Authors Note:

In this chapter, we see that the person Grant has found that he can look up to, fails him (much like Garrett). This doesn't change his view of his Father but he is left in disappointment. He then does something he hasn't done before: let someone in. Skye learns more of his childhood and as she does, Grant learns that he is beginning to mend. But in the wake of what Skye has learned, she will also learn why Grant is one of the most feared angels; it isn't because he is an angel of death but rather something he carries with him that sets a blaze in him like Hell itself. There were some spelling and grammar errors so here's an updated version!

Rays of light burst into the room, a man of pure creation standing before me. "You have called unto me. What do you need?" He smiled, his bright grey eyes locked with mine. No sorrow showed on his features, even in the smallest of wrinkles on his face.

"Michael," I began, almost breathed, panic in my voice. "He's gone against us. He's changing things in us. Why?" I searched his eyes, feeling like the small boy that had hoped for someone to protect me from my parents. Almost on cue, Lucian's cries pierced the air violently.

The Father's eyes widened in shock, looking through the window. His lips pursed into a thin line, His reflection showing shame in His eyes as they became downcast. "Before Zephiania fell, Michael came to me. He said he knew what he wanted his Earthly desire to be. And being as he had been so honorable in the past, that he always had been on the right side of things, I told him to tell me what it was."

He turned around, his focus flickering up to me. He looked heartbroken, as if things were out of His hands; almost like His wrists were bound. I looked to the figure of God with black hair and grey eyes of the moon. Why wasn't He stopping His creation from the destruction that was about to set itself free?

"He told me that he wanted the chance to correct his brothers, to led them on the right paths in all ways. And of course, he did have wonderful attentions. He was going to simply give my wisdom to them to keep them from straying. I agreed, not realizing his wrath would outpower all the goodness in him." I saw the Father's eyes become distant, as if He were thinking to that one moment again, as if he could have changed it. "And when Zephiania would not comply with Michael's wishes, Michael tore apart his brother's mind and put it back together with things missing in between."

The Father closed his eyes, a tear rolling down His cheek in sadness. "I can't stop him. This is what he wished for; my word was that an angel would have one Earthly wish, no matter how vulgar. And if I see it fit, I can make it eternal. But it can not undone. That was the agreement." He looked to the room of His creation being tortured at the hands of a brother.

"Grant, I know you may not understand but I'm sorry. I am so sorry for this, for what my angels have done to their own kind." With this, He was gone, beams of radiant glow filling the room before disappearing.

I looked back into the room, turning away from it. I couldn't help Lucian, just as I couldn't help Thomas all the time. Why was I trapped once again into the inevitable? Time always repeats itself; our own Father had warned us of that.

I walked away, knowing that the word between Michael and our Father would end in death if I tried to break it or stop him. From which party, I wasn't quite sure at the moment. What I didn't understand, however, was what had changed in Michael that made him snap? Was it the loss of a brother or was it just pure wrath?

I decided that I wouldn't speak to him about it but I would make sure to warn Lucian of it later and to always stay armed. Then it occurred to me whom Michael had been talking about when he said "her". It was the girl that I couldn't remember carrying; it had to be.

I appeared in the center of the walk way before Thomas's house, finding Phil sitting next to the girl, watching over her shoulder as she was playing Tetris.

"Hello," I greeted softly, watching the figures turn around and finding a pair of light brown eyes finding mine.

"Hey, I was just telling Phil about you," she said quietly, motioning for me to come closer. "He thinks it's odd that you became an angel, you know? I mean, it is but still. You're not that bad of a guy."

Why couldn't I remember telling her anything about myself? How did she know I wasn't a horrible person? "I need to talk to you for a moment; preferably alone, if you don't mind." I threw Phil an apologetic look before my gaze shifted back to hers.

She nodded, standing from her chair before her version of Heaven shifted. We were now in a room that looked to be a private library, a computer system at the furthest corner of the room, near the window. "So what did you want to talk about?'

"I.. Under circumstances, I have lost some of my memory," I began, clearing my throat. I shoved my hands into my pockets, tempted to pace around until the ground left imprints of my feet. "I can't remember carrying you or a single thing about you. It's not because I don't want to but.." A fire began to blaze within my eyes, and I knew it wasn't from the one that was currently lit at my side. "I just need to pick up on all of the things we've talked about, personal or not."

Her expression was morphed into one of confusion, one that engulfed her stance but she shrugged. "We talked about when you got your wings, a little bit about your brother. It isn't much to worry about, Grant."

My head turned to face her, my dark orbs narrowing in her direction. "How do you know my name? No one I've carried has ever.. How do you know?" My voice became strong again with the repeated question, my hands moving to rest on my hips in an authoritative manner.

"I asked you. You told me your name was Grant." She began to back away, fear becoming part of her body language. Her hands trembled slightly, her cheeks drew themselves in slightly, her gaze finding anywhere but mine. She seemed to be familiar with the action but silence covered us in a thin blanket.

I decided to back off, turning back to the fireplace. "What is your name?"

"Skye," she answered quietly, beginning to calm down a bit. But I sensed something odd about the name; what was her last name? If she had one, why didn't she say it?

"What's your real name?" I inquired, flickering my focus back to her, only to get a blank stare. I let it drop before moving to the window. It seemed to be some place in England, one with a view of everything beautiful but still remote in its own way.

Skye moved so that she stood next to me, still keeping her watch on me. "You were saying something earlier, Grant. You said you could protect your brother here. What did you mean?"

The dryness of bones began in my throat, the words freezing on my tongue. How much had a revealed to her? Had I let her see the side of me that was almost a complete monster? The one that had torn several men apart, only to move onto the next?

"What I meant was that I used to have an older brother. He was.. He hated my little brother. So in the midst of everything, he would make me hurt the only family member I cared about. And if I didn't, he'd beat me. There was one time that he had just gotten so furious with Thomas; it was over something so ridiculous. It was because our mother gave him a look she didn't give us."

My tongue drew out slightly, wetting my lower lip in an attempt to keep everything inside myself from breaking. I remembered Christian pulling me into the room that Thomas and I shared. He put a iron rod in my hand and told me to teach Thomas his place. But I couldn't; I had dropped the rod and before I knew it, I felt my back tear open. I pulled Thomas into my arms, shielding him from the blows that came from Christian.

The iron rod that I had dropped was beginning to breaking my bones. I recalled screaming, Thomas crying; I also recalled begging Christian to stop, to just let things go. But he kept going and going. He didn't stop until I finally let Thomas go; I had let my little brother go so that he could run away. Christian made me look him in the eyes before he delivered the last blow.

I finally drew from the memory, finding that she still awaited my answer. "So I protected my little brother until I was beaten to a pulp. Christian would find him and do his work that I couldn't. It's my fault that Thomas is here, that he's only thirteen years old instead of thirty or forty. I failed him on Earth and I won't do it again. That's what I meant."

A scoff escaped from my left, a warm hand finding my chin in a tight grip. "Look at me," Skye commanded, causing my eyes to find her. "You didn't fail Thomas. You did what you could. And from seeing the way Thomas still lets you around him, I know he doesn't blame you. He knows you tried and you need to see that too."

Her hand fell away and I found myself wanting her warmth again. For the first time in centuries, I felt at peace with things from Earth. The memory replayed through my mind as we stared at each other but it didn't have the sting of that it had moments ago. Silence once again cloaked us but it wasn't an uncomfortable one like most would be. It felt as though I actually belonged in Heaven instead of in Hell as the devil's demon.

But one question still lingered with the new revelation that I had found in someone so.. human. How had she managed to swipe one thing from my bloody and guilt, not to mention sinful, consumed conscience?