Chapter 19

A/N

Me: Hey guys! Happy St. Patrick's Day, and as my holiday present to you, I give a new chapter! Yippee!

BFF: *walks into room NOT WEARING GREEN* Still took you long enough.

Me: *pinches BFF*

BFF: Ouch! What was that for? *rubs arm*

Me: You're not wearing green.

BFF: *scowls* Really?

Me: Yup. Happy Wear-Green-or-I'll-Pinch-You Day!

IMPORTANT: If you want the next chapter to be in Fang's Point of View or in Max's Point of View, you need to vote!

Max's POV

I stumbled as I landed in Fang's protected yard and was nearly thrown face-first into the dirt due to the fact that I had not accounted for my damaged thigh and how it would affect my ordinarily perfect return to the Earth's surface. For once, I was glad I was invisible. That landing had been downright embarrassing.

Hobbling up to the house, I noticed Iggy making his way toward my ward's home as well. Ignoring this newly gathered information, I phased through the front door and nearly ran straight through Ms. Walker as well, missing her by mere centimeters.

She was on the phone and wore a distressed look upon her face. My heart plummeted and grew cold. Had Sam been telling the truth? Did he really get a hold of my ward?

I flew toward Fang's room so fast a speeding bullet would have had trouble catching up with me. However, midflight, something caught my ear and I screeched to a halt in order to listen.

"Hello, this is Ms. Walker. My son was a patent of Dr. Hammond from your office." Fang's mother spoke, pausing for the receptionist's response. "Yes, that's him." Another pause, I could hear the woman on the phone blathering on for a few minutes. "I would like to cancel all future appointments…yes, I know there will be a fee for canceling."

What? I nearly yelled out loud. Why was she canceling his appointments? Oh, no, how bad was he after that therapy session? I gripped the sides of my head in frustration and fought the urge to scream, smearing angelic blood all over my hands in the process. I should have stayed with him! Who knows what kind of trouble he got himself into after I left?

I raced up the stairs as fast as my injured leg would allow. Truth be told, I have no idea why I didn't just fly. I find myself extremely illogical sometimes, especially when it comes to my ward. For me, being a guardian angel, my ward always comes before myself. So I don't always think everything through before rushing off to save my ward. Call it a fatal flaw if you want.

It will probably be the death of me one of these days.

The black door was less than a foot from me when I froze in place. My heart thudded loudly. The sound seemed to echo through the hall. My breath caught painfully in my throat in a fierce battle against my overactive lungs.

What would I find on the other side of this door?

I shook and found it hard to control my body, my foot slipped through the floor as if I had stepped in quicksand. Quickly, I pulled my foot out of the ground and gathered myself. Now was not the time to fall apart, I needed to be strong.

I am a guardian.

I am an angel.

Guardians are strong, and angels do not fear.

Taking in a slow breath, I slowed my heart and reached for the doorknob. Concentrating on the knob, I wrapped my ghostly hand around it and turned. It gave for a moment before abruptly coming to a halt. Locked.

Sighing, I stepped forward and phased through the door. A cold chill ran down my spine as I crossed over to the other side. I couldn't deny that my phasing abilities were quite useful at times, but I absolutely hated how my skin would crawl and the cold feeling would fill me as I used it.

Once on the other side, I glanced around my ward's bedroom, my heart sunk and despair weighed me down as I took in the state of the room.

Beer bottles littered the room, a dozen scattered throughout in various states. About half of the brown beer bottles were lined neatly along the edge of the dresser, placed in a painstakingly straight line as if they had been set down while their consumer experienced a nervous fit of OCD. The other semi-empty glasses, however, reflected quite the opposite with an air of disorganized chaos. Four or five more had made it into the small, black, aluminum wire trashcan along with a clear, and notably empty, bottle of Patrón.

The air itself smelled acidic with vomit and bitter with the scent of the spilled alcoholic brew, which did no favors to my already nauseous state, due to the loss of Light which had escaped my body and by now had likely seeped into the earth, lost to me. The trees and plants that soaked up the substance into their roots would grow strong and beautiful, testaments to nature's beauty.

With the headache and nausea clouding my mind, I couldn't help but find myself annoyed by the little thieves.

I made my way towards Fang's bed, where a lump covered in sheets groaned and muttered unintelligible words. Standing beside the lump, I could now see a mop of tangled, greasy hair poking out of the heaping pile of sheets. My shoulders slumped a little and I sighed, from just the top of his head I could tell it had been several days since my ward had last showered. Sitting down on the bed beside him, and taking a whiff, I found that the smell confirmed my theory. Quickly leaning back, I waved my hand in front of my face in an attempt to dissipate the revolting scent into the cleaner air. It didn't help much.

"Oh, Fang." I sighed. "Why did you do this to yourself?"

Thinking back to what Sam had told me, I came to the unpleasant conclusion that the demon must have been telling the truth about having visited Fang. Although I had not realized it at the time, during my time as Fang's ward, he had seen me, heard me, and touched me. We had developed a relationship of sorts. Sam wanted to torture my ward with me, and what better way than to tell him I was dead or worse? If I had learned anything about my ward, it was that he didn't respond well to loss. The demon had been right about one thing, Fang felt that he was responsible for those he cared about, and when they were hurt he blamed himself. The guilt was consuming him and he didn't know how to deal with it, so he turned to that which distracted him and eased the pain and guilt.

