a/n: i got across the sea to finish, i know. i promise it'll be done, but this fic is something i've been planning and writing for quite some time now, so this definitely won't be unfinished! plus, this is just in time for cs au week.


Being reunited with his brother is something he could have never imagined. Killian Jones is no hero, not like his brother. He hates himself more than anything in the world, hates that he's done the world plenty of bad deeds, hates that he's lost people he cared deeply for, hates that he's still bloody alive after everything bit of pain he's suffered along the way. He's the last one on the list to be considered someone of perfection. He's a man full of pain and old pent up anger that's been seeping out of his pores ever since he lost a certain woman. Killian has been lost since that moment of his life, and that's...it's been ages.

Yet, the Council has given him another shot at things. He is a sinner, a man of a million (billions, trillions) sins, yet they're giving him a chance to prove himself worthy of redemption.

He hasn't committed a crime for over a decade now, but that's nearly the same thing as saying he hasn't aged for the last decade (or for a good century), either. Two entirely different things, two entirely different meanings, but he is completely and utterly serious on both counts.

Liam, though. Liam has been a saint since the day he was born, a man who's been a hero in many people's lives, a man who's of good form and every drop of honour there is on planet earth and the heavens combined.

Killian is painted black as the devil, heart tainted with old revenge and darkness, while Liam is the epitome of an angel, which really, he is. Guardian Angel, that is, but he's up there on the list to be one of the most renowned Guardian Angels there are, and that's out of a lot of men and women doing their jobs.

Guardian Angels, though. Who originally thought that was a thing? It is, fortunately for him, and it seems like he's being saved though he's technically not supposed to be saved. He figures he should thank the Council for putting this faith in him, but it's a whole lot of faith that he needs to shoulder, and that's direct pressure on him. He's been a sinner most of his life, lost his way from Liam and then from the woman he once loved (he still loves her, an aching gape in his heart that still loves her), so he really shouldn't be offered such an opportunity, yet here he is.

Throwing his head back on his pillow as he stares up at the ceiling, he knows he's being summoned up above. There's a voice in his head and a tug from his guts telling him that there's no time to be staying about on earth when he's being called for.

In a flash of a second, here's there, all bright white light compared to the room he had just been in, which was just dark and full of heavy air around him from his constant thinking.

"Brother," he grumbles, "why're you calling for me?"

Liam smiles and claps him on the shoulder. "You're getting a job today, of course."

Instead of being enthusiastic about it, he sighs and looks down before he raises his gaze back up to lock with his older brother. There's so much hope and love in his brother's eyes, it's almost unbelievable. How he's able to love him is a mystery he'll never solve. "A job, how fantastic. Am I cleaning the loo?"

Instead of laughing, Liam scowls and slaps his back. Killian rubs his back as Liam begins to speak, "No, you buggering idiot, you're being assigned your first human today."

Quirking an eyebrow, he narrows his eyes at his brother and shakes his head. "I'm hardly fit to see over someone." Killian's voice is quiet, condescending on himself. He's full of self-loathe and hate, he knows, but that's just something he's learned to handle on his own.

He sighs. "You've not even had proper experience yet and you're judging yourself that harshly." Liam shakes his head and throws his arm over Killian's shoulders. "Come on, Killian, you've been forgiven already -"

"I've been forgiven by this Council for what reasons, Liam? Because I haven't committed a crime since ten years ago?"

"No, not necessarily," Liam sighs, "but you're being given such an opportunity, you should take ahold of it, alright? Perhaps you'll enjoy the job. Being a guardian angel isn't all that bad once you've gotten the hang of it. No intimate attachment, no forcing them to do certain things...and a couple other rules you've ought to follow. One of the Council members will handle explaining all that in more detail."

Rules. He'd scoff aloud if he could, but he's putting his brother through enough -

"Always need dear old big brother to take care of you?"

