~Crown of Thorns~

By: Aerys Krystie.

oOo

Back in Beacon Hills, Jackson got a ride with Laura back to the Hale manor. The police had cleared them, not even glancing at Jackson when they saw he was presenting as human. Laura was cleared, as her last name was Hale and the last thing the police wanted was to face their wrath. Adrian Harris was just another death at a fundraiser, which was sad.

Jackson had no idea why he was wanted at the Hale manor. He had done his job. All he needed to do was wait for a confirmation email or text, telling him that his payment had gone through and he could get back to being a teenager. He watched as the trees flew by, Laura apparently seeing a speed limit as a challenge. Jackson shifted in the seat, feeling a burning sensation on his back. His wings were getting restless being locked away, which was beginning to annoy the ever-loving crap out of him.

Talia opened the door and the sun bounced off her deep purple horns, which reminded Jackson of blackberry branches. Her tail was coiled around her leg as she smiled at Laura and then Jackson. Rolling his shoulders, Jackson approached the matriarch of the Hale house and shook her hand. Her eyes were on the ethereal wings of Jackson and her eyes danced. For some reason, she was always taken with his wings. Jackson wasn't sure if it was polite to ask.

"Welcome home," Talia said and stepped to the side, letting them into the house. Jackson removed his jacket and hung it from the coatrack. "Jackson, if you go down the hall and to the left, you'll find the library."

Jackson nodded and followed her directions, finding that the library was the second door on the left. Entering the room, Jackson's eyes widened when he saw the books. The library was massive, taking up both floors. Ladders and staircases took people up to the second level. The shelves were a beautiful deep brown and highly polished. Eyes full of wonder and appreciation, Jackson felt himself floating up to the topmost shelf and taking a bird's eye view of the room.

"I didn't know you could fly."

Jackson plummeted back to the floor and snapped his wings, slowing his descent. He landed on his feet and glared up at the idiot that distracted him. Talia's brother stood up there, smirking down at him, before he made his way down a staircase. Peter Hale was the one that did most of the dirty work for the Hale family. Jackson admired his methods, even if he didn't have a strong opinion of the demonesque. After a fire a few years ago, Peter wasn't able to resume his role as enforcer for the Hale family.

"Fallens are full of surprises," Peter said as he stood in front of Jackson and extended a hand.

Jackson shook his hand and then crossed his arms. "Something else I can help you with?" he asked as he checked his vibrating phone. Stiles was asking questions again. Jackson told him he would see him in a little bit.

"How about a contract?" Peter asked and Jackson raised an eyebrow.

"I just finished one," Jackson said.

Peter chuckled and beckoned Jackson to follow him. They moved through the shelves and Jackson found Derek resting against a desk, arms crossed over his chest and legs crossed at the ankles. Dressed in jeans, off-white v-neck and boots, he managed to look suave as well as intimidating. Peter left them alone and Jackson watched him go, curious on what this other contract was.

Derek raised his head when the door to the library closed, fixing Jackson with a stare. "I figured you were a Fallen," he said.

"Disappointed?" Jackson asked as he looked around the office space.

"You did your job," Derek answered, voice monotone, though his eyes were definitely on Jackson's wings. "Laura said you handled yourself very professionally, despite your age."

Jackson snorted and turned around. "I've been doing this since I was fourteen. You think this is the first contract I've had where it was at a fundraiser? The only difference was this one was in New York, instead of the Cayman Islands," he said.

Derek raised an eyebrow. "That was you? You slit his throat in front of sixty witnesses and no one saw a thing."

Jackson smirked, wings arching proudly behind him. "That's because no one pays attention to the human in the room," he stated and crossed in front of Derek, going to the window that overlooked the side of the house.

"How long have you been registered?" Derek asked, still in the same monotone voice.

"Since I was fourteen," Jackson answered and turned around. "Is that what you really care about? You wanna shoot the shit with a Fallen?"

Derek's eyes went to Jackson's wings. "May I?" he asked.

