A/N: SURPRISE! Early chapter! I hope everyone manages to find it alright! I'm heading out in a few hours to DragonCon in Atlanta, Georgia, (meeting Magnus herself! Weeh) and know I will be nowhere close to a computer for several days, thus early chapter :D I'll be away for a while after the con as well, so there might be another mid-week posting next week, if I can find a computer. If not... there might be a wee break :( Hope you enjoy!

Previously, on "Faerie Tale"

She raised her chin and held her head high as she felt the hard press of a gun barrel rise up and press against the back of her skull. She didn't think anything profound, she didn't really think about anything at all. She just gazed out at the magnificent, looming trees, just across the empty camp.

The shot rang out clear against a suddenly silent jungle.

Juan looked down at Magnus' still body. The blood leaking from her head was black in the darkness of dusk. He leaned down and put his fingers against her throat to ensure that she was dead. He was always thorough in his kills, and with this, his first supernatural target, he had to be extra careful. After 10 minutes, he was satisfied, and stood again.

He thought of Santos. The fixation, obsession, the man had with this woman. It wasn't healthy. Santos had always been a focused individual, setting his sights on something and not resting until he had achieved his goal. Juan had always respected that, but this situation was different. Juan had always been warily fearful of the supernatural. He wasn't a cowering fool like many of his colleagues, but he knew to never underestimate something one didn't understand. He hadn't seen any evidence that this woman was actually a faerie at all, but Santos was blind to this. He had it set in his mind that she would be his salvation, and he would never give that up.

Juan would not tell him that his pet was dead. He would let Santos continue his futile search. The men were increasingly anxious about Escobar, and now that the witch had killed five of them, their forces were even more uneven. The men would remain silent for now, but soon enough they would start to question Santos' decisions. His control would slip further and further, while Juan watched and waited. When they finally realized their great leader was mad, Juan would be there, ready to step up and save them.

All he needed was time, and Juan was a patient man.

The next thing Magnus knew, she was alive.

At least, she thought she was. How, she had no idea. All she knew was that she felt as if she were floating on a cloud. She tried to open her eyes but couldn't. In fact, she couldn't move anything at all. This should have concerned her, but it didn't. She should have worried that she couldn't feel her chest rising and falling with each breath, but she wasn't. Although she was paralyzed, she wasn't completely still. She was drifting, swaying softly while staying in the same general spot.

She was warm.

She should have been in pain, should have been screaming and writhing, her brain unable to form coherent thoughts, but her mind was perfectly clear, clearer than it had been in years, and she felt no pain or discomfort of any kind. She was warm, soft, and safe. She knew with absolute certainty that no danger would befall her so long as she was in this place.

Whatever, wherever this place was.

As her mind continued to awaken Magnus, realized that she was, indeed, floating. Not on a cloud, but on water. She couldn't hear a thing, which was very odd, assuming she was still in the jungle. When someone else entered the pool, or whatever it was she was in, she could feel it. The water surrounding her didn't move, didn't ripple, but she knew another being was close.

Something soft touched her skin, and she realized she was naked. The list of concerns was piling up, but having just lived through death she remained impassive. Maybe she'd been drugged. At this point, she didn't know or care. Her mind was entirely focused on the warm, wet sensations travelling over her body. She felt a tiny sting, and realized she wasn't perfectly healed after all. As the sensations moved slowly across her skin, a deep warmth spread through her, and the stinging vanished. It was as if liquid peace was being poured over her body and soul, spreading from the top of her scalp to the tips of her toes. The pain was gone, and the dark thoughts that had plagued her mind for the last two decades were seeping away. She couldn't even remember the reasons for her rage. As her body filled with warmth, she felt her mind drifting away. Years later she would look back on the experience and try to compare it to the effects of a myriad of medicinal and illegal drugs, but she would always find herself coming up short. Nothing she'd ever tried had elicited half the out of body sensation that she'd felt that day. In her mind she smiled, and gave herself up to it, surrendered to its gentle will, and soon she fell into not black, but soft, white unconsciousness.

When Magnus came to, she knew she was out of the water. Still warm, still soft, but now immeasurably comfortable. She sighed, and noted that her chest moved up and down because of it. It took her a few moments to open her eyes, but not because she was groggy; it was like waking from a very deep and satisfying sleep. You didn't want to wake up, but after a rest that good, you believed when you opened your eyes the world could be a better place.

