Christian sped through the Miami streets, so close yet so damn far away! The car swerved as he fumbled with his cell phone for the umpteenth time. He'd called everyone; Liz, Julia, Sean. Hell, he'd have called Bobbolit had he thought that would've helped. Begged, pleaded for them to come, to help him face the demon he couldn't face alone.

And yet he was alone. He'd always be alone, and he knew it.

How could he have changed things? He should've been satisfied with the girl he'd first met. He remembered the mean-spirited comments he'd made to her their first night, saying she was only an 8. She was a 10 even then and he knew it. Hell, she'd known it! But full of ego and wanting not only to score, but to drum up business, he'd done his usual song-and-dance, baited the hook as usual. And she'd bitten.

To the downfall of them both.

Where would she be now, where would they both be, had he left her alone? She'd be safe, that much was for sure. But him? Would he have known about love then? About acceptance, commitment? Would he still have found something larger than himself, something beautiful, pure? Bullshit, Christian, his mind sneered at him. What you and Kimber had was never pure, and we both know who's fault that is. You ruined her, you killed her. She gave you all she had, even when you dragged her through the depths of hell. And still you asked for more. And she still gave. And here you are, here you both are. Give the man a medal!

"NO!" Christian yelled. He banged the steering wheel as the car sped down another street; tears tracked scalding hot down his cheeks. "I loved her! I gave her all I could, this isn't my fault!"

No? the hateful voice continued in his head. What did you give her, exactly? You drove her to Bobbolit. You drove her to a coke habit. You drove her to porn. And you gave her to a madman in the process. She did it all for YOU, you bastard, and you gave her a new nose and new boobs and a reason to keep searching for perfection in the mistaken belief that in perfection, she'd find your love. You gave her ME!

There he was, in the middle of the road, just a few blocks away from her apartment. Christian screeched until his throat was raw, peering at the bastard through bleary eyes as he floored the gas pedal. He was going to save Kimber this time! And he was going to make her see that she was still his baby, his love, and they were going to start over, no matter what she did or didn't look like. For the first time in his life, Christian Troy saw beyond the fake that he dealt in each day. All he saw was his Kimber. And he was going to save her, he would!

Closer now, he was almost there...Quintin was wearing that ceramic mask again, but Christian could hear the mocking laughter. He almost stepped through the floorboard trying to give the car speed, determined to run the bastard down before he got inside Kimber's apartment, before he took away the last little bit of the light in Christian's world. A brief flash of white as the mask loomed closer, and contact...

And the world exploded as Quintin laughed; the sound of broken glass.

Christian had time to see the lamp post he hit in a flash of metal light, then the world caved in on him with shards of glass and an explosion of pain. He felt nothing though, the anger and need to get to Kimber dulled everything else. He had no clue how he clawed his way from the car, but he did, ignoring the searing agony in his chest and shoulder from the impact and the glass imbedded in his skin. He ignored the shocked looks and screams of the people outside who'd witnessed the crash. Only one thing mattered. He vaguely heard something about "jump" just as he crumpled to the ground, the pain momentarily overcoming the energy coursing through him; he looked up on instinct as one scream cut through the others.

That's when he saw her.

She was in a white nightgown, streaked with crimson. Even from his spot on the ground he could see that she'd been clawing at her face and chest. He could see that her nails were filthy and caked with her own blood, and it ran in thin streamers down her cheeks, across her restored breasts. Her face was turned up, she didn't see him as she screamed to the sky. A crazy thought came to him then, dreamlike. She looked like a sacrifice to the gods, and even streaked and crazed as she was, he'd never seen anything lovlier. The gods wouldn't have her tonight. Or any other. She was his!

He pushed to his feet with a burst of energy that amazed even him. He shoved off the well-meaning hands trying to help him up and ran to the apartment building. The glass door barred his way, but he didn't even give it a thought as he threw himself at it with brute strength. It shuddered once with the impact and Christian was thrown back. He screamed in rage and threw himself at the door again, mind not remembering that he needed to pull the door open. He kicked and clawed and punched at the door, ignoring the people inside who backed away from his savagry, ignored the shouts of the people outside who screamed and questioned and yelled for the police, ignored the sounds of the sirens blaring with gaining sound in the background. One final thrust and the glass gave, searing more pain into his battered skin, carving more lines of agony into his face and hands and arms and legs. He ignored the sickening lurch in his stomach as his body protested the abuse and threatened to drop him. None of it mattered. All that mattered was his angel, poised to turn herself into a sacrificial lamb.

The stairs gave way before him and he lept them three at a time. He was going to save her.