Author Note: So this is my first Strange Angels fanfic and depending on how many reviews this gets, and what kind they are, I might be writing a full length one as opposed to this one shot. I got the idea for this at the end of Jealousy when Dru and Christophe kissed. It made me really, really, really want to write a fanfic about them being together and with Dru being just a little less broken than she is now. It didn't really turn out like the kind of fluffy, happy, love drabble I wanted it to be, but then again that not my style so I suppose it was always going to be a little bittersweet. I really hope you all like it and REVIEW. Seriously.

Song Inspiration *isn't there always one?*: It's Not Over – Secondhand Serenade.

It Cant Be Over

Dru POV

I sat there, curled into a ball biting my fist as hard as I could as if it would make him return faster. I was by the window, in the exact same spot I had been in 5 hours ago. I was just watching the grey blue rain running down the window like frozen tears. He had been gone so long I couldn't help but think maybe this was it; maybe he wasn't coming back this time. I fought back tears. He couldn't be. I had lost Graves, Dad, Gran and Mom. I couldn't lose him too. He promised! My shoulders racked with sobs as I thought about being alone again. Truly alone this time. Because everyone was either dead or gone, and I couldn't ignore that. I wasn't as ignorant or innocent as I had been when Dad died, thinking someone was always going to be there to help, to make decisions and look after me. They weren't. I also knew that alot of people wanted me dead and that a normal life was out of the question. Sevotcha weren't meant to live normal lives. No matter how much they wanted it...

I had woken up to the sound of him checking the rifle, unloading it and loading it. I'd run down the stairs, not caring that I was only in my pyjama's because I knew what that sound meant. Either he was leaving or something was trying to kill us. Not exactly a good choice either way, but at least if we were getting attacked I wasn't alone. He was with me. Christophe. My guardian angel. I'd thought he was kidding when he'd first said that. Joking, teasing me. He wasn't.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs and rounded the corner I'd seen him standing over the table with all the ammo on, wearing a dark grey coat and thick soled boots. His shotgun was strapped across his back and he was putting a handgun in a holster. I felt my heart constrict because he was leaving. Not for good, not yet, but he was going out hunting and there was never any guarantee that he would return, and that if he did it wouldn't be like dad. He looked up at me, the watery sunlight catching his ice blue eyes, thick dark lashes and perfectly shaped mouth. I could see though, that despite looking so beautiful it hurt, he looked sad too. There were shadows under his eyes, inside them lay more sorrow then I think its possible to have. He had the eyes of someone who had seen too much, felt too much. He was smiling slightly, but it was a sad smile. A 'Dru-I'm-sorry' smile. I felt the anger rise to the surface at that. He was always sorry, never telling me why, never giving me all the info. Just like dad.

'Your leaving again.' It came out as an accusation and my voice was flat and emotionless, not betraying a hint of my feelings. I was thankful for that. I hadn't wanted him to hear me pleading, to hear the fear I felt when I thought of him leaving. I was still trying to hold onto my badass, couldn't give a shit attitude. It was pretty pointless, but it was a habit. He inclined his head slightly, throwing his whole face in shadow. I felt my heart break a little, but I'd be dammed if I'd show it.
'But do not fret milna, I will come back. I promise.'

Those were the last words he said before he left, disappearing down the grey, rain covered road.

I was still in the same place I'd been when I'd watched him walk off into the distance. The light was fast disappearing now, and I was beginning to hear those nameless, faceless voices that I could sometimes hear when I was very alone. They were telling me he wasn't coming back. That he didn't care about me. That he had given up on me. Or sometimes, sometimes they would whisper to me a thought so dark and truly terrifying that I refused to listen to it. I couldn't even believe it for a second because it made me lose my breath, made my heart stop and made my eyes fill with tears. He might be dead Dru...
It was the one thought I could not, would not listen to.

I knew deep down how I felt about Christophe. I didn't want to dwell on it too much or to acknowledge it, but I knew it was true. I was in love with him. It was stupid of course, because he didn't feel anything for me and yet he felt everything for my mother. I still remembered the hungry look in his eyes as he watched her with the malika. It was also a pointless thought because it was pretty clear how he felt about me and love didn't come into it. But I did love him. And oh how it hurt.
I'd done a pretty good job of hiding it though, treating him as though he were just another person, not even a friend, and keeping up a thick wall between us, one that didn't allow me to show any vulnerability. It helped to be cold and brief when talking to him, by not letting myself see him properly or see the hurt look in his eyes whenever I brushed him off or gave a cold snarky remark back to a comment he made. It was how I coped with it all, projecting the whole 'I'm badass' vibe.

