A/N (for this and the last...two chapters, I think): Things have been tough, lately. School's busy, there have been social issues, and you'll have to excuse us for wanting to take a bit of a break while we try to get our lives back on track. Speaking mostly for myself, and hinting towards D. Please pray for us/encourage us. Telling us that you like what we're doing, taking guesses at future events, constructive criticism--all these are good ways to lift our spirits.

There's a bit more foreshadowing in this chapter, but I doubt anyone will catch it until everything plays out in the end... Heh. The Voice makes an appearance; sorry if he's OOC, but I'm taking a few liberties and basing him off of someone I know. This is a huge hint to anyone who knows me [Insert a maniacal laugh here.] and this is a huge, huge thing for the future. [Another laugh.]

Oh--mid-way through writing this I remembered that most of the geese wouldn't be at Shoreline at that time of year, but then I decided that hey, if I could step in goose poo in December, there had to be something making it.

Gabe dipped his wing in a cloud, flying just ahead of his friend before falling back so they flew side by side, touching wing tip to wing tip on every stroke in the brotherly way they'd had for ages, back when they were thinking, before the girls had come and entered their lives. Not that they were complaining. Gabe was shaking his head. "They're so big...we missed out on so much."

"Really makes you look at yourself, doesn't it," Angelus agreed. "I feel so old. And I look it! Gone are my dashing good looks and voice. Trinity has it all now, with a bit of his mother... I can't imagine what she looks like now. You?"

"Same here, I can't... I don't really want to."

"I know what you mean."

Gabe was frustrated. "I feel guilty about it. I wonder if she'll look anything like she used to, if she'll still be my Gwen, or if she'll have been so altered by ITEX that she's nothing like her... I just don't know. I'm afraid."

"I know." They were silent for a long while before Angelus began speaking again. "And just think... Not long now, and we'll be grandparents! At least your name is remembered in theirs, Gabriel. I seem to be outranked by my own son."

Gabe snorted. "Just wait. The next time it'll be Angelus, or Angelica, or Angelo..."

"Lemonjello or Orangejello..." Angelus rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know I should stop complaining."

"Nah... You know, soon as they're married, the twins are going to be having little brothers and sisters popping up all over the place. Maybe they'll have quadruplets next. You know, doubling?" Gabriel shuddered good-naturedly at the thought.

Angelus groaned. "That'd be a horror. Can you imagine mini-Fangs and Trinities and Anas? That's just... I'm going to have nightmares now."

Gabriel smiled slightly and reached up to adjust his hood, pushing his bangs down to shield his eyes from the spray of rain that was being splattered against his face. "And we've still got years left on us. A lot of years. By God, if Gwen were here, I could have another child on the way right now, and it wouldn't be odd. Think of that! It's so... I don't know. I don't want to think about it."

"I know what you mean." Angelus swerved to the side and spun, simply because he could, before he rejoined his friend. "I'm amazed they hit it off so well, regardless. My son and your daughter...who would have guessed that? Or that they'd meet up and form a group all on their own? It's amazing, if you think about it. Of all the possibilities, our kin stay together. Even if ITEX interfered, it still amazes me. They can't control the love that binds us after all."

"Cornball."

Nevertheless, Gabriel and Angelus knocked fists.

"Where do you think I learned it?"

There was a laugh as he reached down to steady her flight; previously, she'd been wobbling terrifically, almost as if she were waddling through the air. It was highly impossible, but that's what it had looked like to him. He was laughing still as she straightened out and flew a bit lower to go a little easier on her wings.

"Want to land?" he asked.

"No," she said stubbornly.

"Walking isn't so bad, Ana. By the time we get their, the sunset will be spectacular."

"We'd be walking through goose-poop, Trin. At low tide. I don't wanna do that."

"I don't want you to strain yourself."

She blew a chunk of hair out of her eyes. "I'll be fine, Trin. I'm pregnant, not handicapped."

He held up his hands helplessly. "How should I know? That's a rhetorical question, by the way."

"That wasn't a question. That was a statement."

