, but he had
taught Drake he could love and that he had a choice.
Grey wished he had more confidence in it being the
right lesson. "Drake didn't forget."

"No, Drake is different, I mean, even before,

he was different. He made sure he remembered. He
wouldn't let himself forget. He spent his time
between assignments in meditation remembering. It
means everything to him. It makes what's coming
worse." Ralph frowned at Grey and got up to pace
around the small kitchen. Drake seldom walked
through things once he knew that Grey could see
him. Doing so didn't bother Ralph in the least, and
Grey found watching him walk back and forth through
the table and chairs distracting.

"Would you stop that?" Grey snapped. Ralph

stopped walking in the middle of a chair, wringing
his hands. "Get out of the chair. God, stop acting like

I'm going to take a knife to you. What in the hell do
you mean 'what's coming'? He's already human. He
chose. It's over."

Ralph chose a place in the kitchen well away

from Grey. "Drake's human, but it's not over. He's in
transition."

Grey stared at the top of the table. His jaw

flexed and his stomach knotted. "What kind of
transition, will it hurt? Can he still change his mind?"

"No. Corporeal cannot be undone. Most

angels would barely notice the transition. We forget
stuff all the time anyhow; once the new life is
established, there's no need for memories of what
came before, memories are a human dependency."

Grey lifted his head and Ralph met his eyes.

"Drake is not like other angels."

"No. Drake is special."
"Special?" Grey frowned and said the word a

second time as if tasting it.

"Different." Ralph amended.
Grey nodded. Lost in thought he got up to stir

the beans and check the chops. He opened the
refrigerator and took out the makings for a salad. He
began to chop tomatoes without speaking. When he

began to chop tomatoes without speaking. When he
looked up again, Ralph saw the tears.

"He knows." Grey's voice caught.
"He knows."
"How bad will it be, how much will he forget?"

Grey tossed the tomato into a bowl and started on
an onion.

"I don't know. I thought it might not even

happen to him." Ralph glanced toward the wall
separating them from where they knew Drake
leaned over his journal, his fingers cramping around
his pen as he forced them to form the unfamiliar
shapes of the letters, spelling things to the best of his
ability, recording some simple memory from more
lives than Grey could imagine in a race against time
to save something of the ones who'd come before.

Grey slammed the knife down. "What the hell

do you mean you don't know? What the fuck do you
know? What happens to the angels who corporeal?
Do you guys even know if any of them survived?"

Ralph stayed across the room from Grey

despite the fact blood dripped from his hand to the
floor. "We don't know what happens. After an angel
chooses to corporeal we just… we…" Ralph

shrugged.

"Forget him." Grey said it for him. "That's just

great."

"It's not our fault."
"Of course it's not."
"It's

a

personal

choice,

a

personal

responsibility."

"It's why all those angels at the meeting last

week looked at Drake like they couldn't quite figure
out who he was, it's why they kept whispering about
his absent angel." Grey's hands fisted and he closed
his eyes. He felt if he didn't hit something he might
implode, but he managed to control the impulse.

"How many of them did he know personally?"
"Most of them."
"It's been two weeks and they have no idea

who he is."

"No."
"If he kills himself, they'll never know."
"No."
"Or care."
"It's not a matter of caring or not…"
"Isn't it?"
"No Grey, it's not. It's how things are. We

guard, watch, and protect. Not the world, just the one
assigned to us. We protect humanity one person at a
time."

"Nice slogan. Too fucking bad we keep right

on dying."

Ralph grabbed Grey's arm when he tried to

leave the kitchen. Grey looked at the hand wrapped
around his bicep and up into Ralph's eyes. Ralph
shrank back but didn't let go. "You can't tell him, you
know. His pride."

Grey stared at Ralph. "You haven't forgotten

him."

Ralph blinked, confused by the abrupt change

in subject. "No."

"Why not?"
"I," Ralph frowned. "I don't know."
"I do. It's because you love him. You forget

what doesn't matter, but you remember what you
love. You should spend some time thinking about
that Ralph. I think it might mean something." Grey left
him alone in the kitchen. "And watch the damn food."

"Hey." Grey stood over Drake and he looked

up, rubbing the back of his neck. "Stiff?"

"Yeah, a little." Drake laid down his pen.

"What are you and Ralph arguing about now?"

"Same old stupid angel crap. I cut my hand,

wanna help fix me?"

Drake reached out and unfolded Grey's left

hand. He looked at the cut on the index finger. "You
weren't holding the onion right. I told you this would
happen." He kissed the cut. "It's not bad, let's put
some first aid cream on it and a Band-Aid."

"Come here." Grey pulled Drake up into his

arms and kissed him, tasting the trace of his blood
on Drake's lips.

Drake sighed and leaned his forehead on

Grey's shoulder. "He told you."

"Yeah, he said you might lose some of your

angel memories. You should have just said
something. I can help." Grey guided Drake toward
the bedroom.

"No. I want to do it."
"Not the writing part. I suck worse at that than

you do." Once in the bedroom, Grey turned Drake to
face the closed door. There were several pictures
taped there. They were all of Drake as an angel.
"You can tell me about them and I'll draw. I know it
won't be perfect."

won't be perfect."

Drake touched one of the pictures, his fingers

lingered on the wings. He turned to face Grey. "I'd
like you to help, but take these down. That's not me.
Not anymore. Come on, I put the Band-Aids in the
top drawer."

Grey stared at the back of the door, the

image of Drake, wings spread wide, would never
leave him, the future didn't include any more
moments like that, but it was rooted in them. Grey
was determined he wouldn't be the only one who
remembered. "Hurry up Drake, Ralph's cooking
dinner."

Drake looked up from bandaging Grey's

finger, wide-eyed. He began to laugh. "You aren't
going to let any of us stay normal, are you?"

"Not if normal is an unfeeling bastard

watching from the sidelines."

Drake grinned. "Good. But right now, I guess

we'll have to be satisfied with saving dinner. It smells
too good to burn. I'll finish the onions."

Grey kissed him. "I love you."
Drake's eyes shone. "I know you do. Thank

you."

~12~

"Jordan, you aren't sitting on the council

today?"

Jordan looked around at the sound of Ralph's

voice, the thrill that shot through him in reaction to the
unexpected visit a mixture of joy and trepidation.
Ralph joined him in front of the Herald's mural. After
a fleeting glance back at the empty doorway, Jordan
cupped Ralph's face in his hand, pressing a kiss to
his lips. No tongue but their lips clung and when
Jordan pulled away, his hand fell to his side, the
flavor of Ralph lingered. "Is something wrong with
Drake?"

Ralph studied Jordan with clear blue eyes,

the worry on his face obvious. "No. Nothing's wrong,
but the transition is going badly. You know Drake,
he's fighting for every bit of memory as if his
forgetting will kill them all a second time."

Staring at the floor Jordan pinched the bridge

of his nose. "I had hopes he wouldn't transition at all,
that retaining his identity would be part of it. Did you
tell Grey, is he helping?"

Obviously exasperated, Ralph ran a hand

through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. "I
told him. He's no help, at least not the way you mean.
He's helping Drake. The two of them go to work,
come home and eat. Sometimes they have this
patrol thing they do but it doesn't matter. For hours
before they go to bed, Drake writes and talks and
Grey draws. Picture after picture of dead people,
they can't be very accurate but Drake's satisfied.
Grey prints a name on each one. They go to bed,
make enough noise to raise the dead, sleep and
start it over the next day. It'd be over by now if they'd
just give up."

"Drake doesn't know how to give up." Jordan

studied the mural of the Herald. He carried a figure
in his arms, rising to the heavens, scattering stars as
he went. The impressionist style lent a dream-like
quality to the art, but lacked detail. It foretold the
event not the identity. Jordan knew he might be
wrong.

"We can't carry anyone when we fly." Ralph

frowned at the painting. Jordan wrapped an arm
around Ralph's waist, pulling him close to his side.

"We can't fly out of the atmosphere either. It's

not literal, it's symbolic. Of saving us, of change."
Jordan touched the flaming wing of the Herald.
"Burning away the past."

"Do you ever wonder how we travel between

Earth and Home?" Ralph laid a hand over Jordan's
where it lay on his hip.

"I wonder a lot of things. I'm not the only one.

A few angels are getting restless; I've seen it during
the hearings. There might be another exodus if the
Herald doesn't come soon." Jordan's chest
tightened at the thought. Another exodus would
mean another wait. Everything looked the same on
the surface. Angels went about their business as
they always did, but things weren't what they
seemed.

Recently Jordan had caught mutters of

dissatisfaction after a hearing. With only two choices
available, guard or corporeal, the future looked
bleak, an endless cycle of angels trying to protect
and helpless against so many things. More and
more when Jordan looked around, watched the
angels at Home and on Earth, he saw the same
thing, wasted potential. He feared if it came to
another exodus, he'd be first in line, and who knew

what lay at the end of that, if it would be a new
beginning or just the end.

"Jordan?" Ralph's voice sounded small and

scared. Jordan shook off his melancholy thoughts.
Ralph had enough to worry about without adding
ungrounded fantasies to the mix. With one arm
around Ralph's waist and a hand on his face, Jordan
kissed him, longer, deeper than their hello.

"It's okay. I know it's hard on you, but Drake

won't let us down. He'll never give up." Jordan turned
Ralph and backed him against the wall. His wings
spread behind him, the same blush pink as his
cheeks. Jordan stared down at Ralph, fingering the
strawberry-blond curls, thumb brushing against his
plump bottom lip. "You are beautiful."

Laughing, Ralph fingered the golden tips of

Jordan's wings. "I'm not the beautiful one." Ralph's
touch made Jordan weak in the knees and his hand
trembled against Ralph's face.

"But you are." Jordan's breath whispered

against Ralph's ear. "Are Drake and Grey okay?"

Breathless, Ralph nodded. "Grey won't let me

in the bedroom. Hopefully, no one falls off the bed. I
have a little while. I usually watch TV, but I miss you."

Jordan brought their hips together and Ralph

hissed at the contact. "I'm glad you came." Jordan
didn't try to disguise the relief in his voice. "I missed
you too."

* * * *

Drake flipped through his new journal, the

pages blank and pristine. He'd filled four. In them, his
writing evolved from a childish scrawl to something
more legible. Those four were dog-eared from being
handled, and the sketches Grey made stuck out from
between the pages. Drake lay the new one aside
without writing anything. The memories he'd fought
so hard for were nothing but a fog in the far recesses
of his brain. The people populating the journals only
as familiar as frequent reading could make them.

Losing the memory of his charges burdened

Drake. He spent hours writing, frantically trying to
capture the details until it became like trying to catch
water with a sieve, forcing him to give up. The worst
of it had come when Drake realized his memories of
meeting and falling in love with Grey were slipping
away as well. Frustrated with his efforts to record
those memories, his burgeoning talent at writing no
match for the emotions his memories of Grey stirred,

match for the emotions his memories of Grey stirred,
Drake threw away the journal and despaired the
precious moments were lost to him. He should have
known better. He leaned and picked up his photo
album from where it lay on the floor at his feet. Grey
would never let him forget their beginning.

