Your Guardian Angel

The Night

Fang had done his best to make Iggy comfortable, supporting his head with his t-shirt, keeping his weight as much off his shoulder as possible, and covering his shivering body with his long, black trench coat.

Fang, in all honesty, was freezing his ass off, but he would deal with it. He'd built a modest fire, and had curled up as close to it as possible without setting himself on fire. Of course, there was always the danger of a spark catching fire to his pants, but that was a risk he would have to take.

He wondered what Max and the group were doing. If they'd noticed they were gone yet. If they were searching for them, or if they'd decided to wait till morning. If they were even going to look for them at all…

Fang shivered as another cold gust of air blew over him, and he hugged his knees to his chest tightly, though it did nothing for the goose bumps sprouting up all over his legs and arms.

Fang had half a mind to crawl right under that thick, warm coat with Iggy, but he had his reasons for deciding not to. For one, he didn't want to hurt Iggy's shoulder worse than it already was hurt. When Fang had checked it out, he wasn't bleeding too much. Maybe because there was a tranquilizer needle sticking out of his shoulder, eh?

Fang promptly got rid of that, and everything seemed okay. It looked like just a surface wound, but there were always surprises in these kinds of things. Internal bleeding, for one, could be a factor. Plus, who knows what they put in those tranquilizers? And it was so close to his wing! Factor in the fall, too, and it was amazing he was breathing.

Fang could still remember what it was like to have the shit beaten out of him, and it hurt. Still had the scar from that goddamn operation, too. Fucking doctors, couldn't do shit right.

If Iggy ended up going to the hospital, Fang swore he'd make sure he got much better treatment than what Fang had received. Iggy didn't need a scar like Fang's, he was too bea-

Young. Too young to get a scar like that. Fang was nearly fifteen, according to his estimations, about a month away. Which meant Iggy was at least three. Much too young for a scar like that to ruin his bod-

Life. You know, the made you self-conscious and what not. Not that Iggy would actually be able to see the scar, but he'd probably feel the scar tissue. He did have awfully sensitive fingers, as time had proven again and again.

Fang shivered again. Jesus Christ, he wished he had a blanket.

Wait, duh! Wings, moron! A voice strangely like Max's rang in his head.

He swore he was dropping I.Q. points like Paris Hilton dropping cash.

Fang yawned and extended his wings, curling them in a cocoon around his body. Only slightly better, but now he wouldn't wake up as a Fang-sicle.

I will never let you fall

I'll stand up with you forever

I'll be there for you through it all

Even if saving you sends me to heaven