I trained all day and did my tai chi whenever I could. I researched as much as I could about sevotcha, Sergej and The Order and made sure to keep stock on our ammo. I didn't get out alot because Christophe had said we needed to keep a low profile and honestly, I could see why. With Sergej and Anna all trying as hard as they could to kill me, it seemed like a good idea not to draw attention to myself. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't happy being coped up all the time, but I didn't want to die either. I still got to go out every now and then, but since we'd gone into hiding (a plan thought up by the order members I knew I could trust and Christophe) I hadn't been allowed to go hunt. There was a point to it all though: with us in a secure hiding spot, we could flush out the traitors in the order easier and we had a better chance of finding Graves.
My only updates on how the search for Graves was going were through Leon, Benjamin, Shanks and Dibs. All of them had been visiting every few weeks to give us an update. I longed to be out searching for him as well, but I had no idea where to begin, and if Sergej caught me, he would just kill Graves. My only way to keep him alive was to not look for him in person. That didn't mean I hadn't been looking with the touch though: I had tried everything from a pendulum, ghosting, and tarot cards. Nothing had given me any clues so far, but I hadn't given up. I would never give up on Graves. I had made that decision when I had chosen not to shoot him after Ash had bitten him.

The days when Christophe went out hunting were the worst. It was like when dad would go out, but I had always secretly thought he would return no matter what because he always had and I trusted him. I trusted Christophe too, but it was fragile. I was so terrified of losing him that every time the door would close behind his retreating figure I would rush to the window to try and catch a glimpse of him before he disappeared. Some days, like today, when the touch would warn me that something was going to go bad, I would sit at the window until he returned, the feeling of acid in my stomach only dying away when he took off his coat and sat down.

This time though, he was late. It was 10:30 and he still hadn't come home. It had gone dark around 3 and was pitch black now. I couldn't stop the fear that started to build up, pushing its way through my body until I was ice cold and petrified. Where was he? Why hadn't he come back yet? Was he ok? What if Sergej had gotten to him, killing him as revenge for not getting me? I felt the fear, pain and agony running through me. I dug my nails into my arm as a means of calming myself down. It didn't work. The aspect ran through me, slices of blonde knifing through my dark brown curls, and I could feel the tingling in my teeth that meant my fangs were now out. I raced into the kitchen, over to the ammo table where all of Christophe's hunting equipment resided. I was frantically looking through the various sheaths of paper to find some clue as to where he was when I heard the door bolt move. I grabbed a .22 from the table and whipped back into the hallway, tears clouding my vision as they ran down my face.

I aimed it at the door just as it flew open. He raced forwards, wrenching the gun away from my numb fingers. I was pinned under him, his dark hair framing his face as he balanced on top of me. I gasped in relief and he seemed to notice my tears. His hand came to rest lightly on my cheek for a second before he brushed away my tears. I could feel his flame blue eyes boring into mine, and for a second I could see all the emotion hidden in their depths, normally under the surface, but now, just for a moment, on show. I saw the fear, the desperation, the relief and the love reflected in his eyes.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him hard. Not caring about my badass facade or the distance I had tried to put between us. It hadn't worked. He was kissing me back too now, his warm scent of apple pies and spice engulfing me as his hands wound themselves in my long hair. And then we broke off, him still clutching me tight to him, me still with my arms wrapped around his neck.
"You left," I whispered brokenly, "you left me alone!"
"But I came back. I will always come back." He replied quietly.
I buried my face into his jacket as he whispered words of comfort to me. They weren't in English, so I couldn't understand them, but I allowed him to whisper them to me until I felt drowsy. He carried me up to my bed and tucked me in. I was almost asleep, but still slightly conscious. I felt him lean down and gently place a kiss on my lips before he whispered 'kocham cię'.
I wanted to ask him what that meant, but his footsteps were at the door now, and the crushing blackness of sleep was just too much to hold off against anymore. I begrudgingly let go, knowing if I fell, Christophe would always catch me.