Steve had never felt weak like this. Well, weak was the wrong word. He had never manifested in such a frail body before. Usually his summoners were strong enough he at least got a healthy human form; this was not. He was shorter, much shorter, than he was used to. His limbs felt thin. His vision was poorer. It was harder to breathe. His hearing was off. Not that these things would really affect him; he was a demon and a strong one at that.

Then again, his summoner usually anchored him with their own body. Now, it was only the sigil on the ground under his feet that kept him in the mortal world. It would have been easy enough to break free and go back, but Steve was admittedly curious. There were two summoners in the room, standing nearby dressed in lab coats, and they had yet to tell him why he'd been summoned. He paced casually in the small circle and kept a close eye on the summoners as they watched him in return.

Eventually more men entered the darkened, otherwise empty room through a large reinforced door. There were five of them. The four able bodied men, who surrounded the fifth, did not interest him. They were the same as the summoners: dull, ordinary humans with tainted souls, but nothing special. No heavenly spark or hell's stain in their souls to make them stand out.

But the one in the middle; he was interesting. Physically he was in better shape than any of the others, if one discounted his missing left arm. But it was inside, his soul and mind, that was different. Steve was fascinated, actually, because this man was split in two. His body operated like a puppet, obeying unerring the orders given to him by the other men. When one snapped [kneel] in Russian, he immediately dropped to his knees with a thunk and didn't even flinch. Complete and total surrender.

But there was something there, buried deep in his eyes and in his mind, in his soul, as he stared blankly at Steve. Some spark that Steve wanted to reach out for and take hold of.

One of the summoners began speaking, the Latin words used to bind a demon to someone. They wanted to bind him to the man split in two. Steve felt the pull, weak and one he could easily have shaken off, but this was interesting. Nothing this unique had happened in a very long time. Steve wanted to know more, but he was going to shape the bind himself. So he stepped forward, effortlessly leaving the circle, and crouched so he was face to face with the man, who continued to stare at him.

The man didn't flinch when Steve touched his face; he didn't react at all. Nor did he when Steve pressed his forehead against the other man's, besides closing his eyes. Steve closed his too, and then he slipped into the other man's mind.

There was no resistance. Even summoners offered some resistance, usually in the belief that if they didn't surrender everything Steve couldn't take whatever he wanted (they were wrong). But this man simply let him in. Gave Steve everything; his able body, his fractured mind, his memories locked behind a wall of electricity. He gave Steve everything, but his soul.

That was the spark Steve had seen. This man was broken here in his mortal form but his soul was a brilliant star, saturated with Grace and destined for heaven. He would be a Guardian, a powerful one at that. His soul had been touched by God, chosen for that purpose.

Even if Steve didn't know better than to mess with souls destined for Heaven's ranks, he couldn't bring himself to hurt this man. From the fragments of memory Steve glimpsed, he was a good man who had already been through hell on earth. Even demons had more respect for life than to do to someone what had been done to him.

When Steve pressed closer, wanting to feel his Grace, it was only then that the man reacted. He didn't shield his soul like humans normally tried, but there was a little voice that cried out in English "no! Please no! Don't take it from me! It's all I have left!" Desperate and in pain in a way Steve had never heard someone. And despite his pleas and despite his fear and despite the way he clutched his soul protectively, he didn't try to stop Steve. Steve didn't think he was capable of it anymore. The humans had stripped that from him.

"Hush, angel. It's alright. I don't want your soul. It's too bright to be tainted by hell, not even by me." Steve promised, trying to sound soothing. The man didn't believe him and Steve could feel the way he surged forward to cradle his soul protectively. But he didn't shield it and Steve knew that if he asked, the man would hand it over. He wouldn't strike a bargain or ask for anything back; he would simply give it because the humans had broken him to that point.

And that brought forth a rage Steve had not known in a very long time.

How dare these humans, these pitiful disgusting unimportant humans, reduce someone so bright to this? If he were whole, no demon could have ever convinced this man to give up his soul no matter what they offered. And now he would simply hand it over if asked, like it was Steve's right to take whatever he wanted.

He had, oh Steve had taken everything from men with stained and tainted souls, but never without offering them something in return. Whether Steve thought it was a fair trade for a man's soul, it was the barganier's choice. And someone with this much Grace would never agree to that kind of bargain. This wasn't a choice.

Steve made a decision, one he never thought he would make. He reached for the man's soul again and felt him recoil, but he didn't try to take it. Instead he wrapped his power around it and built a shield, surrounded and hid it from everything outside. The man's Grace burned him, but it felt good to be touched by it once again. Slowly, now cradled in Steve's power, he felt the man relax slightly. Almost peeked out to see what Steve was doing.