The first thing she registered was light; vivid, but not blinding. A roof of green, far above her, shielded her from the harsh sunlight. Trees. Without moving her head, she took in her surroundings. She was in the middle of a clearing; elevated on what she assumed was a large rock. She surmised that it was covered in moss of some kind, because it was more comfortable than any bed she'd ever slept in.

The foliage around her was intense. She had never seen so many different shades of bright green, orange, yellow, pink, red, purple and blue. She'd been in rainforests in full bloom before, but this was liked being in the middle of a painting, one that the painter had simply poured colour onto. It was so stunning that Magnus felt content to simply lie where she was, looking at it. The clearing was around 30 feet in diameter, but she could see no reason for the stoppage of growth. There were no machete marks, no nets, nothing to keep the wild jungle at bay. The ground was a bright green grass that looked to be uniformly a foot or so high. The whole area seemed engineered by man, its perfection unnatural, but Magnus knew it wasn't mankind that had made this. Something else had created this oasis.

As she started to experimentally wiggle her toes, she realized she still couldn't hear anything. The gentlest of breezes sighing through the trees, perhaps, but no animals or humans, none of the harsh, guttural noises of the Guerilla camp. It was as if she were contained in a bubble, outside of normal reality, but hidden in its midst.

The next sense she recovered was smell. Her eyes started to water as the scent hit her nostrils. It was incredible. She breathed in deeply, pulling the aroma into her lungs. It was fresh and clean, sweet and tangy, invigorating and calming. Her mind started to swim, and she briefly wondered if the sensation was the cause of her dislocation from reality. As her mind drifted, she continued to lethargically look around. She was doing a full sweep of the area, and when her gaze moved past her feet to the direct opposite side of the clearing, she saw him.

He was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

Her heart clenched, and for several moments she couldn't breathe.

Any description she'd heard or read of gods, angels or spirits could not compare to this man.

Maybe it was whatever she was inhaling or the water she'd been in earlier, or maybe she really had died and gone to heaven, but he was glowing. Not any kind of cinematic glowing, with great beams of light shining down while angels sang. No, it was like the edges of his being were soft, blurred, hovering between this world and another. Even from this distance she could tell he was tall, well over six feet. He was naked, as was she, but his face was so beautiful she couldn't tear her eyes away to see anything else. His skin was smooth, unwrinkled, and tanned just enough to make anyone jealous. His cheekbones were strong without being harsh, and his mouth was round and perfect. Soft, full lips rested in a light smile. His nose was sturdy and straight, while his eyebrows and hair were the deepest, richest brown she had ever seen. Not too short, but not too long, she itched to run her fingers through it, sure that it would be thick, yet softer than the finest silk. She let her gaze travel down, skipping past his face and down his neck, his collarbones and shoulders. His arms were beautifully formed, and his bare, smooth chest looked like it was painted, it was so flawless. His waist was trim, but solid, with dimples above his hipbones that spoke of incredible fitness. She had to take a moment to steel herself before letting her gaze travel lower.

Oh god.

Her pulse skipped a few beats before quickening.

He was perfect.

Long, thick and strong, she was sure his skin was as soft as velvet. A rush of arousal surged through her, and she suddenly craved, no, needed him inside of her, stretching her legs apart and proving to her that she was, indeed, alive again.

But she didn't move.

She tore her gaze away and continued her perusal. She took in his strong thighs, his knees, his calves, god, even his ankles. His toes were perfect. He was like an artist's rendering of what the human race could evolve into, bred into its highest form, carved from marble then brought to life. She didn't know where to look, barely able to comprehend the desire she held for this man. Her eyes drifted back to his face, resting on his brown eyes, layered with green and gold. The world was brightly lit around him, but his eyes were like beacons in the darkness, shining with the knowledge of a million truths she could never know. For a moment Magnus thought of the, "light at the end of the tunnel" that people described near death. Were his eyes that light, beckoning her to follow him? Or were they her salvation, leading her back to life? She decided at that moment that she would give him the benefit of the doubt and let him lead her wherever he pleased.

After what seemed like minutes, or hours, she didn't know which, he started walking towards her. More like gliding, really – she couldn't see if his feet were actually touching the ground. The languid elegance of his movement made her seriously doubt he was moving his legs at all. He came to a stop mere inches away from where she was laying, and she realized she'd been holding her breath as he moved. She let it out slowly, trying not to stir in case it startled him and made him flee. With feline grace, he climbed onto the rock and rested on his knees beside her, sitting in a stance that reminded her of eastern meditative poses.