"Whatever."

"Shut up before you hurt yourself."

"Good idea—duck!"

Ana groaned. "Four of them, you cornball." As they went, she gradually began to wobble more and more and finally she huffed. "Trin?"

"Yeah?"

"I think walking is a good idea."

"Goose poop it is, then. Landing gears down?"

"Cornball."

"But a lovable cornball, right?"

Ana rolled her eyes. "Walking through goose poop for you—yes, you're lovable."

He laughed, and stumbled a bit as his feet hit the waving yellow grass. He caught her arm as she landed and nearly fell on her face. "Getting a bit too familiar with that snail down there, aren't we, darling? Should I worry about our engagement?"

She shook her head in exasperation. "If you keep at it there will be no engagement. Just a funeral."

He slipped his hand into hers and began pulling her through the rustling grass. "Watch out for the mud here," he called back over his shoulder. "And watch out for that gopher hole."

"Are we almost at the bri—Aagh, low-tide indeed! Ugh!"

Trinity made a gagging sound, but continued on. "Almost at the bridge." They ran the last stretch to the red-metal bridge and slowed to a trot as they came to the well worn path to the Rengstorff House. There was a good crowd gathered in the House's backyard, dancing around on the outdoor floor, and examining the taxidermy'd owls and other creatures on the grass inside the white picket fence.

Trinity led Ana around the fence to the grass, where, hidden by trees the shore lurked. They could hear the laughter and voices and the faint sound of the waves already. "Want to get some soda?" Trinity asked.

"Sure."

"I'll be right back. You wanna find a spot?"

Ana smiled and nodded and watched as he walked off towards the side walk to the bar, where sodas were on display. "Get me one of those Classic Cokes, Trin!"

He waved at her, and she trudged across the grass, around the weeping willows...

She could feel the sun's warmth as it smoothed across her skin in pink and orange glows. The light on the water, too, seemed like liquid fire that would be warm to the touch (although she knew better, as it was December and had just gotten through raining.

Aforementioned rain-clouds were dark and brown, drawing back over the San Francisco Bay and moving farther inland. Ana could literally see the rain falling over the air force base and the mountains, and maybe in the distance San Francisco, even... The contrast of the darkness behind her and the encroaching brightness of sunset, with the fog rolling in on majestic waves over the hills in front of her reminded her of so many things that it was hard to count. Most prominently in her memories was the first sunset she'd ever seen, the evening after Trinity had led their escape from ITEX.

She found a rather dry, goose-poop-free area on the grass and turned around to wait for Trinity, looking into the wind and letting its cold breath push her hair about her face. Her arms rested comfortably on her slightly swollen abdomen, and a smile was plastered on her face as she saw Trinity coming back, two glass bottles of Coke in hand as well as a can of Dr. Pepper. The thick picnic blanket was draped over his shoulder, and in the backpack over his wings were more blankets and an extra jacket.

It was going to be the perfect evening.

They spread out the blanket and sat down the backpack beside them as they nestled together. Trinity handed her a Coke. "You comfortable?"

"Yes, thank you. Sorry I was such a grouch."

"It's fine." He smiled benevolently and she squeezed his fingers.

"Could you open this?" she asked, giving the Coke bottle a little jiggle.

"Well, since it's a Coke and not a pickle jar..." He grasped the bottle cap, made sure she had the bottle itself in a strong grip, and then twisted. His palm came away a bit raw and lined, but the cap was off and a soft smoky substance was streaming out of the top. Ana smiled and kissed him and then took a long gulp.

"Mm!"

"Remember the first one of these you had? You were shocked that they still made the bottles."

"I mean, really. The cans are much better. But these things are just so cool!"

"Not nearly as cool as you though." He rubbed her arm before reaching into the backpack for a blanket, and wrapped it around them. "I want you as cozy as possible."

She smiled innocently and 'accidentally on purpose' brushed the cold bottle against his arm. The following yelp incited a hysterical laugh from her, and a betrayed pout from him.

"Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad." She blinked up at him and fluttered her lashes.

"Yes it was."

"Will you forgive me?"

"I don't know…actions speak louder than words."

"I brought you here. It's your Christmas present."

"Hm…does that count?" He pulled her closer and smiled roguishly, her smile matched his.

"I'm having your children."

"Yes, but a sunset kiss would make me feel much better. You were so mean to me…"

"Cornball." She kissed him anyway. There was a soft, "Awww," in the background, but when they broke away they couldn't tell what bystander it had been. Trinity leaned his head on Ana's shoulder and wrapped an arm around her waist; the other held his own bottle of soda.

"Ana?" he asked eventually.

"What's up?"

"...Nevermind." Trinity shook his head. "I forgot."

She wriggled around in his arms so that she'd have a better view of the sunset as it began to dip below the horizon. "Isn't that what Hollywood sunset romance kisses are supposed to do to you?"

"True. So this is Hollywood? Where are the cameras?"

"And the crazy director."

"And the ax-crazy mass murderer that's supposed to ruin the moment?"

Ana poked him. "Stop ruining the moment."

"Maybe this is a fanfiction then," he mused. "Very fluffy."

"I'm the one supplying all the fluff," she said. "You keep ruining it. You're a very inflexible character."

He rolled his eyes. "I thought you were being the grouch."

"I'm so awesome, I can do both."

"And you're not conceited at all."

"Nope, I'm just stating a fact…"

"Just let me think I'm awesome for a moment, alright? It is my Christmas present after all."

"No one said you weren't awesome."

"You have a point there."

"Yes…and even if it was implied, then that's wrong." She grinned at him. "You're more than awesome."

"I'm glad you think so, Santana."

"Of course I do. It's the effect you have on people."

"No. It's what you do to me."

Just then, the sky went on fire. The sun had reached the very edge of the fog and was sinking below now, fast, setting the world ablaze. Gasps and whistles sounded out from the other picnickers around them, and murmurs rose up as well, commenting on the beauty of it all.

Ana leaned against Trin. "It's beautiful."

He smiled, and wrapped his arms around her stomach. He could think of something much more beautiful.

"Oi! Gazzy, where are you?"

"Out here!" he shouted back, and then made a particularly loud smack! as he brought his palm down flat on the top of the mud pie. It made a sucking sound as he pulled it out.

Catlyn rushed off to get her raincoat and join him. As it was when she finally came out he still didn't realize she was there, and she had a good glob of mud in her hands. She took aim…and SPLAT! The look on his face was priceless.

"Oh no you didn't!" he squealed, and picked up his mud pie.

Catlyn's eyes narrowed, and she crouched down—both to look cool, and to grab some more mud. Just as Gazzy threw the pie at her face, she launched her grassy, squelchy mud at him. The collisions were epic, and in Gazzy's opinion, so worth it.

"OH MY FREAKING GOODNESS THERE'S A WORM IN HERE!"

He laughed maniacally.

Catlyn immediately grabbed the worm along with a handful of mud and stuck it on his head, dancing away and cackling. "Worm head!"

"Arghhhh, it's eatin' me brains!" he roared in a zombie voice, then he paused to think. "You know, I wonder how the zombies like getting their brains eaten. Do zombies eat each others' brains? Does Sylar eat brains? Or do they all just let the worms do the job?"

Catlyn shrugged and came over to pluck the worm off of his head. "Well if it's a brain eater we better let it go, you'd starve it."

"Hey!" Gazzy grabbed the worm again and put it back on his head. "It will not starve. Besides, it is a very fashionable hat."

"I bet you Nudge won't think it's fashionable." Catlyn grinned.

"But she's not a boy. Or bat-shit crazy."

"Gazzy!"

"What?"

Catlyn put her muddy hands on her hips and glared at him. "I am not crazy and that is a bad word."

He blinked at her. "Sorry," he said, in a not-at-all-sorry voice.

She pouted. "Why does everyone think I'm crazy? I don't try to be..."

He shrugged. "You just are."

