After the Fall

S-

Damon had finally arrived, frantic. Apparently my mental shields had been up too well - he'd thought the worst. He swept me up at a run and held on hard, shaking. I began to trembling, too, the reality of the situation finally catching up. I let the tears come and tried to empty my mind, tried hard to think of nothing as the terror and confusion, realization and pain washed through me. The sooner I felt it, my philosophy generally was, the sooner it would begin to fade.

My silent tears gave way to great, wracking sobs and Damon gathered me up and sat, holding me like a child - like both he and my mother had when I was little. He rocked me softly, rubbing slow circles on my back, cheek pressed to my hair. When the worst of it had passed, he set me on the grass beside him, taking my free hand in his. I sniffled and tried to wipe my eyes - and nearly stabbed myself in the process. I'd forgotten about the silver blade.

Damon's eyes widened in surprise. He ran a finger over the inscribings on the blunt end; I hadn't even noticed them 'til now. Whatever blood had been on it was nearly faded away - absorbed, maybe. He held his hand just under the sharper end, and seeing the light spill into his palm, confirmed both our suspicions. It was glowing. He raised a brow in question, but I wasn't sure I could talk yet. I shook my head with a shrugging sigh and motioned with the blade to the sooty remains nearby.

Brow furrowed, he stood and walked closer, cocking his head as if to see, really see the whole of it. A small break in the clouds brought the scene into sudden focus, sending him back a step while his widening eyes swept side to side, realization dawning. Wings. Big wings.

He spun back to me, a dozen questions on his face, but I could only stare numbly at the ground. But with fresh light, he took all of me in then rushed back, kneeling worriedly to assess the damages. He gently touched my cheek and jaw where the angel had kicked at me. I moved my jaw gingerly, but it didn't feel too serious. I ran my tongue across all my teeth and found two loose ones, but otherwise all present and accounted for. Small miracle.

Damon carefully lifted the sleeve of my shirt to check my arm. I'd forgotten it, actually. The gash was deep and high in; I'd heard once of the nerve bundles buried in there. No doubt a deliberate hit. She had meant business. But even as we watched, the trickle of blood was slowing and fresh pain taking it's place. I hissed in a hard breath and wondered dully why so many injuries only hurt once you noticed them. Pain, I reminded myself, was good. Pain reminded you that you're still alive.

I was suddenly exhausted, anxious for sleep - just about anywhere inside would do. I'd had enough of the outdoors for one night… maybe for one whole decade. It had finally started to rain and smelled blissfully fresh and clean, but I wanted home. And a bed. And painkillers.

Damon helped me to my feet and I felt a little better. If I could stand on my own, life didn't totally suck. I wasn't dead, after all. I tucked the blade into my jeans, knowing it wouldn't cut me. Damon frowned, but fell into step beside me when I aimed my feet back toward the city, stopping only briefly to look back at the disintegrating shape of ash slowly washing away into the dirt.

a/n: Reviews are always welcomed and appreciated! :)