Oh, m god!!! 11 reviews!!! I love you all!!!

Ok, here we go with another chappie, and a rather angsty one at that. A certain someone might or might not be back (HINT HINT WINK WINK)

This takes place 7 years after Fang "dies". Max, Iggy, and Fang are 21, Nudge is 18, Gazzy's 15, and Angel is 13. And every time you see him or he or his or something like that, I am referring to Fang.

Please keep the reviews coming!

Kinda emotional . . .

I sat in front of the fire, gazing off into it without another care in the world. My hot coffee sat on the side table and my book was on my lap, both completely forgotten.

The house was completely empty. Let me tell you, it can be a little freakish being alone in an 8 bedroom, 5 bathroom, freaking mansion in the Middle of Nowhere, Colorado in the dead of winter.

But there was a reason it was empty. Iggy, my one and only lifeline, sensed today was one of my bad days and took the kids to the movies.

Most days, Ido function rather well. But, days like today . . .

I dreamt about him last night. Then I woke up cold and alone, and thus began a bad day.

I gave a heavy sigh. Nothing was the same anymore.

Suddenly the doorbell rang, startling me right out of my reverie. With an inward groan, I pushed my self up and dragged my sorry, pajama-clad butt to the door. What I saw when I opened it snatched my breath right from me.

It was a man roughly my age. He looked to be around 6'4 or 6'5, but I couldn't be sure seeing as how he was leaning heavily against the door frame.

He looked horrible. He was bleeding all over, and his longish dark hair partially obscured his mangled, battered face.

I also couldn't help noticing that even though it was about -5 degrees below zero with about 3 feet of snow on the ground, he wore only jeans and a torn-up gray t-shirt, revealing even more cuts and bruises.

"Help- help me. Pl-please," he whispered hoarsely. He staggered forward and I braced myself to catch him, expecting a weight of over 200 lbs. to crush me. But as he fell against me, I realized he couldn't have weighed more than 150 lbs. He weighed way less than he appeared to.

"Whoa, it's ok," I muttered, guiding him into the living room. "I got you."

Strangely enough, a small smile ghosted across his lips. "I know," he whispered.

I deposited him, laying him down on the couch. He groaned in pure discomfort. "Sorry," I said hurriedly. "I'll be right back." I ran to the kitchen closet to get the First Aid kit. As I rushed back, I wondered whether or not I should call the police.

Once I got back I found him completely out cold. Actually, considering pain-level, this was a good thing. However, with the blood-loss . . . not so good. Oh god. I was in way over my head here. But, I still had to try.

His left knee seemed to be bleeding the worst, so I pulled out the scissors and cut off his pant leg. I took me a minute, through all the blood, to realize that he'd been shot. At least twice.

I dumped antiseptic on it and cleaned away the blood. Both bullets had been clean shots, through and through. I bandaged them quickly and moved on.

Next was a huge gash on his chest. As I cut away the gray cotton of his shirt my first thought was, Wow, is he ripped, quickly followed by, No! Bad Max! You are supposed to be helping him, not perving over him!

I shook my head to clear it. Focus, damn it, I told myself. I wadded up some gauze and held it tightly against his wound. Luckily it was shallow, but even still, the gauze was soaked through in about five minutes.

I turned to the table for more gauze. As I did, I noticed for the first time all his scars. In particular, four long jagged ones that ran horizontally across his abdomen. He had gotten scars like these, once upon of time from Ari. I gently traced them with my fingers, and then quickly pulled my hand away. I shook my head again.

I turned back around; I was kneeling on something hard, and it sort of hurt. I yanked it out from under my knee and realized it was his. It was a silver charm bracelet that had fallen off his wrist, or out of his pocket, or something like that.

I gazed down at it. It was really pretty. It had six charms, a paw print, four feathers, and a heart. A closer look revealed that they were each engraved. The paw said Total, the feathers said Iggy, Nudge, Gazzy, and Angel, and the heart said Max.

I dropped it quickly and looked down sharply at him. Was he stalking us or something?! What the hell?!

