A/N: Second Chapter. Yay!!!!!!

Caiomhe

Daron lingered for a little, after the boys had disappeared downstairs, watching me with cautious eyes. We didn't speak, but eventually, John called him down to write with them. I puttered around, cleaning the kitchen and den, doing the dishes, and handing Brian another beer. I finally joined them downstairs in the almost finished studio.

They were all sitting on the plush cushions and chairs I had spread about in one of the rooms, talking. I stretched out across Daron, James, and Sam's laps, and listen to their conversation. There was a lull, and Sam filled it quickly.

"He's home isn't he?"

I looked away from him and crossed my arms.

"Caiomhe…" Keagan said in a warning voice. I sighed and nodded.

"You need to break it off with him," James said, placing a hand on my knee. I stood up and turned away from everyone.

"I… I tried… You remember what happened," I whispered, my voice shaking. It atmosphere got awkward. I stood and shook my head. I changed the subject.

"What have you guys written so far?"

"Mmm. Nothing much," James said, a half eaten candy cane sticking out of his mouth. I shook my head in dismay and took the paper he was staring at. It read Potential Songs. Nothing else except for some doodles. I laughed.

"You guys fail so much sometimes."

"If you think you can do better, than do it!" Keagan said, crossing his arms.

"Nah. My stuff won't make sense if you sing it," I said, sitting down with a pencil. I looked at Daron, who was staring into space. I aimed and threw the pencil, which hit the wall next to his head with a dull, pathetic thud. He jumped anyway.

"You're the master lyricist here," I said, offering the paper. Daron looked at it for a minute before taking it. No one had a guitar or any other musical instrument with them, so I stood and went to the storage room. I heard whispers, as I said, there were still some things to be done down here.

"What's up with your manager?" Daron asked.

"Her boyfriend. He's an alcoholic and abuses her. She denies it, but…" Sam trailed off. Keagan picked it up for him.

"We know it. He was nice at first, always got her presents and stuff, but about a year in a half ago, she came into work crying. She wouldn't tell us why. Then a couple months after that she had bruises. She always had excuses for them. We eventually figured things out."

"Why doesn't she break up with him?" John asked.

"Why don't the other abuse victims?" James replied, sounding serious for a change. "They used to it, they're threaten, scared. Caoimhe tried, but she ended up in the hospital. We tell her we'll be there, but nothing seems to help."

My eyes swelled up with tears. I knew the truth, but… My life was threatened. Brian… he… he STABBED me! I couldn't. Fear pushed me down, made me a spineless little twit when he came around. It wasn't me it wasn't what I used to be.

I wiped my eyes and picked up one of the cases, still listening in.

"Heh. Remember when she used to come up on stage."

"Oh, yeah. And we'd do Chop Suey!"

Yeah. I remembered. I used to go up on stage, and that was so until about six years ago. I wore mostly white, or light colors, while the boys, to this day, wore darker colors, mostly black. My guitar, my child, was a 1960 Gibson Les Paul Special DC (double cutaway). It was my dad's, originally bought four under a hundred bucks. It was my graduation gift for college (the first time around). He had it refurbished and repainted so that it looked like wings in dark purples.

"Don't forget Dark Wingz, James," I heard James say. "It's what gave Caiomhe her name."

"Dorcha Aingeal," they chorused. I walked out of the storage room, carrying three cases.

"Some one say m'name?" I asked, placing the cases down. Johnny and Sam leapt for their instruments and I set down the remaining one. I opened the case slowly and looked at my child, Dark Wingz. Such a cheesy name, but the fans had dubbed it and me.

"Is that it?" Daron asked.

"Mine? Yeah. This is Dark Wingz," I said, in reverence. I hadn't held her in some time. I took searched in the velvet for my pick. It's was the only one I had used on her. It was a clear crystal pick. It came relatively cheap (compared to similar ones), and it created a great sound.

"It's been a while," Keagan said. I smiled wider and tuned up. As soon as I was, I started playing, letting the music flow through me. I found my self playing a version of Danny Boy, humming along, rocking with the beat.

"Um, Keev?" James asked, making me jump.

"Jaysus!" I said, jumping. "What?"

"You're freaking us out."

"It's what I always do when I get into the music!" I said standing and plugging my guitar into an amp. "Stop criticizing me. Has it really been that long, Jamesy?"

"Don't call me Jamesy and yes, it has."

"Hmph." I frowned and sat on the amp, randomly plucking notes. It turned into me improvising a song, using more Celtic inflictions than normal. When I finished I found all six men staring at me.

"What?" I asked.

"You're that talented and you ended up managing a band?" John asked. I shrugged.

"The rock star life didn't appeal to me," I said. I rubbed my arm absentmindedly, feeling the bumpy scars underneath my sweater. "Sex and drugs. That's all it was, and still is. I don't like it."

No. It didn't fit with me. Not at all.