A/N: Thank you to Brit Chick for her wonderful Beta, this would have been way too sappy without her guidance. If you like it, thank her. If you don't, flame me.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Just had to fill in the blanks.

Angels and Demons

---

I want to make you happy but I've fallen, I'm sorry

I thought my wings could hold me up with angels not demons

You don't know how cool you are to find the ways to love me without shame

-- Down Towards the Healing - LoveDrug

---

Arcadia Public Library

10:17pm Wednesday

As unpredictable and screwed up as her life had become, Grace was now quite positive of one thing:

Physics was a hell of a lot more difficult than Chemistry.

Chemistry made sense. Compound A, add compound B, mix well... reaction ensues. Chemistry you could see, chemistry you could diagram, atoms become molecules all that stuff. Physics was too theoretical. All these insanely long formulas, she was going to have to break out her pre-calc book again just to get through this test, and it was still early in the year. Re-reading the section on Maxwell's Theory for what felt like the eighth time already, she thought, maybe I'm just in over my head.

She stole another glace at Luke across the table. In over my head, that seems to be a recurring theme this week. He was still giving her these unbelievably sappy eyes, asking her silently to reconsider his offer of going with her to one of those lame meetings. It had been sweet at first, his concern for her, now it was just annoying. She was reaching her boiling point and had to get out of here before she said something that she really didn't mean just to get him to drop it for good. She checked her watch; it was late enough that everything should be relatively quiet to study at home.

"Look, it's getting late, I gotta go." She could tell by looking at him, he knew she had to get home to check on her mother. Looking had become a sort of paradox over the past few hours. He always had this painfully sympathetic expression on his face, but at the same time his eyes seemed to get just a little bluer with every glance. Not a cold icy blue, but a warm, tropical water kind of blue. Tropical, that was a nice thought, warm water, white sand, no one else around, no physics to worry about. Physics... real life...it was probably just the lighting in here anyway.

"I'll walk you." He was already up and gathering things into his backpack.

"Dude, not necessary." She wasn't sure how much more of this she could stand. She was never going to get through all the chapters for the test tomorrow; he was never going to get off her back about her mom. Grace was starting to think she should have just kept her secrets to herself. She knew she wasn't being fair to Luke, he didn't know what he was getting into and he thought he was doing the right thing. But Rome wasn't built in day and Grace wasn't about to crumble into some helpless damsel in distress overnight either.

"It's late, Grace. I'll walk you."

Fine. Maybe she could get him to explain how Maxwell's Theory laid the foundation for Einstein's Special Relativity Theory and why light always moved at the same speed, no matter how fast you were going. It was kinda funny how protective he had become over her. She knew she'd been in more fights than he could have possibly been in; she probably threw a better left hook too. But if he wanted to play the gender card and walk her home, it was going to be on her terms and the conversation had better stay strictly neutral, preferably physics related.

---

The night was uncharacteristically cold for late October. Light from the street lamps waxed and weaned from the path they made across the city sidewalks. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his breath as he spoke. She walked with her gaze carefully trained straight ahead, so as not to catch another of his looks. He walked beside her with his hands in the pockets of his coat, whether it was for warmth or just to keep him from reaching out to her, she couldn't really tell.

"Say for the sake of argument that light travels at 101 miles an hour. Then say you're on a train going 100 miles per hour next to that light. You naturally assume that you would be able to see the light traveling next to you, like a car on the freeway, going just a little faster. Einstein says that's not what happens, that the light will still be traveling 101 miles an hour faster than the observer."

He was still talking but Grace had stopped paying attention to the words. The cadence of his voice rose and fell with their synchronized steps. It was almost hypnotic and she found it increasingly difficult to keep her mind on what he way trying to explain. The intuitive ease he had with what to Grace seemed like incredibly complex subject matter never ceased to amaze her. He was supposed to be some sort of genius, and he did seem like he knew what he was talking about when it came to academics. If he would just stop trying to shove her into some cookie cutter mold of a normal person, he'd be the perfect... what? boyfriend? friend? confidant? Not that it really mattered. The point was he just needed to stop being so pushy.

She was pulled from her thoughts when she realized they had stopped half way up the walkway to her door. His hand on her elbow in a strong but gentle grip and he was looking at her expectantly. Obviously he had expected a response from her, about something, she hadn't been paying attention.

"What?"

He looked perturbed. And she really couldn't blame him. It seemed that once he went into science-geek mode, most everyone tuned him out. She usually wasn't one to do that to him, she liked hearing his long-winded, complex answers for even the simplest questions. He kept her wanting to know more, like they could share this great cosmic secret about how the universe works.