The blood in his veins burn as he feels the insult like another slap to his face and a kick to his shin. He stands up in a rush of rage before a hand is on his chest and pushing him back.

"Killian, stop it," Liam demands. It's with that brotherly tone of his that gets him to sit back down with nothing but a scowl on Killian's face, his eyes sharp as he stares down the man who often makes fun of him.

- Killian knows better. "Alright, alright," he concedes, "just...let's get it over with."

Just as he's about to turn and go, his brother's grip is on his wrist. "Wait," Liam starts, "just know that whoever you're supposed to be protecting? It's long-term, little brother, not something you can slack on or drop, not unless the council decides otherwise."

Killian clenches his jaw but forces a smile and nods. At the least he can believe in his brother and let him have a younger sibling who's worthy enough of his love and care (not that he'll ever be that brother, not when he's so troublesome). "Aye, I know. I listened a bit when I first came here, you know."

"A bit my arse," his brother mutters.

He imagines he doesn't hear that, but a smile, more genuine this time around, is on his face as he closes his eyes.

&&.

"Her name is Emma Swan."

Killian tilts his head to the side, accompanying that with a quirk of his brow as he listens to the Council member in front of him speak. "Emma...Swan. Alright." He simply nods and lets himself remember that name; it rolls off his tongue easily enough and it sounds interesting. He's doing this for his brother and though he should be doing it for himself, he knows that can't be the case. Killian is a mess.

Liam has already long left to go deal with his protégé. That's what they're called. Those under the protection of a guardian angel are protégés. And people like Liam and himself? Guardian Angels.

"Your work is rather cut for you," he says, "in one way or another. You live in Boston, right?"

He nods.

"So does she, but, she's a little different from any of the others we've assigned before." The Council man paces back and forth. "She's...troubled." He holds his hands behind his back. "Well, she used to be, but not so much now. Her previous GA ditched her rather abruptly, but he's been condemned to living his mortal life on earth, never to be seen again, so he's of little concern now."

Frankly, Killian almost wants to laugh. Being condemned to living a mortal life on earth? That doesn't sound much like a punishment, but he holds back from making any snarky remarks that could risk his job here. Liam is proud, Liam needs to see that his younger brother is at least trying.

"That's a piss-poor job of being a guardian angel. Did he have any proper reason for leaving?"

"No," the man answers, his tone somewhat disgusted with Killian's diction, "but that's irrelevant. What is relevant, however, is you learning about her and doing your job better than the man before you."

"I'm sure I can do a far better job by not fleeing unceremoniously," he mutters.

"Silence, Jones."

Killian almost winces at that command. He's not used to being bossed around again. He used to. He was always bossed around, especially during his childhood and teenage years, and almost to when he was an adult, but then he was free and did all the things he ever wanted to, and even things he didn't consciously want to do. "My apologies, sir," he mumbles.

The Council spokesperson clears his throat before clapping his hands. "She is an orphan, you see," the man begins, "quite a rascal from the moment she managed to escape out of the foster system she was in. Was thrown home to home, never quite fit in anywhere she went so she decided to go for surviving on her own." Killian feels like this almost hits too close to home in a way. "She's had it rather rough. She stole and she ran, a rinse and repeat cycle, until the day she had gotten into something else a bit too deep. All you need to know is that she's been in prison before, but not because she was guilty; no, she was convicted falsely because someone betrayed her."

He can't help but ask, "By who?"

"None of that matters," is the response he gets. "Emma has not had a good childhood. She's twenty-eight now and she's a bail bondsperson. Do you know what that is?"

"Aye," he answers with a curt nod, "I do." He's been alive for a long, long time. He knows plenty.

"I can spare those details, then. Anyway, you can perhaps tell why she's had such a bad past -"

"Her supposed guardian angel wasn't much of one, clearly."

"No, he wasn't. You were always wise, much like your brother."

