Endlessly

Thursday.

It isn't long after his parents leave him that he realizes he's never going to get any sleep until he goes to see Alex. The drugs are beginning to wear off, and even though the comedown from a high is usually enough to lull him to sleep, he's wide awake. With no doubt that this is the cause of some divine intervention, he takes his sweet time with getting ready, looking through nearly every shirt in his closet, then taking another twenty minutes to find a pair of shoes.

His parents are downstairs supervising the staff's cleanup job when he comes down, sipping wine and talking quietly. "I'm going out." He barely looks at them as he walks past.

Bassam raises an eyebrow, but Joyce doesn't look the least bit surprised. "To Alex's, I presume?"

He stops at the door and turns to face his parents. "Yeah. Can't sleep." Jack shrugs.

Jack would swear his mother looked a little proud. "Good."

He nods, and swinging his keys in his hand, he heads for the door. "I don't know when I'll be back. I know, I know, 'don't come back until you and Alex have made u-"

"Wait!" Bassam calls just before Jack opens the front door.

He turns to see both of his parents looking at him nervously. "What?"

"You...you might want to fly to Alex's." Bassam says, looking towards the ground.

"More like 'you have to fly to Alex's.'" Joyce cuts in. "The throng of people you had here...well...they weren't too kind to your car."

Anger grumbles in Jack's chest. Fucking fantastic. "Right. Guess I'm flying there and going to the mechanic's tomorrow." He drops the keys right where he's standing before walking past his parents to the back door. Seeing the damage on his baby would only make him angrier and he didn't need to show up at Alex's ready to go on a rampage. If he remembered correctly, his temper was exactly what got him into this situation in the first place. Slamming the porch door behind him, Jack slides off his shirt, tying one of the sleeves to a belt loop on his jeans, and takes off.

As soon as he's in the air, his vague annoyance and nervousness seems to fade to the back of his mind. It doesn't disappear, but for once he feels like he can think about something that isn't Alex. Still, right now, Alex is the only thing he wants on his mind. Alex, so independent, so headstrong. On one hand, Jack wishes Alex would simply keep his mouth shut sometimes. However, he knows without Alex's need for Jack to know his moral superiority, he wouldn't be the same Alex.

And as much as they fight, as much as their differing values tear them apart, he knew Alex wouldn't be nearly as interesting to him without that difference, that fire that draws them near one another and burns them again and again. Maybe that makes him insane, loving the thrill of the chase, the fight - okay, that's totally what makes him insane, but Jack's not interested in questioning his mental stability tonight. The only thing he needs is for him and Alex to be okay again.

He's not too far from Alex's when he hears it. A shrill scream from an alley. A shiver runs down his back. Was it a murder? Rape? Judging by the group of laughter echoing from the same area, Jack would guess gang rape. Averting his direction, he promises he'll just watch for a few seconds before returning to his journey to Alex's. This is the kind of thing he lives for, and he can't just ignore it, as much as something in him tells him he should. As he approaches, excitement and another emotion he can't quite identify bubble in his stomach. He can hear another scream as he gets close, this time muffled. Good, he thinks. The only thing Jack hates more than angels are stupid criminals.

Jack hovers over the roof of the club beside the alley. He remembers this place. This club is where Alex and him first met. This alley is where Jack had possibly the best orgasm of his life. He lets his eyes close for a moment as he takes a deep breath. Good times, good times.

Another muffled scream is what reopens Jack's eyes. There, in the narrow alley, he counts 6 people. Five against one isn't particularly fair, but it does make for interesting entertainment. In Jack's experience, the more people there are against the victim, the harder they fight. They fight like they're Superman or some other ultra-strong being, and it never stops being amusing to watch their idiocy prolong their torture. He scoffs a little, and the victim's head snaps backward, eyes looking right at Jack.

For a split second Jack is surprised. There are very few humans that can hear a supernatural being while they're airborne. Most of them are prophets or very dedicated priests. Jack doesn't really have time to think about this, though, before the next second takes his breath away in cold, hard fear. Never in his life has he felt a wave of terror so consuming as this one, so paralyzing that he can't even blink. NO, every part of his body screams. With this comes the anger, hot and heavy, breaking through the layers of fear that kept him still. Immediately Jack falls into action.

The element of surprise as he dives off the building is enough to get two of the five on the ground. As their brains process who the fuck is this guy and how the hell did he jump off the roof like that, Jack pulls his pocket knife from the back pocket of his jeans and puts himself in between the criminals and Alex. "Get your wings out," Jack grunts, trying not to let the others hear, which becomes difficult when they start approaching them. "You guys better back the fuck off." Jack practically growls, holding his knife out. "You do not want to mess with me."

