The Aftermath

I watched my brother living through another hard night, getting even less sleep than usually. It pained me to the core and I started to doubt my actual ability to interfere in any way.

I watched him throughout the day, moving about as a zombie, until I could not bear it anymore. Taking off from my place outside his living room window, I made my way to the park.

There was one person, one spirit, I was looking for in particular, but I paid attention to the other non-living as well. I could not tell them apart entirely, but I was starting to guess who were spirits and who were subclasses. The spirits were stronger I could sense that much, but also fewer and further between.

After a while of searching like that, paying more attention than I ever had before, I began noticing something else, too. First there was one in a shadow of an old crooked tree. Another I caught a slight glimpse of, following a living woman who bowed her head against the cold wind and hurried along.

There was something about those two appearances that was entirely different from any of the spirits I had met or any of the other angels for that matter. Reluctantly, it made me class them in the last category. Hell-bound.

It scared me, and it intrigued me.

Momentarily distracted I started searching out these darker, warped auras venturing out of the park, towards an area full of small alleyways. I had never been there before and I figured it was no place to go, either. Not for the living, at least.

“Stop!” A small hand grabbed onto my wrist and I was jerked to a halt.

Right in front of me was a ripple in the air, invisible yet tangible to me. There was darkness straight ahead and I could feel it as a physical force, almost in the same sense I had felt the change when I walked in to the old church.

The thought of the church made me come to my senses. There was another spirit I could try to seek out. Anyway, I had no business chasing any creature of darkness.

I looked down at my wrist still restrained by a tiny hand. It glowed quite a lot brighter than me. The child angel looked five, maybe six years old. I smiled softly.

“Don't go in there. They don't like us. They don't like the light,” he told me seriously.

“Okay,” I nodded, starting to step away, unintentionally towing the child with me.

“Uhm, where are you going?” asked the little boy.

“I... don't know?”

I wanted to find a spirit, but I did not particularly like the idea of the church. I had already looked for the old man in the park and in spite of wanting badly to take another look, I was starting to feel anxious. I had left Gerard alone for too long.

“Can I come? Wherever you are going?”

I looked down at the little angel, slightly startled. He looked at me with big pleading eyes and I felt my heart break ever so slightly. I could not help but wonder how he had died.

“Don't you have somewhere you need to be?” I asked him softly.

“I... I don't know. I don't know what I'm supposed to do.”

I saw his eyes tear up and I felt torn between helping the boy, and searching for spirits, and just returning to where I wanted to be, as fast as possibly.

“Where,” I started reluctantly, “where do you really want to be?”

“At grandma's,” the boy replied without hesitation.

“Then I guess that is where you need to be,” I told him, preparing to figure out how to get him there, momentarily wondering why the boy did not think of his parents first.

“Really?” the boy asked, wiping his eyes.

“Really, really,” I replied with a slight smile.

In turn the boy grinned at me and nodded. Closing his eyes he let his light suddenly flare up. As the blaze died down he was gone. I was left shocked.

It seemed to me as though the boy had just vanished. I wondered where he had gone and at the same time realised that I knew. He had gone to his grandma. It was where he needed to go, so naturally that was where he had gone.

I pondered that for a moment, only feeling more assured each second that it was so. In all my time, my time as an angel, I had never moved in any way that was unnatural. I snickered. First sign that you have been dead for too long has to be when you start counting flying as a natural way of getting about. Sobering up quickly, though, I decided to try it. I knew where I wanted to be. Closing my eyes, I thought of him.

Gerard.

I wanted Gerard.

I felt nothing, but I figured I might not. Opening my eyes slowly I prepared to find myself in the middle of his living room. I was severely disappointed to find myself in the exact same spot.

Looking at the sun hanging low in the sky, I shook my head. I did not have time to play around. Grudgingly, I started towards Gerard's apartment, walking only the length of one street before I took to the sky. I might as well take some advantage of my wings, and at least I could take a straighter route through the air.

I felt myself frown as I flew through the sky. I really had wanted to be able to move like that, to just will myself to be somewhere. I had really wanted to be able to will myself into Gerard's living room.

When I finally made it back, I was still sulking. Quickly deciding on the bedroom window considering there was no light in the apartment, I perched, still brooding.

There was another thing about that which bothered me. I had actually never been inside his apartment. It had not meant anything to me before, but now that I realised it bothered me beyond words.

I was still thinking of that very fact when Gerard woke a few hours later. I watched him get up and I guessed he was going to get some water. I was in no mood to follow him, though.

Completely lost in thoughts, I was a bit late in realising that he was not returning. Stretching my wings, suddenly flustered, I aimed for the kitchen as I kicked off. But the living room window caught my attention.

It was wide open.

I had some difficulty with getting my footing on the windowsill, but I clung to the window frame and managed. I peered into the darkness and quickly found Gerard on the couch.

He looked very peaceful. He was asleep.

I hissed in annoyance.

“What the hell do you think you're doing, sleeping like that, Gerard? You'll get cold!” I muttered, keeping my voice low, though there was no real risk of my disturbing him.

Sighing, I gripped the window frame a little tighter. I did not know what to do. I could close the window, but for all I knew it was already freezing in there. On top of that, I would not be able to shut the window properly, not from the outside.

I stopped short. Who said I was going to stay outside?

Not even stopping to consider it, I squeezed in through the window. It was a tight fit and I probably hurt my wings in at least a dozen ways. Mental note, I thought to myself whimpering softly, wings are really rather sensitive.

Shaking the feeling and ignoring the throbbing I walked over to Gerard. Now that I could see this face, slightly illuminated by my ever-present glow, he did not look quite as peaceful. I had been watching him sleep for too long. I could see the nightmare brewing behind his closed eyes.

Throwing a look back towards the window I bit my lower lip. I wondered if Gerard would remember having opened it. I considered if he would wonder how it had shut. Standing still for a moment longer I finally sighed. Maybe I should just not shut the window, I decided.

I knelt next to Gerard, extending my hand to brush his hair out of is eyes, before hesitating. The spirit in the park had told me that the living shied away from me. From all of us. And he was right, I knew, for Gerard always turned away or walked away if I tried to touch him. When first I had not understood what was happening that had hurt; it was a feeling so like rejection that my entire being had recoiled from it.

I had learned not to try and touch him within a few weeks of my death.

Yet, I had tried to touch him recently. He had moved away from me each time. Sighing, I lowered my hand. I had not appreciated it enough the night I had held him in the church.

My head shot back up. I had held him. I had touched him even when I did not truly feel it anymore, and he had not moved away! I had touched him being every bit the non-living creature I was.

I wondered what the difference was, and realised I already knew. He had been unconscious then.

Unconscious. Asleep. I wondered if it was close enough.

A slight shiver ran through Gerard's body and I cast a useless glare at the window as to tell the cool air to stay away from my brother.

Making a quick decision I got back on my feet, before lowering myself onto the couch next to him. I was thankful that Gerard when he was fully asleep, at least, did not curl up. Already, I was wondering how on Earth I was going to balance myself on the edge of the couch as I folded my one wing over him.

With a low noise which made me hold my breath, Gerard turned to face me. Luckily, he was still asleep. I let out a huff of air and averted my eyes, feeling silly.

The next second my breath caught in my throat again, only to be pushed out by an involuntary screeching sound, just short of a scream. I could not help it, though I immediately afterwards wanted to choke myself. But I had not woken Gerard. And slowly, ever so slowly I let my body relax, not believing what was happening.

I was no longer in danger of falling off the coach. Gerard had wrapped an arm around me in his sleep and held onto me. Held me as he had when we were both younger. Held me as though I was actually still real to him.