"I'm an orphan." Grey had settled down

beside Drake with a photo album. "I don't really
remember my mom or dad at all, but my
grandparents made this for me." Grey opened the
album across their laps. On the first page were
pictures of a bright-eyed young woman at her
wedding. Grey looked more like her than his father,
next were pictures of the young couple, and then the
young woman with a huge belly.

"Me." Grey pointed out, and Drake laughed.

Pictures chronicled Grey's life with his parents until
he was five, and then his grandparents took the
place of his parents. "When Grandma gave this to
me there were no pictures of me with her and
grandpa, just me and Momma and Daddy. Every
night, she let me pick a picture and she told me a
story. Somehow those stories became a part of my

memory in a way that makes me feel like I knew
them."

Cocking his head, Drake looked at Grey,

trying to puzzle out what he meant. "I'm an orphan,"
Drake said. Grey looked pained and his hands
trembled when he closed the book to put it aside. He
reached under the edge of the couch and produced
a second album.

"Yes, you are." Grey opened the album

across their laps as he had the other one, but
instead of photographs, there was a sketch of Grey
sitting on the steps of an apartment building eating a
sandwich talking to a bewildered looking Drake.
Grey turned through the pages in silence, they were
filled with pictures; sketches, cartoons, and
laboriously detailed drawings, each one chronicling
a moment in their history. Drake touched them with
his fingertips reverently, and tears threatened. Once
Drake had seen them all, Grey turned back to the
beginning. Putting an arm around Drake's shoulders,
he pulled him close.

"Once upon a time there was a man, his

name was Grey and he could see angels…"

Grey's voice echoed in his mind as Drake

closed the album and hugged it against his chest.
Grey had given him the most incredible gift, the
illusion of memory. Drake's real memories began
when he'd appeared as a man in Grey's living room,
giving him the disconcerting feeling his life had
begun at that moment. A weight sank into the
cushion beside him and Drake opened his eyes to
see Grey grinning down at him. "Thinking too much
again?"

Drake laughed a little and laid the precious

book beside him on the couch. "Highly probable."

Grey manhandled Drake into his lap. "Tell

me, how is it?"

Drake ran a hand over Grey's unshaven jaw;

he rarely shaved more than two days out of seven.
"Honestly?" Drake looked thoughtful. "It's better. Still
pretty damn weird, but better. I think the worst is
over." Drake didn't see the point in telling Grey he
often felt like a stranger in his skin, hollow and
without purpose. If Grey gave more than he already
did, Drake feared there'd be nothing left.

"Thank God," Grey breathed. "This crap has

been the scariest thing that ever happened to me,

and I nearly burned to death in a car so that's saying
something." One hand cupped the back of Drake's
head, urging him into a kiss, the other slid up the
inside of a jean-clad thigh. Drake opened to him lips
and legs, sprawling wantonly on Grey's lap. "So glad
you're going to be okay."

Drake sank his fingers into Grey's hair and

tangled their tongues, arching his hardening sex into
Grey's touch. Grey deepened the kiss, his tongue
searching out the sensitive secrets of Drake's
mouth, causing him to press closer and cry out into
their kiss.

"Get up." Grey's hands were urging Drake to

his feet. He resisted.

"No, don't stop, Grey, please." Drake

begged, trying to bat away Grey's hands and press
closer at the same time. Despite Drake's resistance,
Grey managed to get Drake to his feet, stripping his
shirt over his head in one smooth motion. Flushed
and panting, Drake stood between Grey's wide
spread knees. Drake tried to lean down for a kiss
but Grey held him back.

"Damn, let me look, would you?"
Drake froze, staring down wide-eyed at Grey.

Drake froze, staring down wide-eyed at Grey.

Grey met Drake's eyes before lowering his gaze.
Drake's

skin

flushed

under

Grey's

intense

contemplation. Grey bit his bottom lip and
unsnapped Drake's jeans, sliding the zipper down
revealing his white boxers.

"Boring damn underwear," Grey muttered.

Drake grinned. Grey liked cartoon character boxers.
Drake liked white and Grey just didn't get it.

"Looks like not all of you thinks it's boring."

Drake poked Grey where his dick attempted to tent
his jeans. Drake tugged at the snap but Grey took
his hand away.

"Not yet." Grey licked his lips. Leaning

forward he mouthed Drake's cock through the thin
cotton of his boxers. Drake gasped at the damp heat
against his cock. Hips rocking forward, his hands
grabbed Grey's head, pulling him closer. Drake
watched breathless as Grey slid the white boxers
lower, tugging the elastic waistband down to expose
his engorged cock.

Grey lifted his gaze to Drake's. "So

gorgeous." Without waiting for a reply, he turned and
nuzzled Drake's shaft. The rough scrape of Grey's

unshaven jaw against the satin skin made Drake
mutter a protest and pull back slightly. Grey laved the
spot with his tongue, the hot wet caress sent a
shudder through Drake's entire body.

"Grey." Drake's fingers slid through Grey's

hair, brushed the edges of his ears. Grey moaned,
his eyelids fluttered closed as he stilled for a
moment under Drake's touch. His fingers pressed
against the back of Grey's head in a silent plea for
more. Grey slid forward to the edge of the cushion,
his hands firm on Drake's hips urging him back a
step and then two. Grey sank to his knees in front of
Drake, thumbs caressing the jut of his hips.

Eyes locked on Grey, Drake rocked his pelvis

forward, brushing the head of his weeping sex
against Grey's mouth. Snaking out his tongue, Grey
deliberately licked the string of precum from his
bottom lip. Drake gasped, head falling back, eyes
closed, breath sighing out of him when Grey finally
closed his lips around the head of his cock. Drake
held perfectly still under Grey's touch waiting on him
to move, and when he did it was to slide his mouth
down Drake's cock a fraction of an inch at a time.
Grey's tongue cupped the underside of the hard

shaft, keeping a steady suction as he swallowed.
Crying out, Drake's knees almost gave way and he
locked them in an effort to stay on his feet. Grey
pulled back and off Drake's cock, letting it escape
the suction of his mouth with a soft pop. Drake
groaned and tried to guide Grey's mouth back onto
his dick. Instead, Grey ducked lower, taking Drake's
balls into his mouth, suckling and tugging at them
gently. Drake widened his stance as much as he
could, hindered by the jeans around his thighs.
Grey's hands slid around to cup Drake's ass, fingers
pressing between the soft globes. Drake's chest
heaved as he gasped for breath, the sensations
Grey caused close to overwhelming him.

"Grey." The name escaped Drake in a

shuddering plea. There were names humans called
one another, pet names, honey, baby, love and
Drake had tried a few of them, but only the shape of
Grey's name on his lips said everything he felt.
"Grey." He breathed, infusing it with all the nuances
of need Grey awakened within him.

Grey stared up at him. "Fuck, Drake." And he

swallowed as much of Drake's cock as he could
manage, his hand wrapped around the base. He

teased the leaking slit and flicked the tip of his
tongue over the bundle of nerves just under the head.
Drake's hips jerked and he gasped. Grey relaxed his
jaw and let Drake fuck his mouth, maintaining a
degree of control with the hand still wrapped around
the base of his cock. Rocking his hips in a steady
motion, Drake clutched Grey's head, staring down at
him. The sight of Grey's cheeks hollowing as he
sucked drew Drake's balls tight against his body.
Tendrils of heat wrapped around his spine, coiling at
the base as Grey's fist pumped faster and he sucked
harder. Drake's cock pulsed and swelled, his body
tensed into a perfect arc just before he came.

"Grey!" His cry tore from his throat and cum

exploded from his cock to hit the back of Grey's
throat. Grey sucked, licked and swallowed, nose
buried in Drake's pubes as his cock softened. Grey
pulled off without warning, head thrown back with a
gasping cry. Drake felt the warm spatter of cum over
his bare feet. He sank to his knees in front of Grey
bringing their mouths together. "You stole my turn."

Grey huffed a laugh. "Sorry, the way you say

my name kills me."

"I can make you cum by saying your name?"

"I can make you cum by saying your name?"

Drake's voice was low, raw from shouting. Their lips
brushed and breath mingled as they talked.

"I didn't say that." Grey's protest didn't hold

much conviction. Drake's tongue snaking over his
bottom lip made him tremble.

Drake cupped Grey's face with his hands,

fingers brushing back over his ears. "Grey," He
whispered. "Do you hear it? I love you, Grey."

Grey's hand was strong on the small of

Drake's back, the other cradled the fragile bones of
his skull as Grey took him to the floor, pinning Drake
there with the weight of his body. "Fucking angel."
But his tone said something else entirely.

"Not an angel anymore." Drake protested

weakly, the feel of Grey's mouth against the pulse in
his neck distracting him.

"Don't kid yourself." Grey cupped Drake's

face and met his eyes. "You'll always be my angel."

~13~

Three days later, Grey came home and found

Drake sitting at the kitchen table reading one of his
journals. A blue box of unopened macaroni and
cheese sat on the cabinet beside the stove where a
pot of water waited on a cold burner. Drake jumped
in surprise when Grey laid a hand on his shoulder.
He glanced up, his expression sheepish.

"That late already?"
"Yeah. I thought you came home to start

dinner." Grey pulled a chair around and straddled it,
crossing his arms on the back, he rested his chin on
them and studied Drake. What he saw worried him.
In the three months since Drake had given up being
an angel, he'd lost weight. Grey told himself once
Drake got used to eating and stopped skipping so
many meals it'd even out. Sometimes he almost
believed it. Angels looked human and it was so easy
to think that all Drake lost in the change was his
wings. Grey closed his eyes for a second and
sighed. If only that were true.

"I know. I just started looking at this. I can't

remember." Drake sounded distressed and Grey
frowned.

"You know that. It's why you wrote the

journals."

"That's what I can't remember. I remember

writing them and feeling it was the most important
thing in the world, but I don't remember why it
mattered. I mean not really, I know I did it to
remember but I don't feel it." Closing the journal,
Drake ran his hand through his hair and turned to
face Grey. "Not like the pictures you did. I look at
them, and I remember what you said and it's almost
like I was there. They are real. These." Drake shook
his head. "They are nothing but words about people I
can't remember, pictures of faces I don't know."

Grey laid his hand on the back of Drake's

neck; as usual, he had little idea what to say. He
didn't know how to make it okay when it seemed that
the biggest part of who Drake was had disappeared
with his wings. "We can put them away. The books
will remember, you don't have to do it anymore."

"I'm not sure that's good enough." Drake's

dark eyes were stormy with worry when his gaze met
Grey's, tightening the knot of fear Grey lived with

constantly since realizing Drake wasn't getting
better. "What if it's not?"

"It is." Grey told him, his voice fierce. "We'll

make new memories and we are going to start now,
no more moping around." Grey got to his feet and
shoved his chair back into place under the table.
"Come on."

Eyeing Grey warily, Drake got to his feet.

"Where are we going?"

"For a ride, come on." Grey pulled Drake into

the living room. He grabbed their coats and followed
Drake to the front door. Grey locked eyes with Ralph
who looked as worried as Grey felt. He hesitated,
holding the door open and allowing Drake to go on
ahead.

"Is he going to be okay?" Grey asked though

looking to Ralph for reassurance proved futile, the
angel shook his head his eyes fixed on the stairs
where Drake had disappeared.

