A/N: I think that the idea for this came about because I recently started watching Supernatural and I'm really interested in Castiel and the other angels. So, because of my new angel fixation, me and my friend were discussing what the Heroes characters would look like as angels. I couldn't get the idea of Peter being an angel out of my head, and then Isaac came up; along with him came the idea for this.

Pairing: Peter/Isaac.

Summary: Peter, a guardian angel, watches his newest charge—Isaac Mendez, an artist whose life is beginning to spiral out of control.

I need a sign to let me know you're here

All of these lines are being crossed over the atmosphere

I need to know that things are gonna look up

'Cause I feel us drowning in a sea spilled from a cup

Where there is no place safe and no safe place to put my head

When you feel the world shake from the words that are said

And I'm calling all angels

I'm calling all you angels

Train – Calling All Angels

Devotion

Chapter One

Calling All Angels

Peter was sitting on the rooftop of the Deveaux Building, his legs crossed at the ankles. He watched, the brown hue of his eyes shining brightly, as people moved around on the busy streets below him. He had been perched there, just watching, for a little over an hour now. His angelic eyes could see far more than a humans could and he saw the person that he had been waiting for before he had even had time to turn the corner and walk onto the street.

Peter had been an angel for about a century now. He had been in training, learning how to fill his role as one of God's soldiers as best as he could. Peter was good at being an angel; while he had been alive, he had been a kind and caring soul. It only seemed fitting that his empathic soul would just get kinder as the years moved on and it became older and wiser.

Angels were assigned to watch over charges—fallen souls who needed help getting back up on their feet. Each angel is assigned to a certain amount of charges to watch over depending on long they've been training as one of God's soldiers. Because Peter was about to reach his century mark as an angel of the Lord, he had just gained the privilege of getting his first charge—the man that he had just spotted.

Peter's newly assigned charge was obviously a man, despite the fact that his hair was longer than what most would call average. Peter, knowing for years—even before Isaac had been born—that the man would be his charge, had been watching him for years. He knew everything that there was to be known about Isaac Mendez.

He had watched Isaac grow from a small boy to the handsome man that he was now. He had watched as Isaac started his own comic book company in two-thousand and one, naming it after his uncle, who had been the only one who had really ever supported him. He had watched as Isaac had started his relationship with his off and on girlfriend, Simone Deveaux, in two-thousand and four. He had also watched when Isaac had first injected himself with heroin. It had all been down-hill from there, but Isaac's life had never exactly been perfect. Isaac's fate had been to have a horrible life, but it had also been to be saved from it—and that's where Peter would come in.

Isaac had reached the doors to the Deveaux building—Peter had known that that would be where the man would be heading, so he had waited there patiently for him—but paused before entering it. He looked up, his brow furrowing, as if he could sense Peter staring down at him. It was a possibility that he could sense the angel's eyes on him; though Isaac didn't know that he had a guardian angel watching out for him yet, angels were connected to their charges, and they could usually sense each other's presence. Peter hadn't been expecting the connection between them to be so strong already that Isaac could sense him at such a distance, but it was a good sign; it meant that they would share a strong bond in the future. A feeling of happiness—not every angel's charge was able to pick up them being near so fast—shot through Peter's body, but he was glad that he had made himself invisible to the human eye; as happy as he was that Isaac could sense his presence, he knew that it wasn't time for the man to find out about who he really was just yet. All good things in time.

He could see Isaac shrug his shoulders before he looked away from the spot that he had been starting—his gaze had pierced through the very spot that Peter's head had been and for a split second, the angel really had to wonder if Isaac could see him; the thought was impossible, he knew, but he couldn't help it from entering his mind—and entered into the building. Simone lived in it, Peter knew, and Isaac was going to visit her.

The building was nicer than what the artist himself lived in, but he preferred his loft to it. The loft was messy and paint stained, but it felt more at home to the man; Peter hoped that he would be able to set foot in it soon himself. It all depended on how long Isaac stayed in Simone's building; Peter could follow him home when he went. After all, it was Peter's job to protect the man now, and he would have to follow him around a lot to fulfill his mission. The angel wasn't complaining though. His charge interested him, and he wanted to help the man get back on the right track.

Peter stood up, his back stiff, and took a deep, unneeded breath before he closed his eyes and concentrated on materializing inside the building. He could teleport himself easily—being an angel of the God Almighty did have its perks—and though he prefered flying from place to place, teleporting was faster; besides, it would not do him any good to be spotted flying into a building. The city was a crowded one and he would have to be careful not to be seen doing anything other worldly.

He had teleported inside the building and made himself visible without anyone seeing him successfully. He exhaled a relieved breath—angels didn't need to breath, but for some it was a habit—and peeked around the corner that he had materialized by. He could see his charge coming his way and he ducked his head back without being seen.

He couldn't just come out and tell Isaac that he was an angel sent from Heaven to watch over him. There was no way that the man would believe him. In fact, Peter would probably get punched in the face, considering the temper that Isaac possessed sometimes. Peter had heard stories from angels who had just rushed into their cases, not taking the time to actually meet the person that they would be watching over for thousands of years; even after their charge has died, an angel will still watch over their soul to be ensured that they're happy. The case never goes smoothly after that, and most angels learn to be patient.

Peter's older brother, Nathan, had already gave him a run-through of what he should and shouldn't do with his charge, and Peter was prepared—the first thing that Nathan told him was to watch him for a bit longer, not to just rush in there. Peter had listened, deciding that it was a good idea to listen to his brother and not to announce himself as an angel, but just because he had decided on that, it didn't mean that he would listen to everything that Nathan had said. After all, Nathan had told him that he should simply watch Isaac for a bit longer, and that wasn't something that Peter thought he could do.