Jackson pulled his wings back and shook his head. The last time his wings touched Derek, they released and coated everyone in blood. "No."

Derek nodded, eyes moving to Jackson's face. "We were hoping to get you to sign a contract with us," he said and Jackson tilted his head, stepping away from the window.

"I don't need to sign contracts. Just send me a text and I'll see if my schedule is free," he said.

Derek pushed off the desk and stepped around it. "Not that kind of contract," he explained. "Have a seat."

Jackson glanced at the chairs in front of the desk and shook his head. "I'm fine, thank you." He rolled his shoulders, feeling a strange burning sensation. It was…very similar to the first time his wings manifested. "Make this quick," he snapped.

Derek frowned at him, but pulled a file from a drawer and held it out. "Get your father to look this over," he said.

Jackson grabbed the file, shoulders jerking. He glanced at the file. "What's the contract about?" he asked, ignoring the way his wings moved around in their cage.

Derek moved around the desk, looking him over. "We'd like to keep you on staff," he said. "Are you okay?"

Jackson stepped back from the demonesque and nodded. "I'm fine. What do you mean? I can't…" He pursed his lips, holding back a whimper and moved further from Derek. "Fuck."

"What's wrong?"

Jackson's eyes widened as Derek was in front of him in an instant. His hand reached for a shoulder. "Don't—!" He broke off into a scream as Derek touched his shoulder and his wings ripped through his back.

On his hands and knees, Jackson panted, wings flapping behind him to remove the blood. He heard Derek curse and run from the library. Jackson focused on keeping his wings behind him, as he didn't want to cause any damage to the office space. Well, any more damage than he had already done with his blood. He kept his eyes open, knowing that he was about to pass out from the pain. He really hated that Derek forced his wings out.

His head was forced up and he looked into the blurry face of Derek. "Open your mouth," he said. Jackson's eyes fluttered, but his lips parted. Something floral hit his tongue and he forced his throat to work, swallowing the potion. "One more," Derek said, forcing Jackson onto his knees, arm around his shoulders, supporting him.

As the first potion moved through his system, Jackson opened his mouth again and swallowed the second one. His head fell back and he closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the potions move through him and soothe the pain in his back. He fell forward, head resting on a warm shoulder that was covered in soft cotton. It felt nice and it smelled just as good. He could feel a hand touching the feathers of his wing and his eyes flew open, pulling back entirely. The last thing he wanted was for Derek to lose a hand to his wings.

"I know you prefer angelesques doing this," Derek said as he opened the yellow potion. Jackson stared at his hands, which were fine. "But we don't have one here. I mean, I can call someone."

Jackson took the hand that was around him. The sleeve was soaked in his blood, staring at it and frowning. Derek had touched his wings. He had felt his feathers moving around the hand. He knew Derek hadn't meant to touch his wing, as he was just trying to support him, but that hand should still be shredded.

"Um…" Derek cleared his throat and Jackson looked up. "You're still bleeding."

Jackson nodded and stood, lowering his wings and wrapping them around his ribs. He turned his back to Derek and felt the coolness of the potion being poured onto the wounds. He would need to walk home, as he wasn't going to risk tearing open the healing wounds. He heard Derek step back and he reseated his wings, letting them flap a little. Being pulled in that direction was always painful.

"Thanks," Jackson said and glanced over his shoulder. "I'll pay for the cleaning bill and…" He looked around, seeing that many of the books were covered with his blood. "And I'll pay for whatever books need to be replaced. I'm sorry about that."

"It's fine. How are you feeling?"

Jackson heard the vials clinking and turned around, making sure his wings were up. "Fine. Embarrassed as hell, but fine. The pain isn't there."

Derek nodded, eyes on the feathers. "When was the last time they were oiled?"

Jackson lowered his eyes. "A long while ago," he answered.

"Did you want me to get Doctor Deaton here?" Derek asked, eyes fixed on the topmost feathers.

"Actually… Could you get Stiles? He knows how…to do it without making me want to murder him." Jackson stared at Derek's boots, which were covered with his blood.