"There's a meeting tomorrow, First Christian Church at six o'clock. I'll go with you if you want..."

He was doing it again. He was trying to twist her into this little joiner thinking that that would change the fact that at this very moment her mother was either A. Passed out somewhere other than in bed, which meant having to move her to said bed. Or B. Not passed out but sitting in a darkened room crying and feeling sorry for herself because she's home alone. He was never going to understand. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

"You know, for a genius, you're not very quick on the up take. I am not going anywhere close to one of those meetings. Just because I tell you things does not mean I want to stand in a room full of strangers and spill my guts ok."

"It's one meeting, two hours out of your life."

He looked at her pleadingly. Not scared of the glare in the least. Which in and of itself would have been troubling to Grace, had they not been discussing her alcoholic mother in her front yard at almost eleven o'clock the night before a physics exam she was nowhere near prepared for.

She flailed her arms open tearing her elbow from his grasp and shoved him away from her. She was already stressed out about the test on Thursday and he just would not shut up about that stupid meeting. Grace felt like her head was going to explode

"You need to back off."

She liked being able to talk to him, share the ugly part of her life with someone who wouldn't judge her. But he just keep picking at her, wanting more and more and more. She was drained, she wasn't sure how much more there was of her to give and still have anything of herself left to hang on to.

She was tired of dealing with this already and he known for what? Ten days? But if she really thought about it, what did she expect? She had invited him into her own personal hell. Dante's Inferno, where her hands are bound but she's still tasked with keeping her mother's boated, diseased liver in her body. The visual was almost too much. Blood and organs, flames and heat. The taste of salt, from sweat or blood or tears or maybe a cocktail of all three, with a twist of irony. Did she really expect him to reside in this demented place with her? Of course he was going to try to drag her out into the daylight. Where families were clones of those 1950's sitcoms.

He was just starting to realize that his perfect little normal life was nowhere near what was normal for most people. That two involved parents and family dinner every night was the exception to the rule. She wanted to pound her fits against his chest and scream at him to just stop. Stop being so perfectly supportive, stop trying to get her to change, stop trying to help. Didn't he understand that although it may be hell, it was the place she created to keep herself safe from the outside world? At least she could maintain her sanity if she stayed in that place.

Luke took her arm again but she snatched it away. He was not going to get under her defenses tonight. She needed to go inside, clean up whatever mess there was and just go to bed. Screw studying, like she could concentrate at this point anyway, she'd get up early and go to school to cram.

She turned from him and finished her walk to the door by herself. He didn't chase after her, and she wasn't sure if she was disappointed or relieved. She had just turned her key in the lock when he called after her.

"You can't talk me onto giving up."

A hint of a smile pulled at her lips, she didn't want him to give up, just back off and give her a little breathing room.

---

She didn't notice the light on in her father's study until it was too late. She really could do without confrontation tonight. But before she had even closed the door he had called her into his office. He motioned for her to sit but she leaned in the doorframe instead.

"Is this going to take long? I have a mid term to study for."

He peered at her in the dim light of the office. "Sit down Grace, we need to talk."

She slumped her shoulders and let her book bag slide to the floor. This was not going to be good. The last time she had actually sat in her father's office and had a real conversation with him, she had ended up taking Hebrew classes. Sitting in one of two visitors chairs and kicking her boot clad feet up on to the desk, simply because she knew he hated it when she put her feet on the furniture, she hugged her knees to her chest.

"What?"

He looked defeated, not poised for a fight, which he always was with her. It seemed to Grace as if this night was never going to end. Like she had gotten caught up in some loop in the space-time continuum where everything would steadily get worse and worse but there was no dawn to break the cycle. Adrenaline began to pump through her veins as she tried without success to anticipate what was coming next.

Had something happened to her mother? Was she okay? Did she hit someone while driving? Did she kill someone? It was unfair that the simplest things like her mother going out of the house could instill so much panic and doubt.

"I got home at four o'clock this afternoon and your mother was already passed out on the couch. She's got a pancake breakfast with the sisterhood tomorrow at seven and I can't even rouse her to get her into bed. I'll have to make excuses for again. It's the second time in the past three months. Where were you?"

Grace felt a wave of relieve wash over her. No one had been killed, they only injury was her father's pride. The calm from knowing everything was still okay quickly turned to a red, blinding furry. She kicked her left foot out and knocked over the pencil holder on the desk scattering pens and paperclips across an otherwise, too neat surface.

"Where was I!? She's your wife! How about where were you!"

"Grace, you know I have an entire congregation that depends on me. I need you to help with your mother, especially in her current condition. I've got important people coming to the house tomorrow so I need you here to make sure she stays presentable"

"You can't make me responsible for your problem! You married her, you deal with her. I've got plans tomorrow."