The five men exchange glances. "Aw, what, you his boyfriend?" The largest one smiles, a sinister tone tainting his words.

"I think that's the last thing you should be worrying about right now." Jack snaps back. Alex can see Jack's shoulders heaving as he tries to slide off his shirt as inconspicuously as possible. It ends up being easier than he thought it would be, given the gang had already ripped it up pretty well. And anyways, all of the attention seems to be focused on Jack for the time being. Although his heart is still racing, Alex knows he's safe now. Jack is a much better fighter than all of these men combined, he's sure. Even if it weren't for the supernatural speed and strength that came with being a demon, Jack has definitely been in more fights than all of these men combined. Alex has faith.

All of the men laugh at Jack. "In case you haven't noticed, faggot, we still outnumber you." The largest one takes one more step towards Jack before the demon's poise breaks.

Alex closes his eyes the second he sees Jack flinch, because as much as he wishes he's wrong about what's about to happen, he knows he isn't. However, his hands don't make for good earplugs. The clash of skin with metal makes him light-headed, and the groans of pain that litter the alleyway raise bile in his throat. He hasn't been touched yet, so he can only assume that Jack isn't one of those on the ground.

The fight seems to last forever, and more than once Alex feels a warm liquid seep into his jeans or spew across his arms. Mentally, he's commanding himself to take flight, to get away from this place in whatever way possible, but much like the fear that froze Jack earlier, Alex can't seem to feel his wings in order to propel himself into the sky. When his legs go out, he knows he's in shock.

The ground is eager to meet him, allowing cold gravel to stab him through his pants. It's uncomfortable, but he knows if he tries to move, he'll puke. His head is spinning, even with his eyes closed. The groans of pain are becoming few and far between, but every one still goes straight to Alex's heart. For a while, he doesn't even realize he's being spoken to over the misery of the alley. "Alex? Hey, it's over. We can leave here. You're safe." Jack attempts to soothe him, but all Alex can think is that he's about to throw up on Jack Barakat, the demon with the worst case of bipolar disorder that Alex has ever seen. He can't even gesture for Jack to move away, as a simple twitch of his fingers starts the rolls of nausea.

He tries to move, tries to turn his head to the side before he can be sick, but his body chooses this moment to fail him. As he gets sick all over himself and Jack, he can only hope he looks pitiful enough to get off easy; a few hours of yelling would hopefully suffice.

However, the shock of Jack pushing repositioning Alex and holding his hair out of his face nearly makes him sick again. Jack rubs his back as the aftershocks pulse through his abdomen, and only once he's been still for a minute does Jack whisper, "are you okay, now?" Alex nods his head weakly, still trying to figure out if this was actually Jack, or some really fucked up dream. "Then let's get you home. Can you fly?"

Alex tries, he really does, but when his wings falter for the third time in a block's distance, Jack refuses to let him continue. He practically carries the angel into his house through his bedroom window. He wants to drop Alex on the bed, but at the last minute he thinks better of it. Only a few steps further brings them to his en suite bathroom, where the floor is tiled - aka, easy to clean up. After sitting him down as lightly as possible, Jack collapses next to him, not even bothering to turn on the bathroom light. He might be a world-class fighter, but that didn't mean it didn't take a lot out of him, especially being so outnumbered. Combine that with carrying Alex for nearly a mile, and it's enough to tire Satan themself out.

Rubbing his eyes, Alex tries to wake himself up. "I guess we should clean up, then." He rasps, voice just as unwilling to work as the rest of his body.

Jack moans, and somehow his pain hurts more than everything else Alex has just experienced. "Tomorrow. When we wake up. I don't think I can stay upright for that long, and God knows you can't, either." Jack reaches a hand out to pat the angel's knee. "Look, I want to know why you were there and how you got involved with those assholes and I want to talk to you about us and everything that's been going on, but I just can't tonight. I know you probably still hate me but we can worry about that tomorrow, too."

Alex is silent for so long that Jack thinks he must have fallen asleep. "I've never hated you, Jack." He says finally. "And after tonight, how could I ever hate you?"

Jack gives him a half-shrug. "I'm a demon. Everyone hating me is generally how it works."

Suddenly the nausea makes a reappearance, but this time Alex is able to (barely) swallow it down. "Right." He barely mouths the word. Averting his gaze, Alex finds that he's seated right next to his bathroom cabinets. He barely has to move to open the door and pull out a few towels. Towels are easy to wash, he thinks, laying four over Jack and saving two for himself. "Goodnight, Jack." Alex whispers. "I'm glad you're here."

Jack is still, and his breathing has almost totally evened out, but even his sleep-like state can't keep a small smile from blooming across his face.