Down Feathers

A/N: I've had this idea in my head for awhile. I always wondered what happened pre-Angel Experiment, if you know what I mean.

Of course you do.

I don't know exactly how long it will be; it could grow from a two- to three- shot to a full blown thirty chapter fan fic.

Doubt it.

But anyway, I like the idea, and I hope you do too.

Chapter One

I stared up at the dark brown plastic roof of "my room," a Kanine Kamper, size large. I looked through the bars of the cage to the left; saw Nudge lying on her back, staring up into nothing.

"Psst," I whispered to her, sticking my left hand out through the crate. "Goodnight."

"Sleep tight," she replied in a hoarse whisper, stacking her fist on top of mine.

"Don't let the bed bugs bite," I finished; giving her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. Who was I kidding? What was I trying to reassure? That everything was going to be okay? Nothing had ever been okay. We were living in dog crates for Pete's sake. I had lived in a dog crate for nine years. Believe me, it doesn't get any more comfortable with time.

We squeezed our right hands through the crates to tap the backs of each others' hands. "Love you, Max."

"Love you too, Nudge."

I slipped back into confinement, turning to my right. Fang was slouched down from his usual clenched position; one knee was bent with his arm draped over it, his head tilted back onto the wall of his crate, dark hair falling back from his face. Fang turned, caught my eye, and silently slid his hand through the crate, then curled it into a fist. I shifted, did the same, and we both stacked fists and tapped as Nudge and I had.

"'Night," Fang mumbled, eyes suddenly darting toward his crate door and back to our hands.

"G'night, Fang. Sleep tight."

"Mmhm."

You could only be so warm with him.

I looked back to the left as Nudge was stacking with Iggy, who was on her left. Iggy, in turn, stacked with the Gasman, who was on his left, and at three years old, found genuine excitement in stacking up with his neighbor at bedtime. Nudge was only six, yet the School had drained all her childlike innocence out immediately. She used to be a chatterbox, youthful questions and ideas pouring forth nonstop. But once you get slapped, shocked, yelled at, and knocked around for talking too much, you stop pretty quickly.

I sat back, trying to get some sleep, but knowing it would be a long, long time before it would ever come. We all needed it, who knew what would come for us tomorrow?

I looked over at Fang, who was staring straight ahead again. We were always the last ones up: he had nightmares, I was just anxious about the next day. Or the rest of our days, for that matter. We always confided in each other in the late hours of the night, talking so quietly no one could hear us. Suddenly, Fang turned his attention to me.

"Max, you remember what you were talking about last night?"

"Yeah."

How could I forget? We had been discussing this little group, what I lovingly called "the Flock," and how we would always stick together, no matter what. I mean, we had to. What else did we have to hold on to besides each other?

"Well, I…I've been thinking about…what would happened if we got separated. Or…or taken or something. And…I just wanted to give you this," he finished quickly, sticking his open hand through the bars of his cage. We were about two feet apart, and he wrapped his hand around the bars of my cage, pulling it over until it was touching his own. He pulled the hand back between the bars, pushing his other hand, clenched into a fist, back through both sets of bars until his hand was inside my cage. I gently unfolded his fingers, which were holding something tightly.

Held safe inside his palm was a long, dark feather; one of his own. He had plucked out one of his feathers and given it to me.

I took it gingerly, running my finger down the middle of it, smoothing the silky fibers, a warm sensation tingling up my spine as I did so.

I looked up at him. "Thank you," I mouthed, suddenly finding that my voice had retreated into hiding. I reached back, searching through my own feathers, and plucking one out. I winced slightly, gathered it in my fist, and then repeated Fang's gesture. One corner of his mouth turned upwards. Was that a smile? I'd never really seen Fang smile before.

I liked it.

"We'll stick together forever, right Fang?" I asked suddenly, looking straight into his eyes.

He looked back, nodding. "Promise."

He stuck his hand back into my crate, palm up, my tawny feather resting atop it. I laid his feather in my hand, then sandwiched the two feathers between our palms. Our fingers curled, each person clinging to the other.

"Swear?" I asked.

"Swear," he replied, looking down at our hands, our feathers enclosed in some sort of secret pact.

All of a sudden, I heard a rustling two cages down.

"Max?" Iggy whispered, sitting up to turn in my direction. I could see his stark blue eyes through the dark, searching for a face he would never see.

"Yeah?" I answered back.

"I hear something. Somebody's coming."

A/N: Real short. Yeah, yeah, I know. But I want to see if it's worth continuing. Like it?

Tell me.