"Why?" She paused for a minute before she shook her head and rolled her shoulders. "All well, crazy people are brilliant."

Gazzy snorted. "Full of yourself, much?"

Catlyn made a face. "Well, it's true. And you're the one who said I was crazy, so I must be brilliant. Thanks for the compliment, Gazzy!"

"Welcome, m'dear," he said in his most dashing voice. "I just tell the truth. You know me." He winked.

"Nice try. Aren't I bit old for you?"

"Catlyn! I was just trying to be funny! Ugh!"

"Eh, so you say." She got a handful of mud and began making another mud pie. "We could have, like, a mud pie factory or something. Or we could throw them at each other—or the others when they get back. What do you think?"

"...I think you are a genius."

Catlyn grinned and gave a sweeping bow. "Thank you, stinker."

He gave her a cheeky smirk in reply and tossed her a pie tin. "Let's get the production going!"

"Sweet! I mean, COOL! Mud's not sweet." Catlyn laughed.

They had thirty five and a half pies done by the time Sable came out looking for them. They were done to twenty seven before she finally joined their fun, and then that drew out everyone else—except for Nudge, of course, and Alex, who had gone home. They got the greatest reaction when Gabe and Angelus came home--and chased them all around before joining in on the fun.

And then Fang appeared.

He'd come out with Max and then retreated back into the house and no one really noticed. Now, he was armed with Iggy, and he kept disappearing and jumping out from behind trees. He was scary good.

They stopped only when Trinity and Ana got back home, and then only a quick cease fire because it was obviously Ana was worn out. They quickly resumed their mud filled occupation as soon as she and Trin were inside.

But eventually, Gazzy realized that his face was wet because of the snot streaming from his nose, not the mud, or sweat, or heck even blood that he'd imagined. This led to Angel screaming, "EW!" and everyone deciding it was time to pack it in. There was a quick fight over showers, but eventually (after about three and a half more hours) everyone was clean, dry, and warm and shuffling into beds, sniffling horrendously.

Gazzy had his own tissue box. It was just for him.

He named it Bob.

Sable had pretty much passed out as soon as she got into her PJ's. Angel managed to push her into Sable's room and onto the top bunk, and then Angel had to intervene on Bob the Box's behalf and get him his twin: Dude the Trash Can.

Who was a girl.

When dealing with Gazzy (and Iggy, as Dude was given to Iggy 'to be a companion for his and Fang's son' ) was over, Angel dragged herself downstairs to get a mug of apple cider. As she passed Sable's room, where Ana, the babies, and Sable were sleeping, she picked up on the particular dream tones of the various sleepers--

And she had an idea.

She reached out, searching. She'd found him once, she was sure she could do it again.

And then she did. He was also out, exhausted, and still in the same room as before. It was easy work to connect his and Sable's minds in their dreams, and as they were already dreaming of each other, the dreams melded together without either one realizing it.

Angel smiled. This was a very merry Christmas indeed...

Sable, who'd been running across the side walk in her dream, trying to reach his retreating figure but never gaining a single inch of ground, found herself suddenly running smack into a feathery back. The first thing she realized was that it was them. Then, she had a feeling that he would have smelled really bad...if she could smell. But she couldn't.

Oh wait, there was a smell... Roses. He smelled like roses.

...Yeah. This was a dream.

He turned around slowly and reached out for her tentatively, and seemed shocked when he did touch her, as if he was expecting her to disappear. He frowned. This wasn't right. When would the nightmare begin?

"Sable?"

His voice sounded foreign to his own ears, smooth and perfect despite the fact that he hadn't been able to make anything but raspy whistling noises for the past few days (week, months? He hadn't kept track of time). This wasn't right.

"Luce. Luce." She touched the hands that so loosely gripped her shoulders, and then she touched his chest—the bandages were still there, but they weren't dirty. They were white, and they were comfortably tight, and his ribs didn't ache... Her touch was warm against his chest, and he knew this was real. But it couldn't be.

"What in the world is going on?"

Shut up and enjoy your Christmas present, Lucifer.

