Disclaimer: McG and Josh Schwartz own the O.C., I just wish I did.
Summary: Seth sails away, wondering if anyone really cared about his life. What happens when he wishes to never have been born?
A/N: 20 reviews for the first chapter?! You guys are too good to me! I love you all! I hope this story doesn't disappoint you, because I'm afraid it might. Review, please. (By the way, thank you for all the positive comments on my one shots. They're so sweet and encouraging, but I can't reply to them because the stories are standalones. Just wanted to say thanks. I'll keep writing them, just let me know when you like them!)
Seth and his angel following the scattering boys. Seth nervously sidestepped one of the officers, heeding the angel's words from before.
They headed in the direction the teenagers had fled. When they turned the corner, Seth noticed two Caucasian boys, contrasting with their tan Latino counterparts.
"Ryan and Trey?" Seth asked, pointing to the group. The angel nodded. "I guess we follow them."
Trailing the gang of boys at a leisurely pace, Seth fought the urge to run up to Ryan and see if he noticed him.
"Don't even think about it," Seth's angel warned, surprising Seth. This angel…he still wasn't sure if angels were male, female, or neither…it could read his mind. That scared and delighted Seth at the same time. Seth had always insisted to Summer that he was somewhat telepathic, but Summer, being the cynic that she was, had merely laughed.
He was pretty sure that he wouldn't be able to read the angel's mind, but if the angel could read his…that was still pretty cool.
Seth looked ahead of him to the boys, who were piling into a rusted burgundy van. He looked beside him, to his guardian angel, as if to say, what now?
"Now," the angel smiled sadly, "We continue following them." It squeezed Seth's hand, as if trying to reassure him. For what, Seth wasn't sure, but something bad was liable to happen now.
Before he knew it, there was a motorcycle with a passenger basket attached alongside it.
"Sweet," Seth hoisted one leg over the side of the motorcycle.
Ever so patiently, the angel pointed to the basket. "Get in," he ordered. Seth whimpered, but the angel gave him a fierce look, so he hopped into the basket.
"Don't you have wings?" Seth asked, strapping on the lapbelt. "And…are you sure this thing is safe?"
His guardian angel chuckled, a chuckle similar to the one Seth had heard yesterday. Was it yesterday? Seth wasn't sure. Years, months, days, or minutes, any amount of time could've gone by and he had lost track of time.
"I've got wings, but you don't. And this thing is safe, Seth. Remember, you've got to believe," the angel revved the engine and sped off. Seth was jerked back in his seat by the sudden force.
"Way to give a guy notice," Seth grumbled, sitting back up. "I'd much rather have wings, by the way."
At this, the angel just smirked. "Sure you do."
The tarnished van soon stopped in front of an old warehouse. The boys got out of it and disappeared into the building. The angel parked the motorcycle, cut the engine, and Seth unbuckled the seatbelt. Walking into the warehouse, Seth turned to his angel.
"I can leave anytime, right?"
"Well…" the angel considered this. "Technically, yes. God wants you here a certain amount of time. So even if you leave the warehouse, there might be more you are bound to see."
Seth shrugged. "Okay. Let's do it."
They crept into the building. Seth wasn't quite sure why; according to the angel, the boys wouldn't be able to see them, hear them, or really feel them. Still, he felt sneaky and dangerous.
Ryan, Trey, and the Latino boys were huddled in one corner of the dark, musty warehouse. The ground was covered in a thin layer of sawdust. Seth could only imagine what the warehouse had been used for. A blackened pit lay in the center of the concrete floor. Across from the entrance they'd just come from, Seth noticed another pair of double doors. Good. Two escape routes.
Seth stood by the doors, unsure of what to do next. The angel led him by the hand to Ryan.
"Are they coming or what?" Trey asked, glancing at the closed double doors.
"Doesn't look like it. I knew they wouldn't show, didn't I tell you, Arturo?" Ryan responded.
"Shut up, Ryan," the guy who must've been Arturo glared at the blonde-haired boy. "They'll be here."
Murmurs along the lines of 'Dominic's such a pussy' and 'We gotta fuck them up good' resounded throughout the empty warehouse. Seth found himself shivering, and wishing he had a coat.
"That's Arturo! Theresa's brother," Seth realized, looking at the tall, medium-skinned teenager who bore a striking resemblance to Theresa.
A sound like a gunshot reverberated throughout the warehouse. Seth ducked, although he realized that it was pointless. With his guardian angel right next to him, he had nothing to worry about. Add that to the fact that nobody could see him. The doors burst open and a small swarm of boys entered the building. Trey, Arturo, and the rest of the gang turned around, surprised.
Seth couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw Ryan recoil at the loud blare. He shook his head. Ryan Atwood wasn't afraid of anything. At least the Ryan Atwood Seth knew wasn't afraid of anything. He'd only been in Chino for a short while, but already Seth could tell that it was a hell of a lot more perilous than Newport.
Trey, who seemed to be the leader of the pack, walked in front of his group.
"Yo, Dominic, you made it," he smirked. "But how do possibly expect to settle this with those youngsters? They don't look older than 13, maybe fourteen."
A tall, dark skinned boy stepped forward. Seth guessed that he was Dominic. "Why don't you let our skills do the talkin', Trey? Unlike you, we ain't all talk."
"Fine," Trey snapped. "Let's get it on."