"My brother is...a far better man than I am," he whispers, breaking eye contact with the man and looking down at the ground while his jaw ticks on and off. "Let's not bring him into this."

The man clears his throat. "Actually, I sort of do need to discuss him with you. Nothing bad, of course." He smiles and walks up to Killian. "The Council is rather forgiving as you know. I will admit, this task isn't an easy one, not with this Swan girl. She's not trusting. She's stubborn, she's headstrong, and she's...quite guarded in general. But that does not mean you grow attached to her, do you understand? And do not do the same with her son."

Her son? The man did not mention a son until now. Killian, for that moment, thinks back to his love, of his dreams, with her, to have children of their own, at least until all those dreams failed to come true because she was lost to him. He feels that ache in his heart again, the same one from earlier, before he snaps out of his thoughts.

"Did you hear me, boy?"

Killian swallows. "Yes," he replies.

The Council member grunts in acknowledgement. "Your job is to make sure she considers making the right choices for herself. We do not associate ourselves with them beyond our jobs. Be her friend, if you will, but anything beyond that is not tolerated amongst our type according to the laws here. They are human beings, we are guardian angels. There's a distinct difference. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he says again, raising his chin just a little bit before he lowers it back down. "I understand."

The man smiles. "Good, good," he breathes out, "well, you've ought to stand in front of the Council and swear an oath now."

"I reckon it's mandatory for someone like me?"

"It's mandatory for everyone being assigned to a new protégé, Jones," he corrects.

If he wasn't told that, he would've believed it's because he doesn't have such a clean track record from his history. Ten years of having laid down...it doesn't guarantee anything in particular. He's not sure how much he's trusted here, actually, beyond his own brother, of course. Though they've done nothing but give him reasons to trust the Council, as odd as their decision as been, so he's decided to question less and just accept. Killian's sure he won't ever settle with that floating question in his head to why they're putting so much faith in him, especially with this woman, but he supposes he's ought to follow along and do the job he's been told to do.

If he doesn't, he might as well just get a ten hour lecture from his brother and be thrown down to earth along with the previous guardian angel of Emma Swan. Killian wonder how her son is, if she's anything like him, or perhaps he'll be more like Liam. Either way, it doesn't matter. They're not going to go beyond friends, and he doesn't even think he'll jump the line past being acquaintances. From what he's learned, they have powers. Guardian angels, they can do things like stay invisible - bloody powers and magic. If her senses are sharp enough, then maybe she can sense an overlooking presence.

Killian, he will do what he can. He will bring pride, or at least, enough pride, to the Brothers Jones. He's been enough of a failure and he - maybe just a little bit, or maybe a lot - wants to be a bit more than that for once in his life. He wants to be...a better man, somehow. Though he knows that's far too difficult. His brother has set the bar too high for him to ever reach, and as hard as he'll try, he'll only ever fail.

He'll try, though. That's what matters, right?

"So, I figure that we've little time to waste and I need to get going with this oath, don't I?" Killian questions, pursing his lips and raising both his eyebrows.

"Smart boy."

Boy. Boy. Boy. He's not a boy, he hates being called that, but he supposes he can endure it a while longer.

("Drunk boy over here's gotten his head over his own tail!"

"Come on, boy, work faster!"

"Boy...you're nothing like your brother.")

Though, the life of a guardian angel is perpetual and all, so he'll need to endure it for the rest of his life, assuming he manages to last that long doing his job up here. A lot of faith to burden, indeed.

&&.

The oath takes him a few minutes to swear to, but it's also ridiculously lengthy and he doesn't pay attention about half of what's being told of him. All he knows is that he's relatively (surprisingly) excited, in one way, to be meeting his protégé, but he's also not at the same time because that means he'll have responsibilities to take care of, and he can't guarantee how well of a job he can do. He leaves the large building behind him, looking around and sighing.