"I don't know. Just… Just don't talk to me in

front of him. He forgets I'm here and I think being
reminded might make it worse." Ralph sounded sad.
Grey clapped him on the shoulder and found himself
attempting to comfort instead of being comforted.

"We'll keep him safe. He's going to make it."

Grey wished he was half as sure as he sounded, but
Ralph squared his shoulders, ready to face what lay
ahead.

"GREY?" Drake's voice drifted up the stair

well. Grey chuckled, letting worry slip away for a little
while.

"Hold your horses, I'm coming."

Grey closed his eyes, savoring the feel of

Drake settling onto the bike behind him. It had
become the best part of riding. He wrapped his
arms around Grey's waist but Drake had to wear a
helmet and couldn't nuzzle into the back of his neck
like he had their first ride together. Grey kicked the
bike into gear and they were off on their impromptu
outing. Once out of town, Grey poured on a little
more

speed.

The

motorcycle

prevented

conversation, but Grey hoped Drake was enjoying
the ride and not spending the time worrying about
things he couldn't change.

They left the farmland behind and entered the

national forest they'd visited only once before. Grey
knew Drake wouldn't know where they were until they

got there, and while things could go wrong, Grey
hoped they'd reclaim a memory. When he slowed
and brought the bike to a stop, Drake climbed off
handing Grey the helmet without speaking. He
walked to the edge of the small canyon and looked
down at the lake. Grey hung back, letting Drake see
everything. The end with the waterfall was the highest
point, the water bordered by huge rocks shining from
the constant spray of water. Drake turned to look at
Grey, his expression unreadable.

"I want to go up there." He pointed to the top

of the falls. Grey eyed the climb but didn't comment.
He left the helmets on the seat of the bike and joined
Drake on the edge.

"Okay. It's gorgeous here, isn't it?" Grey's

hand came to rest naturally on the small of Drake's
back, and when he turned to smile at Grey, there
was barely a breath of space between them.

"Yes, it is." Drake pressed a kiss to the

corner of Grey's mouth and grabbed his hand. Grey
shook his head in resignation, following Drake
around the canyon toward the falls.

They reached the top, breathless and

laughing. "You are not allowed to pick the hike

laughing. "You are not allowed to pick the hike
anymore." Grey informed Drake, dropping down
onto a water-slick rock to rest and catch his breath.
Drake stood on the highest rock, arms outspread,
head back and for a second Grey believed he could
see the shadow of his wings behind him.

"But look at it! It's beautiful." Drake laughed

his delight. He looked down into the lake where the
waterfall churned over the rocks at the bottom of the
canyon wall. The center of the lake looked liked a
sheet of glass but the bottom of the falls was littered
with huge boulders. The height didn't seem to make
Drake nervous at all. He stepped closer to the edge;
arms out, the wind caught his hair and blew it back
from his face. He laughed again. "I feel like I could
fly." He rose on his toes and Grey came to his feet
with a shout of horror.

"NO!" Grey locked his arms around Drake's

waist and pulled him away from the edge. "No."

Drake looked at him, head cocked. He

looked so much like the old Drake, Grey's hands
shook and he locked his knees to keep from sinking
to the ground. "What did you think I was going to do?
I know I can't fly." Drake frowned, looking from the

edge of the cliff to Grey.

Grey pulled Drake close, wrapping him in

strong arms. Grey pressed his face into Drake's
hair. The pale strands were silken against his skin.
Drake felt solid in his arms, flesh, blood, and muscle,
and yet Grey felt Drake might slip right through his
fingers. "I don't know. You scare me sometimes."

Instead of becoming indignant, Drake buried

his face against Grey's shoulder. "I scare myself
sometimes." His whispered confession nearly
stopped Grey's heart. "How can I miss it? I don't
even remember but something is gone. It's gone and
I don't know how to get it back."

Grey's strong hands splayed over Drake's

back, feeling the soft material of his coat where once
there had been nothing but bare skin and his wings.
"I think we expect too much. You need time."

Time to

mourn

. They sat down on the rock, well away from

the edge. Drake's arms around Grey's waist, head
on his shoulder. Grey held him close.

"I hope I made a better angel than I do a

human." Drake sighed. "Eating, dressing, put on
shoes, put on a coat, go to the bathroom, so many
things to remember to do over and over. Everyone

does them, why do they seem like so much drudgery
to me? You are a good teacher, Grey, but I'm a
terrible mechanic. There's no use for me here, no
reason at all for me to be alive." Drake trembled in
Grey's embrace. "I'm sorry. I love you. I do. There are
all these books and movies saying that should be
enough. I have you and you're so good to me. But
Grey, I need… I want…"

"An

identity,"

Grey

whispered

in

understanding, and held Drake while he cried.

* * * *

Grey walked through the apartment looking

for Drake and found him standing on a chair, digging
through the top shelf of the closet. Tugging the
waistband of the jeans slung low on Drake's hips,
Grey waited until a tousled blond head appeared
from the dusty recess. Drake frowned at him.

Grey cocked a brow and tried not to look

amused. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for the journals, where'd they go?"
"I put them away; now get down from there

before you break your neck." Grey held the back of
the unsteady chair while Drake made his way back
to the floor. He ran his fingers through his hair,

getting it out of his eyes and into some semblance of
order. The side part reappeared but the silky strands
slid immediately into his face. He peered at Grey
through it.

"Why?"
Grey shrugged, leading the way back into the

living room. Taking a seat on the sofa, he grabbed
Drake's hand, pulling him down. Sprawled on Grey's
lap, Drake managed to look annoyed and amused at
the same time. "Because reading them doesn't help.
You get all morose, well, even worse than usual. I
expect to come home and find you've dyed your hair
black and pierced your tongue or something." After
their trip to the lake, those had become the least of
Grey's

worries,

which

ranged

from

Drake

discovering cutting to suicide. Slowing things down,
adjusting their expectations for Drake's assimilation
into his human life helped. Grey still kept watch for
any sign Drake was hurting himself.

Drake learned to use the computer so he

could take classes instead of struggling to become a
mechanic. He signed up for things that interested
him, and even though his reading and writing skills
had huge gaps that caused him to struggle, it

had huge gaps that caused him to struggle, it
relieved Grey that he seemed to really enjoy it. The
cooking class had already paid for itself a hundred
times over. Not only did Drake have unexpected skill
in the kitchen, but when he cooked he remembered
to eat. Grey wrote a reminder list of things for Drake
to check before he left home and posted it beside
the door.

Stove off, lights off, shoes and shirt on,

appropriate outerwear on, keys and wallet in pocket,
lock the door

. They were still working on how to get

some kind of ID for Drake, which explained the final
item written in all caps "STAY OUT OF TROUBLE."

It helped. Drake hadn't been outside in the

snow with no coat or shoes in a week. Grey bought
Drake a watch, which he adored, and set alarms to
remind him to eat. A few nights before, after finding
Drake hunched over the journals looking like he
might slit his wrists, Grey got out of bed while Drake
slept and hid them. They struggled, and for every
step forward sometimes Drake took two back, but
however slowly it seemed to be happening, he was
getting better.

Drake stuck out his tongue, crossing his eyes

in an effort to see it. "Would that be so bad?" He

touched Grey's ear-lobe. "You don't have any
piercings or tattoos, and that's kind of strange these
days."

Grey blinked in surprise that a random

mention of piercing had derailed Drake from the
subject of the journals so completely. He smirked. "I
don't need enhancements."

Drake's eyes darkened and he shifted his

bottom against Grey's lap. "True. But I was looking at
them on the internet. There's one…" Drake bit his
bottom lip and his hand slid down to cup his crotch.
An image of Drake spread out on their bed, jewelry
glinting on his lower lip, his nipples, and the head of
his cock flashed through Grey's mind and he
groaned.

"Just promise you won't do anything without

me. All places that do those things are not the sort
you want poking holes in you." Grey studied Drake
from the top of his white-blond head to the slender
feet poking out from the end of his black jeans. He'd
taken over every piece of dark clothing in the
apartment. Gone from angel to emo, but Grey didn't
mind. That tattoos and piercings seemed inevitable,
didn't bother him. Grey encouraged anything that

made Drake happy.

Drake grinned, giving his cock a squeeze. "I

promise. I thought maybe you wouldn't be happy
about it."

Grey kissed Drake, sucking his bottom lip

before answering. "Just remember tattoos are
permanent, and piercings leave holes. It's your body;
you can decorate it however you want."

Drake turned, pressing their chests together.

His hand slid behind Grey's neck. "I like it decorated
with you the best," He breathed. Eyes sliding closed,
he rubbed the side of his nose against Grey's.
Grey's hands splayed across Drake's back, the
fingers of one dipping below the waistband of his
jeans. Drake made a small desperate sound in the
back of his throat.

"Drake, I need a shower and I'm hungry."

Grey's protests sounded weak, even to himself.

His breathing ragged, Drake's mouth chased

Grey's for a kiss. "After. Make love to me. Please."

Drake's begging tied Grey's insides into a

knot, and the previously half-interested shaft under
Drake's ass came to full attention, counting Grey's
heartbeats in the pulse of his sex. Grey understood

the shadow that underlay Drake's hunger. His need
to connect and feel alive in ways that escaped him
on his own, Grey counted them fortunate that thus far
sex and not pain made Drake feel alive. There
weren't many practical ways Grey could help Drake
in his battle to exist, but this, this he could do.
Struggling off the couch, Drake's legs around his
waist, hands fisted in his hair, Grey stumbled into the
bedroom. Drake was a lot harder to carry without
wings, but easier to get through the door. The
thought brought a bittersweet smile, and then
Drake's nimble fingers freeing him of his clothes
chased away coherent thought altogether.

~14~

Drake minimized his writing lesson and

surfed for porn. None of the guys were ever as hot as
Grey, but it passed the time. Grey. His love for Grey
defied

explanation.

Sometimes

Drake

had

nightmares about waking up, looking over at Grey
and feeling nothing. The fact he felt practically
nothing about anything but Grey contributed to the
gnawing fear that it was only a matter of time before
everything was stripped from him in a cosmic
punishment for daring to become something new.
God or not, as far as Drake could tell the stars had
things laid out by strict guidelines and any real
attempt to change them led straight to disaster. Grey
said he was crazy and that a man made his own
destiny. Maybe so, too bad Drake wasn't human.

Drake clicked on a video of two huge hairy

men, one trussed up in a way that made Drake want
to turn the monitor upside down in an attempt to
figure out what they were doing. He watched the clip
and never did figure it out. He wondered why
humans wanted to turn something that felt so good

into something that hurt. The only time Drake really
felt alive was with Grey, not just during sex, but
anytime they were together the world seemed
brighter. Grey tried so hard to make things right, but
really, just being loved made all the rest worth it.
Most of the time. Reopening his lesson, Drake
stared at the screen.

Write an essay on your

happiest moment as a child

. Drake got up from the

computer and went into the kitchen.