"Angel!"

"Hah!" Sable cried. "I knew it! Thank you so much, Angel. So, so much." She buried her face in Luce's chest, her hands slipping underneath his wings so that she could pull him closer.

He pulled her even closer in his embrace, never wanting to let her go, even if it was a dream. "Same." He buried his face in her hair. "Thank you. You have no idea…" He shut himself up before he could let her worry about him more than she already was. "It's good to see you, even in a dream. To feel you… Emma was more right than she could possibly know when she said I didn't belong here. I miss you. I ache. I wish I could have gotten you a present."

"...I'm not going to say what I just thought of." She sat down on a bench that had just materialized behind her. Luce found himself sitting beside her, very close, and very comfortable. "You saw Emma?"

"I'd rather not talk about it--"

I'll fill you in later. Could you just ENJOY yourselves?

"Alright, Angel."

"Pushy little tyrant isn't she?" He smirked. "And you know I don't mean it, Angel."

You—know what, I'm just going to shut .

"Sorry Angel!" It was no use. They got no reply. Luce sighed. "That went well."

Sable nodded. "You know, I think we're supposed to be romantic right now. Or something. Oh goodness, this would be a bad time to have a naked-at-school dream..."

"Or it could be a really good time..." His voice lowered to that seductive Fallen purr that no one could ever hope to withstand. Sable turned bright pink and hid her face in his shoulder. "Maybe without the school, then?" She squeaked loudly and tensed, balling up even more. "Don't you dare!" she squealed. He laughed. "I know. That's what I like about you. And I missed your blush." He nuzzled her neck, enjoying the gentle thrilling of his instincts as his nose rubbed against her skin, and the satin-on-marble feeling he got when he let his lips trail across her neck. He was so in control in the dream... No blood-thirsty urges, just warmth and gentle feelings. Just love, the ability to freely show affection without care...

"I've missed this too."

She rolled her shoulders and stroked his hair. "I wish this was real..."

Luce pulled away and shook her a bit to make her look at him. "This is as real as it's going to get for a while," he said. "Might as well make the most of it."

She bit her lip and rested her head under his chin. "I will...but I still want you here, instead of a dream."

He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. "We both know I'd be in your dreams anyway."

She relaxed into his touch, and he folded his wing around her shoulders, leaning down to--

Lucifer opened his eyes, shivering. He didn't even have the miracle of her warmth still lingering in him. Not even in his imagination. His breath came out in giant white puffs—he could see it. Wait... He could see it! The light was on, dim, but it was on. After how long in the darkness, the light was on. If this was a blessing or a curse, it was easy enough to say when he saw the infamous woman standing in the doorway, her lab coat prim and starched, her long braid hanging in front of her, the dyed streaks flaunted coyly, and her tongue-ring displayed between the pearly teeth of her smile.

"Hello, Luce. My name is Karen."

Luce glared at her. He knew the story. "What do you want?" He tried clearing his throat of the gravel and gunk, but it came out as a growl. She smiled, as if just by growling he'd turned her on.

He shuddered.

"Nothing you need to worry about just yet." She turned back around, plucking a clipboard out of an assistant's hand, reading it, then glancing back over her shoulder at Luce and speaking so that her voice carried out into the corridor with a lazy drawl of one in charge, "You're sure you're done with the failure Moore?"

For a moment, Luce felt his heart still. Then he threw back his head and laughed. "Won't work, Karen." He snorted. "I don't give a shit."

"Which could be your downfall." She turned her back on him and faced the door to the wall, where a very ticked-off looking Zachary stood. "If you're done, do you mind signing him over to me? I have plans."

Zach looked ready to bite her head off. "You wait Karen. I swear…"

"You had your chance." She ripped a file from his hands. "The project is mine now."

Zachary narrowed his eyes at her. "However, I'm to be your supervisor. If I find that you're abusing the project—and that includes hearing it from his own mouth, may I remind you—if I find you breaking their rules, you're Grotesque chow."

