Rearranging Stars

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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."

"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

~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.

~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

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

~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

. 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. "

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

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.

"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.

~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 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

personal

choice,

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?"

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

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

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

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.

"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

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

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:

diane.adams@virtualdelusions.com

Webpage:

http://dianeadams.virtualdelusions.com/

Blog:

http://diane-adams.livejournal.com/

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