The guilt would still be there, however, and each time he tried to ease it, he would need more and more of those dangerous distractions. Then eventually, it would go too far, and he would—

I couldn't finish the thought. The lump in my throat started to burn, and soon the fire spread to my eyes, creating tears, which I held back with all my strength.

Be strong. No fear. Be strong. No fear.

Fang was my ward, and I his guardian. It was my duty to guide him, save him if I could, and I would.

But first thing is first. This kid needs a serious bath.

Reaching for the bed sheets which covered his face, I paused, remembering how he had touched me. Did that mean I could touch him too? My eyes focused on his greasy hair, remembering how I had wished to run my fingers through it.

Of course that had been when it was clean, but still, despite how dirty he was, I couldn't resist the lure. The possibility, even just once, of being able to touch someone, make contact. It was—it was—I really don't know how to describe it—it was a hopeful, yet reserved, and panicked kind of emotion.

As my hand neared his dark locks, I breathed no breath; my lungs were still with anticipation. Slowly, I lowered my palm down onto his head, expecting my hope to sputter out and die at any moment.

I probably imagined the whole thing. I'm just going crazy, that's all. I should really go to counseling, then again, that could land me in—

All my thoughts ceased as I realized my hand had met with resistance. I blinked several times before taking in a gasping breath.

I was touching him, my palm brushed against his hair. It felt different than I had expected, like straw, but thinner and bendable. The hair was coarse, yet silky and smooth, despite the obvious lack of care, it felt good. No, it felt wonderful.

I had never touched a human before. Prior, I had only dreamed of being able to hug and comfort my wards, give "high fives" as the humans called them, and lend an actual helping hand to those who had fallen. In all my previous assignments, such interaction was impossible, but with Fang, I could be human, if only in that. I didn't even need to concentrate in order to touch him, and for a brief moment, I forgot my angelic heritage.

The moment ended abruptly as I tried to pull the covers away from my ward's face and phased right through the sheets, having forgotten the need to concentrate. The phasing had the effect of a cold bucket of water dumped over my head. It jogged the memory of my duty as a guardian angel to Fang.

My duty was to get him back on his feet, guide him, and protect him.

Quickly I pulled the dirty sheets off of my grime-covered ward, allowing the sun to shine its unforgiving light directly onto his face. He groaned and turned over, pulling a pillow over his head.

"Go away mom." He grumbled.

I sighed, instantly regretting it as I breathed in the noxious, alcohol-scented air. My nausea returned, far worse than before.

"Fang," His body stiffened. "You need to get up."

He slowly turned around and spotted me. Without warning he let out a panicked yell, falling off of his bed and onto the floor before scooting back into the corner of his room.

"Not again, not again." He shook his head and hugged himself. "You're not real."

I blinked, confused, and slightly hurt. I was used to being a ghost, not being "real", but it bothered me coming out of the mouth of the one human person that could actually hear, see, and touch me. His statement didn't make much sense either, especially after he had been the one to mistake me for a real human girl.

"Fang, you're not making any sense. I'm right here in front of you."

He shook his head roughly. "No, no, you're not. You are a figment of my imagination. You're not real."

I approached him slowly as he buried his head in his hands, his whole body shook. When I knelt down beside him, he finally looked up.

"Please," He begged. "Stop haunting me, you come every day reminding me, taunting me. I know I failed, I know it's my fault, but I never meant for you to die. If I had known he was out to kill you, I would have never let you out of my sight. Please, please, stop, I can't take it anymore."

I reached out, and my vision was blurring slightly from the loss of Light as I took his hand, holding his hand, a human's hand, for the first time.

"I'm not dead, Fang. I'm right here, right in front of you."

He sat, still and silent for a moment, and then reached out and cupped my uninjured cheek into his hand. His eyes gazed into mine for several minutes, studying me before his face relaxed into relief.

"It is you." He whispered and then pulled me to him, wrapping himself around me. "Oh, thank God. Max, you're alive."

Surprised by the sudden interaction, it took me a moment to react. Eventually, I too enclosed my ward within my arms. He was warm and comfortable, and I felt safe in his embrace.

How could we angels do without this?

A/N

Me: Hey guys! How did you like the chapter? Please leave me a review and let me know what you liked, what you didn't like, or suggestions. P.S. death and bodily harm threats if I don't post the next chapter ASAP are welcome too. It may make me a bit morbid, but I find these reviews extremely endearing for some reason.

BFF: There is something seriously wrong with you.

Me: Or incredibly awesome.

BFF: Doubtful.

Me: Ouch.

BFF: You're the one that pinched me earlier; I'm the only one with the right to say ouch here!

Me: Technically that's your fault for not wearing green on St. Patty's Day.

BFF: How do you know I'm not wearing green underwear?

Me: Are you willing to prove it?

BFF: NO! Absolutely not!

Me: And there rests my case. Anyways, for those looking for some action or major plot development, don't worry because both will be coming in this story, extremely soon. After all, Fang can't avoid leaving the protective bubble and going to school forever, and guess who will be waiting…*evil grin*

BFF: *deadpans* The ice cream man.

Me: You're just sore because you didn't wear green and got pinched.

BFF: I am sore! I think you gave me a bruise!

Me: Well if that one itty, bitty pinch hurt so badly, you probably should go grab something green before—

*The entire Flock shows up and pinch BFF*

BFF: *yells in frustration*