She smiled at him. "Then I just won't break any rules then, will I? Or maybe you just won't find out. Whatever works." She shoved the file and clipboard at the same assistant from before, waving two other Fallen into the room. "Pick him up. Follow me. Don't damage him."

The Fallen kept their faces expressionless until they had their backs to her. As they bent to help Lucifer up, their eyes, flat lips or bared teeth, and the scent that rolled off of them in musky waves told him that they were really, really, pissed off as well. And afraid.

Huh, he thought to himself.

They marched/dragged/carried him off. They didn't turn their heads to look at him, but he could feel their glances whenever Karen wasn't looking. A left, a right, a left again…various ways until he was brought into another room, another cell. At least this one was cleaner. It had no window, but it had a light, and the light was on. He was placed on a cot while the other Fallen were shooed away. He just really hoped that Karen stayed on that side of the room.

As she took a step closer, he shot his most petrifying glare at her, giving her the slitted, hypnotic snake-eyed version of his more seductive gaze—and he really hoped he was right and this wasn't being seductive, because that would have defeated the purpose of having her stop moving...

Luckily, she did stop. "I wouldn't come closer if I were you," he drawled. "I smell pretty bad."

She smiled and shook her head. "That should change quickly."

"Ah, so I have a shower in order? Sounds nice."

Karen snickered. "Maybe a shower, maybe the smell will just be masked by something else, who knows?"

"Well, you should, considering you're running this gig."

"You have a very good point. Did you know that there are many…harder tests that have yet to be done on the Fallen, simply because you are useful?" She smiled at him. "And since you aren't useful now, we have a free specimen for our tests. There's no need to worry about anything like ethics then, is there?"

He shrugged. "I don't think I care."

Her smile didn't show any hint of sadism, but her scent revealed it all. She was insane. Sadistic. Much too happy. He could smell it—and he knew it. It was obvious, and part of him knew that he should be afraid. But he just couldn't bring himself to be. He was going to last. He was going to survive. He was going to remain sane and alive until he could see the light of day again, see her face, for real... He smiled right back at her. "Yeah, I really don't care."

She shrugged. "But you will. You'll be fun."

"Hit me with your best shot."

"You asked for it." As she spoke, Luce found himself being hauled away again, by another pair of Fallen, but this pair was harder. Still afraid, but putting on a face. He didn't have to put on a face of any sort. He glared at Karen until she was out of sight. She didn't spare him a glance, returning to her paperwork.

"Have fun, Lucifer."

Angel screamed.

After Luce had been woken up, she'd gotten out of her sleeping bag and snuck out of the attic to get some fresh air. She just couldn't seem to fall asleep, and it was stuffy in the attic—and she was feeling uneasy. At first, she thought it was a burst of claustrophobia. Once she'd gotten outside and flown around a bit she realized that it wasn't just claustrophobia and it was something else. She tried expanding her mind to check on every one of the people she could find, but all of the people who were living in Sable's house were fine (with the minor exception of Sable, who was having a small nightmare about falling off of a high cliff into darkness).

Angel checked on Steph's house next—everyone except Lily was alright. The baby was having a tantrum, and Mason was trying to soothe her. Jeb was up in his room, searching for something that he wasn't thinking directly about at the moment. Everything was okay there.

So what was wrong?

Angel broadened her focus and a wave of agony sent her a few feet lower in the air. ITEX was performing experiments as usual, children were being frightened by nightmares, parents arguing, older siblings; gangs were fighting, crimes were being conducted... But as she surveyed each and every incident, she couldn't find what was happening.

She peeked in on ITEX and began searching. There was the receptionist, who was falling asleep and wishing for a cup of coffee, but the machine was broken. Then there were the Grotesques—Angel stayed away from them—and most of the Fallen were gathered in their joint-quarters. Their thoughts were hushed and full of fear and anger. Something was wrong, but she couldn't lock onto any of their minds.

She went to Lucy next.