"Of course. Did you want to wait in here or would you prefer the living room, where you can watch something while you wait?"

The boots moved closer and Jackson felt the need to purr as a hand landed on his shoulder. He swallowed, tongue running along his lower lip, not sure if he should ask what was going through his mind. "Unless… Unless you wouldn't mind doing it?"

The hand was removed and the boots stepped back. "I don't think that's a good idea," he said softly and Jackson nodded.

"I can walk to Stiles' from here."

"No, you can't. You've got two open wounds on your back, Jackson. Just… Follow me into the living room."

Jackson's wings wrapped around his body as he followed Derek out of the library, down the hallway, up another and into the living room. He stood behind the sofa, watching as the TV came on. He grabbed his phone and texted his father, letting him know that he was at the Hale manor and would likely not be home until very late. He locked his phone and slipped it into his pocket again, watching as Derek flipped through the channels.

"Anything will do. Can you get Laura to pick up Stiles? She drives like a demon."

"Sure," Derek said, stopping on a channel dedicated to painting.

Jackson lowered his eyes as Derek walked by him. When he was alone, he looked at the screen. He tilted his head, watching as the man painted a beautiful landscape with only a few strokes of a brush. His eyes widened when he saw a lake appearing in the center of the painting, again with only a few strokes of a brush. It looked so simple and so easy to recreate. The method didn't really require a bunch of little details, all of them there almost instantly.

By the time the second episode finished, Jackson's wings had relaxed slightly. They weren't hugging him as tightly as they were in the library, which changed the moment Derek entered the living room again. His wings clamped up. Derek noticed and kept his distance, placing a glass of orange juice on the table.

"I figured you might need that. You lost…"

"A lot of blood," Jackson finished and nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the TV screen. "Thanks."

"Having your wings around your body like that can't be good for the wounds," Derek said and Jackson glanced at him. His eyes were fixed on the joints attached to Jackson's shoulder-blades.

"It's fine," Jackson said. "Were you able to get ahold call Stiles?"

"Yeah…" Derek's lips pursed for a moment. "He was…engaged when I called. So I called Doctor Deaton. He'll be here in a few minutes." There was a silence after Jackson nodded. "Why did you—?"

"Exsanguination induced insanity," Jackson said, keeping his eyes on the TV, feeling his wings pulling more tightly around his body. "Let's just pretend it didn't happen."

Derek swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, sounds good. Um… When your wings have been…groomed, I can show you to a bathroom."

Jackson dropped his head and closed his eyes. He managed to make things super awkward between them, because he wanted to know if Derek could actually touch his wings without gloves. And because he definitely wanted to feel Derek's hands on those glands. He was the one that kept reminding himself that he was sixteen and Derek could get into trouble if they did anything. Plus, he had no idea how many suitors Derek actually had. Some going as far as to dose him up with a potion.

Sighing softly, Jackson opened his eyes. He had put Derek in a horrible position. "Derek," he said and looked at the demonesque. "I'm sorry. I should not have asked that of you."

"You're right, you shouldn't have." Derek stared at him. "So why did you?"

"Your hand," Jackson said and stared at it. He finally saw that Derek had cleaned up and changed shirts. "I felt it touch my wing."

Derek looked at his hand and frowned. "That's impossible. No one can touch a Fallen's wings without protection. Not if they don't want to lose a few fingers."

Jackson nodded and returned his eyes to the TV, watching as a cabin was created with just a few strokes of a palette knife. "I must have been feeling things, then," he said. "Again, I'm really sorry."

"It's all right. Knowing you thought you felt my hand on your wing makes a lot of sense."

Jackson looked at Derek, seeing a lazy smile on his face. The tension finally released from his body and his wings settled behind him. Things weren't going to be weird between them. At least he could properly blame the blood loss and Derek probably would, as well. Thankfully, Alan was rushed into the living room by Talia and Jackson smiled at him. It had been several months since Alan needed to oil his wings.

"I think the last time I saw you in this state was after your first manifestation," Alan said as he pulled on the metal gloves and stood behind Jackson. "Do you mind if I check them first?"