Angels could appear in whatever form they chose while they walked in the human world. It was a useful technique, one used to alleviate suspicion among the people that angels were walking among them. Only chaos could happen if the general mass found out that their neighbores, their friends, their coworkers, even parts of their families—it wasn't completely rare for an angel and a human to mate together and start a family if the bond between them was strong enough—were angels in disguise.

Peter had picked the form of what he had looked like as a human years before, but with a few small alterations. His brown hair hair, which had been shorter when he was alive, was now longer than he was used to—though it was far shorter than Isaac's—and he had bangs now that fell in his line of vision often, but he liked it; it was stylish and would help him fit in. His clothes were casual-a plain red shirt, blue jeans, and a long, button-down coat—and would also help him fit in with the people buzzing around the city. He was as inconspicuous as he was going to get.

He took another unneeded breath, waiting, excited to finally meet his charge for the first time. He could sense that Isaac was coming closer, and it would only be a matter of seconds before the man rounded the corner and bumped into him—literally. Peter had picked the spot that he was in on purpose; he was hoping that Isaac would run into him so he would have an excuse to talk to the man, even if it was only for a few seconds.

Peter didn't have to wait long before he felt a body—warm and strong, going by the small contact—turn the corner and run into his own. The collision would normally knock someone Peter's size down—Isaac was a bit larger than him and the collision hadn't been a soft one—but angel's had good balance. Still, for an excuse to touch his charge for just a little bit longer—Peter could feel a spark when he touched Isaac, almost like an itch under his skin, and he had to wonder if every angel felt the way he did when they came in close contact with a charge—Peter grabbed onto the hoodie that Isaac was wearing, feigning imbalance.

The angel brought his line of sight, which had been resting on where his hands were holding onto Isaac's hoodie, up to the man's face. Isaac seemed slightly surprised at having a complete stranger clinging to him, his brown eyes wide, but he hadn't made a move to push Peter away yet. It was quite the opposite, really; when Isaac had felt that he had ran into something, he had reached out to grab it before it could fall. The ending result was Isaac Mendez holding onto the elbows of someone who he had never met, the guy clinging to him in return.

They would make an odd sight to anyone watching, and Peter had a feeling that the other angels up in Heaven were doing just that at that very moment—watching him with his new charge and laughing at him. It was just a feeling that he had though, and that didn't mean that it was true; it didn't mean that it wasn't true either. The angels had a weird sense of humor.

"Whoa there," Peter's lip quirked up in a half smile as he spoke. "You should be more careful."

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say at that moment because Isaac's eyes, no longer wide, narrowed slightly and he let go of Peter, stepping back a bit. The sensation at being so close to Isaac didn't disappear from Peter completely when his charge stepped away, but it had dimmed significantly. It left the angel feeling slightly empty, something that he hadn't felt in decades, not since he was human, and he didn't like it. He shifted from one foot to another, his hands dropping to his sides, and a frown marring his face. It was hard for him to not reach out and touch Isaac's hand—he was sure that the small touch would burn away the emptiness that was filling him—but he was an angel, and that meant that he was good at fighting off temptation.

"Maybe you shouldn't huddle against a wall."

Peter knew the length of Isaac's temper—he had been watching the man his whole life. The angel took a step back and held up his hands, signalling peace. He didn't want to be under the wrath of Isaac's anger, but more than that he didn't want his charge to hate him, especially not this early on.

Peter was sure that if the angels up in Heaven weren't laughing at him before, they definitely were now.

"Whoa, whoa. I didn't mean..I just meant.."

How was he supposed to approach this situation? What could get him out of trouble here? What could calm his charge? New York could be a tough place to live at times, and Isaac had probably thought that Peter was going to start something with him. After all, who wouldn't say something rude to the homeless looking guy—Isaac didn't really look homeless, but he did look poor; he was covered in paint and looked a bit sickly, especially around the eyes, and it wouldn't be hard to guess that he was on drugs—that had just ran into you? Peter may not look like the type to start a fight, but you never know with people in the city.

Peter had watched this man for years, had watched people for decades, but he wasn't sure how to deal with confrontation just yet; he wasn't sure how to calm the man standing before him down. He wasn't sure how to make his charge like him. He was slowly becoming sure of one thing though—that he should have listened to Nathan after all. He was beginning to wish that his older brother would show up and get him out of the mess that he had put himself into, but he knew that Isaac was his charge, and therefore his own responsibility.

"Isaac!"

Or not. Both Isaac and Peter turned to look in the direction that the voice calling Isaac's name had came from. Standing there and looking very upset was the reason that Isaac had even came to the building in the first place—Simone Deveaux. Simone wasn't Peter's charge, of course, so he hadn't sensed her coming, but it shouldn't have surprised him. She had probably been waiting for Isaac for a while now. The man had showed up late already, Peter knew; he had been waiting on the rooftop a half hour longer than he had thought he would have to. Peter could tell by the expression on her face that she was suspicious; her suspicion only grew as she glanced between the two men.

"Come on. We're going to be late."

He watched Isaac out of the corner of his eye. He could see the man nod at his girlfriend before he turned his head to give Peter one last glare; Peter could feel Isaac's gaze burn into him better than he saw it; the man had an intense stare. The man's eyes narrowed a bit once again at his angel, but he turned away and followed after Simone.

A soft sigh escaped Peter's lips, though he didn't know whether it was one of relief or not. He had got out of the situation without causing anymore harm to be done with the relationship that would form between him and his charge, but things could have went better. Next time, he decided, he would listen to Nathan.