Well. This story was very fun and amazing to write. But all good things must come to an end, yeah?

Enjoy the last chapter of Fallen.

But look forward to the sequel.

November 18th, 2013

When Bodil opened his eyes, he was met with maroon blankets. He blinked and closed his eyes, propping his upper body up with his elbows. He groaned and rubbed his head. "W-wha?..."

But before anything else could pass from his lips, he was tackle-hugged by two angels. He grunted, smirking slightly. "Miss me?" Bodil winced at how weak and raw his voice sounded. He sat up as Simon and Baki gave him some space. But his smile faded, and the air locked in his throat.

Slowly, cautiously, he unfurled one black and white wing. The main color seemed to be black, but white splashed over it, as if stating that he was still good, even when he was supposed to be evil. The other wing was the same, white and black.

"Sorry about the color," a voice said from the other side of the room, "I had no control over it."

Simon waved a hand. 'It's alright, Grumm. You healed him and gave his wings back." The Bulgarian angel smiled, glancing back at Bodil. "Right?"

Bodil blinked, wrapping one wing around his chest, holding it close. It was his. It wasn't fake. But… it wasn't real, either. These wings weren't the ones that he grew up with. They weren't his.

He stood suddenly, pushing Baki and Simon away. Wordlessly, he ran out into the hallway. Glancing around, Bodil found that he recognized the place. He frowned and ran down the hall, to the doorway.

"Bodil?"

He glanced over at Seto, who was sitting next to Agnus on the couch. "What's wrong?" The sorcerer asked, standing up. But Bodil shook his head, flaring his wings as if they would answer the question. Then he turned and opened the door, running out into the nighttime air.

"Bodil!" Baki shouted, running out of the house with Simon close on his tail. "Bodil, come back!"

…

Bodil ran.

And he ran.

And he ran.

He didn't look back. Because if he did, he might see his friend's confused faces. Or would they look at him with disappointment? Would they be disappointed that instead of being grateful, he just hated himself even more?

Would they understand?

No, of course they wouldn't. They didn't understand when he tried to explain why he had poisoned Notch. They didn't understand why he didn't want his wings back. They didn't understand why he had tried so hard to save Antony and all those other kids. They didn't understand why he did't want to be an angel anymore…

Bodil slowed to a stop, chest heaving. He leaned against a tree, wiping sweet off his forehead. Was it his imagination, or was running harder with wings?

He sighed and looked around, only now realizing that he was completely lost. Tall and dark pine trees towered above his head, rattling their branches in their sad, hollow song. Moonlight fell down through their needles, scattering the ground with patches of liquid silver. The stars above shown like diamonds, strewn across the night's black canvas in crooked constellations. A few large, puffy clouds floated through the sky, silent and churning in the howling winds.

Bodil let out a shaky sigh, sitting down on the pine needle bed. It was there, in a small patch of moonlight, that he spread his wings and examined them. They were perfect, exactly like his old ones. All except the color. It was as if they were trying to claw their way back up to their old angelic status. He sighed again, curling one around and laying it in his lap.

"Oh look at you," he said to the wing. The wind stirred and ruffled the feathers as if responding, whistling through the feathers and the branches above his head. "So perfectly made, just like the ones I was born with. But you aren't mine. You're just made by some god willing enough to take pity on a poor Fallen Angel."

He rolled his shoulders, unfurling the two wings with a whoosh. Bodil studied them for a moment, giving them an experimental flap.

After all he had been through. After all the toil and pain and sacrifice, all he had to do was go to a god and get them back. He should have been happy—ecstatic.

But he wasn't. And that was the real problem. He knew deep inside that he was happy, but that was too deep for him to claw the emotion out. So he sat back and thought for a moment.

His life couldn't get any better from here. That was what everyone would think. Right now, he had all that he wanted. The children were probably being taken back to their families at that moment. He had friends. He was alive. He even had his wings back.

A cloud passed over the full moon. Bodil closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the bark of the tree. When the cloud passed, he realized that he wasn't happy. He wasn't sad.

He was content.

Bodil sighed one more time. Then he stood up slowly and stretched his wings out, closing his eyes and tilting his head up to the sky.

When his bright orange orbs opened again, he grinned and jumped into the air.

November 19th, 2013

A few hours had passed, and Bodil found himself silently gliding over the city. He tucked in a wing, swooping to the right and flying around a building. As he glided around the corner, his noticed blue and red lights flashing a few blocks down.

Bodil sniffed, eyes narrowed against the chilling wind, and lazily flew towards the police lights. He soared above a building and took in the scene.

Several police cars were stationed in the middle of a crowd of people. As Bodil flew closer, he heard sobbing. Frowning, he landed on the giant building made of stone and marble, sneaking to the edge. People were hugging each other, crying unintelligible words into the shoulders of…

Their children.

Bodil gasped and swung down off of the building, taking a few steps backwards. It was the museum, the one that had the End portal in its basement.

He looked around, beaming at all the reunited families. But then something caught his eye. A little boy, no older than ten, stood next to a policeman. He had tears welling in his eyes, hope dim in his heart. Bodil stood back, watching as a man and a woman ran up to him, sweeping him into their arms and planting kisses all over his face.

Bodil smiled and jumped back up onto the building, perfectly content to know that Antony was safe in the arms of his parents.