"Go for it. They probably need it."

Jackson heard the familiar sparking of metal on his feathers. Alan hummed as he tested the joints of the wings and checked the feathers. "Despite needing a groom, they're still in great shape. They're strong and fully developed, as they were two years ago. They're a little bigger, growing to fit your frame and because you can fly."

Jackson nodded, glancing at Talia and Derek. The Hales were standing in the living room threshold, watching the way the sparks flew from his wings. He figured if he saw a Fallen getting a wing examination, he would be curious about it, as well. He glanced at Derek, curious about his horns. He had seen everyone else's, except Derek's and he was wondering why he hid them.

"Stretch them for me, please," Alan said, standing back. Jackson folded his wings back and out. "Beautiful. And to the sides, like you're peacocking."

Jackson cleared his throat and glanced around the living room. "I can't," he said and blushed. "My wings are too big for this room."

"Stretch them out as far as you're comfortable."

Jackson bit his lower lip and nodded, stretching his wings to about half their length. He glanced at Talia and Derek. Talia smiled, running her eyes over them. Derek stared at him, running his eyes over his body, before he turned around and left the room. The sparking on his wings had Jackson blinking and looked over his shoulder. Alan was testing his joint, moving the wing back and forth.

"They're in great shape." Jackson settled his wings and Alan glanced at Talia. "May we have the use of a bathroom for the oiling?"

"Of course," Talia answered with a smile.

Jackson and Alan followed her down the hallway and both entered the bathroom. Jackson gripped the vanity as Alan stood behind him. He felt the metal fingers moving under his feathers and he cried out as the gland was massaged for a few seconds. Jackson closed his eyes as Alan moved to the left wing. His grip tightened as the gland was worked and he was moaning, knees weak and erection painful in his jeans. He knew his sword was hovering by his hip, waiting for him to grip it and attack the one that had touched him.

"I'm sorry," Alan whispered as he moved around Jackson's wings and ran from the bathroom.

Jackson fell to his knees, arms still up on the vanity as he shuddered, feeling a cool breeze tickling his feathers. He opened his eyes and stumbled to his feet again. He winced as he saw the damage his wings did to the tiles of the bathroom and figured that was another thing he would need to pay for. Maybe it would be best if he didn't receive his payment for the Harris job. It seemed all of it was going back into the Hale house.

Glancing at his feathers, Jackson was grateful to see that the topmost feathers were enjoying the oil that was spreading over them. Once they were sitting flat, he opened the door and froze when he found Derek standing outside, eyes lowered. Jackson's eyes dropped to the towel in his hand and a pair of jeans in the other. He looked up and cocked an eyebrow, waiting for Derek to say or do something.

Derek finally raised his eyes, looking at the wings. He held up the towel and jeans. "I figured it wouldn't be good to get into the bloodied clothes after you're clean," he said softly.

Jackson nodded and took the towel and jeans, stepping back into the bathroom. He closed the door and stripped out of his clothes, turning on the shower. He washed quickly and stepped out, drying his legs and pulling on the jeans, which needed a belt. He sighed and dried his hair, before he opened the door, keeping the towel over his head as there was nowhere else for him to place it.

Checking his phone, Jackson saw that Stiles had message him, apologizing. His father let him know that Talia had messaged him to notify him of his wings releasing. Jackson was nervous to go home, now. His parents would want to know why his wings released. Jackson wished he had an answer for them. He wasn't entirely sure why his wings kept releasing at odd times and they were his wings.

"Oh wow," Cora breathed and Jackson looked up. Cora was staring at his wings. "They're even prettier after they've been groomed. And they look so soft."

Jackson chuckled dryly. "They aren't, trust me," he said and Cora blinked, looking at him. "A Fallen's wings are also a weapon to use against others."

"So you are Fallen?" she asked and Jackson raised an eyebrow. "I figured, since you came home with Laura, but you could've been coming to visit Derek or Mom." She shrugged.