The urge to flee was so strong that her feet were drumming out their own rhythm on her father's desk. She wanted to run, get as far away from this house as she could. She didn't understand how she could possibly be even remotely related to these people.

Her father cared more about what other people think than about how his family was so dysfunctional. He hid behind this self-imposed responsibility for his congregation when he couldn't even take care of his own wife. What kind of weak man made his sixteen-year-old daughter accountable for cleaning up the mistakes in his life? Like he didn't want to look at them, so now they were her problem? Couldn't he see what he was doing to her? How it was twisting her into this hardened bitch who would never trust anyone.

She couldn't understand how a grown man couldn't face the life he had created for himself. No, he didn't want to see the damage her mother was imposing on Grace or herself, let alone clean up puke and broken glass. He father was a coward and that made Grace ashamed. The burning in her cheeks was unwelcome. She didn't need to delve any further into that cesspool of emotional turmoil.

He was rambling off questions. "Where were you tonight? Where do you think you're going tomorrow?"

Like he really cared. The only things he cared about were appearances. His image, not how his wife was drinking herself to death or how his daughter was being crushed by the weight of the baggage he didn't have the will to look at. Forcing Grace to sift though all the damage because he wasn't strong enough to do it himself. Weren't parents supposed to be the ones that prepared you for life, not the other way around?

Her parents were the same; hiding from the truth they had created for themselves and dragged her into. For her mother it was the bottle, for her father it was his position in the community. But when all was said and done, they were both scared and alone and totally fucked up.

Exhaling audibly, Grace felt like she had been sucker punched. Realization was dawning as she connected all the dots, the picture becoming clear. A lead weight was settling in her stomach, making her nauseous. Facing her own hypocrisy was not something she had the energy for right now. How could she not have seen the parallels before now? Anger, fear and frustration swelled within her.

She had to get out of here. She couldn't look at him anymore; the reflection of her weakness in his eyes was making her sick.

"Find another babysitter. I'm busy."

---

Her room was always a safe haven but tonight she just felt caged and restless. Maybe she would study for a while after all. From her vantage point on the bed she saw the moonlight reflecting on the old swing set in the yard. When had everything become a metaphor for how screwed up life had become? Why couldn't that old rusty frame just be a piece of playground equipment? Why did it seem like even inanimate objects were mocking her? Was she destined to be this way for the rest of her life?

Grace pulled her physics book out of her bag. Fluttering to the floor, she instantly recognized the Alateen pamphlet Luke had obviously shoved in her bag at the library while she wasn't looking. She picked it up and fingered the edges. How was it possible that her own father could leave her to this life but this kid, this guy, this man in geek's clothing was willing to crash down into her abyss and drag her out kicking and screaming? No body had done that for her before, ever. Luke had jumped through every hoop she had set in front of him. How many more would he be willing to hurdle? How much more pushing could she do before he just gave up on her like everyone else always did?

She didn't want to be his next project. Grace couldn't stand the idea of him trying to fix her. Like if he could tear her apart molecule by molecule then rebuild her how she was suppose to be instead of all upside-down and backward like she felt all the time. But he made her feel sane, and safe and the closest to normal that she could fathom.

Maybe after all he had put up with from her; she could do this one thing. Nothing those people were going to say could possibly make anything better. But she wouldn't be alone.

---

He was waiting for her when she arrived at the biology lab. Closing the door, she leaned against it and watched him scramble to his feet. Before he could say anything, Grace held up a hand. She looked at him and wondered if anyone else saw what see saw when she looked in his eyes, probably not.

"One meeting. "

She was in his arms faster than she had thought possible. In one long stride he had crossed the small room and had her pressed tightly against him. The hand he held at the small of her back was radiating heat through out her body. He wound his free hand into her hair and kissed her. He didn't just kiss her, he claimed her, put a stake in her heart and took possession of her. It was fierce yet heartbreakingly slow, he tasted like oranges and sunrises and Luke. She was sure he had never kissed her like this before. It was like he had always been holding back just a little; waiting to make sure she was in this the same way he was. And now he knew.

He broke the kiss and she missed the contact immediately. She was still comfortably secure in his embrace, but somehow it just wasn't enough. She wanted that connection needed it to feel alive, worthy, something, anything. He brought his forehead to rest against hers; his breath tickled her lips. His hand had slipped beneath the fabric of her shirt and his fingers were tracing the infinity symbol on her lower back, just above the waistband of her jeans. She was about to pull him into another kiss when he spoke.

"Thank you, Grace."