Hey, Lucy... Something's wrong, but I don't know what, do you—

It's Lucifer!Lucy's thoughts as a visual learner, charged with emotion, flared in bold mental words that flashed and pulsed in front of Angel's eyes. Karen's trying to take over Lucifer's experiment!

Angel's mind snapped to focus on three people: Lucifer, Karen, and Zachary. Zachary noticed her urgent whisper of Hey! And he hid his face in papers, making it look like he was focusing on important issues while replying,

Angel, what the hell are you doing talking to me?

Lucifer, something's wrong. What's happening?

Because I supposedly mishandled his project, Lucifer was signed off to Karen. I have no control over her. The most I can do is make sure that if she breaks the rules, he's handed to a gentler handler. But I can't do anything until I'm alerted to it—and that doesn't mean you, if you're thinking that.

Angel would have remarked that he talked too much, but she needed that information. Something's happening, I'm going to find out. I'll send...someone, Zoë, or someone to find evidence.

She left his mind before he could answer and tried to find Lucifer. He was just being strapped into a strange machine that the other Fallen, who were handling him, had no ideas about. They greeted her with mental pleas for her to help Lucifer. Their faces and actions betrayed no emotion, but inside both of them were frantic and panicking. They wanted to help, wanted to sabotage the machine, but because they didn't know what it was or how it worked, they couldn't do anything for fear of causing Lucifer further injury. They couldn't do anything, they cried, but she could!

I know, Angel replied. Just leave, and get Zoë ready for me. They assented walked out and headed back to their quarters to find the Fallen girl she was asking for. Angel cupped Luce's fragile mind in her consciousness. Lucifer, she called. Luce, something bad is going to happen. I can't stop it. I have to let something happen for Karen to be sent away—Zachary needs to have the evidence to prove that she's not capable—or too capable, either way she'll be sent away. I'm sorry, but you've got to be strong.

Lucifer sent an affirmative. I promise I'll survive.

I'll tell Sable--

Angel. There's no need. I'll survive.

She took a deep breath and began searching for a landing place. I'm going to be there with you. Just hold on to my mind. There, that flat place by the trees, the little meadow, before the cliff. If she went insane, she wouldn't fall off. If something happened, she could take off quickly. It was isolated, and there wasn't a creature in sight or telepathic range. She touched down and curled up, preparing herself for whatever tortures were waiting for Luce. Brushing across the nearby minds in search of some hint to what was actually going to happen, she found her answers in not Karen--who was obsessing over paperwork, but in of all people, the Voice.

Angel, he said. I forbid you from watching this.

No, Angel protested, Jeb--

Angel. This is not Jeb, and this is not a command. This is a warning. If you ignore me, I will shut off the link.

Angel spread her consciousness in all directions, as far as she could go, in search for a mind that had the same tune as the Voice. I'm not going to let you stop me, she snarled. This is my friend. I have to keep him strong--

I can do that.

But I don't know who you are. You could be an enemy!

I am not an enemy, Angel. I am a friend. Just trust me: Lucifer will live. He will live, and he will keep his sanity. But you will not witness what is about to happen. You have two minutes till I shut off the link.

Angel's grip on her knees tightened painfully. And if I refuse and try to fight you? I can deal with pain. I can keep my mind attached to Luce's.

Angel... If I showed you what the aftermath of this evening's experiment is, will you leave?

NO.

If I showed you what will happen—from an outsider's eyes, and not from Luce's mind? I cannot have you view it from his mind. You' will go insane, even if he does not. He has endured much, much more than you or your flock mates ever have. You cannot handle what he can, the intensity of his emotions or his pain.

But you can?

Yes.

Angel could see that she wasn't going to win this battle. She gritted her teeth and clenched her muscles, pulling her wings as close to her body as she could. She tried to prepare her stomach for the worst that she could imagine, and beyond. The Voice wasn't joking, whoever he was.

Show me, and I'll stay out of it.

The Voice seemed to sigh, and she felt the mind behind it tremble. As she was closing her eyes, she felt ice settle upon the area, beyond the cold of the antarctic or the ocean floor, it was an unimaginable cold... The cold was familiar to her. She felt the scream rising in her throat from just that.