Everything is so obnoxiously bright and he's not all too fond over the light given he's been sitting in the darkness for many years, but he's going to need to get used to it. Somehow. He's no vampire and the light doesn't burn him, but the light does make him want grab a baseball cap and wear it so he can at least shade his face from the light. He's not quite sure how everyone else manages to not blind themselves.

(Hyperbolic as usual, but it's too bright for his taste.)

Killian rubs his forehead, his fingers pressing into his temple as he sighs. When he looks up, there's nothing much to look up to. It's as far as it'll go where he is. But within a blink of an eye, he's back to where he came from, back down in his apartment in Boston, the blinds shut closed.

He's rich (angel compensation), he can afford better than this, but he doesn't really want anything as luxurious as a humongous mansion.

With a glance at the door that's hanging partially open, he walks towards it and tugs it open, his steps taking him to the washroom. Flicking the lights on, he squints his eyes for a moment before they adjust, and he leans over the counter, turning the sink on. Cold water. He takes a handful of cold water and splashes his face with it, scrubbing his face from top to bottom as well before raising his head and staring at himself in the mirror.

Get it together, Jones, this is just another human being, he thinks to himself, clenching his jaws. There are bags under his eyes, though they're not too visible. She doesn't sound like a terrible person. Single mom, working an interesting job, and has a tough and nasty past. Well, it's not as dirty as his own past.

His hand tightens on the edge of the counter, water dripping off his face before he splashes his face a second time. After a few more scrubs, he shuts the tap off and extends his arm to the side, grabbing the closest towel he manages to touch and dries his face off. Heaving a heavy sigh, he shoves the towel back on the hanger before leaving the washroom, his hand slapping the switch to turn off the lights on his way out. The door is haphazardly shut on his way out as he drags himself toward the kitchen, opening one of his cupboards and taking out a tumbler and a bottle of rum.

It's a habit that never dies on his end. Rum is his go-to drink, mostly for if he wants to forget things for the night or because he's got nothing else around to satisfy his thirst. He knows that he'll have to sober up, especially since he now has responsibilities to be taking seriously. A person who he's got to look over, a woman who's never had the pleasure of having a proper guardian angel. He feels sorry for her, but pity is not something that often works out well, he's aware. He hates being pitied by others, so the feeling must be mutual to some sense.

(Look at him making connections with a woman he hasn't even met yet.)

Uncorking the bottle, he pours himself a drink that takes up half of the tumbler before putting the cap back on and pushing the bottle further into the counter. He turns around and leans his back on the edge of the marble counter, ankles crossed at his feet while he takes a sip of the rum. The familiar burn runs down his throat, but he hardly cares. The burn is the attraction - the absolute best part.

A million thoughts run through his mind. He thinks of how he should be thankful of what chances he's been given, thinks that he should care deeply for this woman he's going to be taking care of starting tomorrow morning (no attachments, he knows).

Killian stares out past the kitchen counter and toward the window at the end of the living room, the light peeking in through the curtains. His finger traces the rim of his glass and he sighs.

The life of a guardian angel seems to be easy but hard. He is a magical being, he can have everything he wants so long as he does things for the good. He hasn't done any of that, though. Killian has been brooding since he had been taken in by the Council. He's having the thought that perhaps the council was convinced by his brother...but he doesn't want to think about it. Killian groans loudly to himself and then downs the rest of his drink, grimacing as he feels the burn heavier than before.

He turns and shuffles his feet over a couple of steps, placing the glass in his sink. I'll wash it out later, he thinks.

Tomorrow, he will deal with the questions. Tomorrow, he will meet Emma Swan, and then tomorrow, he will begin watching over her and her boy.

A jittery feeling settles in his stomach as he heads back down the hallway toward his bedroom, falling into bed with a little thump, the mattress bouncing along with his weight. And so there he goes, back to where he had been from earlier, staring up at the ceiling in darkness while a tornado of thoughts breaks past the last of his stubborn barriers and bothers him for the rest of the evening.