Digging around in the fridge, he pulled out the

chicken they bought for dinner. Drake decided to try
his hand at frying it. They passed a chicken place on
their rounds the night before and the smell made his
mouth water. Fast food wasn't in the budget. Drake
sighed, setting buttermilk and eggs on the counter
beside the chicken. Their budget wasn't in their
budget. Grey paid for his clothes and the extra food.
He didn't complain when the landlord raised the rent
fifty dollars a month after he found out Drake lived
there, or about the higher water bills or electric. Grey
never complained about a damn thing, but he hadn't
had much before taking on the responsibility of a
useless ex-angel.

Flour. Onion powder. Garlic Powder. Drake

looked at the jars in his hands; it seemed a strange
thing to do, turning food into powder. Shrugging, he
set them on the counter, determined to focus on
fixing dinner and not on the bleak thoughts
threatening to consume him. Salt and pepper. The
biggest frying pan. Cast iron and so heavy it took
both hands to lift it onto the stove. Vegetable oil. He
wanted to buy solid shortening like it said on the
recipe, but Grey balked and they settled on the oil.
Drake poured a couple of inches into the bottom of
the pan.

Drake wanted to do something special for

their six-month anniversary. Six months. Exactly how
far his memory went back. How long he'd been
human. Grey understood a lot of what Drake
struggled with, but with a brain all filled up with a
lifetime of experiences, Grey couldn't know how an
empty brain felt. After a lot of consideration, Drake
decided the best illustration of how he felt was that of
a hundred gallon tank containing only a teaspoon of
water. Or it would be if all the light in the tank
concentrated in the water and the rest stayed dark,
black, a hopeless trap for the unwary.

Laying the chicken aside, Drake washed his

hands and got out a bowl for the buttermilk and
eggs. His bare feet silent against the linoleum, the
air cool on his bare shoulders, Drake rarely wore
shoes or shirts at home. He kept the heat turned
down to the bare minimum. Grey would turn it up
when he got home and mutter about how they could
afford not to freeze, and make him put on a shirt and
some socks. The ritual comforted Drake and he
never could remember to get all the way dressed,
the cool air didn't bother him and saved money no
matter what Grey said.

Fuck, it's cold in here.

Drake could hear it

like Grey stood in front of him. He wished Grey would
come home early. The dark threatened to pull him
out of the circle of light and into the nothing. Grey
made the light so bright that the empty dark seemed
like a bad memory. Drake took out his cell phone
and looked at it, another expense Grey couldn't
afford. It had one number programmed into it. One
call and Grey would come home, no questions
asked. Grey, with his laugh as bright as his hair, his
gorgeous eyes that looked at Drake like he was the
most important person in the world. Grey, with his
strong body, calloused hands, and gentle spirit, the

only thing that made the struggle bearable. Drake
wished he remembered what he'd been thinking
when he decided to become human. He wondered if
it would make a difference, because he really
couldn't imagine what made him do it. He put the
phone back into his pocket. Grey had to work. Drake
had to learn to cope. He got out another bowl, this
one for the flour.

"Fuck, it's… holy crap what's that smell?"

Grey's break from his usual bitch about the
temperature made Drake smile. He stayed by the
stove, stirring the final touch to their anniversary
dinner with care. Grey appeared in the door of the
kitchen and Drake tossed him a grin over his
shoulder. Golden fried chicken piled on a plate
beside the stove along with a bowl of rice and one of
broccoli. Grey came up behind Drake, the heat from
his body felt good against Drake's chilly skin. Laying
his hands on Drake's hips, Grey looked over his
shoulder.

"What's that? It smells incredible in here."
Drake scooped up a bite on his wooden

spoon and turned in Grey's arms, careful to keep his

spoon and turned in Grey's arms, careful to keep his
ass off the stove. "Chicken gravy. It's… just taste it."
Blowing on the small bite to cool it, Drake held it up
for Grey.

"It looks white." Grey muttered but took the

bite. His expression of pure rapture made Drake
laugh. The dark he'd battled all morning gone like it'd
never threatened, Drake relaxed for the first time
since Grey left that morning. "That's good."

"I know. We eat it on the rice. Now go wash

up and I'll set the table. You remembered it's our
anniversary, right?" The expression on Grey's face
said it all. "Well it is, so don't take too long. I want to
eat while it's hot."

Grey came back to the kitchen just as Drake

set the last fork in place. Looking up with a smile,
Drake burst out laughing when Grey handed him a
long sleeved black T-shirt and a pair of white socks.
"I turned up the heat."

"I know." Drake pulled the shirt on over his

head and slipped into the socks, taking time to wash
his hands before he sat down. "Thank you."

Grey shrugged. "Say what you want, when

your skin is that cool you have to be cold. It's not

good for you." Grey piled chicken onto his plate
while he scolded, scooping up rice and gravy. He set
it in front of him and picked up his fork.

Drake

eyed

Grey's

plate.

"Forget

something?"

"It's our anniversary, I shouldn't have to eat

broccoli." Taking a bite of chicken, Grey rolled his
eyes and looked in danger of passing out. "Oh my
God, that's good."

"You forgot our anniversary, therefore, you

should have to eat all the broccoli." Despite their
ongoing fuss about Grey and his vegetables, Drake
couldn't help feeling pleased about how much he
liked the chicken.

"Well, technically it's our half anniversary. I

don't want any broccoli."

"What's that?" Drake dropped a spoonful of

broccoli on Grey's plate. "That's not enough?"

"Fine, I'll eat it, but you have to wear a shirt

without me reminding you for the next two days."
Grey forked a floret into his mouth with a grimace.

"Deal." Drake beamed and attacked a

chicken leg. He stared at it stunned. "That really is
good."

"Told you. You're a damn good cook, Drake.

You could go to school for that."

Drake looked up. "They have school for that?"
"Sure. If you want, I'll find out what's available

around here."

Drake looked at the chicken in his hand and

felt a spark of interest. "I think I'd like that. I wonder
how many ways there are to cook chicken. Cooking
is useful Grey, I could get a job." Excitement flared
through him at the thought.

Grey chuckled. "If you cook chicken like this,

you could get rich. Oh, I told Janice we'd take patrol
tonight. I really did forget the anniversary thing. You
want me to find someone else to do it?"

Drake shook his head. "No, I didn't really plan

anything, just dinner. It'll be fine."

* * * *

"Snow." Grey looked up into the night sky as

if he'd find someone lurking around to blame. The
white flakes settled onto his face and hair. He sighed
and turned in the direction their rounds would take
them that night. "Might as well get this over with." He
reached for Drake and their gloved fingers tangled.
Snow already blanketed everything and made the

night seem quiet and still.

"It's so beautiful." Drake looked around as

they walked. Grey slowed their pace and let him
gawk. Sometimes it was too easy to forget how little
Drake remembered about the world. The first
snowfall had turned him into a child and he still
behaved like one over it.

"It does make things look a little cleaner."

Grey kicked at a pile of snow, sending white powder
across the top of their boots, which annoyed him and
made Drake laugh, and so Grey did it again. "So
you like the idea of cooking school?" Grey lit the
alley they were passing with a flashlight, empty
except for trash and a couple of cats.

Drake bumped against Grey's shoulder. "I do.

I'm good at it."

"You got that right. You know there will still be

reading and tests." Grey could just see Drake
imagining that he would only have to cook at cooking
school.

Drake nodded. "Figured, but I doubt they care

what my happiest childhood moment was."

Frowning, Grey glanced at Drake, but he

didn't seem particularly bothered. "Who asked you

didn't seem particularly bothered. "Who asked you
that?" They passed another empty alley and turned
the corner.

"The writing course, it's what we are

supposed to write about next. 'Write what you know',
that's a laugh." Drake kicked a huge drift, sending
snow everywhere.

"What did you write about?"
"Nothing. I watched porn instead."
"And cooked fried chicken."
Drake tossed a smile in his direction. His

cheeks were ruddy from the cold and blond hair
stuck out every which way from under his ski cap. He
looked so much like a kid, Grey worried about
getting arrested if he stole a kiss. He wondered if
every angel that chose to corporeal made such a
young looking human and if Drake would age
naturally since he'd given up eternity. Grey didn't ask.
Questions upset Drake, and Ralph claimed no one
knew the answers to anything he did ask. Grey
glanced over his shoulder. Ralph followed along
behind them, looking incongruous walking in the
snow wearing only his white pants. Snow decorated
his shoulders and hair but he didn't seem to notice.

The snow didn't fall through him, but no one ever saw
snow floating in mid air, just one more angel mystery
with no answer. Grey decided if he ever heard the
words "I don't know" again, he'd hurt somebody.

They passed a porch, more scuffed than the

others; someone had come home after the snow
started. Grey glanced at the steps as they went by;
snow started off pretty but turned to mush and ice
easily, the steps would be dangerous in the morning.
It also muffled sound and Grey didn't know there was
anyone behind them until rough hands tore him and
Drake apart, manhandling them into the alley he'd
just shined his light down.

"What the fuck! Get off me!" He shook free

and turned to face whoever grabbed him. Four men
blocked the entrance to the alley. Fear knotted his
stomach. Drake had stumbled and fallen into the
snow. Grey helped him up. Drake stamped his feet
and knocked snow off his jeans while Grey
assessed the situation. The streetlight threw the
other men's faces into shadow but Grey recognized
their leather jackets, Stallions. Bulky with muscle,
they stood between Grey and Drake and freedom.

"Benji sends us to give his regards. He said

it'd be a coupla girls tonight, but not much different if
we give our message to you fags instead." The one
speaking reached behind his back and when his
hand reappeared, he held a gun. The fear in Grey's
stomach turned to ice.

"You don't want to do this." He held his hands

out so they could see he was unarmed. Drake
hovered a little behind Grey. Surprised, Grey didn't
say anything; Drake usually had his nose in the
middle of any trouble they encountered. Fiddling
around in the shadows wasn't his usual mode of
operation, but Grey gave thanks for anything that
made Drake less of a target.

"That's where you're wrong. Benji says you

Guardians think you can just carve blocks out of his
territory. We're here to teach you nobody steals from
the Stallions." The speaker had a distinctive voice,
whispery and rough, but Grey couldn't remember
ever hearing it before.

"We don't have to steal what belongs to us."

Grey wondered if there was such a thing as
controlling-your-mouth-under-pressure management
classes. If so, he needed to attend. Smarting off was
not going to help. Drake stole something out of

Grey's back pocket; it took a minute for Grey to
realize what, his cell phone. How silly to think Drake
would stay out of trouble back there.

"Well, I guess that's another lesson we're here

to teach you. Nothing is yours, queer boy."

"Queer boy? Wow, that's a good one. You

can go now, I doubt I'll ever recover." Grey winced
and Drake kicked his heel, his message loud and
clear.

Shut up

. Good plan if he could manage to go

with it. Grey's hopes were about as high for that
happening as getting away unscathed. The fact the
thugs claimed they came to deliver a message
suggested they weren't going to kill anyone, but there
were a lot of miles between where they were and
being

not dead

.

"May. Your alley. Now. Police."
"Who are you talking to? You get out here

where we can see you!"

Grey heard his cell make a small plop as it hit

the snow behind his feet. "Nobody, guns make me
nervous. I mutter when I'm nervous." Drake moved up
to stand beside Grey, his hands held up at shoulder
level, obviously empty. Hope burned in Grey's heart.
May would call the police, no questions asked and

May would call the police, no questions asked and
alert the others, they wouldn't wait for the squad cars.
He didn't want anyone to get shot, but more targets
meant more chances for everyone.

