Disclaimers: Except for the plot itself, none of these are mine, really. But if God is listening…… ; )

The empty glass he had ordered with his tequila was getting decidedly full. He emptied it onto the virgin sands, and took another swig, angrily spitting it into the now empty glass. It seemed that the sexuality phenomenon was only temporary, as "It" had disappeared as soon as he had materialised on this island. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not.

He had always wondered, seeing as humans were so obsessed with the act, what fringe benefits procreation offered. He had watched, and had an extensive knowledge of, daytime television, with it's help shows on what to try, how to try etc. And he had never gotten the point, why the rave reviews, why the need. But still he watched them, they fascinated him. He interacted with humans regularly, and in his boredom and loneliness he found them company.

He thought of her, of Sarah, her long dark hair, her eyes. He remembered seeing her heart in her eyes, and then he had been so cruel to her. She was beautiful, and it made him nervous. He was used to being the one in control, the Voice with a capital V. Now, …now he was simply confused.

He twirled the glass in his hands, watching the dark gold liquid as it coated the inside of the glass, dancing in patterns. It's slightly hypnotic motion allowed his mind to wander. He thought of her again. He pictured her face as she said those words. For yes, he had heard her. He had seen the desperation, the desolation on her face. And, in his anger he had been vengeful, and wanted her to suffer. How dare she, he was The Metatron, not some common rent boy!…

But, looking back, without the heat of embarrassment colouring his judgement, he felt differently. She loved him. He had walked away, left her crying, and yet she had said those words. He could be loved, she said it, she said it.

Without thinking about his course of action, or the consequences, he straightened his suit and ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. Her place, that's where he was going, back to her arms, to her bed, to eventually her heart.

She wasn't in.

Sarah narrowed her eyes, searching for a familiar face as she weaved her way through the crowds. Callie had suggested that if she didn't get a life soon it would be too late. And so she had been dragged to the opening night party of the latest blockbuster. Callie's brother was a cameraman on the shoot, and had given Callie his ticket as he was currently occupied with the leading lady, and wanted to be somewhere with privacy. Beautiful people wove in and out of the dance floor, groups gathering in insincere huddles to trash other such groups. Sarah was getting a headache, and needed to find Callie to let her know that she intended to go home. Not looking were she was going, she managed to walk straight into a tall man with longish chestnut hair. He was solidly built, and Sarah felt his muscles flex under the linen shirt he wore. He spun round, anger showing in his eyes, being replaced by instant lust as his eyes fixed upon Sarah.

" Oh God, I'm sorry." she spluttered, dabbing ineffectively at the stain her red wine had made on the sleeve of his shirt. " I'm am really sorry, I…"

"No problem, not your fault. I'll forgive you if I can buy you another drink?" he smiled in a lazy way, showing her his dazzlingly white teeth. Totally aware of the effect this smile usually had on the opposite sex, he took her by the elbow and steered her away from his companions and into a little private space.

Sarah, mortified by having spilt wine on an actor she actually recognised, let herself be led away. He suddenly spun her round to face him, and moved closer, seemingly to whisper in her ear.

"What, sorry." Sarah said, suddenly aware that he had whispered to her, and was expecting an answer. He stood there, impatience written all over his face and followed her line of sight.

"So, that your husband all over that chick, or your father?"

Sarah stood, motionless, watching the Metatron flirting outrageously with a blonde who was running her hands up his chest and giggling huskily. To do him credit, she suddenly realised that his fluttering hands were actually trying to push her away, but were unsure which bit to push without touching bared flesh, and now she strained her ears she could hear his protests.

"I really don't think you know what you are doing lady." he intoned, doing his best to sound stern and outraged. His hormones, something he generally didn't possess, were going into hyper drive, and he found he was having to try very hard to resist this harlot.

"Sweet Jesus woman, can't you just lay off. " he hissed, pushing her away. The woman, obviously drunk, was swaying gently and lifting her leg she placed it round his upper thigh, and ran her tongue over her lips.

" So, husband I presume from the look of absolute horror on your face." Sarah's companion drawled, annoyed at being ignored.

"Good luck sweetheart, looks like he is otherwise occupied tonight. You could always find solace….." he continued, but Sarah didn't hear him. She walked forward, leaving a thoroughly confused movie star to try and figure out if he had been dumped.

The crowds meant that occasionally she lost sight of the couple, but as she drew closer she caught his eye. He had the grace to look abashed, and began furiously to dissuade the blonde from clinging to him, pushing her away forcefully.

Sarah waited until she drew level with them, and put her hand into the woman's still encircling leg, digging in her nails and creating crescent shaped red marks on her skin. The woman shrieked, quickly bringing her leg down, and shakily turning to face her attacker.

" You bitch, what the hell do you think.."

"I think that my husband would rather you let him come home to me and our five children!"

Sarah hissed, desperately trying not to break into giggles at the look of mortification that momentarily crossed the Metatron's face.

"Come on Met," she said tonelessly, "I think we need to talk."