Once she regained her control, Magnus allowed herself to look up into his perfect face. She was instantly hypnotized by the brown of his eyes, which at close range were still bright, but so much deeper than she'd first imagined. They radiated wisdom and experience, as if he'd seen the greatest joy in the world but also the greatest suffering. Magnus knew that people often thought of her own gaze as something "different", but if her longevity had changed her outlook, she could only imagine how old this being was to look the way he did. As she continued to stare at him, a light flickered on within his eyes, and they shifted to the top of her head. She wondered what he was doing, staring at her hair, but then his eyes moved. He was slowly, so very slowly, examining her, from head to toe.

Heat flared within her under the power of his gaze. She resisted the urge to suck in her stomach, to breathe in and push her chest out. She knew he would see past such posturing, but she worried that such a perfect creature would look at her and scoff, lose interest, and leave her there alone. She once again had to resist an urge, this time to laugh at herself. She hadn't been subject to such girlish insecurities in 100 years. She'd had lovers in the past, confident, strong people that had suddenly developed ridiculous doubts as soon as they entered the bedroom. She understood now how they had felt when faced with such a unique, experienced partner - out of their league. She desperately wanted him, but how could she possibly satisfy this man, this greater-being?

His gaze continued to trail down her body, and she felt as if she were being x-rayed. He wasn't just looking at her, but into her, seeing everything that her body had endured, how it had changed her if not on the outside, then on the inside. After an age, his gaze returned to hers, and it was sad. Her heart broke at his expression, silent tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. No creature so beautiful should know such sadness. He leaned in towards her, and gently waved his hands over her face. Her tears dried.

She was confused, sad, as she looked up at him, not knowing how to heal his hurt.

He leaned in towards her until his face was barely inches above her, and her vision swam with his perfection. She felt her eyes closing suddenly, and song filled her ears. She didn't know what language he spoke, or if it was even words, but she understood, felt, what he was saying.

He told her of the plight of his people. When they were first discovered by man, they were seen as gods and worshiped. They encouraged goodness in their followers, and once, when a man committed an act of pure selflessness, pure good, they had made him one of their own. Others, hearing of this ascension, started to follow in the man's footsteps. "Heroes" sprang up everywhere, but the Fey could not accept them all. People soon became bitter, blinded by their desire to become more than they were. They created opportunities to commit heroism by instigating war, hoping their acts would gain them the power and beauty of the Fey. The magical beings had been forced into hiding, seeing that their presence now inspired men to turn against their brothers.

For thousands of years they stayed hidden, but their numbers eventually dwindled. Magnus sensed that they couldn't die, but like human to Fey, a faerie could become something greater. She didn't understand how that was possible, but knew it was true. She felt how the faerie people had become lonely, as their numbers became so few. They decided to give mankind another chance and ventured out, carefully, staying out of sight while they searched for people with clean souls and true spirits. They would show these chosen few their world, and let them decide if they wanted to join them. No one had ever refused.

A few weeks ago they had sensed evil spirits within their territory. They had prepared to flee, when they realized there was one within the group who was pure: a young boy, Mauno, who had been taken from his home and forced to join the evil ones. The soldiers had taken him as a protégé of sorts, finding it a challenge, a great game, to try and beat him into submission, force him into a life of cruelty. Mauno had refused and been badly damaged for it. The Fey had admired his tenacity, his stalwart convictions, and decided to save him.

They led him into their midst and started the process of conversion. Every ounce of their focus was needed to complete the transformation. So focused where they that no one realized two of the men from the camp had followed the young boy thinking he was trying to run away, determined to punish him. They stumbled into the middle of the conversion, as Mauno's physical form was finally changing, and thought he had been captured by demons. With great war cries they had pulled out their weapons and started firing. The Fey, unharmed by the ammunition, were still startled, and the process was interrupted. Not wanting to hurt the men, but needing to keep their secret, they had decided, with great regret, to flee. The boy was left in a half-state, not human, not fey, an abomination. The men carried what was left of Mauno back to the camp just before Magnus was captured. The faeries tried to lure her to them before the guerillas found her, but in sleep her mind had been like a safe, locked down and guarded, and they had failed.