"It's alright, angel. You are weak and I will protect you until you are strong. These men had no right to hurt you like this." Steve promised. The man still didn't believe him, but he seemed content to stay with his soul in Steve's shield. "I need an anchor, something stronger than the sigil they're using, if I'm going to help you more. Your moral body can be that anchor. I won't ask for anything more in return." Steve explained.

The man didn't answer so much as he just retreated further, curled up tighter. It was almost fascinating the way he was separating his soul from his body and something Steve had never seen a human accomplish before. Of course, this was hardly an ordinary human. Steve wanted a stronger confirmation, but he didn't think the man was capable of giving it.

He pulled back and opened his eyes. Barely a few seconds had passed during their exchange. One of the summoners was still speaking in Latin. Steve's gaze fell on the man's missing arm and it sparked an idea. Steve pressed his hand to the man's shoulder and poured power into it. He would not taint the man's soul, only his mortal body, but the bond had to be strong for this to work. And if Steve could give him back his missing limb in the process then all the better.

Steve felt the man react to the pain, but only deep in his mind and Steve kept it separated from his soul. In the real world he flinched, obviously fitting back a cry of pain, as a black liquid began oozing from where his arm had been severed. It had a life of it's own and took it's form based on the shape in Steve's mind. An arm, powerful and sleek, dexterous and nearly indestructible, made of intertwining black tendrils that looked much like human muscle. It was one of his best creations, if he did say so himself. The only spot of color in the blackness was a red star on the shoulder, one Steve also bore and gave to all those who made a bargain with him. It would keep other demons away.

Once the arm was complete the man slumped, the pain having taken its toll on his body and Steve held him stable with gentle hands on his shoulders. Having a stronger anchor had already altered his form; he was taller, bigger and more powerful. In as close to his immortal form as he had ever been here on the mortal plain and it felt good.

Slowly the man looked up and met Steve's eyes. His mask had finally broken, given way to a fearful almost innocent confusion. Steve reached out and cradled his cheek again and the man leaned into the touch with a look bordering on bliss, almost trembling under his hand. "Hush, angel. Rest. I'll protect you." Steve promised softly, and he meant it.

The man nodded just a little. Steve traced his cheekbone and he had to admit the man was gorgeous. Exactly the kind of man Steve would normally bed, if he were in the mood. And maybe they could later, once the man had healed and while he was still human. But first Steve needed to get him away from his tormentors and he was going to enjoy this.

"Close your eyes." He insisted softly, in English, and the man obediently closed his eyes. Steve stood and the summoner who had been reading from a book trailed off. Steve looked at the bunch of them and smiled wickedly. He switched to Russian, just to be sure they would understand.[Did you really think you could control me through him? That's a laugh. You can't control a demon, especially not through an angel.]

They all just stared blankly as he stepped towards them. The two summoners moved back fearfully as the other men in black put themselves between Steve and the summoners while they drew weapons. Their guns wouldn't hurt Steve; he almost laughed. He stretched out a hand and enjoyed the terror that radiated from them with only that action.

He wanted to take his time and make them hurt for what they'd done, but he and the angel needed to leave first and foremost. So he chose something quick and painful. All six of the men gasped simultaneously and after a moment blood spilled from their eyes, noses, ears, and mouths. Most of them only swayed on their feet for a few moments before they collectively crumpled. Steve ripped their souls out and it was an energy rush to collect them.

Then he turned back to the angel, who was still kneeling with his eyes closed. Steve knelt and gently touched his jaw, which made the man open his eyes. "Let's get out of here." Steve said. The man didn't nod, but stood when Steve helped him to his feet.

He startled for a moment when he noticed the arm and slowly he moved his fingers, watching as the darkness moved no different than his human arm. He looked from the arm to Steve to the dead men, then back to Steve. Steve offered him a smile. "They deserved it." He offered. The man didn't say anything but when Steve held out his hand he cautiously took it.

Steve pulled him close but before he could teleport the man finally spoke. "Why do you call me angel?" His voice was raw, low and gravely, but strong. Tentative and curious.

Steve turned to face him fully and cradled his jaw. "You may not be an angel yet, but you will be. Your soul is destined for it." Steve explained.

The man frowned a little. "Are you a demon?" He asked after a moment and Steve nodded. "Why are you protecting me?"

"Because these men had no right to hurt you like this, to try to control one who has been touched by God and given Grace. It infuriates me." Steve answered honestly and the man seemed to believe him as he nodded and slumped against Steve's chest. Steve held him close, wrapped them in darkness, and they left the room and its dead far behind.