The gun aimed directly at Drake. "I don't

believe you."

Fear came alive again, running tendrils up

Grey's spine.

Hurry

. He wouldn't let them hurt Drake,

no matter what else happened. Grey's eyes sought
Ralph, he stood to the side sizing up the situation,
not panicked but concerned. Grey caught his
attention. "You remember what I told you." Ralph's
gaze flickered between Drake and Grey, his jaw
clenched but he nodded.

"Now, who are you talking to? I think you are

both nuts." One of them moved forward, breaking the
line, but he had the gun and getting past him looked
impossible. "We wanted to play for a little while, but I
got the feeling we better get down to business." His
head turned toward Drake. "Damn, you're pintsized."

Drake tensed and took a step forward; Grey

laid a hand on his arm holding him in place.
"Not the time."

"Oh, protective, that's sweet. Good that there

are two of you. One can deliver the message and the
other gets to be the warning." He turned the gun on
Grey.

"NO!" Drake shouted and before Grey

realized what happened Drake came between him
and the gun. The shot rang out but the gun suddenly
pointed skyward and the bullet disappeared
harmlessly into the night just before the gun flew out
of the gang member's hand, landing with a thump
inside the dumpster behind Grey and Drake.

"Fuck them up." The leader growled and all

four gang members moved into the shadow of the
alley.

"Idiot." Grey grabbed Drake and, shoving him

out of harm's way, moved between Drake and the
gang. Drake lost his footing in the icy snow and
slipped. He hit his head on the edge of the dumpster
hard and he stayed down. Blood wet the snow under
his head but Grey didn't have time to worry about the
injury. He stood alone between Drake and their
attackers, or so he thought but when the men moved
forward, one tripped on something and went down.
He was slow getting back up. Ralph lifted the piece
of wood he'd used to take him down high enough for

Grey to see.

"All in."
A wave of relief washed over Grey and he

waded in, determined to protect Drake at any cost,
but even with Ralph's help it was four to two and
Grey soon discovered that regardless of Ralph's
intent, angel law was in full effect. Ralph could trip but
he couldn't hit, he managed to keep them from all
falling on Grey at the same time but by the time other
members of the watch arrived to help, Grey was a
huddled ball in the snow, barely conscious. Sirens
sounded in the background as May knelt beside
Grey.

"Drake." He struggled for consciousness.

"Drake."

"Shh, he's okay." True or not, her words

calmed him and Grey let the dark take him.

~15~

Drake regained consciousness slowly. His

head hurt with a steady throbbing pain, which turned
into a sharp stabbing one when he cracked his
eyelids. He shut them tight and lay very still, trying to
remember what happened. Everything felt all mixed
up in his head. There was snow. He remembered
that. Why did he remember snow when he saw Grey
the first time? It hadn't happened that way. He
struggled to sort things out; his brain felt like a
loaded bookcase had fallen over and all the contents
mixed together instead of neatly in order.

Drake went very still in his bed, heart

pounding. He blocked the pain and focused on what
was happening inside his head. His hands fisted in
the sheets covering him. His memory had returned,
mixed up and shaky but unmistakably there. A
moment of elation surged through Drake, he knew
who he was. A guardian. He'd protected so many,
countless faces of those he'd guarded filtered
through his mind. He trembled, so many, all dead;
many by their own hands. They took their own lives

as he had watched, unable to guard them from their
internal demons. Despair washed through him, and
then there was Grey.

Grey laughing and loving. Grey determined to

give Drake things he'd never thought about wanting.
Things he couldn't live without once he'd tasted them.
Distracted from his duty, his only purpose in life,
Drake remembered he'd failed to protect. His
memory gave him the image of Grey lying in his own
blood, injured in a completely avoidable accident, if
only Drake had been on the job instead of lying
naked in the bed. Drake's heart plummeted. He'd
been as bad an angel as he was a human.

The night before returned in a rush. Trapped

in the alley. The frantic phone call. The gun. Trying to
save Grey. Drake had been fast enough, getting
between Grey and the bullet, but for some reason it
missed them completely. Things after that were a
blur. He'd gone down and couldn't get up. Grey stood
between him and danger, protecting the protector.
Everything faded into nothing after that. Drake lay
trembling for a long time, unable to open his eyes,
unwilling to face either the pain or the useless mess
his life had become.

Tears tracked his cheeks and he slipped

back into unconsciousness. When he woke again, a
pretty nurse stood beside the bed checking his vital
signs on the machine.

"Oh, you're awake." She chirped and the

sound cut through his brain a little less than it may
have earlier. Either the headache was better or
they'd given him something. "Can you tell me your
name, honey? You didn't have any ID on you."

"Drake." His throat sounded dry and raspy,

talking hurt and he reached for the cup on the
bedside tray.

"It's nice to meet you Drake. I'm Sally. Let me

help you with that." She raised the head of the bed
slightly and stood vigilantly by as he took a few sips
of the ice water. "Do you know what happened?"

"Some guys in an alley." He laid back weakly,

his eyes closed. The small effort of getting the drink
had brought back the headache full force. It throbbed
and pulsed behind his eyes.

"Yes. Some bad guys apparently, they broke

your head just a little. The doctor will be here soon to
talk to you about it. I'll go page him and when I come
back I need to get some information. Not much yet, I

know you aren't feeling so good." She moved around
the room as she chatted, checking his IV, making
sure it dripped properly. "You have some stitches so
keep your hands away from the bandage, no
picking."

Drake let her words wash over him without

really listening. He didn't remember getting hit. He
jumped in front of Grey and then searing pain. Grey,
protecting instead of being protected. Drake couldn't
get that image out of his head.

"Grey." He muttered when she leaned over

him again. He forced his eyes back open, though the
room tilted and his stomach rolled. He grabbed her
arm. "Grey."

"Is that your last name? Drake Grey?" She

glanced at where he touched her and gently took his
hand and returned it to his side.

"No. Where is he? Grey."
"Oh." The unguarded look that flashed over

her face before being replaced once more by her
professional demeanor told Drake everything he
needed to know.

"I'm going to throw up."
She grabbed the little plastic container sitting

on his tray for just that purpose. Drake managed to
sit up enough to lean over it. He lost the little water
he'd drunk and then hunched over it helpless, his
body wracked by dry heaves. His head felt like it
might explode. Afterwards, he slumped back into the
pillows, unable to support his own weight. "Shh. Lay
back, it's going to be okay. I know it hurts, but you
are going to be fine. Just rest." She turned to leave,
but Drake reached out and snagged the edge of her
scrub top. She turned to face him and his hand fell
away.

"Grey."
The tightening around her eyes and lips less

pronounced the second time, but Drake still saw it.
"The man who was brought in with you?"

Drake nodded. "He's my…" Drake struggled

through the headache to find the words. "Mine. He's
mine."

The nurse patted his hand. "He's resting. Now

you need to follow his example and do the same.
Worrying won't help either of you."

Drake watched her leave. The door closed

behind her and he sat up. The room swam around
him so violently his stomach rolled. Fighting down

him so violently his stomach rolled. Fighting down
the nausea, Drake swung his legs over the edge of
the bed. He got to his feet and managed to stay
there. Focused on Grey and finding out what
happened to him, Drake forgot the tether of the IV
until the tug of tube and tape reminded him.
Stopping, he stared down at where the needle
penetrated his skin trying to process what it was.
Finally, he tore it out of his arm and tossed it aside,
ignoring the rip of the tape from his skin and the
trickle of blood resulting from removing the needle
so violently.

Unable to stop looking at the door for fear it

would swing open before he could escape, Drake
tried to hurry, but moving faster made the nausea
and headache worse, almost more than he could
handle. He slowed down, his movements deliberate.
Drake found his clothes in the cabinet and managed
to put on his jeans and shirt. Sockless, he stuck his
feet into the heavy boots Grey had bought him but
couldn't lean over to tie them. Drake stared at his
coat but the effort to lift it and put it on was beyond
his strength. He left it behind without a second
thought.

Getting away turned out to be easier than

Drake expected, even holding onto the wall for
support, no one stopped him. Everyone had jobs to
do and none of them involved worrying about the
emo boy wandering the halls. That was bound to
change when they discovered his empty bed, so he
knew he didn't have long. Drake used a house
phone to find out Grey's room number. Intensive
care. No visitors, and they wouldn't tell him anything
about Grey's condition. Follow the blue line.

He followed the blue line and the signs and

when he got to the closed unit, he waited until the
door opened to admit a gurney and slipped behind
it. He stood, weak and winded against the wall
beside the door. The central nurses' station was
busy and loud, encircled by curtained rooms
containing the ill. No real walls in this place of
lifesaving medicine, privacy the least of these
patients' worries. The hospital smell concentrated
here, and Drake's stomach turned, despite the fact
he'd stopped moving. Most of the curtains were
open in the front so the nurses could see in at a
glance.

Drake looked into the closest one and froze. If

Grey had been further into the room, Drake doubted
he'd have gone unnoticed long enough to find him,
but there by the door, with the major activity going on
closer to the center, things were quieter. Drake
barely recognized Grey. Unlike Drake who'd woken
with just an IV stuck in him, Grey was surrounded by
monitors. The one Drake's eyes fixed on counted
Grey's heartbeats. The beep, steady and reassuring.
Drake ached to ask questions, but there was no one
who'd answer them.

Grey lay still as death. His face a swollen

mass of bruises and cuts. The sheet pulled up to his
chest kept most of his body out of view, but the
hands laying on the blanket were bandaged and his
arms as battered as his face. Drake stared in horror
at the broken body of the man he loved.

"It's my fault." His hoarse whisper lost in the

noise of caring for the dying. "I'm sorry, Grey." Drake
turned and left without looking back.

* * * *

When Grey opened his eyes, his vision was

blurry and his brain felt stuffed with cotton. It cleared
a little at the sight of Ralph's distraught face leaning
over him. The morphine wrapped the world in an

almost pleasant haze. Grey felt certain things would
be a lot worse without it.

"What?" Grey managed to croak, panic

surged at the expression on Ralph's face. It could
only be one thing. "Drake."

Ralph nodded. "He was here. I don't know

how he could even stand up, but he left. I know you
want me to protect him. I can't leave you. Not like
this. So I went Home and sent Jordan after him."

Consciousness faded in and out for Grey,

making it hard to follow Ralph's story. "Jordan?"

"He's like the boss, I don't know. It doesn't

matter. He went after Drake."

Trying so hard to think pushed away the

morphine haze and things started to hurt, but Grey
barely noticed. "Drake's not in the hospital?"

"No. He took the bike. He's at the falls."
The image of Drake at the edge of the cliff, on

his toes, arms outspread with nothing but the illusion
of wings on his back flashed into Grey's mind and
terror choked him. He tried to sit up and his body
screamed at him. He fell back onto the pillows. He
couldn't do it.

"Jordan says Drake's going to jump. We can't

"Jordan says Drake's going to jump. We can't

stop him."

"Can't? Won't?" Grey growled at Ralph.