They watched as the guerillas took her, questioned her, beat her, but it was a rule of their people to not directly interfere in the dealings of humans. When they'd gone into seclusion the Elders had imposed a bind on the faerie's powers so that the simply would not work if someone tried to meddle in human affairs. It was a punishment of sorts, watching, but not being able to help. They had picked up Mauno when he'd been in the woods alone, but Magnus was being watched like a hawk. They had been sickened with remorse that Magnus had been blamed for their actions and forced to bear the brunt of the wild man's rage. They felt her strength, her unfailing defense of them, even though she had no way to be certain of their existence. It was something they'd never encountered before. She was the first person to not want to find them for reasons of power, beauty, or immortality. She had simply wanted to find them, talk to them, understand them and if possible, help them. They had never had such a defender; a human willing to save them, for once.

They had been helpless to intervene during the violence wreaked upon her, but as soon as the men had left her dead, they were there. Never before had they brought someone back from the netherworld, but with all of their great might they had tried.

Once again, Magnus was confused by the thoughts and feelings he was channeling into her. He tried to explain the process of her revival, but even her source-blood enhanced mind couldn't comprehend their power. As he neared the end of his story, she realized her healing was now complete. A bubble of panic welled up. She didn't want to leave them, not so soon, she still had so much to learn about them. Peace washed through her mind, and she was calm. They were not going to send her on her way just yet.

Her eyes were suddenly open, and she was staring up into those chocolate brown eyes.

Do you want to stay with us? he asked.

Yes! her mind screamed.

Her head swam with possibility, the vision of a future with these people, as one of them. She could leave behind all the challenges, hardship, and suffering of her lonely existence. No more Sanctuary politics, no more failed missions, people dying in her infirmary, lovers being torn to shreds… Her heart yearned for escape.

But then she was transported to a memory, over a hundred years ago, of a younger, eager version of herself. She could see her father opening the door to a new world as she held her torch high, curious and unafraid. How excited she had been! How eager to prove her worth as a woman and a scientist. She remembered the overwhelming need to learn everything she could about this incredible new world. She'd wanted to help these unfortunate people, these animals, these abnormals, like she'd never wanted anything else in her life. How many thousands still roamed the earth, undiscovered? How many thousands were living in fear, persecution and pain? Twenty years ago Magnus would have said her network could have continued on without her, strong and determined. With her lack of focus the last several years, however, she feared it might not. It was crumbling as surely as was her resolve as of late, and if she left now, abandoned what friends and colleagues she still had … How many abnormals would suffer for it? How many would remain in perpetual fear?

Yes, she was being offered the chance to enter a world more intense and magical than she'd ever thought possible, but could she share her new knowledge and abilities with her network? No. She would have to adopt the Fey's lifestyle as well, the secrecy and solitude.

She couldn't do that to her patients or her coworkers. She sometimes hated the responsibilities she held, but she had brought it upon herself when she took over her father's Sanctuary. She had been ready to die, in Santos' clearing, but with imminent death no longer an issue, she realized she wanted this second chance. She couldn't give up; her father would turn in his grave, or rise from the dead to hunt her down and berate her for being so selfish. She was a Magnus, she didn't run away.

A tear fell silently down her cheek, but the faerie smiled at her.

I thought you would say no, he admitted, but I had to try.

Magnus opened her mouth to try to explain her decision, but he silenced her.

This will not be goodbye, he promised. We would not let such a person as you leave us for good.

She frowned, questioning.

Will you at least let us try and thank you? he inquired.

She blushed. She didn't feel herself worthy of gratitude. In the end, she'd been selfish in her wishes for death, had she not?

Helen, he breathed, and her heart melted. She would like to be called Helen again. Not Magnus, or Doctor, or Ma'am…

We have seen into your mind, your soul. We know your dark thoughts, and your struggles with them. We have seen how you prevail and remain good, though circumstances continue to try and thwart you. Believe me when I tell you that you are special. We are sad we cannot call you one of our own.

For a moment, Helen wondered if she should take back her denial and accept his offer.

No, he stated firmly. It is not who you are.

Her thoughts went silent.

May we thank you? he repeated.

How? she thought.

Even if you cannot be one of us, we may remain connected, if that is what you wish.

What do you mean?

We desire to share ourselves with you so that when you need us, we will know. Your work is important to your world. We can help you achieve your goals. We can… enhance you, if you please.

Helen felt reassurance sweep through her mind.

Do you trust me? he asked.

Helen let out an incredulous huff. For the first time, she saw him smile, and she swore she could die, again, a happy woman.

Thank you, he said. You will not regret it

To Be Continued

Sooooooooo! Thoughts, questions, queries, concerns, dislikes, likes…? I hope everyone understood the reasoning behind the faerie's inability to intervene, etc! As a warning: The smut starts next chapter. Ahem. MS