I know I haven't updated in a long time, I've been working on another Fanfic - based on TMI/TID. Anyway, hope you like it!
Chapter 2
Christina
The music was beautiful, yet it held some meaning. Did the boy behind the lyrics write this? And if so, what did he mean? I wondered, what encouraged him to write this song.
When the song was over, I opened the door and found him sat on the edge of the music stage. When he saw me, his eyes widened. It reminded me of Luce in the hallway, when she first saw me. Maybe it's because I'm hot.
He didn't blink. I looked carefully at him. He was tanned and muscular, with raven black hair and blue eyes. He was completely stunning. The brown guitar sat delicately on his knees and his callused strong hands were gripping the neck, like he was going to snap it.
I nervously walked into the room. "Erm, hi," I said, giving him a small smile. "I, er, heard your music. Did you write that?"
The boy said nothing, he just kept still. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Hello, is anyone there?" I said, jokingly.
He took a moment to compose himself, shaking his head. "Sorry," he said. Jesus, his voice was like music to my ears. There was something utterly beautiful about this guy. Who was he? "Erm, yeah. I did."
"Wow, it's beautiful. What's it called?" I asked, moving closer to him, but it made him more nervous. I passed this off as a guy being this close to a hot woman and not knowing what to do or say. I liked having that effect on people.
He cleared his throat, and didn't make eye contact with me much. "Erm, it's called 'Fairytales and Firesides'," he said.
I nodded my head. "What made you decide on that title?" I asked. I sat down next to him, but he moved away slightly.
"Erm...I believe that most of us long for fairytales because they're a way of escaping and firesides comfort us, they warm and they're made of fire. Represents survival," he replied. His grip on the guitar loosened.
"It also represents danger," I said, looking down.
He didn't say much, just "Yeah."
"Sorry for listening, I was trying to find somewhere to have lunch," I said, holding up my lunch. He smiled, but didn't say anything. I wanted to keep the conversation going. "I'm Christina," I said.
He looked up. "I know," he murmured.
"How do you know?" I asked, defensive all of a sudden. Are people talking about me?
He looked at me, eyes full of shock. "I...er...my friend, Luce, told me about you," he said, covering up.
My mouth made an 'o' shape. "I've met Luce, she seems...nice."
"Oh, yeah, she is."
A moment of awkward silence passed, and I broke it. "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."
He turned his head towards me, and gulped. "Dean. Dean Everston."
I held out my hand for him to take. "It's nice to meet you, Dean," I said. Dean looked down at my hand and hesitated before shaking it.
When his skin touched mine, waves of déjà vu crashed through my mind. He shook my hand, but I was too blind by the vision to even notice. Someone with black hair and dark eyes was flying around. Flying?
When Dean took his hand away, the vision faded. I blinked, trying to get back to reality.
"Are you okay," he asked me. I blinked some more before giving him a nod.
"Yeah," I said, "Yeah, I'll be okay."
Dean stood up and placed his guitar back in its case. He pulled it up off the floor and turned to look at me. "I'm going for lunch," he said, "I guess I'll see you around."
I nodded, still confused over what just happened. Dean left me in the music room. I thought about the vision I had. What was it? An idea of some sort? Black hair and dark eyes. The hair was the same as Dean's, but the eyes were not his. Come to think of it, Dean had the same eyes as me. What the hell am I thinking, my eyes are blue, and that's a common colour.
And what about the guy in my vision; he was flying. Is flying the right word? He did go across one side of my mind to the other. There was no sound to the vision, just mute.
Dean
Rushing towards the cafeteria, after putting my guitar in my locker, I kept thinking how coincidental what just happened was. Mom was different somehow; she was there, but then again she wasn't. It must be her memories, they were long gone, replaced with new ones, and Dad and I aren't in any of them. She can learn her old memories, but it will take some time. But when I shook her hand, it felt weird. It must have triggered something. The way she reacted, I could tell something came to her mind. All I know is, we're going to need to be extra careful.
I pushed the doors of the cafeteria open and scanned for Dad. As soon as I saw him, he was laughing about something but he also held something else in his face, I ran over to him.
"Sam?" I asked, remembering to use his real name, instead of calling him 'Dad'.
"Yeah?" he asked, seeing the expression on my face.
"I have to tell you something," I replied, sitting down next to Daniel.