"Close the curtain." Grey jerked the blankets aside
and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Help
me. I need my pants." Grey pulled off his gown and
the electrodes as Ralph retrieved his jeans from a
shelf. Ralph knelt and helped Grey slide his feet into
the legs. The machines at the nurses' station began
to shriek their warning. Someone was going to die.
Grey wished desperately the person in the most
danger of doing so wasn't so far away. He slid off the
bed, into the jeans and onto his feet. Ralph proved
nimble with the snaps and zipper but as soon as he
let go, Grey sank to the floor.

Ralph sank down beside him, despair written

on his face. "It's too late Grey. Even if we can get out
of here, we can't get there in time."

Nurses pulled the curtain back and stared

with blank expressions at the empty bed, shielding
Grey from their immediate view.

"Carry me." Grey demanded, clinging to

consciousness with every fiber of his being. Pain
wracked his body. Kneeling on the cold tile, he

hunched over, his arms wrapped around his belly.

"I can't. My wings won't support extra weight,

none of us can. I'm sorry." Ralph's broken voice, the
evidence of his tears did nothing to assuage the
agony ripping Grey apart from the inside, the
emotional pain at the thought of losing Drake far
worse than anything his physical body could punish
him with.

"No." His ragged whisper barely audible in

the flurry of activity as the nurses discovered him.
"No." Ralph tripped and turned over equipment in his
effort to keep them away. He glanced back at Grey
and froze, staring. New pain assaulted Grey as it felt
like every line on his scarred back began to burn.
Howling with the agony, Grey threw back his head
and wings erupted from his back in a shower of
blood and bone. As bright as fire, they spread and
flexed as if he'd always had them.

Still on his knees, Grey stared up at Ralph.

The room fell into total chaos. The nurses screamed
and tried to rationalize where Grey had disappeared
to, denial set in and they sounded an alert and
began a search for him. The confusion meant
nothing to Grey and Ralph as they stared at one

another.

"Impossible." Ralph breathed, his eyes round

in astonishment. "Grey, that's impossible."

Grey climbed to his feet without speaking.

Not completely healed, he could function and that's
all he asked.

"Drake," Grey whispered and took off at a

dead run. He jumped through the wall without
pausing to wonder if he could, and found himself
soaring through the air with Ralph at his heels.

The wings caught the air currents and carried

him high over the buildings. Momentarily disoriented,
Grey lost momentum as he tried to decide where to
go.

"This way!" Ralph yelled, and with a push of

new wings against the air, Grey followed.

When they got to the falls, Drake stood

balanced on the precipice exactly as he had in
Grey's imagination. Jordan was beside him, wings
outspread, tears on his face, pleas for Drake to stop
unheard by anything but the wind.

"Drake!" Grey yelled, stumbling when he

landed but quickly catching his balance.

"He can't hear you." Ralph landed more

gracefully beside him. Grey whirled to face him.

"What are you talking about?" Grey didn't wait

for an answer, striding forward intent on stopping
Drake.

"You're an angel, he can't see or hear you.

You can't touch him." Ralph hurried behind Grey,
trying to explain, but Grey's expression only grew
more determined. He came to a stop beside Drake
and reached for him just as Drake dove over the
edge.

"DRAKE!" Grey went after him. Drake

remained eerily silent as he fell, hair streaming
behind him, arms outspread as if to embrace the
rocks he plummeted toward. Grey flew behind,
screaming his name. Jordan and Ralph watched in
helpless horror from the cliff's edge. Grey's arms
closed around Drake but his weight pulled them both
down. Ralph was right, an angel wasn't built for the
extra weight. Refusing to give up, Grey fought
against the fall. Wings straining, he wrapped his
arms tighter around Drake's waist and still they fell.

"No!" Grey screamed defiance to the

heavens themselves, and his wings erupted in flame.
Their fall stalled immediately. Grey pushed hard with

Their fall stalled immediately. Grey pushed hard with
his wings of fire and they began to rise. Moments
later he landed on the cliff with Drake in his arms.
Grey laid Drake gently on the ground and knelt
beside him; the flames in his wings flickered and
faded, leaving behind only the illusion of fire in the
feathers. Exhausted, Grey closed his eyes, his hand
on Drake's face.

He opened them to a different world. Beautiful

and warm, green grass under them and the blue sky
overhead. "What happened?" Looking down into
Drake's eyes, Grey grinned. One thing had gone
right, Drake was alive.

"You brought me Home. Thank you, Grey."

Drake's voice was weak and he blinked at Grey as if
trying to focus. "I was right."

"Right?" Baffled, Grey frowned.
Drake's smile was little more than a flicker,

but it warmed Grey's heart to see even that. "Yeah,
your wings match your hair."

Grey laughed through his tears. "Do they?"
Drake nodded and closed his eyes. "And

Grey."

"What, Drake?" Amusement flickered through

Grey at Drake's persistence.

Drake's eyes cracked open again. "It's hot!"

His eyes slid closed and his chest rose and fell
evenly as he slept. Staring down at him, Grey thought
sleeping sounded like the best idea ever. He pulled
his wings close to his body and curled around
Drake. Grey buried his face in Drake's hair.
Comforted by the scent of him and the strong beat of
his heart, Grey let his eyes close and followed him
into sleep.

* * * *

Jordan and Ralph stood together, fingers

entwined, looking down on Grey and Drake. "Is that
what you expected?" Ralph asked, staring at Grey's
wings. They looked like they'd always been there, no
sign of their violent appearance remained.

"Not really," Jordan admitted.
"Has anything changed?" Ralph looked

around puzzled, everything seemed the same.

"Well, the four of us have." Jordan looked

thoughtful.

"Grey's the Herald."
Jordan shrugged. "It seems that way."
"I'm really confused. Fire-wings? What's that

about?" Ralph poked one of Grey's feathers as if he
expected it to burn him.

"Maybe we could all have fire-wings if we

were passionate enough about something." Jordan
tugged Ralph's hand. "I need to think. They're going
to sleep for a while. Let's go." Ralph followed Jordan
into the air, headed for the place he'd come to think
of as theirs, but he couldn't wait to come back and
talk to Grey and Drake. He didn't know which image
would haunt him longer. Grey's wings erupting out of
his back, or Drake going over the cliff. If change had
come, it wasn't a simple one.

~16~

Glancing over to where Drake sat beside the

lake, legs drawn up against his chest, Grey sighed.
Drake looked pale, and it was obvious his head still
hurt. Grey lifted his shoulders, the weight of the wings
unfamiliar. Not knowing how Drake felt about the
most recent developments, Grey wished they'd just
go away. He closed his eyes, gathering his courage
and then went to join Drake on the rocky ledge
overhanging the clear water of the lake. Drake
glanced up with a welcoming smile that turned into
an open-mouth gape. Glancing down at himself,
Grey frowned.

"What?"
"Where are your wings?" Drake cocked his

head, blond hair fell over his eyes and he brushed it
out of his way. Grey shrugged again, realizing the
weight had gone and he felt human again.
Disappointment stabbed through him and he
laughed.

God, man, make up your mind

.

"I don't know. I just thought it'd be easier if

they were gone." He sat down next to Drake and

dangled his feet in the cool water of the lake. "I didn't
really mean to get rid of them."

Drake leaned around to study his back.

"That's just weird. Think them back." He ran a hand
over Grey's bare back.

"What?" Grey struggled to see over his

shoulder.

"You say that a lot. Just do it." Drake backed

off a little bit. Grey closed his eyes and tried to
decide how a person went about thinking wings
back. Drake squeaked and Grey's eyes flew open.
The weight was back and with a flex of his muscles,
Grey stretched his wings to their full span.

"Beautiful." Drake whispered. Grey glanced

at one of his wings. The feathers were indeed the
color of his hair. Accents of pure gold rippled along
them where the sun hit. He raised a brow.

"Weird." Grey tucked them close into his

back before 'thinking' them away again. He turned to
Drake. "You do it."

Drake slipped his feet into the water with

Grey. His boots lay back up on the bank beside his
shirt. He shook his hair into his face. "Do what?"

Grey reached over and his hand covered

where Drake's lay on the rock. "Think your wings
back."

Drake's shoulders hunched. "Why would that

work?"

"Because you've never stopped being an

angel. I saw it that day we went to the lake—the
shadow of your wings, but I thought I imagined it.
Look at me." Drake turned and met Grey's eyes. "I
know you remember. You knew you were Home."

"I remember."
"It's all been there the entire time, just

blocked. The block is gone, Drake. Try." Grey
cupped Drake's face in his hand as Drake's eyes
slid shut. A moment later black wings fanned out
behind him as if they had never been gone. Drake's
eye flew open in shock and Grey laughed outright. "I
told you!" Drake threw himself into Grey's arms. Grey
hugged him tight.

"I'm me again!" Drake opened his wings out

to their full span.

"Indeed." Grey buried his face in Drake's hair

and just held on.

"My head feels better but it still kind of hurts,

and what's going on anyhow? I mean the wings don't

just go into hiding." And an instant later, the wings
were gone. Grey ran a hand through Drake's hair.
Very human Drake crawled into Grey's lap and
snuggled close. "I'm sorry. I've been so weak."

"You are the strongest person I know. You

tried to take that bullet for me."

Drake sighed. "It's my fault you got hurt. You

could have gotten away, you and Ralph working
together; instead you both ended up protecting me."

"You aren't the only one who'd die for

someone." Grey pressed a kiss to the silk hair under
his cheek. "But now you have to promise
something."

Drake sat up and met Grey's eyes. "What?"
"I know you'll die for me, but you have to

promise you're strong enough to live for me." Grey
looked earnestly into Drake's eyes searching for his
answer, tension flowed out of him when he found it.

"Promise." Drake's answer simply echoed

what Grey had already read in his eyes. Drake
tucked his head back onto Grey's shoulder. "What
do you think is happening? How are we hiding the
wings?"

"They aren't hiding, can't you feel it. There's a

shift, angel to human."

"Shifter-angels. That's crazy."
Grey huffed a laugh. "What would you call it?"
"I don't know, we should tell Jim Butcher

about this. I bet he doesn't know. He could put us in
his next book."

"No one would believe it." Grey tried to stem

his amusement but Drake's sleepy chatter didn't
make it easy. "Not even the other angels know."

"Will we tell them?" Drake snuggled closer,

his voice drowsy.

"We'll talk to Jordan and Ralph later."
"They're lovers." Drake giggled.
"I know."
"They think it's a secret."
"I know."
Drake got heavier in Grey's arms, his own

body aching from the day's activities, and the abuse
it suffered the night before demanded rest as well.
Grey moved Drake to the sun warmed grass and
spooned behind him.

"So, what do you think is going to happen

now?" Drake nuzzled sleepy under Grey's chin.

"I don't know Drake. I guess that's the chance

"I don't know Drake. I guess that's the chance

you take rearranging stars. It turns out anything could
happen. Anything at all."

* * * *

Safe in the circle of Grey's arms, Drake

drowsed

somewhere

between

sleep

and

wakefulness. The sun shone on them as they rested,
but Drake realized he'd become accustomed to
Earth's rotation of day and night and the continual
sunshine got on his nerves. Thinking about the lack
of night, Drake decided it was odd angels put so
much stock in stars they never saw at Home. Grey
didn't believe the stars mattered at all, but that a
person's destiny lay within themselves, angel or
human. Jordan had come back to talk to Grey. While
he was there, Drake had faded in and out, his
concussion making it impossible to stay awake, and
he caught only the end of their conversation.

