PROLOGUE
There were some people in the world that needed guidance, protection, someone to talk to. And giving these people what they needed was the job of a guardian angel.
Cathetel was one of these such angels. She had been assigned many charges over the many years of her life, and she had been able to help almost all of them. There were always those spare few that resisted help, no matter the form that came in.
The angel's job was to get close to her charge and to bring them up from whatever may be bringing them down. To help them to safety, if they were in danger. To be a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear, if that was what they needed.
None of her charges had ever become so personal as one man who called himself Doc Holliday.
Saloons in the time of the old west, as people would call it in the future, were somewhat seedy. While Cathetel had expected this, it still came as a shock to her when she entered the saloon. She was used to cleanliness, as was how her home was kept. This saloon was nothing like her home.
As was usually the case with interacting with humans, all eyes turned to the angel when she entered the room. It was inevitable. Angels were meant to be ethereal, even in human disguises, and humans were always drawn to that that was beyond them. Above them.
Sitting at the bar was her charge. Henry Holliday. Once Cathetel started walking forwards, everyone turned their eyes away from her and she crossed to the bar and perched on the stool next to him, brushing dust off of her blue skirt.
"Are you Doc Holliday?" she asked in a sweet voice.
He turned towards her, his hat tipped down over his head so it cast shadows over his face, his dark hair long and brushed back over his head, a long mustache hanging over his upper lip.
"Why yes I am, who might you be, my lady?" he replied, looking her up and down.
"You can call me Cath," she told him with a smile.
"I'm all packed up and ready to go, Doc," Wyatt Earp told his very sick best friend as he entered the room. "Headed for a burg called Purgatory. See a corrupted lawman there out of fix and in need of a little… adjustment."
Doc Holliday was not in the best of shape. He was sickly and coughing like mad, a blood splattered handkerchief held to his lips. On the opposite side of the room, a brunette dressed in blue was pouring cold water into a jug and looking for a cloth.
"I've heard some things about the particular corruption of that damn sheriff," Doc responded, his voice strained like it was an effort to speak normally. Like he was out of breath before he started his sentence.
The brunette crossed to Doc, dipping the cloth into the water and squeezing out the excess. Once kneeling next to him, she pressed the cloth to his forehead.
"Cath," Wyatt greeted.
"Mr. Earp," she responded with a smile.
"Save your hoodoo-voodoo talk for your Calico Queens," Wyatt teased.
"Oh they say he's part devil," Doc replied.
"Ain't no such thing as devils," Wyatt said, "only men and the good and evil they do in this world. What say you, huh?" Wyatt asked, clapping a hand to his friend's shoulder, "got enough breath in you for one more fight?"
"I think this is farewell, Wyatt," Doc told him.
"Oh fiddle-faddle, you'll be fine," Wyatt insisted, but Cath simply looked down at the jug of water at her feet as she dipped the cloth into it once more. She knew that his time was coming to an end and she knew that she had gotten too close.
"Farewell, old friend."
There was silence for a while at Wyatt came to terms with this.
"I'll see you on the other side, Doc."
The silence stretched inside the room once more as Wyatt got up and left the room, leaving Cath and Doc alone as she patted his face with the cool cloth.
"You should go, Cath," Doc said, looking up at her brown eyes, "I don' wanna get you sick."
"Don't you worry about me," she assured him, pressing her hand to his cheek lovingly, "I'm not going to get sick."
"I don' wanna die," he told her.
"Death is not the end, Henry. Once you die, there is nothing but peace for the rest of eternity. No more worrying about who might wanna kill you or who would. No more worrying about getting sick. Just peace."
"You sure know how to sweet talk a guy, don' ya?" he said and Cath laughed.
"I know a lot, John Henry Holliday."
Cath pushed open the door to the room Henry was staying in and at first, all she saw was an empty bed. Then the person standing in the far corner of the room, watching her as she entered. Despite the appearance of the person being different, she would recognize them anywhere.
"Micah," Cath said with a bow of her head, setting the things she had gathered down on the table. "May I ask what you are doing here?"
"You are being reassigned. Your work here is done," Micah told her.
"But Henry has not passed."
"No, he has chosen something other than death," the blonde explained as she crossed to her friend. "You got too close this time, Cathetel. I would not advise looking further into this one."
"What is something other than death? He was dying, Micah, there shouldn't have been another option for him to take," Cath questioned.
"Doc Holliday always was resourceful, as you should know. Three years you spent on this assignment, Cathetel, it is time to move on. Whether you like it or not."
Wyatt Earp came into the room he had last seen his best friend dying in, expecting a dead man. What he saw instead sickened him to his very soul. Not only was his best friend alive and well, but he was sat in the company of two women whom he had never seen before.
"Both of you girls, out with you. Go on!" Wyatt commanded and the girls did as asked.
Doc stood and watched them go, "I paid for them fillies for an entire evenin', seems an awful waste," he protested.
"Too sick to ride with me to Purgatory, but here you are, carrying on like a horse gone to stud," Wyatt accused, "what about Cath? I thought you two had something special."
"And yet she just disappears on me with no word. Something special indeed."
The man shook his head with a frown, "your countenance, Doc, it is…"
"A bona fide miracle. I am cured!" Doc exclaimed with a clap to his friend's shoulder.
Wyatt's only response was to back the man against the wall with a scowl, "How, Doc? How did you do this?"
The two men stared at each other for a while as Doc seemed reluctant to give the answer that his friend was searching for.
"Sweet Mercy," Wyatt said, backing away, "Have you made a pact with the devil?"
"Now you never mind that," Doc said, "I am strong again. Let's fight, let's ride together, like we used to. I did this for us."
"You did this because you're selfish and a coward," Wyatt accused, "all men must die!"
"Says who, you? C'mon. Men like you, so high and almighty."
"And cursed by all hell itself. I thought they only existed in fairytales. Angels, devils… Yet demons walk among us and they mean to end my line. But what you have done pains me more."
"It's still me, Wyatt," Doc said as a last attempt at reconciling, "your friend, your brother."
"Doc Holliday is dead. And that makes you nothing but a memory. One I surely hope to forget."
Without another word, Wyatt left the room and Doc behind, not knowing that that was the last time he would see the man, but not the last time that Doc would see an Earp.
Yay! New fic! I started Wynonna Earp a couple days ago and just blew right through it. I absolutely love the show and have had the idea for this fic since that scene in Episode 4 where Wyatt mentions angels as well as demons. Yeah, that same one right up there. I waited till I finished the show to find out if they go in depth about angels, but they didn't and at the time I'm writing this, season 2 comes out in like four days so hallelujah! I'm excited!
So, this will follow season one from the get-go. I really hope you enjoy!
~ Lydia