"What is it?" asked Luce, leaning forward.
I took a deep breath. I turned to Dad, "After you left the music room I played one of my songs. The one I wrote after Mom..." I looked down at the table.
Dad cleared his throat, "Carry on, Dean."
"When I finished, she came in." Everyone stared at me with wide eyes, even Dad. I saw his hand begin to shake and he quickly put it under the table, trying to control it. "I know I said to walk away when I saw her, but I couldn't. I'm sorry, I know I should have but I- I just couldn't."
Dad was nearly in tears. "What was she like," he asked, in a shaky whisper.
I looked up, "She's different, Dad," I whispered, so no one could hear. "She's confident and curious. And my God, she's beautiful."
Dad gave me a small smile, trying to hide the pain he was experiencing. "I bet she is."
Luce perked up a bit, "Me and Daniel actually asked her if she wanted to have lunch with us," she said.
Dad and I snapped our heads to her. "Why?" he asked.
Daniel spoke, "She declined though, we thought that, maybe, if we became friends with her then we can help her get her memories back."
"No," said Dad. He stood up from his position. "We shouldn't help, it's too risky. I don't want to lose her a second time." And at that, he got up and stormed out of the cafeteria.
I didn't bother telling them about the moment I touched Mom's hand. Dad was right; it's too risky. We need to be cautious when we're around her, no more talking to her.
Christina
"So how was your first day at school?" Mom asked. We were at the dining table and I was digging into some spaghetti, trying to take my mind of Dean.
"Fine," I said simply.
Mom pricked her eyebrows up, "Just fine?" she asked.
I nodded, not making eye contact. I took another fork full of spaghetti. She opened her mouth to ask a question but thought again about it. She shut her mouth.
I stopped eating for a second and put my fork down. "Mom, what is it?" I asked.
She sighed, "I was wondering if you had Gym today."
I thought for a second. This was the reason my Mom was worried about me taking Gym this year. It's a mandatory subject, I have to take it. The school says that each student should have at least one hour of Gym a week. I wanted to do Gym, I liked it. And anyway it was a way to blow off some steam.
"I had it third," I said, returning to my spaghetti.
Mom gasped, "Did anyone-"
I shook my head, "We didn't do any sports, we were just talking about the semester and what we'll be doing."
Mom breathed a sigh of relief. "Good," she muttered.
I finished my meal and asked to be excused to go upstairs.
I flopped down onto my bed and asked myself the basic questions I ask myself every night.
Did you survive the day? Yes.
Did anybody stare at you? Yes, but not for the reason I'm worried about. I'm a new student.
How do you think tomorrow will go? I thought of Gym. We've been asked to take our Gym clothes for the lesson tomorrow. I'll have to get changed in front of everyone.
Not good.
Sam
Back at the compound, I dropped my school stuff off into my room and headed towards the training room. I hadn't been there for a while, but I needed to get some space.
I put on some gym shorts and black shirt and went down. Because the world has changed and modern technology has enhanced the way we live our lives, we renovated the training room. We thought it would be easier to train in here.
White brick walls made the room look even bigger. There were black rafter hanging up at the top so we could practice our free running and falling. A glass door with a number lock was the only way inside. When you walk through, you were greeted with a small gym area; treadmills, benches, weights, exercise bikes, all things you'll find at a gym.
And then there was the weapons room. Each weapon had been refined and made with the best metals in the world. The only weapon we haven't changed is Christina's dagger.
The dagger stayed on one of the stands in my room, underneath the portrait of her, me and Dean when he ascended in 1521. We were all Angels at that time.
And now, my wife stays dormant inside a mind she has no control over, blocked behind a wall; her on one side, her true, old memories on the other. Damn the Throne.
We also didn't change my axe. It was the same axe my human father used. He was a woodcutter, when he was still alive. I've taken care of the axe for hundreds of years and kept it in pristine condition. I haven't used it in a very long time.
I took hold of the axe, taking it away from its stand. I blew on it, and dust came off. I sighed.
Taking my position in front of one of the dummies – we had moved on to advanced dummies, made of a thick jell that worked as skin, and inside was red liquid.
I lifted the axe around my head, and did a great wing. The tip of the axe cut the throat of the dummy and the blood poured through.
Yeah, I thought, I've still got it.