Agitated, Grey faced Jordan. "If my father

was one of the angels in the exodus, that proves I'm
right. Those angels made their own decisions. They
took charge of their fate. Change has to come from
the inside; I can't do it for you. Until more angels
believe their destiny lies within, everything is going to

stay exactly the same." Shifting his feet, Grey ran a
hand through his hair. "Do you want to know who
your real heralds are? Take a look in a mirror,
Jordan. Really look at Ralph the next time he's in
your arms, or at Drake. Me? I'm nothing but a flashy
parlor trick. Where did I come from? I'm not even
really an angel, but you guys? Damn, you guys
reached out and took life by the balls. You want
change? Stop hiding and let them see

you

.

Everyone won't change, why should they, that's what
this is all about right? The freedom to make a
choice."

Drake fell asleep before he could hear what

Jordan had to say and only woke up enough when
Grey rejoined him to steal a kiss. Glancing at Grey's
sleeping face, Drake smiled. Grey needed his rest.
Sighing, Drake rolled onto his stomach, folding his
arms under his head. His head still hurt a little, and
he wanted to go home. Odd how that small ragged
apartment had become so important to him. The sun
felt good, but at home he'd be under the blankets
with Grey, an oasis of warm in the chilly room. Drake
wondered if they ever would go back, he had no idea
what Grey wanted now. He closed his eyes and the

welcome weight of his wings settled against his
back. Things had changed; the impossible had
become possible, and whether Grey liked it or not,
he had a huge part in it.

They didn't know if other angels could choose

to manifest as human or angels, it seemed like
things would get complicated fast if they could.
Drake's memory supplied a blurry image of Jordan
fussing at Grey to stop calling it shifting. Drake
guessed manifest might be a more dignified word,
but he liked shift better. Angel shifters. It made
Drake laugh and he muffled the sound against the
inside of his elbow. Though he sobered
remembering he'd been rescued by the first Shifter,
riding the wind on wings of fire.

Drake remembered when he'd seen Grey the

first time, he'd thought it looked like Grey's head was
on fire. Drake savored that for a minute, basking in
the fact the memories were there, his brain full again
and the empty dark was banished forever. They'd
returned jumbled and confused. Everything had
finally settled into its proper place, but not before
he'd tried to do something really crazy.

Frowning, Drake tried to focus, the events

leading up to going over the edge of the cliff were
blurred. He vaguely remembered arriving at the
canyon, dropping the bike, and stumbling to the
edge of the cliff. By that time, he could barely move
and had been on his feet only through pure stubborn
determination. His head hurt, the steady throb of
pain augmented by a sharp stabbing that repeated
intermittently. Each spike produced a flash of lights
behind his eyes so bright they temporarily blinded
him. His vision returned between each one, blurry
and weak, making it a miracle he hadn't killed
himself getting to the canyon. He wanted an end to
the agony. He wanted to fly. He jumped.

"Stop thinking." Grey's hand came to rest on

the small of Drake's back. Drake turned his head in
Grey's direction.

"I'm not thinking."
Grey's fingers petted the dip of Drake's

spine. "Liar."

Distracted by Grey's petting, Drake gave a

weak smile. "Okay, maybe a little, but if you'd
jumped off a cliff, you'd think about it too."

"Nope." Grey pressed a kiss to Drake's

shoulder.

shoulder.

"No? What would you do then?"
Grey edged his hand toward the base of

Drake's wings. "I'd let my incredibly beautiful lover
distract me."

Drake's breath caught in anticipation of the

touch. "Yeah?" Pulse jumping, he trembled under
Grey's hand.

Grey's thumb brushed over the sensitive skin

where Drake's wings joined his back. "Oh, yeah."

Drake gasped. Wings unfurling, he arched

into the touch as pleasure exploded through his
body, making him hard so fast he got dizzy. "Wait.
Slow down." He gasped for breath and waited for
the ground to stop tilting. Closing his wings, Drake
turned in Grey's arms. "It's too much, my head."
Drake rested his forehead against Grey's chest,
panting.

"Does it hurt?" Grey frowned, reaching up to

touch the bandage over Drake's wound. "Ralph read
your chart. He said you have a linear fracture and a
nasty gash accompanied by a severe concussion.
I'm sorry. I just feel better and I thought…"

Drake shut him up with a kiss. "It doesn't hurt

much. I got dizzy, I'm not sure it's the head wound."
He grinned wickedly. "Wing up."

Grey's brow rose, the scar bisecting it added

emphasis. "Wing up?"

Drake's cheeks flamed but he didn't back

down. "Yeah, time for a little angel on angel action."
His cocky smile faltered when Grey's wings
appeared. Drake itched to touch them. "This raises
a question."

Grey nuzzled Drake's cheek. "What's that?"
"Why aren't angels fucking all the time instead

of guarding? You're magnificent."

Grey burst out laughing. "Maybe that's what

I'm really the harbinger of, The First Annual Guardian
Angel Sexathon."

"Sign me up," Drake breathed into his mouth

and laughter fled. Grey's hands cupped Drake's
face, lips clung and tongues slid together in a slow
caress.

"You really scared me." Grey caressed

Drake's face, taking the sting out of his words.

Drake rubbed their noses together. "I know.

I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry I tried to bash your brains out on the

dumpster."

Drake grinned against Grey's mouth. "I think

the ice had more to do with that than you, but
apology accepted."

"I love you." Grey's mouth slanted over

Drake's, his hand sliding from his face down his
neck and across his shoulder. Drake whimpered,
opening to the insistent lick of Grey's tongue.
Clutching the waistband of Grey's jeans, Drake
rocked their hips together, aching for the slide of
flesh on flesh but willing to work with whatever friction
he could get. Grey's hand moved down Drake's
ribcage, thumb rubbing over his nipple, pebbling it.
Drake panted into their kiss, hips rocking frantically
against Grey.

Grey's mouth left Drake's, following the path

already mapped by his hand. With Grey's tongue hot
against his skin, Drake fumbled with the snap of
Grey's jeans, nimble fingers made clumsy by the
heat of his lust. The snap finally popped free and the
zipper eased down. Drake pushed the denim off
Grey's hips and past his knees so he could kick free
of it. Shedding his own jeans, Drake surged against
Grey, and the feel of their naked skin coming

together made him moan. Grey nipped Drake's
nipple and laved it with his tongue. Drake gasped,
"Oh yeah." He arched into Grey's mouth, a hand
sliding into his hair pulling him closer. "Damn, Grey."
Grey's hand found Drake's hip and slid around to the
small of his back. Drake tensed, not even breathing.
Of all the memories he'd gotten back, the most vivid
of those were of Grey's hands on his wings. His
heart hammered and his dick jerked between them.

"Wait. We have to sit up." Drake gasped,

pulling at Grey. Grey sat up, his legs hanging over
the side of the ledge, Drake straddled his lap.

"Better?" Grey spread his hands on the small

of Drake's back. Leaning forward, he licked Drake's
nipple, sucking it into his mouth the same time his
fingers brushed over the base of Drake's wings and
into the feathers.

"Grey, ah fuck." Drake's wings spread and

his hips bucked out of control. For a second he was
in danger of coming from the touch of Grey's fingers
on his wings alone. The blaze of feathers over Grey's
shoulder drew Drake's gaze and he wondered how
he'd forgotten the means for payback was at hand.
The idea of touching Grey's wings made him dizzy

The idea of touching Grey's wings made him dizzy
again. Drake took a steadying breath and then
another. He laid his hand on the small of Grey's back
and was rewarded by Grey's sharp intake of breath.

Drake struggled for control as Grey continued

to stroke careful fingers through his feathers. Closing
his eyes, Drake focused on touching, trying to block
the intense sensations that accompanied being
touched. The silk of Grey's skin felt familiar under his
fingertips though the raised scarring was absent.
Grey hissed and a shudder racked his body when
Drake's fingers brushed over the tender skin
covering where the mass of muscle and bone
anchored his wings to his back. Throwing back his
head, Grey howled and arched, gasping for breath.
His wings unfurled when Drake's slender fingers
combed through the bright feathers the first time.
Drake chased a kiss, his mouth hot and hungry on
Grey's.

"Breathe," Drake whispered into Grey's

mouth. "Remember to breathe." Drake locked his
mouth over Grey's, licking deeply. Tongue gliding
over his teeth and palate, thrusting in time to their
rocking hips. Grey's hand left Drake's wings to

tangle in the silk of his hair, fisting there as he jerked
away to take a breath, his chest heaving for oxygen.
He stared wide-eyed at Drake, reaching between
them to wrap his hand around their cocks.

"Not that." Drake gripped Grey's forearm,

stilling the slide of his hand on their cocks. Rising on
his knees, Drake offered his bottom. Groaning, Grey
cupped Drake's ass, fingers delving between the
firm cheeks.

"No lube." Grey trembled, feathers fluttering.

His jaw clenched. Drake fumbled with the pile of
jeans beside them. Shaking his head, Grey laughed
when Drake produced a tube of lube.

"I had big plans for after patrol."
"Hell, you aren't an angel. You're a fucking

miracle worker. Give me that." Grey grabbed the
lube.

"I aim to please." Drake groaned, his attempt

at nonchalance falling apart when Grey's lube-coated
fingers probed between the cheeks of his ass,
slipping inside, slicking and stretching.

"I'm never going to last," Grey muttered.

Moaning, he gripped Drake's hips, fingers digging
deep.

"Don't care. I just want you." Drake stroked

the skin at the base of Grey's wings, making them
stretch and flex. Grey brought Drake down onto his
cock, pressing in slowly. Fully seated on Grey's sex,
Drake gasped. Their eyes locked. Simultaneously,
they reached for one another's wings. Fingers
stroked through feathers, both bright and dark.
Knees planted firmly on either side of Grey's lap,
Drake lifted his hips, sliding up the full length of
Grey's cock and down again.

"Drake!" Grey cried out, his back arching as

he came, and his wings burst into flame. The
feathers of fire were hot in Drake's fingers but they
didn't burn.

"Holy fuck." Drake gaped at Grey's wings,

fingers playing through the blaze. Grey wrapped his
hand around Drake's cock, stroking only once
brought him off. Wings spread wide, head thrown
back, Drake's dick jerked in Grey's hand as cum
covered their chests in hot ropes. Grey's wings
flickered back into feathers and they folded their
wings tight against their backs. Leaning forward,
Grey kissed Drake.

"I've had guys light my fire before, that's the

first time one ever literally set me on fire." Grey
laughed weakly, leaning his forehead against
Drake's. Drake's fingers slid through Grey's bright
hair, sending it into even messier spikes than
normal.

"That… damn, Grey, just damn." Drake clung

to him, shaken by the aftermath of what they'd
shared. He saw something in Grey's eyes, a shadow
that hadn't been there before, and for some reason,
there with the sun bright in Grey's hair, Drake's mind
turned again to their dark bedroom and warm bed.

"Pretty awesome, huh?" Grey nuzzled

Drake's ear, hands still on his hips.