Jackson nodded. He guessed she would have assumed he was Fallen. Most of the school probably thought he was Fallen, if they listened to Matt Daehler and his insane theories. "I can't remember where the living room is. There's a glass of orange juice in there that I think might literally have my name on it."

Cora grinned and turned around, leading the way down the hallway, up another and into the living room. The orange juice was still on the coffee table and Jackson drank it, sighing. That was some good juice. Cora beckoned him to follow her again and he did, going to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and handed him the bottle of orange juice. Jackson grinned and refilled the glass.

Jackson turned around, trying to find somewhere to sit and let his wings rest. He heard Cora wince and turned again. Her eyes were wide and Jackson assumed she saw the gashes on his back and didn't realize how bad they were. He wasn't sure how much she saw at last year's Fourth of July. He wasn't sure how much anyone saw last year, surprised that Mister Martin didn't bring it up.

"I really don't pity angelesques," Cora said as she closed the fridge and beckoned Jackson over to the table in the kitchen. She sat down and Jackson remained standing. "You can sit."

"I can't," Jackson said and sipped the juice. "If I do, my wings will destroy something."

"Oh…right. What do your parents do when this happens?"

"Metal coverings," Jackson answered with a shrug.

Cora narrowed her eyes slightly. Jackson's eyes widened when he felt the floorboards under his feet change. The wood was replaced with metal and the chairs changed. The table had a metal edge placed around it. She sat back and smirked, gesturing at a chair. Jackson let his wings sit normally and slipped onto one of the chairs, ignoring the way his feathers sparked against the metal.

"I don't mean for this to sound rude, but how are you Fallen?" she asked, eyes on Jackson's wings.

"I received a different grace," Jackson answered with a shrug. "My grace isn't unique to me, like other angelesques. It's more like the grace is borrowing my body."

"That doesn't sound…awesome." Cora sighed and crossed her arms on the table, gazing at Jackson.

"It really isn't at times. Completing contracts, plus school is exhausting at times." Jackson's wings flapped behind him and he glanced around. Derek entered the kitchen, freezing when he saw the metal.

"Jackson's wings could destroy the entire house," Cora explained as Jackson lowered his head. "I figured he could relax a little if there was metal to stop that from happening."

Derek nodded as he walked over to Cora and kissed the top of her head. "That was sweet of you," he said and went to the coffee brewer, grabbing a mug. "Jackson, Mom messaged your parents and they said you can stay here tonight, while your back heals."

"I'm almost certain Stiles can take me home, once he's finished doing whatever it is he's doing," Jackson said, staring into his orange juice. "I can't expect you guys to Fallen-proof your house. My parents already have this routine ready."

"It isn't a problem," Cora said, smiling. "Follow me. I'll show you the guest room!"

Jackson blinked as Cora grabbed his arm, pulling him from the chair. He raised his wings and 'followed' her down the hallway, down another and into a room that had carpet, a large bed and a large window that looked out into the woodland. It was beautiful, in earth tones and he didn't want to destroy the Hale manor more than he already had. The bedframe was wood, which would be chipped at by his wings during the night.

Shaking his head, Jackson backed out of the room. "No, it's okay. I should probably destroy my bedroom, rather than your guest room," he said, holding his hands up as Cora spun around, hands on her hips.

"It isn't a problem," Derek said and Jackson spun around, his wing taking a chunk of wood from the door. Cora and Derek stared at it. "Okay, maybe a slight problem."

"I'm sorry." Jackson raised his wings, keeping them behind him. They were almost in the angry position.

"It's all right," Derek said with a smile. "When Peter gets home, he can put up a protection spell. He's good with those." He glanced at the door and the missing chunk was replaced. "And we can fix whatever you break before then."

Cora's phone rang. "Oh, it's Mel! I'll leave you to convince him to stay the night," she said and slipped out of the room, answering her phone.

Jackson raised an eyebrow, waiting for Derek to use his demonesque speech abilities to convince him. "Is there some way you can convince me to stay?"