He turned back, as if to hold one last meeting with the boys standing behind him, then whipped his body around and rushed towards Dominic. Trey plowed into the boy, who was a good four inches taller than him, sending him flying backwards and into the crowd of boys.
Soon it was man on man, or in this case, boy on boy.
"Ryan, wait," Seth called urgently, as Ryan punched a short boy, who couldn't be more than twelve, in the stomach.
"Seth, he can't hear you," the angel reminded him. Downcast, Seth watched the fight unfold.
Although Ryan was one of the youngest members of the gang, he was obviously one of the most skilled fighters. Seth silently thanked God for giving Ryan an older brother to teach him the ropes.
He stood leaning against the wall, knowing that there was no way he could stop the fight. It was clear that Trey and his buddies were beating the others to a pulp. Seth watched Dominic reach into his pants, and pull out a gun.
"Look out!" Seth shouted, and shockingly, everyone turned to look at Dominic, who was waving the gun around wildly. "He's got a gun!"
"I thought they couldn't hear me," Seth crossed his arms pompously.
"They didn't," the guardian angel pointed to Ryan. "They can hear him though."
Seth sighed. He'd been so close to connecting with the other side. Wait, was he on one side? That would entail his being dead, which he didn't think was true. Whatever. Maybe he was in between worlds—that of the living and that of the dead.
Two shots.
"Shit," Seth heard Ryan say. "Trey, are you okay?"
So they'd shot Trey. Seth charged forward, but felt himself being held back by the angel.
"Seth…" the angel warned. "Don't."
Another shot. Then another.
Two cries.
A siren could be heard wailing in the not-so-far distance.
"Let's get out of here," a few voices cried. Seth shut his eyes. The earlier cries had sounded too much like…He opened his eyes and saw Ryan lying on the chill concrete ground.
"Can you walk, man?" Trey asked his little brother, nursing a wound on his arm. A Latino boy from Dominic's gang had garnered a piggyback ride from one of the other boys. Yet another one was lying on the floor, clutching his stomach.
"No," Ryan whispered. His face had become deathly pale. "Go ahead, Trey. I'll be fine."
Trey took one last look at his brother and Seth could've sworn he whispered the words I'm sorry. But he couldn't be sure, for in the next instant Trey had disappeared out the doors.
The sirens were piercing now; the cops weren't too far away from the warehouse.
Seth shook his head. He'd never wanted Ryan to get in this kind of trouble. Honestly, he couldn't imagine the Ryan he knew getting into this kind of trouble.
Then it hit Seth: This Ryan wasn't the Ryan he knew.
When he thought his angel wasn't looking, or at least not paying close attention, Seth ran towards Ryan. He knelt down next to his bleeding brother. Or the boy who used to be his brother.
"Ryan, are you okay?" Seth asked, even though he knew Ryan couldn't hear him. Ryan cocked his head, as if trying to place a sound he'd heard. He shook his head, and weakly lowered it to the hard surface.
"Seth, no. Step away from Ryan. Now," the guardian angel pleaded. Seth ignored the angel and brushed Ryan's hair out of his face. He was badly in need of a Band-Aid and some Neosporin. More importantly, he was badly in need of a loyal family and caring, worried mother.
Goosebumps immediately infested Ryan's body. Seth withdrew his hand, feeling guilty. He could see Ryan, hear Ryan, and touch Ryan. Ryan couldn't see, hear, or really touch Seth. Heck, he didn't even know Seth was there. And if he did, he wouldn't have known just who the pale, skinny Jewish boy was, and what he was doing in the warehouse.
"Seth," the angel's voice was weary. "You can't do that."
"Well I just did," Seth retorted, suddenly annoyed with all of the rules. "Please," he begged, "just let me give him a hug."
The angel relented. "Fine. But if I get in trouble with the big guy, you're taking the blame."
Seth kneeled over Ryan, who was, at this point, shaking uncontrollably. He gently wrapped his arms around Ryan, who ceased the trembling.
Three officers burst through the double doors Seth and his angel had originally entered through, guns drawn.
"Get up," one yelled to Ryan, then saw that he couldn't get up. Another officer marched over to the Latino boy and handcuffed him, not bothering to ask how he was feeling. The boy was, in fact, on the verge of unconsciousness.
"You have the right to remain silent," the third officer stated, then began to list the boys' rights.
The first officer helped Ryan to his feet and helped him limp to one of the police cars. The other two officers hoisted the Latino boy between them and rushed him to the second car. After depositing both boys in the cars, the officers returned to the warehouse to make sure there were no other left-behinds.
Seth stood there, frozen, not willing himself to believe what had just happened. In the course of one day—one day when he and Ryan could've been battling it out on the PS2—Ryan had managed to get chased away, shot, and arrested.
Seth followed the officers out the doors, the guardian angel on his tail. He quickly walked over to the car where Ryan was laying in the backseat, and began to open the door. Seth wasn't going to let Ryan go alone. He didn't deserve this, didn't need this. This wasn't right.
Seth felt a gentle yet insistent tugging on his shirt.
"Seth, it's time to go," the guardian angel said emotionlessly.
"But…" Seth gestured to Ryan. "Fine," he agreed miserably.
The angel patted him on the back. "God wants to have a word with you before we proceed."
Seth grimaced. He had a terrible, sinking feeling in his stomach that things were only going to go downhill from here.