"Yeah but you know what?" Drake pushed

against Grey, urging him onto his back. Grey went
willingly, the shift between angel and human barely
noticeable but somehow he felt more solid under
Drake's hands.

"What?"
Drake closed his eyes and when he opened

them, he straddled Grey in the middle of their bed,
human once more. "Fuck, it's cold, that's what."
Drake grabbed the blankets and they dove under
them. Legs tangled, hands locked together between

them. Legs tangled, hands locked together between
their chests, they lay on their pillows, noses almost
touching.

"What are we doing here? I didn't know if

you'd want to come back." Grey bit his lip, the
shadow of worry more evident in his eyes than ever.

"You thought I wouldn't want to come home?"

Surprised, Drake let go of Grey's hand and wrapped
an arm around his waist, pulling him close.

"It's just this is all so… normal. Boring."
"Grey, whatever happens, I'll always love you

best when you're just you." Drake snuggled against
Grey, the chill in the room bit at his nose but under
the blankets they were cocooned in warmth.

"This is really what you want? Me and this?"

Grey's arm left the warmth of the blanket to indicate
the shabby room.

Drake grinned, sleepy and content.
"Absolutely."
"Because it's written in the stars?" Grey's

tone teased but Drake ignored the sarcasm and
pressed his lips against Grey's throat.

"No, Grey, because it's written in my heart."

Epilogue

Drake and Grey sat on the rock near the

waterfall overlooking the canyon, the spring sun
warm on their backs. Leaning into Grey's shoulder,
Drake sighed. "Did you expect this?" His lips curled
into a slight smile as he surveyed the air over their
once private hideaway, as a dozen angels soared
and swooped, playing on the air currents and diving
into the lake.

"Angels on vacation?" Grey snorted. "I can't

say that I did. Sounds like a bad porn movie."

"When some guys are wrong, they really go

all the way."

Drake felt Grey tense at the sound of Jordan's

voice behind them. Wincing, Drake glanced up into
Grey's face. He looked like he wanted to toss Jordan
over the side of the waterfall, sans wings. Drake
squeezed Grey's hand in warning before getting to
his feet, pulling Grey along with him.

"I wasn't really that wrong." Grey glared at

Jordan. Ralph and Drake exchanged long-suffering
looks.

"You weren't really all that right." Jordan

looked smug.

"I suppose you were? 'But the Herald is

supposed to change everything' sounded more like
whining to me. The resolve to change does have to
come from inside." Grey made the shift from human
to angel, his impressive wings unfurled behind him.

Jordan glowered.
Shaking his head, Drake stepped between

them. "Would you two just give it a rest? And maybe
take time to remember Ralph is the one who figured
out the change?"

The days after they'd been attacked were

blurry and dark in Drake's memory. It turned out that
all the angels in the intensive care had witnessed
Grey's transformation. Unlike other events in their
long lives, that one event did not fade into
background noise but remained fresh and clear in
their minds. When the story of Grey's impossible
rescue of Drake began to circulate, it already had
the shading of legend coloring it. Angels were not
only showing up at Home to confront Jordan, but they
stopped Grey and Drake in the street, asking if it

was true and wanting to see Grey's fire wings.

Grey didn't mind showing them he could shift

into an angel, but proving his fire wings and Herald
status turned out to be a bit more problematic.
Grey's wings only flamed during moments of extreme
emotion, and thus far, the only trigger besides
imminent danger to Drake's life, had been intense
sex. Drake chuckled to himself at the memory of how
Grey's face had flamed at the suggestion of a
demonstration; needless to say, there would be no
exhibition of the fire wings. The angels just had to
take it on faith and accept the word of those who had
been there.

Despite the arousal of the guardians' curiosity

over something outside the boundaries of their
charges, nothing else seemed to change. The
angels hardly blinked when Jordan and Ralph quit
hiding their affection for each other. Drake felt sure
those who witnessed it went back to guarding
without thinking twice about Jordan kissing Ralph.
Jordan and Grey argued about it all the time. Grey
insisting the change had to come from inside,
individual angels had to want to change, like Drake,
Ralph and Jordan himself.

"It has to be more. Everything is supposed to

change with the coming of the Herald. It's in the
prophecy; the image of the Herald bearing another
while in flight is symbolic of that change. An
encompassing change, not some drops in a bucket.
You did something wrong!" Hands fisting at his side,
Grey stepped forward and Drake stared wide-eyed
between them, convinced it had finally come to
blows.

Ralph stepped between them. "Stop it." And

his wings disappeared. He stood before them as a
man. Drake snorted at the memory, and Grey
thought

Drake

looked young as a human but youthful

or not, Ralph's transformation had the desired effect
of shutting Grey and Jordan up immediately, and for
that alone Drake could have kissed him.

"Besides you were both right," Drake

reminded them. "Grey brought change, even though
we don't know if shifting is a latent ability or
something that coincided with Grey's transformation.
It doesn't really matter. But he's right, too, and you
know it, Jordan. An angel has to want to shift, and
not all of them do."

"Transform," Jordan muttered, and Drake

laughed.

"Whatever. You got your change. I mean, just

look!" Drake waved his hand toward the other parts
of the canyon where a few humans were setting up
picnics. They couldn't see the angels but knew they
were there. As angels had accepted being able to
transform and incorporated it into the guardianship
of their charges, relationships on every level
imaginable were being formed. Several women
walked arm in arm with angels in human form, a few
of them showing early signs of pregnancy. Drake
couldn't wait to see if babies with angel daddies
would mean more people like Grey, humans who
could see angels and perhaps one day become one.

"I'm glad you can't get pregnant," Grey's

whisper brushed Drake's ear. Laughing, Drake
elbowed him. "Seriously, can you imagine us with a
kid?" Drake glanced up at him with eyes as deep as
the ocean.

"Yeah, actually I can." True or not, the words

were well worth the panicked look they put on Grey's
face, and Drake burst out laughing.

Stepping up beside Grey, Jordan clasped his

Stepping up beside Grey, Jordan clasped his

upper arm briefly. "Drake's right. It might not be
exactly the change I imagined. Angels are still tied to
our duties as guardians, but at least the benefits are
better."

"Vacation." Drake agreed.
Grey snorted. "He means sex."
Jordan laughed. "How else would you spend

a vacation?" He winked at Ralph who turned pinker
than ever, but didn't hesitate to follow when Jordan
took to the sky.

Drake looked around. "It's pretty amazing."
"I have to agree."
Drake glanced at Grey, blushing and ducking

his head on finding Grey's attention fixed on him
instead of the others. Staring at his feet, Drake
realized he stood exactly where he had months
before

when

pain-wracked,

freezing,

and

overwhelmed by despair he'd tried to end his life.
Only one thing had saved him from that moment.
Drake lifted his head and met the eyes of the Herald.

The back of Grey's fingers brushed Drake's

cheek. "I'm happy for everyone, you know that, but
there was only one angel I really wanted to change."

The intensity of emotion in Grey's eyes staggered
Drake. Turning, he looked out over the canyon and
spread his arms, tilted his head back, and jumped.
Grey was right there with him, arms around his waist.
They plummeted toward the rocks until at the last
minute, Drake felt a surge ripple through Grey's body
and he was being borne skyward again, seemingly
without effort. They landed back on their rock and
Drake turned in Grey's arms to face him. Grey's
wings of fire spread behind him. Drake closed his
eyes and midnight wings appearing at his back, he
reached out to touch the flames. His fingers slid
through the inferno of feathers and Grey shuddered
under his touch.

Puzzled, Drake pulled back, his hand moved

to caress Grey's face, their eyes met. "I have my
safety net, did I scare you?" Drake flexed his wings,
reminding Grey he no long had to fear Drake falling
to his death. Grey smiled and stepped closer, his
hands came to rest on Drake's hips. He leaned and
brushed their lips together.

"It's not fear."
Intoxicated by Grey's proximity, Drake

struggled to maintain his line of thought. "Then

what?"

"I should have realized it sooner. Our wings

reflect our emotions."

Drake couldn't argue with that, not with his

spread wide with anticipation as Grey slid his hands
from Drake's hips to the small of his back. He
gasped, pressing close to Grey, groaning at the
promise of Grey's erection against his belly.
Midnight wings fluttered and his eyes grew heavy
lidded with lust. "Yeah."

"You scared the crap out of me that day, don't

get me wrong, but that didn't help me save you."

"No?" Drake made a heroic effort to pay

attention but Grey smelled so good. Drake nuzzled
his cheek, kissing his way to a hypertensive ear.
Grey gasped when Drake's tongue traced the curve
of it.

"No. It was love. My God, how I love you."

Over Grey's shoulder, Drake saw the intensity of
Grey's words reflected in his wings as they burned
brighter and hotter than ever. Grey's eyes widened.
"Fuck, Drake, it's love, that's the key."

"That's really corny, Grey." Drake muttered,

far more interested in nibbling Grey's earlobe than

he was in figuring out the mystery of Heraldic
Change.

Excited and totally distracted from their love

making, Grey turned Drake in his arms to face the
others. "Maybe it is, but really look at what's
happening."

Intent on humoring Grey so they could go

back to making out, Drake watched the interaction of
the humans and angels on the far side of the canyon.
Slowly he began to see what Grey meant. "You're
right. Saying that love is the key sounds like a stupid
cliché, but guardians have always watched and
protected, affection never had a part in it. Now some
of us are learning to care. To love. That's one hell of
a change." Drake turned back to face Grey. "I used
to wonder what would have happened if I could have
told Ryan that I cared. If I could have grabbed hold
and pulled him off that railing. I'll never know.
Sometimes nothing helps, but maybe…"

Grey reached out and pulled him close.

"Maybe. At least the possibility is there now for
anyone brave enough to embrace it. I guess I'm an
alright Herald after all."

Drake laughed at the smug tone in Grey's

Drake laughed at the smug tone in Grey's

voice. "I guess you are. Can we go home now? I
want to be alone with my heroic Herald."

"You bet." Grinning, Grey wrapped Drake in

his arms and took to the sky with a single push of his
super-heated wings. Drake closed his eyes and his
wings disappeared allowing him to snuggle into
Grey's arms. When Grey pressed a kiss against his
hair, Drake sighed contentedly, and tucking his face
into the curve of Grey's shoulder, Drake let his angel-
shifting Herald take him home.

The End

About the Author

Diane lives in the Southeastern United States with

her three children. She has two passions, her

children and her writing, and finds that her time is

usually filled by one or the other.

You can also read her free stories

Never

, a short

anguished look at a love that will never be, and

The

Color of Pain

, the original story of Jared and Alex on

her blog.

Email:

[e-mail]

Webpage:

http://dianeadams.virtualdelusions.com/

Blog:

http://diane-adams.livejournal.com/

Facebook:

Diane Adams

Twitter:

d_adams

Also by Diane Adams

Available at

Silver Publishing

:

SHADOW OF THE WOLF

Shattered Secrets (with RJ Scott,

August 27)

Rearranging Stars

THE MAKING OF A MAN

Our December

A Place to Run

Stronger in Your Hands

Available at

Dreamspinner Press

:

Blue Skies

What's a Boy to Do

Iced

A Measure of Discipline