"I would say a sparring match," Derek said and smirked. "But you're healing and your wings could probably kill me."

"I think that just means you need to be on your toes a little more," Jackson said, wings flapping at the idea of sparring with Derek again.

Derek shook his head. "I'll go for your weak spot, which is your back." He ran his eyes over Jackson's body, staring at his hips. "Besides, I don't think those jeans will stay up during the fight."

Jackson shrugged. "So get me a belt. It's been a while since I was challenged."

Derek raised his eyes. "That's because we never see you. You're always out on a contract or with your friends. I can't challenge you if I don't see you."

"Get me a belt."

Derek nodded and Jackson heard him run upstairs. Jackson went to the front hall, rocking on his feet. Derek came back down a few minutes later and tossed a belt to Jackson. He slipped it through the loops and buckled it, pushing his wings back as he opened the front door. Walking down the steps, his sword materialized by his right hip. Derek stood opposite him, sword by his left hip.

Jackson frowned as Derek's whip hovered by his right hip. It wasn't purely leather, most of it was metal. Derek smirked and gripped the whip, cracking it and wrapping it around Jackson. He heard his wings sparking on the metal as it tightened around him. He tried to grab his sword, but the whip tightened again. Growling, Jackson brought his foot up onto the whip and pushed down on it, ripping the handle from Derek's hand. The whip fell from his body and he gripped his sword, charging at Derek.

The demonesque grinned, spinning to the left, his sword sparking over Jackson's wing. Jackson looked up to see the confused expression on Derek's face. "They can stop bullets, as well," he said and punched Derek.

Going in for another punch, Jackson huffed as his fist was caught. Derek smirked and turned Jackson around, pulling him against his body. The wings shredded the shirt he wore. "You're going easy on me, Whittemore," he murmured, hot breath washing over Jackson's ear. "Don't."

Jackson turned around when he was pushed away. He stared at the ruined shirt that Derek was removing and frowned when he saw that the torso was fine. Pushing that to the side, he got in his stance as Derek recalled his whip to his side. The whip cracked and Jackson rushed in, not letting it wrap around him again. Derek's eyes widened a moment, before his sword came up. Jackson grinned, gripping his second, which cut the whip and kicked Derek back.

Derek growled and Jackson's eyes watched his movements. As it was when he challenged Scott, Derek's power in his swings was incredible. His wings came forward, protecting him and Jackson cried out as he felt the vibrations move down the bones in his wings and into his shoulders. He pulled his wings back and brought his swords up, blocking another attack, which went straight down his arms and into his already throbbing shoulders.

Jackson's swords fell from his hands as his shoulders gave out. Derek's weapons vanished and he stepped around Jackson, checking his back. The wings fluttered, before they wrapped around Jackson's shoulders and gave Derek a better view of the wounds. Jackson couldn't feel any blood and assumed his shoulders were still sensitive from the releasing. He didn't say any of that, as Derek's fingers felt nice on his skin.

"I think we'll have to call it here," Derek said and Jackson nodded. "By the way, you owe me a new shirt."

Jackson turned around, running his eyes over Derek's naked torso. "Good thing they didn't destroy all your clothing, then." He looked up and smirked. "Even better that they didn't destroy your good looks."

Derek blinked and stepped back, looking down at his torso. Jackson figured he was trying to piece together what was being said. Derek's jeans should have been shredded as much as his shirt was. Jackson wasn't entirely sure why his jeans were still on, but he was grateful for it. He had no doubt that if Derek was naked, he would probably jump the demonesque and get both of them in trouble.

Jackson rolled his shoulders, wincing as the bone hissed at him. He picked up his swords and they vanished from his hand. "I think I might just rest out here for a little bit," he said as he sat down, ignoring the chill of the snow melting under him.

"You can't rest out here, Jackson," Derek said as he moved around and crouched in front of him. "It's going to snow again and we don't need you getting hypothermia."