After an hour of training, the sweat was pouring down my face. I had taken off my shirt after it was drenched in sweat and discarded it to the benches. I took to the treadmills and then to the weights. It was like I was possessed. The sweat was coming down like waterfalls. Since Christina...I've been working out a lot more. My body built like bricks, the hard muscles ripped through my skin. I wasn't as buff when Christina knew me.
Dean had been working out too. Our minds think alike; training and exercising is the only way to take our minds off anything. When we're in the training room and we're either using the exercise equipment or the weapons, nothing matters.
After my two hour workout, I went into the shower. The water rained down on my tanned muscular body, beating down like it was trying to hurt me. I let it. I turned the temperature down to -10 degrees. I didn't care. For the past 17 years I have felt empty. There has been a part of me inside that doesn't seem to care anymore. The other half is lost.
It's my mate for life feeling. Christina was my mate, and she's...well she's not gone. She's absent. Yeah, absent. But I may never feel this feeling every again.
I got out of the shower and put my clothes back on. Dean was stood in the training room, holding his weapon. We learned that Dean loved the tomahawks. They're, like, tiny axes that you throw and they inflict so much damage. Dean was strong too, so his throws were immensely powerful. He was good with the tomahawks, so they were his chosen weapon, but there hasn't been a time where he has used them.
"Son?" I said, stepping out of the shower room. I straightened my shirt and, with a towel, began to dry my hair a bit.
"Hey, Dad," he said, a bit more gloomy than I had anticipated.
"What's on your mind?" I asked. Dean threw up his hands slightly, and took a seat on the bench.
"I don't know, Dad. I can't take my mind off Mom. I mean, she's in our school!" he cried, putting his head in his hands.
I took a seat next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Dean, we knew that a day like this would come."
"Will she Ascend again?" he asked. I snapped my head up. I hadn't thought about it. She could Ascend when she turns 18 and not know what's happening to her.
"Possibly. The Throne did say that her wings would stay dormant inside her until her 18th birthday," I replied.
"Dad, we've got to help her," he pleaded. "I know that means getting closer to her, but she'll have no one to help her."
"I was thinking the same thing. It's going to have to be something to discuss with Daniel and Luce about," I replied. I patted him on the shoulder again and he left in a rush.
I looked to the clock and it was close to midnight. I sighed and followed Dean.
Dean had gone up to his room, so when I knocked on his door, he opened it and was already in his PJ's.
"Hey," I said, "I was wondering. Shall we go out tonight?" I asked.
Dean gave me a face, "Dad, what are you talking about?" His face hardened. "Please don't tell me you were thinking of a strip club!"
I laughed and shook my head. "No! I was thinking we could go out. You know, stretch our wings."
Dean's eyes widened and he parted his lips. "We haven't gone out flying together in years." It's true; we had stopped flying because it never felt the same without Christina. But now that we knew where she was and how she was doing, maybe it could be different.
"C'mon," I said. "Put on your shirt. I'll meet you on the roof."
Moments later, I had changed into my white shirt with the slits at the back. I put on some dark denim jeans and a pair of converses. I heard the tiles move underneath Dean's feet as he tried to move up them.
He was wearing the same white shirt as me, but with a pair of black jeans and black converses. His hair was ruffled and his eyebrows were frowning.
I smiled. "Are you ready?" I asked.
Dean nodded. Our compound was underground, like the others around the world, and our house was built on top of it, like any other house. There were bedrooms down in the compound, but they were reserved for Angels and rebel Demons. They would come and go, on official business that is. But the house upstairs was for human visitors.
Luckily the house was secluded, with trees around. It was quite a large house, with 8 bedrooms. It only needed 8; there were 3 Demons and 6 Angels. That would be 9, but Daniel and Luce share a room. Nobody really comes to our house, not humans anyway.
I unleashed my wings through the slits in my shirt and it was like this weight had been lifted. I felt better, less empty but the emptiness was still there.
Soon after, Dean unleashed his, and I could feel the heavenly glow coming from his wings. I breathed in the midnight air.
Dean looked at me. "Where shall we fly?" he asked.
I smiled. "The wind can decide that." And we took off, leaving nothing but our cares behind.
That's the chapter - I will try and focus on this a bit more, just writers block has been kicking my arse! Tell me what you think!
Until next time!
-Caz :D