As I squinted at his face, it vaguely occurred to me that under the bruises and the pale pallor of blood loss, his skin had an olive tint.

W-wait. The dark hair, the skin, the scars, the bracelet . . . But it couldn't be . . . could it?

There was only one was to find out.

I hastily put a thick gauze bandage on his chest wound, then slowly turned him on his side. I couldn't look. Averting my eyes, I reached behind him with a trembling hand to touch his back. I expected an expanse of soft human skin, but instead felt the smoothness associated with feathers.

I rolled him completely onto his stomach and I looked down in shock at his dark wings. They were bedraggled and scruffy, obviously not used in some time. I dragged my hand across one wing, and several feathers came right out in my hand.

I held one them up to the light. It was so dark, it was almost purple. But it was limp and dirty, just completely uncared for. But they were . . . his feathers.

I turned him onto his back again, and started cleaning the blood from his face. The more blood that came off, the more familiar his face became. I brushed the dark hair from his face and there was no denying it anymore. It was him. He was alive!

I placed my hand carefully on his chest, taking care not to jostle his nasty little cut. I leaned down slowly to put my lips to his ear.

"F-Fang?" I gave an involuntary shudder. It was the first time I'd been able to say his name in 7 years. And it felt good. "Fang? Can-can you hear me?"

He stayed completely still except for the unsteady rise and fall of his chest. I sat back on my heels, disappointed. Then he breathed a single word that was so quiet I barely heard him.

"Max."

My heart soared. It was Fang. My Fang.

Then my heart came completely crashing down again. I rested my face against his bare stomach and my emotions all came flying out of me in the form of unrelenting tears.

We had lived comfortably together in this house for six years, give or take a month. Where had Fang been? Somewhere alone, probably miserable, and getting tortured.

And how did I know he'd been tortured? I knew each and every one of his scars like my own. But now he had so many more, not to mention the fact that he'd shown up at my door a bloody mess.

"God, Fang, oh, god, I'm sorry," I sobbed. "I'm sorry!"

After a few moments of sobbing my heart out onto his exposed skin, I suddenly felt a hand tenderly smoothing the hair off my neck.

Just like he had done all those years ago when he'd kissed me in the cave . . .

I tried to lift my head but he ever so slightly tightened his hold. "No, don't get up," he rasped. "Even if it's not real, I'm getting my dying wish."

Now I wrenched my head up and looked at him. "What are you talking about?!" Now I was seriously freaked.

"I get to hold you one last time, Max." His eyes searched mine, a serene smile on his face. He brought his hand up and placed it gently on my cheek. He extended his callused thumb to wipe away my tear.

"You are not about to die!" I told him fiercely.

He closed his eyes with a complacent sigh. "That's what the hallucinations always say."

"Stay awake!" I snapped. He looked up at me with half-lidded eyes. Those dark chocolate eyes I loved and missed so much. "You aren't hallucinating."

"They always say that, too."

"Fang-" I choked up again, forcing myself to continue, even as the tears began to fall again. "Fang, please, please, don't do this to me! I need you. I love you! I-I can't l-lose you again."

I brought both my hands to his where it rested on my cheek, and held tight as I turned my face to nuzzle against his palm.

"You don't know how long I've waited for you to say that, Max."

I screwed my face up as the tears came again in a fresh wave, thick and fast. All the tears I'd been holding in for 7 years basically exploding from me.

I leaned down and pressed my mouth to his, as hard as I could, moving my lips slowly against his, trying to convey how much I loved and needed him into a single kiss. He tried to reciprocate as best he could, but his strength was limited.

"Don't go, Fang," I whispered against his soft lips. "Please."

He smiled at me with so much love and compassion that my very soul instantly heated up. Then it suddenly turned cold again as his eyes drifted shut and his hand went limp in mine.

"Fang! Wake up! FANG!" I was panicking as I pulled away, my hand flying to his throat, searching for a pulse. I felt a faint one under my fingertips and I'd never been so relieved in my life.

He was simply unconscious.

I laid down next to him, huddling against his bare and muscular chest while I pulled his arm around me and closed my eyes.

Next chappie should be up tomorrow!