Jackson groaned, knowing that Derek was right. He didn't want to get hypothermia, either, but he didn't want to move. Moving meant his shoulders would move and that was painful enough. He also knew he shouldn't be outside without shoes on, shirtless… Jackson frowned down at himself and realized that his wings released at the most inopportune times of the year. The last time he was out in that weather was when Cora found him, walking a tree branch and trying to think of a way to never release his wings again.

As though to prove a point, a cool breeze swept past them. Jackson shivered as the chill went into the open wounds on his back and he nodded at Derek. He would have to deal with destroying the Hale manor a little, until Peter returned and could cast his protection spells. He rubbed his feet for a moment and stood up, gasping as Derek grabbed his arms and lifted him to his back easily.

Jackson's wings wrapped around Derek as he wrapped his arms around Derek's shoulders. "Thanks," he said softly, fingertips moving over the collarbones.

Derek glanced at the large black wings that were encasing him. "It wouldn't do well for you to lose your feet. I think you need those for the contracts," he said, unable to fight off a shiver.

Jackson's legs tightened their hold around Derek's waist as they went up to the porch. Despite being shirtless, Derek was wonderfully warm against the chill of the wind. For a few moments, he was able to ignore the pain of the wind going into his wounds. He turned his head, pressing his face into the side of Derek's throat and closed his eyes, knowing he could happily fall asleep like that.

"Wings back," Derek said and Jackson forced his eyes to open. He pulled his wings back and Derek opened the front door, entering the warm house. Jackson shivered and tightened his limbs around Derek. He was taken to the guest room and Jackson saw the familiar chainmail bed protector. "I think you need some sleep. We'll wake you for dinner, if you're up for it."

Jackson nodded and slipped off Derek's back. He set up the bedcovers, mostly to warm his feet and arranged the chainmail protector. He slipped under and pulled the pillows down, resting his arms under them. "Thanks," he said and closed his eyes, letting sleep claim him.


When Jackson opened his eyes, it was because someone had entered the room. His head was turned away from the door and his shoulders tensed slightly. His wings flapped and he jumped from the bed, tackling the person in the room, sword to their throat. His wings sat behind him, large and imposing as the moonlight showed a stubbled jawline and full lips. Jackson tilted his head and looked around the room, trying to remember where he was.

"You really can't sneak up on a Fallen," Derek murmured and Jackson returned his eyes to the lips that were pulled up into a sly smile.

Jackson stood up, sword vanishing from his hand. "Sorry," he said and rubbed his eyes. "Is it time for dinner?" He offered his hand to Derek, who grabbed it.

"Actually, I came in to check up on you. You slept through dinner. Laura thought you were dead." Derek turned on the light and moved behind Jackson, checking the wounds. "I think next time we spar, we make sure you're not injured. You slept through everything, including Stiles coming in to check up on."

Jackson nodded and yawned. "Yeah, the releasing usually knocks me out for a few hours. The only time you can sneak up on a Fallen," he said and waited for Derek to move before he flapped his wings. His shoulders were healed and he retracted his wings. "Thanks for letting me sleep it off here."

Derek gently touched around the healing wounds, glancing up when Jackson turned his head. "You don't have to leave. It's midnight."

"Yeah, I should probably leave," Jackson said, bringing his ethereal wings out. "Take the money you need for repairs out of my payment. You can drop the contract off later today, so my father can go through it."

Jackson left the guest room and made his way to the front hall. He unlocked the front door and stepped out into the chilly night, shivering. Flying through that didn't seem like a good idea, but it was much better than walking through the snow with bare feet.

"Did you want a lift?" Derek asked as he stood beside Jackson, who was staring at the snow on the ground.

Jackson shook his head, swallowing thickly at the idea of being in a small, enclosed space with Derek. "I'm fine. Just wasn't expecting to be so cold tonight."

"Then let me drive you home. It can't be good to fly through this."

Jackson heard keys jingling and bit the inside of his lip. He sighed and nodded, stepping onto the snow, walking along the top of it, letting his wings keep him from touching it too much. He saw the lights of a black Mustang flashing and slipped into the passenger seat. He shivered as the heat came through almost immediately after the car started and he wondered if Derek knew he would be driving him home.