And he hadn't even shown her yet.

I'm sorry, he apologized.

And then, Angel screamed.

When Karen came back to the room, the lights were off. Her high heels made little sloshing noises, not just clicks, as she drew closer to the cot, and she frowned. The place reeked even more than it had before, and she'd made it very clear that the smell was supposed to have been gone by the time she got back—and the light was supposed to stay on. She found the light switch and flipped it up, and once she'd done so she couldn't help but giggle a bit at the ecstasy she felt bubbling up in her chest.

The wall in front of her was splattered with blood.

Karen imagined that maybe he'd fought, even after the experiment; that his wings had thrashed, and the blood had splattered like an artist throwing paint with a paintbrush. She trembled giddily at the thought of the blood on the floor coming all from the Fallen. She knew he wouldn't die from the blood loss, because, of the tests that they had been allowed to perform on the Fallen, that had been one of them. But the sight of the scarlet liquid was strangely arousing. She spun around, dragging her shoe and sending up a crest of the sticky stuff. It was beautiful. And the sight of him laying there, soaked and still dripping...!

"Are you done with your pleasures?" Emma, her little star prodigy, had no emotion on her face as she appeared by the doorway. "Moore wants to speak with you. He thinks he's found a loophole."

Karen scowled. "No, I am not done. Tell that little twit..." She shook her head violently. "Never mind. I'll tell him myself—but this room and its occupant are not to be disturbed except by medical personnel."

Emma shrugged. "I'm not security." Karen stormed past her, and Emma followed. Luce lay on the cot the entire time, hearing the exchange, and feeling like he was drowning in his own blood the entire time. He listened at Karen's quick pace down the hall, and Emma's quieter, less anxious one. There was a clearing of a throat as he felt hands on him, touching him. He jerked away.

"Hush! I'm not her. I'm just checking your wounds." The voice was feminine, familiar—Fallen.

"Ughnn..." Zoë!

"Quiet! I'm not here for lunch. You would probably taste bad anyway." He whimpered as her fingers strayed across his neck, and then let out a piercing whine as she tilted his face towards her, clearing his nose of blood—but opening the wounds. She didn't make any sound, and didn't smell of shock or fear. Just disgust. "You're never going to look the same, Luce." He didn't care. It just hurt. It just hurt, so much, he wanted to die. He wished she'd just kill him. But he had to survive... He had to...

She lay his cheek back down on the bloody floor, and he wanted to cry from how much it stung. He didn't. He couldn't.

"You've lost so much blood," she remarked, and her shoes made louder sloshing sounds than Karen's as she walked around to his other side. She attempted to extend his wing, but he shrieked plaintively and the wing wouldn't open far. "Luce, I need to see your wing."

He couldn't move it. Much like how he'd once forgotten how to move his fingers on a cold evening, he'd forgotten how to move his wings on his own. He couldn't find the right nerves, the right muscles. They had a mind of their own, and they weren't going to budge. Luce sobbed as she put a hand on his shoulder blade, grabbed his wing from underneath, and began to stretch.

There was a sickening popping sound, and then she eased the wing back to his body. Instead of snapping back as a healthy-but-slightly-injured wing would have, it fell limply to the floor, trembling uselessly in the pool of blood. More of the red fluid dripped from the inside of the wing and into the puddle with little plinking drops.

Zoë began backing out, and only paused to take off her shoes with trembling hands and wrap it in her stained lab coat. "I'm going to go now, Luce. Just hang in there." Her voice trembled, and he could smell how sickened she was. In fact, he could hear the echoes as she ducked into a restroom and vomitted. He didn't know everything that was wrong with him, he'd lost track—and thankfully, consciousness, at one point. But now he sort of wished he had a checklist. He didn't know how extensive it was, if it was potentially fatal... Was he going to die? The blackness he saw instead of the room, which he knew was lit up, was terrifying. He'd never been so afraid of the dark.

Was he going to die?

He couldn't.

He couldn't...