Derek twisted in his seat, placing his arm on the passenger seat. Jackson gasped as the fingers touched his wing and Derek froze, staring at him with wide eyes. "Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

Jackson nodded. He wasn't angry about the touch. He wanted more of it and pushed his wings back. "It's fine," he said and looked out the window.

Derek backed the car up and straightened. "Does it hurt when someone touches them?" he asked as he moved into gear and flipped on the headlights.

"You're the first to touch them in their ethereal form," Jackson said, suddenly feeling the way Danny did last year when Derek visited. His hands were clasped in his lap, trying to force back the hard on. "It's different when Doc Deaton and Stiles oil my wings." He lowered his eyes. "What's it like if someone touches your horns?"

"I don't know. I don't show them for a reason." Derek glanced at Jackson. "Just like you don't show your halo."

"I don't show my halo so people don't know what I really am." Jackson sighed quietly. "It's bad enough being known as Disgraced. If they knew I was Fallen…"

Derek nodded. "You don't want them fearing you?"

Jackson lowered his eyes. "They fear me already. They fear that I might be Fallen, just hiding my halo. They fear that my Disgraced grace will get out of hand and kill them. They fear that I'll snap and go on a killing spree, just because." He brought his feet onto the seat. "Thankfully, I still have Danny. I've also got Stiles and… Well, Scott is shit scared of me now, because of you." He turned his head and stared at Derek. "What was that about?"

Derek's shoulders tensed, despite him trying to relax in the seat. "It was a mistake," he said, glaring ahead.

Jackson frowned slightly as he saw Derek's eyes turn red for a moment. "If it was, it cost me a friend. He doesn't even want me training him after what you did to him."

Derek's eyes lowered for a moment, before they returned to the road. "Sorry about that."

Jackson shrugged a shoulder. "He won her father over," he said.

"That's why he wanted to train with you?" Derek asked and shook his head. "Maybe he forgot that angelesques and demonesques pick mates based on battle skills. Allison is – not surprising – too good for Scott. He's nowhere near her level."

"Maybe she has a mentor fantasy she wants to play out," Jackson suggest, laughing when Derek glanced at him sharply. "It's a popular fantasy, if the porn sites are anything to go by."

"You watch a lot of porn, then?" Derek asked with a smirk, turning onto Jackson's street.

"I'm a Fallen. I don't have the time to think about porn. Besides…" Jackson tilted his head back and gazed at Derek. "My imagination is far better than anything in a porn video."

"I'll take your word for it," Derek said as he pulled up in front of Jackson's house. "I believe this is you."

Jackson undid the seatbelt. He leaned over the center console and kissed the corner of Derek's mouth, smirking as he jumped and stared at him. "Thanks," he said as he pulled back and slipped out of the car.

Walking up to the front door, Jackson ran his tongue along his lip. Derek certainly tasted better than he thought he would. He grinned and shook his head, reaching for the handle and freezing, the grin dropping from his face. There was a knot in his stomach and his wings were getting restless. He backed up and looked at his bedroom window, his wings pressing against his muscles.

His wings tore through his back as all the windows on the house exploded. Jackson turned, raising a wing. His sword sat by his hip as he straightened and his eyes widened when he saw an angelesque standing on the roof outside of his bedroom window. A crown of thorns floated above the head, surrounded by bright blue flames and the wings stretched out to the sides, showing off their impressive size.

"Raphael," the other said as he floated down to the ground, wings sitting behind him proudly. "It's been a while, brother."

"Remiel," Jackson said as he straightened, recognizing the bright blue grace. "What are you doing here?"

A smirk curved the lips of the older Fallen as he crossed his arms. "I'm here for you, of course."


End Chapter.

Thanks for reading. Hope y'all enjoyed it.

Nameless in Seat: Thanks for the comment. The answers to your questions will be somewhat explained in the upcoming chapter. Thanks for the review and hope you enjoyed this one, as well.

Until the next one!

Peace.
Auska.